Frank Bond couldn’t disagree. “As your father’s only kin, you can take what’s owed to him,” he said. “It’s not much because he was paid yesterday, but I’m sure every penny helps at a time like this.” His cheeks were flush with shame. He’d been put in this position too many times, and it only seemed to get harder and harder. He left Mrs. Sneebickler to pay Abbey.
“I’m very sorry about your father, Abbey,” she said. “Will you be all right on your own?”
“I’ll have to be,” Abbey said tersely. “Nothing will bring him back.”
Abbey took the few shillings, more than she was actually due, a kindness from Mrs. Sneebickler, and bought some flowers to put on her father’s and Neal’s graves.
CHAPTER 3
Before Finlay’s funeral service began, many miners came up the road to the cemetery to see their fellow miner off. They were a sombre group, but Abbey was moved to see them. And, then, at three o’clock and in blistering heat, Abbey walked to the cemetery beside a waggon that was carrying her father, four of her father’s friends accompanied her. Abbey had been forced to settle for one of the cheapest pine boxes. It broke her heart, but for his sake, she held her head high.
She’d told Vera that Neal was to be buried at four thirty, and she’d promised to be there with a few of Meg’s other neighbours. Abbey had been told that Jock McManus was also to be buried later that day, but in another cemetery in Aberdeen, the Scottish quarter of town. Burra was essentially made up of several small townships, collectively known as The Burra. They included the South Australian Mining Association’s company town of Kooringa; Redruth, where most of the Cornish people lived; Aberdeen, the Scottish quarter; Llwchwr, where the Welsh people congregated; and Hampton, which was mostly English. Scattered throughout The Burra were a few other nationalities, including quite a few Irish.
The Catholic priest in town spoke about Finlay’s life, which, when summarised, sounded short and tragic. When he spoke of him as a man, and how highly he was thought of amongst his fellow miners and friends, and what a good father he’d been to Abbey, she felt a sense of pride, as well as deep sadness and loss. When the mourners left the cemetery for a quick beer at the pub, promising to come back for Neal’s service, she had a quiet moment to say a heartfelt, tearful goodbye to her father before the undertaker’s assistant filled in the grave. She then placed some of the flowers on the grave before waiting under the shade of some eucalyptus trees for Herman to bring Neal’s body up to be buried.
The main Burra cemetery was on a hill that rose above the township. But from there Abbey had a clear view of the Monster Mine on a brown hill in the distance, and her resentment grew. She wished her father didn’t have to spend all of eternity overlooking the mine that had claimed his life. It didn’t seem right.
“When I can afford it, Father, I’ll have you moved somewhere much nicer,” she vowed tearfully. And she meant it.
Abbey was still waiting for Herman Schultz to bring Neal’s body when she saw a lavish carriage coming up the road to the cemetery. It passed Vera Nichols and a few women who were walking up the road, leaving them in a cloud of choking dust. When it came to a stop near her, Abbey was shocked to see Ebenezer Mason get out. He was dressed in a fine black suit and top hat. Abbey glared at him as he approached her. She’d never spoken to him before, although she had seen him at the mine several times as she’d waited for her father after work. She was determined not to allow him to intimidate her. After all, now that she knew he’d once been a miner, he was no better than anyone else. He was also no longer her father’s employer, so he couldn’t do or say much if she was rude.
“Good afternoon, Miss Scottsdale,” he said, tipping his hat briefly and exposing his oily, thinning hair to the afternoon sun. He barely glanced at the mound of dirt that covered her father’s coffin. Abbey noted that not a flicker of emotion crossed his unyielding features, not even the barest hint of sorrow or remorse, and it angered her.
“You’re too late for my father’s funeral,” she spat furiously.
“I would have been here sooner, Miss Scottsdale, but I had business that kept me at home. May I offer my condolences?” He scrutinised her with cold green eyes.
