Amy caught sight of Mr Mitchell coming towards her, dressed in his evening attire and checking his fob watch. Surely Sir Henry couldn’t be far behind. When he reached her side, the secretary spoke in a low voice, ‘Mrs Chen, have you seen Sir Henry?’
‘No, I expected him to be with you.’
‘I woke him at six so that he would have time to dress for dinner. I wonder if he might have fallen asleep again. It’s odd because he’s never late. Perhaps I should go up and check.’
At that moment Amy observed Timothy and Mr O’Donnell engaged in a whispered conversation at the doors to the ascending cabinet.
‘I think we had better go and investigate,’ said Amy. ‘Kindly follow me, sir.’
When they reached the two men, Amy took Mr O’Donnell aside. ‘What’s happened?’
He responded in a whisper. ‘Only a few minutes ago Sir Henry rang for the cabinet and Timothy sent it up. As he began to lower it, the ropes stopped.’
‘What do you mean they stopped?’
‘They won’t move in either direction. I fear the cabinet is jammed.’
Amy put her hand over her mouth. ‘Are you telling me it’s jammed with Sir Henry Parkes inside it?’ She fought to quell the high-pitched note in her voice. ‘Heavens above! Can’t you dislodge it?’
‘We’ve tried,’ said Mr O’Donnell. ‘I’m about to go upstairs and take a look down the shaft. Perhaps I’ll be able to spot the problem.’
‘Please do so expeditiously. We cannot have Sir Henry stuck in my ascending cabinet.’
‘Stuck in the cabinet!’ It was Mr Mitchell’s voice, so loud that those nearby turned to look. Before long, the news had spread around the foyer and a throng had gathered in front of the cabinet doors.
Goodness gracious, Amy thought to herself, we’ll be a laughingstock. I can just imagine tomorrow’s headlines. Then she recalled Sir Henry’s dislike of enclosed spaces. Poor man, he must be terrified.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Eliza, pushing her way through the crowd. Aunt Molly, who had come for the weekend, was next to her.
‘Our guest of honour is temporarily detained,’ said Amy, struggling to sound composed.
Presently Liam O’Donnell was back and whispering in her ear. ‘I called out to Sir Henry from the top. He said he didn’t like to be shut in and could we get the lift moving? So I assured him it would only be a few minutes and not to worry.’
‘I can’t believe this is happening. Why tonight of all nights? It’s worked perfectly well until now.’
‘I have a theory,’ he said.
‘A theory!’ she cried, looking at him with wild eyes. ‘I need a solution, not a theory.’ Meanwhile the crowd was pressing ever closer.
‘The cabinet appears to be wedged at the join between two lengths of the guide rail. Perhaps they weren’t tightened up properly in the first place.’
‘If that is the case, why hasn’t it jammed before now?’
‘I suspect that Sir Henry might have been standing at the side rather than the centre.’
‘Would that make any difference? Mr White has told us the cabinet can safely carry four people. Sir Henry is in there on his own. Does it really matter where he’s standing?’
‘I’m not an engineer, Mrs Chen. All I know is that Sir Henry is a big man and that might have made the lift tilt.’
‘So what can be done?’
‘I’ll go upstairs and ask him to move into the centre.’
‘Can’t you do it from here?’
‘I don’t think that would be very discreet.’
‘You’re right, but please hurry.’
As Mr O’Donnell dashed up the stairs, Mr Mitchell paced back and forth. ‘Is Sir Henry going to be all right? You don’t think he might run out of air and suffocate, do you?’
Amy shivered. She hadn’t considered that possibility. Steadying her voice, she said, ‘There’s no cause for concern. Mr O’Donnell has everything in hand.’
‘Could the cabinet fall to the bottom?’ Eliza asked.
Amy gave her friend a dark look. Didn’t she realise she was making things worse?
‘It can’t fall, Miss Miller,’ said Timothy. ‘I’ve tied off the rope.’
‘But what if the rope breaks?’ asked Aunt Molly.
‘I check the ropes daily for signs of fraying, madam,’ said Timothy. ‘They’re fine.’
Well, thank goodness for that, thought Amy.
Suddenly Mr O’Donnell was back.
‘How is Sir Henry?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Bearing up. I offered him some words of reassurance.’
If anyone could reassure Sir Henry, it would be Mr O’Donnell.
‘And I’ve warned him we will have to raise the cabinet a little in order to release it.’
In the foyer, all chatter had ceased and every eye was focused on the efforts to free the ascending cabinet.
Timothy untied the rope and pulled hard in an attempt to raise it. Sweat was pouring from his face, yet nothing happened.
‘Let me have a try,’ said Mr O’Donnell, removing his jacket and handing it to Amy.
Even in her agitated state, she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked in his shirtsleeves. Like the rest of the crowd, she held her breath as he took the rope from Timothy and began to pull on it. For a second the rope didn’t move. Then slowly it began to run through his hands. As soon as he was sure the cabinet was free of the guide rail, he called out to Sir Henry.
‘I am going to pull the cabinet down now, sir. Kindly remain in the centre.’
In less than a minute, Amy was relieved to see the marking on the rope indicated the floor of the cabinet was now level with the tiles of the foyer. To the sound of loud applause, Mr O’Donnell opened the doors. And there was Sir Henry, his pale blue eyes sparkling, though his cheeks did look a little flushed.
