The Jade Widow

by Deborah O'Brien

  Not long afterwards, she discovered that New South Wales had its own Great Western in a town called Katoomba, which had recently transformed itself from a coalmining community to a holiday resort, thanks to its sandstone cliffs, deep valleys and fresh mountain air. Together with her Aunt Molly, who had always loved an adventure, Amy took the Main Western Line from Sydney Terminal to the Blue Mountains where the train ascended the Lapstone Hill via a series of zigzag tracks, resembling the terraced hillsides that Amy had seen in Chinese paintings.

  Newly built, the Katoomba Great Western might not have been as imposing as its British counterpart, but it boasted a perfect location at the highest point of the main street, right in the heart of the town. Inside the building Aunt Molly admired the vast dining room with its domed skylight made of coloured glass, and Amy sighed over the elegantly tiled bathrooms at the end of each corridor, ladies’ at one end, gentlemen’s at the other. They had lunch in the spacious dining room, ribbon sandwiches and tiny pork pies. On the train journey back to Sydney, the fantasy castle began to recede from her mind’s eye and in its place was a real hotel, three storeys high with a row of dormers. For her interior she would borrow the stained-glass dome and the bathrooms from Katoomba. Her single concession to the daydreams would be a whimsical turret.

  It wasn’t easy to translate her mental picture into something she could explain to other people. For that, she required a draughtsman. She soon found one in Granthurst, a studious young man by the name of Anthony White, to whom she showed the postcard of London’s Great Western and explained that she wanted the same style of building, only on a much smaller scale and with a single tower right in the centre. Although she expected him to ask why a lady could possibly wish to construct a building, let alone a hotel, he acted as though it was a perfectly normal request. Within minutes he had sketched something he called an ‘elevation’.

  ‘Yes, that’s it!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Where is this building going to be located?’ he asked.

  ‘Millbrooke,’ she replied, ‘but I don’t have an exact spot. Not yet.’

  He gave her an indulgent smile. ‘When you have found your land, do come back and I’ll draw up the plans.’

  So she carried his sketch in her bag and waited for a block of land to become available in Miller Street. It took a year before the boot shop, a dilapidated 1850s store, came on the market. The site was perfect, being right next door to the emporium. At the start of 1883 she dipped into her savings and bought it. But it wasn’t big enough for her turreted hotel. So Amy set her heart on the neighbouring block, home to Thompsons’ General Store. The two blocks in total would provide her with almost an acre. However the problem was that Mr Thompson had no intention of selling his property, even though his building was one of the most ramshackle in all of Millbrooke.

  More than a year later, the town woke to the news that Mr Thompson had died of a heart attack the previous night. Afterwards his widow sold off the contents of the store – stock and fittings – and put the building up for sale at an exorbitant price. And why not? Mrs Thompson knew there was a buyer desperate to purchase the place. Amy had to use most of her remaining cash to acquire the property. It was a gamble, but she felt certain she would be able to raise a loan through the local bank. After all, she had been co-owner of Millbrooke’s most successful business for the past eleven years. Her instincts told her that once the hotel was finished, visitors would flock to it. But the bank wouldn’t lend to a woman, no matter how much experience she’d had in the world of commerce. It was only after John Miller offered to act as guarantor that the bank manager reluctantly gave in. When Amy signed the loan document, she felt a shiver pass up her spine. She wasn’t sure whether it was from excitement or fear or both. All she knew was that she was obliged to make this hotel a success because it wasn’t simply her own money at stake in the project, it was the Miller family’s too.

  Once she had the loan, she commissioned Mr White to draw up the plans. He made a visit to Millbrooke to look at the site, staying overnight so that he could observe how the light fell on the block from dawn to sunset.

  ‘Mrs Chen, I can see why you would want to build a decent hotel,’ he said, after spending the night at the orange stucco public house. ‘I couldn’t sleep for the noise. What’s more, the room was far from clean.’

  ‘What are your thoughts about the position of my hotel, Mr White?’