There was something too intimate about the way he looked at her, and Abbey felt her skin crawl. “You may not,” she snapped. “If you’d spent more money on making the mine safer for the workers, then my father would still be alive. And what kind of business could keep you at home? If you’d had any decency you would have come to Burra immediately after hearing that three of your workers had been killed. It would have been the respectful, decent thing to do. Didn’t you think your employees or their families deserved that consideration?”
Ebenezer barely flinched. “Of course,” he brushed off her accusations. “What happened at the mine was a tragic accident. I’m sure Jock McManus’s widow and Neal Tavis’s mother understand that.”
“Understand? I can assure you—they don’t, and neither do I. There’s nothing accidental about your penny-pinching and the resulting catastrophe,” Abbey snapped. “My father predicted something like this would happen.”
“Did he?” Ebenezer Mason’s eyes narrowed with malice.
“He was obviously right, and he paid the ultimate price for your failure to maintain the Morphett Engine. If you’d done the right thing, he and two other men would still be alive.”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I do have the engine maintained. Mechanical machinery fails sometimes, and it was a tragic coincidence that the miners had dug through to a water table at the precise time the engine broke down.”
“Tragic,” she echoed faintly. She hadn’t eaten since the previous morning and suddenly felt dizzy under the fiery sun. Black spots appeared before her eyes, and she swayed on her feet.
“Aren’t you feeling well, Miss Scottsdale?” Ebenezer asked. As woozy as she felt, Abbey noticed his tone lacked any genuine concern. When she didn’t answer him, he called to his driver to bring some water.
“Don’t touch me,” Abbey retorted when Ebenezer tried to take her arm to steady her. The thought of his touch was unbearable. The driver brought a bottle of water to her, but Abbey knocked it out of his hand, and it fell to the dust. In the distance, she could see the undertaker’s waggon bringing Neal’s coffin up the road to the cemetery, and her eyes filled with tears again. It was even more upsetting that Meg and the girls weren’t present.
By now, Abbey was shaking. She glared at Ebenezer. “Because of you, the man I loved, the man I was going to marry, is dead, and so is my father. I couldn’t even afford a decent funeral for my father, and he was a good man. He deserved better than a cheap pine box and an unmarked grave. Much better!”
Ebenezer Mason reached into his pocket and pulled out three pound notes. The gesture seemed almost like an afterthought. “Please accept this,” he said, taking her hand and pressing the money into it.
Abbey’s anger erupted. “Three pounds! Three lousy pounds! Is that all you think my father was worth?” She threw the notes in the air, where they were caught by the hot wind and scattered like autumn leaves over the unkempt graves that surrounded them.
“How dare you think so little of my father’s life,” she shouted.
Ebenezer’s lips pursed with anger, but he reined in his fury. He gave his driver a glare that suggested he retrieve the money promptly.
“The day before my father was killed, he told me he had recently made your acquaintance.” It wasn’t a statement, but an accusation. “You’d even convinced him that you were misunderstood.” Abbey laughed derisively, as if the notion were truly absurd. “He somehow come to respect you and to believe that you cared for your workers and even worried about them. He believed that you were his friend.” Abbey’s voice nearly broke with emotion.
Ebenezer’s expression remained impassive.
“I can’t imagine how disappointed he’d be that you didn’t at
tend his funeral, or even come to the mine after he’d been killed. The illusion that you are a decent human being would certainly have been shattered.”
Ebenezer still stayed silent.
“Do you deny that you became close in the past few weeks?” Abbey asked, bewildered by his silence.
“No, we discussed a great many things,” Ebenezer Mason eventually said, “including your future.”
Abbey was so distraught that his last words meant nothing to her. “What will I do without my father?” she whispered as a painful sob constricted her throat.
“Your father and I had come to an arrangement regarding your future, but perhaps we should speak when you are not so upset,” Ebenezer said with cold impatience. He’d never been able to tolerate emotional women.
“I have nothing to discuss with you,” Abbey hissed. “As far as I’m concerned, any such arrangement you had with my father died along with him.”
“Your father was a man of his word, and I’d expect you’d want to honour his word,” Ebenezer stated callously. His green eyes pierced her.