  ‘It is a pity about the south-facing frontage,’ he said with a frown. ‘Not the best outlook, but we shall use large windows to make the most of the light. And you have such a wide street front, we could add a conservatory at the side.’

  ‘With a domed ceiling and a skylight?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course,’ he replied with a smile.

  They discussed the details for a long time before deciding on the layout. The ground floor would contain the public rooms: the grand entrance with a tessellated tile floor, the ballroom, dining room, cloakroom, kitchen, scullery, Amy’s office and the manager’s rooms. The next floor would comprise twenty-five guest rooms with bathrooms at either end, ladies’ at the south-east corner and gentlemen’s at the north-west. On the top floor, with its sloping ceilings and dormer windows, they would incorporate the staff quarters, plus sample rooms for commercial travellers wishing to display their wares. This uppermost floor would also be home to the hotel’s most luxurious suite, which Amy had already named the Oriental Suite. Above it there would be a turret, accessible to guests staying in that suite via an intricately wrought spiral staircase.

  ‘There won’t be much room inside the tower,’ Mr White warned.

  ‘But it will afford panoramic views,’ said Amy. ‘We shall place window seats around the perimeter and a telescope so that guests can see as far as the mountains.’

  ‘There is a problem with putting your best room on the top floor, Mrs Chen.’

  ‘Are you referring to all those stairs?’

  ‘It is quite a trek for your guests, even if you supply porters to carry their luggage.’

  ‘I already have a solution, Mr White.’ She had been saving this for last. ‘We shall have an ascending room. My friend, Miss Eliza Miller, saw one in London. In fact, she was able to take a ride in it and declared it a most exciting experience.’

  ‘An ascending room?’ asked Mr White.

  ‘Yes, it’s such a clever idea. The guests enter a cabinet and it is raised to reach the appropriate floor.’

  Mr White looked puzzled. ‘And how does this rising cabinet work?’

  ‘Apparently it operates by water pressure.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ he said, scratching his head. ‘In that case, we would need a very large water tank below the building. But that would entail significant excavation.’

  ‘I do not care how you solve this problem, Mr White, but I do require an ascending room for my guests.’

  It took the remainder of 1884 for the plans to be finalised and approved. Then she hired a builder. If she had made the decision on the basis of personal charm, the job would never have gone to the gruff Mr Rotherwood. What won him the position was the fine work he had done building the town’s new council chambers, an elegant stucco building crowned by a parapet of Grecian urns.

  Meanwhile, Amy set about planning the furniture and fittings. This was the part she loved. ‘Playing doll’s house’, she called it. She had a vast source of wondrous wares at her disposal by way of her contacts in China. She dreamed of an interior which would be a mix of Western and European styles, reflecting the tastes of her late husband. In the middle of the foyer she would place a round rosewood table with dragons carved into the cabriole legs. On top of the table a large blue and white Chinese urn would hold Australian flowers in season – bottlebrush, banksia, wattle, flannel flowers and all the other plants she had come to love over the past twenty years. There would be yellow orchids too, even if she had to import them from China.

  She had already commissioned a local cabinet-maker to begin the cedar staircase
and the carved front doors. In addition, she had consulted an artist in Granthurst about a full-size portrait of Charles to hang at the top of the landing, where it would be visible to anyone entering the hotel. The likeness would be modelled after a miniature painted years ago – a gift from the Miller family to Charles. He, in turn, had planned to have a matching portrait painted of Amy but had died before he could set it in train.

  This very day Anthony White was coming from Granthurst with his drawings for the ascending cabinet. He had written to Amy, saying he felt it important to confer with the builder before things progressed too far. Amy was meeting him at the station and, after an inspection of the site and consultations with Mr Rotherwood, the two of them would go back to Paterson Street to talk about the details. But it would be improper for her to be alone at the house with a gentleman, albeit in the presence of her son, so Amy had invited Eliza to join them. After all, she was the only person who had ever seen or used an ascending room and was therefore best disposed to assess the merits of Mr White’s contraption. It also crossed Amy’s mind that Anthony White, being of a scientific bent, might be a suitable gentleman for Eliza. Although he was a serious man, Amy detected an undercurrent of humour in his secret smiles and occasional wry comments. And he hadn’t shown the least surprise at the idea of a lady as entrepreneur. In which case, he might well be accepting of the notion of a lady doctor. Not that Amy was matchmaking. Heaven forbid. Yet if there was to be an attraction between the two of them, well . . .