Abbey could tell he had chosen his statements carefully, and despite the heat of the afternoon, a chill ran up her spine. “I am not aware of any arrangement my father made with you, and I’m certainly not going to take your word for it.” Even as she spoke, doubts were creeping into Abbey’s mind. She knew that her father was desperate to see her married well, and he had accepted a dinner invitation from Ebenezer Mason, something she’d never imagined he’d do. She had also never imagined he’d have a change of heart about the mine owner, but he’d claimed he had. Even so, she couldn’t believe that he’d made any kind of formal agreement that she’d marry this man. Surely that couldn’t be true.
“We’ll discuss this further when you’ve had time to think about your circumstances.” Ebenezer turned and began walking back to his carriage. His stature, which was tall and thin, couldn’t be described as powerful, but he left no doubt that he considered himself an important man. Where was the man her father had come to knowthe man who claimed he’d been a gold miner? She couldn’t see him, not when disdain for the less fortunate seemed to drip from his every word.
Abbey understood his words as an indirect warning of some kind. There was something menacing about them, and she inwardly quaked. Nevertheless, pride forbade her from showing any fear to the man responsible for her father’s death.
“I’ll miss my father, but I’ll find a job and support myself,” she called after him. She’d meant to sound self-assured, but she realised that her tone lacked the confidence that she’d hoped to project.
As he climbed into his carriage, Ebenezer Mason paused to look at hera brief moment frozen in time. In those few seconds, his glare spoke volumes. She was left with no doubt that he meant to have his way.
Abbey felt vulnerable and afraid, but then she glanced at her father’s grave and gathered her courage. I might be young, but I’ve already lived through hard times, she told herself, thinking of their lives in Ireland and in the dugouts. What did that horrible man know about suffering? She didn’t believe he was ever a miner, or he would have looked after his workers, and she would still have her father. Abbey imagined that things couldn’t possibly get any worse for her than they were at that moment. “Oh, Father, I wish you were here to look out for me,” she whispered.
***
Ebenezer Mason went straight to Dr. Mead’s office near the hospital on Justice Lane.
“Tell Vernon I have to see him immediately,” he told the doctor’s receptionist.
“He’s with a patient, Mr. Mason,” Cora Blake said nervously. “I cannot disturb him.”
Ebenezer rolled his eyes and began pacing in the waiting room. “How long will he be?” he said loudly enough to be heard in the doctor’s office.
“I’m not sure,” Cora replied anxiously. “If you’d like to take a seat?”
“I will not,” Ebenezer snapped. “I’m a busy man.”
There were other people waiting to see the doctor, and they were annoyed that Ebenezer was thrusting himself to the front of the line, but no one was brave enough to speak out.
After speaking with Miss Scottsdale, Ebenezer was more determined than ever to have her. He’d only seen her from a distance before, but he had been able to tell she was beautiful. Up close, he’d found her exquisite, and her hostility towards him had only fuelled his desire.
Ebenezer had imagined that it would be easy to coax Miss Scottsdale into an affair with him, as long as he had her father on his side. He’d never had any trouble before. Usually a few expensive gifts and a few promises of a good life as his paramour sufficed to get what he wanted. But then he’d changed his mind and decided Abbey Scottsdale was worth marrying. He wanted her to bear him children. For the first time in years, he wanted a young, beautiful bride who would enrich his life, as well as children to enliven Martindale Hall. He wanted to hear their laughter in the house and have a beautiful wife to host his parties.
Ebenezer knew that Finlay Scottsdale could be a fiery-tempered Irishman, so he’d gone out of his way to acquaint himself with him. He’d felt his efforts had been fruitful and that Finlay would encourage a union with his daughter. But then Finlay had been killed in the mine, and now his daughter was blaming him. This gave him pause, especially as she didn’t seem to believe his story about an agreement with her father. Somehow, he must convince her that he felt responsible for what happened without leaving himself open to litigation. He also needed to lure her to his home, and he knew just how he was going to do it. But he needed Vernon Mead’s help. One thing was certain, when Abbey Scottsdale was his, he’d crush that temper of hers.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Mason?” Dr. Vernon Mead asked, after rushing his patient out the door. “Is this an emergency? I have other patients waiting.”