  Once they had finished their tea and sandwiches, Mr White produced his drawings.

  ‘Mr Rotherwood considers this a most elegant solution,’ Amy told Eliza.

  As Anthony White smiled modestly, Amy wondered if the pink glow on his cheeks might actually be a blush, or was it just a trick of the midday light?

  ‘So your invention doesn’t use water at all?’ said Eliza.

  ‘No, Miss Miller, it’s a much simpler idea. Have you ever taken a sea voyage?’

  ‘Indeed I have.’

  ‘In that case, you might have noticed the sailors raising and lowering the anchor. They employ a mechanism known as a windlass, which has a rope wound around it. My ascending cabinet would work on a similar principle.’

  ‘Is it like Mama winding our clock?’ asked Charlie. ‘When she turns the key, it raises the pendulums.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Mr Miller. ‘What a smart young man you are.’ He pointed to his drawing. ‘Now, do you see these two wheels? One is small, the other large. They are engaged with each other by way of teeth or cogs. If you turn this lever, which is connected to the small wheel, it will cause the cable to raise or lower the cabinet.’

  ‘It’s magic,’ said Charlie.

  ‘No, Charlie, it’s just cogs and gears,’ said Mr White.

  ‘You are exceedingly clever, Mr White,’ said Eliza.

  Amy gave the draughtsman a quick glance. Yes, the glow was back, brighter than before.

  ‘I know my father would be fascinated by your invention,’ Eliza said with enthusiasm. ‘You must come to our house this evening for supper and you can tell him all about it.’

  ‘I was intending to return to Granthurst on the afternoon train.’

  ‘Surely you could take tomorrow morning’s train instead. Unless you have a previous engagement?’

  Amy had never seen Eliza behave in such a brazen way. Was it a result of the last three years spent in cosmopolitan Paris?

  ‘I have no previous engagement. And your offer is most kind but . . .’

  ‘Well, that is settled,’ said Eliza. ‘Joseph will come and collect you at five. You too,’ she added, indicating Amy and Charlie. ‘And you can all spend the night at Millerbrooke.’

  ‘I couldn’t impose,’ said Mr White.

  ‘It is no imposition. You can share Daniel’s room with Doctor Burns. He won’t mind. Daniel is my brother, by the way. He’s fighting in the Soudan.’

  ‘You must be awfully proud of him.’

  ‘We are indeed,’ said Amy. ‘They are upholding a heroic cause.’

  ‘And we cannot wait for his safe return,’ said Eliza.

  After John Miller took Mr White on a tour of the house, everyone assembled in the drawing room prior to supper. Everyone except Doctor Burns, who had not yet returned for the day.

  ‘Wainscot panelling,’ said Mr White, running his hand over the woodwork in the parlour. ‘The attention to detail is most impressive, Mr Miller.’

  ‘I have my father to thank for that. I imagine he saw some magnificent buildings during his time in the Royal Navy.’

  At that moment Doctor Burns appeared at the doorway, his brown locks tousled as if he had just removed his hat and not bothered to smooth his hair.

  ‘Please accept my apologies for being late,’ he said. ‘There was an emergency.’

  Amy waited for Eliza to ask the cause but instead she said, ‘Doctor Burns, may I introduce our special guest from Granthurst, Mr Anthony White. Mr White, Doctor Martin Burns.’

  As the men shook hands, Amy noted they were of similar height.

  ‘Mr White is an architect,’ said Eliza.

  ‘Actually, Miss Miller, I’m a draughtsman.’