“Yes, it’s an emergency,” Ebenezer said, entering the doctor’s office and closing the door behind him. He lowered his voice. “I need some more opiates and that other potion you gave me for …” he paused, whispering, “. . . my virility.”
Vernon Mead looked dismayed. “Mr. Mason, I must be careful. Opiates can be dangerous if the dosage is incorrect, and that other potion for your” He glanced towards Ebenezer’s nether regions. “Too much is not good for your heart. I do not want to be responsible for your demise.”
“Let me worry about that, Vernon,” Ebenezer spat. “I’m a busy man, and I’ve much to do today, so just give me what I want, and I’ll be on my way.”
Vernon sighed. He felt he had no choice, so he went to his medicine cabinet. “This is the last time, Mr. Mason,” he said. “It’s too risky.” This time he meant it. Ebenezer Mason had claimed he used the opiates himself to ease the stresses of owning the mine, but Vernon wasn’t wholly convinced it was the truth, and his conscience was suffering. He knew Ebenezer had an eye for young women, and he couldn’t turn a blind eye to what might be happening.
“Yes, yes, just hurry,” Ebenezer said impatiently.
***
Over the next few days, Abbey was forced to change her mind about her situation. She went to every shop and business in Burra, asking for work, but with no luck. She even went to the laundry where Meg Tavis had been employed, but she couldn’t get a job anywhere. Finally, when she was down to her last penny, she remembered Paddy Walsh’s suggestion and went to see Mrs. Slocomb, who ran a boarding house on Chapel Street. She was thrilled when she was offered a cleaning job, to start the next day. The pay was meager, but Abbey was relieved to have something. At least she wouldn’t starve, and she’d be standing on her own two feet. As she began walking back to Creek Street, she thought of how proud her father would have been, and tears welled in her eyes once more.
***
When Abbey reported for work early the next morning, after another night of little sleep and nightmares, Mrs. Slocomb told her the position was no longer availab
le.
“I don’t understand, Mrs. Slocomb,” Abbey said, bewildered. “Yesterday you said I could start this morning. What has changed?”
“I’m sorry, dear,” Mrs. Slocomb said, clearly uncomfortable. “My husband and I had a look at our books, and we found we can’t afford to hire anyone just now.”
Abbey was bitterly disappointed. She suspected that Mrs. Slocomb was lying, but she didn’t know why. For the past two days, she had begun to feel that Ebenezer Mason was somehow responsible for her inability to find work, especially when other young women on Creek Street had found employment easily. One girl, Carrie Finch, had even been given a job at the same shop where Abbey had asked for work just hours earlier.
As she walked home, Abbey told herself she was being silly, but then she remembered that Mrs. Slocomb’s husband had once worked alongside her father at the mine before he broke his back, leaving him permanently unable to work.
The more Abbey thought about it, the more convinced she became that Ebenezer Mason had put the word out that no one was to employ her. He had a lot of influence in Burra, as the town depended on the mine. Why would he be so cruel? Back at the dugout, she cried again.
A short while later Abbey heard someone calling her name. It was Vera Nichols.
“Have you heard, dear?” Vera asked in a sombre tone.
“Heard what?” Abbey asked. Her heart began pounding. She couldn’t take any more bad news.
“Meg passed away last night,” Vera said gently.
“Oh, no,” Abbey said, burying her face in her hands to sob.
“I’m sorry, love,” Vera said, a bit teary herself. “I thought you should hear it from me.”
“What about Amy and Emily?” Abbey asked through her tears.
“Apparently, they’re to be sent by dray to an Adelaide orphanage,” Vera said. “Poor little mites.” Shaking her head, sadly she left.
Abbey closed her eyes. Shef thought about how upset Neal would be if he knew what had happened to his mother and sisters. Abbey couldn’t help but feel as if she had let him down. If she’d had a job, she might have been able to care for Amy and Emily. Who am I kidding? she thought. I can’t even support myself.
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