  ‘Well, you are talented, nonetheless,’ said Eliza, ‘and far too modest.’ She turned towards the doctor. ‘Mr White has designed an ascending cabinet for Amy’s hotel.’

  ‘I saw one at the Grosvenor in London,’ said the doctor. ‘Some people were afraid to travel in them for fear the cable would break.’

  ‘Were you afraid, Doctor Burns?’ asked Eliza.

  ‘No, Miss Miller, I was not.’

  ‘Nor was I,’ she said.

  ‘Safety is indeed a concern,’ said Mr White. ‘I have discussed this with Mrs Chen’s builder. Once the cabinet is in use, the cables will need to be checked on a regular basis and the weight limit must never be exceeded.’

  ‘Who will turn the cable?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘There will be a staff member responsible for winding the winch and bringing the cabinet to a stop at the appropriate floor.’

  ‘But how would he know when to stop?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘And will he be inside the cabinet?’ asked Eliza, not giving the draughtsman a chance to answer the previous question.

  ‘What if there was a gap?’ asked James, joining in the barrage.

  ‘Could a passenger fall into the shaft?’ said Charlie.

  ‘What do you think, Martin?’ asked Joseph. ‘You have seen these cabinets in operation.’

  Doctor Burns laughed. ‘I have no idea. Mr White is the expert.’ He indicated Mr White.

  ‘We shall put markings on the cable so that the operator will know exactly when to stop.’

  ‘But what if a guest is on the top floor and wants to go down? How would he or she alert the operator?’ asked Charlotte, entering into the conversation for the first time.

  ‘In the same way that you would summon a servant. By a system of bells.’

  ‘It sounds most exciting,’ said Joseph, ‘and I imagine it will be a great drawcard. Visitors will undoubtedly come to Millbrooke just to ride in the colony’s first ascending cabinet.’

  ‘Mama, why is it not also called a descending cabinet?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘That’s a very good question,’ said Amy. ‘Perhaps it needs another name altogether. Why don’t you and James try to think of one?’

  When the evening was over, everyone went upstairs to their rooms. Amy, Eliza and the doctor were the last to leave the parlour. As they reached the base of the stairs, the doctor said:

  ‘Excuse me, Miss Miller. I almost forgot to mention that a young lady came into the surgery this morning, asking for you.’

  ‘Me? That’s most peculiar. What is her name?’

  ‘She wouldn’t supply it. She insisted on speaking to you. Doctor Allen and I assumed it must be a female matter. As you are aware, some of the ladies find it difficult to discuss such things with a man.’

  ‘Did she indicate w
hen she would be coming back?’

  ‘I suggested you would see her tomorrow morning at nine. I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous of me.’

  Eliza gave him a look so withering Amy felt embarrassed.

  Then Eliza said, ‘When have you ever been presumptuous, Doctor Burns?’

  ‘Goodnight, Mrs Chen,’ said the doctor, inclining his head towards Amy. ‘Miss Miller.’ He gave Eliza a perfunctory nod.

  When he was at the top of the stairs, Eliza whispered to Amy, ‘That man is entirely lacking in manners.’

  VIII

  ELIZA

  Friday 1st May, 1885

  The next morning Joseph took James to school, dropped Mr White at the railway station and delivered Amy and Charlie to their house. Meanwhile, Doctor Burns, who had recently purchased his own horse and sulky, drove Eliza into town. She had wanted to travel with the others, but there wasn’t enough room. Neither Eliza nor the doctor spoke a word until they reached the junction with the main road to Millbrooke. Then the doctor brought the horse to a halt with such abruptness that it gave Eliza a start.

  ‘What in heaven’s name are you doing?’ she cried. ‘If you cannot handle a horse and sulky, you’d better let me take the reins.’

  Ignoring her rebuke, he said, ‘There is a matter we need to settle, Eliza Miller, before we proceed any further with this journey. Your brother calls me Martin. So does Amy. Why do you continue to address me so formally or, worse still, call me nothing at all?’

  Eliza considered his question for a moment before answering, ‘Why would we use Christian names? We are not friends.’