‘Good evening, citizens of Millbrooke,’ he said in his commanding voice. ‘I would have been here earlier, but I found myself in a sticky jam.’
Along with everyone else, Amy began to laugh, though her laughter was more from a sense of relief than amusement at Sir Henry’s pun. Thank goodness he seemed to be taking the incident in his stride. She shuddered to think how it might have ended, had he been detained any longer. Beside her, Mr O’Donnell gave her arm a momentary squeeze. She prayed the onlookers were too engrossed in Sir Henry’s arrival to notice. As she handed her manager his jacket, she said, ‘Thank you, Mr O’Donnell. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ But she wondered if he had heard her over the sound of the applause.
‘Three cheers for Sir Henry Parkes!’ someone cried. ‘Hip hip hooray.’
‘Three cheers for Mr O’Donnell,’ said Timothy enthusiastically.
‘He’s quite the hero,’ Eliza said to Amy.
‘Is he spoken for?’ asked Aunt Molly.
‘He is a little young for you, Mrs Mackenzie,’ said Eliza playfully.
‘But the perfect age for somebody else I know.’
Ignoring their banter, Amy watched Sir Henry making the most of his theatrical entrance. ‘For a while,’ he said in his powerful voice, ‘I thought I was back in Cabinet.’
Amid the laughter, a female voice called out, ‘You’ll be back next election.’
Amy recognised the voice instantly and cringed.
Then the crowd parted as Sir Henry put his arm in Amy’s and they led the procession into the dining room.
Amy and her manager had meticulously planned the seating arrangements. And despite Eliza’s entreaties to be placed next to Sir Henry, the rules of protocol dictated that the hostess sit on one side and the Mayor’s wife on the other. Eliza had been designated a seat further down the main table beside Doctor Burns, while Aunt Molly had been placed on his other side. As for Amy’s father, he hadn’t bothered to reply to the invitation, though her mother had sent a note wishing her well.
Even with Eliza some distance from Sir Henry, Amy had feared she might try to monopolise him with talk ab
out universal suffrage or a united Australia. As it happened, it was Amy herself who was guilty of monopolising the politician. Or it might have been the other way around. They chatted right through the appetiser of caviar frais and huîtres natives and into the main course of suprême de volaille with pommes persillées and choux fleurs au gratin.
When Sir Henry complimented her on the intricately carved hair clip she was wearing in her upswept coiffure, she replied, ‘It’s ivory – my husband gave it to me,’ not expecting to hear:
‘As a boy back in England I undertook an apprenticeship in bone and ivory turning.’
‘Really?’
‘I wasn’t always a politician, Mrs Chen. Long before you were born, I worked in many trades. I was even a labourer, carrying bricks. I didn’t have much formal schooling, but I’ve educated myself through reading. That is why I believe so strongly that everyone should have the right to an education.’
During dessert he entertained her with stories about his encounters with the luminaries of America and England. All the while, she couldn’t help noticing the deep horizontal furrow between his brows, as if he carried a great burden inside his head. Yet whatever weighed him down, he didn’t let it show. He was witty and charming and exactly the kind of man she would have wanted for a father, though she suspected he didn’t think of her in a daughterly way at all. She longed to ask him how someone with such forward-thinking views on education and women’s rights could have been party to an anti-Chinese law, but the right moment never came.
After petits fours it was time for the loyal toast and Sir Henry’s speech. He rose from his seat like a monarch about to address his courtiers, and the room fell silent – not even the clinking of a glass or the sound of a throat being cleared. In the background Mr O’Donnell had indicated to the waiters and waitresses to cease their service and stand motionless around the perimeter of the room.
‘Lord Mayor, Lady Mayoress, Mrs Chen, distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen of Millbrooke, it is both a pleasure and a privilege to be here this evening, particularly in the light of my recent escapade. For a while, I actually believed I might be left in limbo all night. Which would have meant missing the banquet and your gracious company.’
When he said ‘gracious company’, he gave Amy a quick glance.
‘To tell you the truth, I am quite used to being in limbo,’ Sir Henry continued, ‘or, as we are wont to call it in my particular trade, the opposition benches. It is where I have spent the past year, though I trust I will not remain there much longer.’
A few seats away Amy heard the sound of clapping. It was Eliza.
‘But enough of politics. I am here tonight to honour Millbrooke’s Golden Jubilee.’
Then he went on to talk about Captain Alexander Miller, a hero of the Napoleonic Wars, who had been granted land in New South Wales where he built a home for his family and lived a life reflecting the sterling values of the British race. Sir Henry recalled his own arrival in 1839 with a wife, a two-day-old newborn and barely enough money to survive. He described a time before the discovery of gold, a distant era when convicts were still being transported from England and Sydney was a ramshackle settlement, unlike the sophisticated metropolis it had now become. He spoke of Millbrooke as a microcosm of the changes that had taken place across the colony. A sleepy little village, founded by pioneering pastoralists, whose population had swollen overnight when a local man stumbled over a gold nugget in a field. A town, which had come of age when one of its own went off to war and didn’t make it home. Tactfully he didn’t mention his own opposition to that particular war. The audience sat in silence for twenty minutes, mesmerised by Sir Henry’s powerful voice and the word pictures he painted.
‘Now, let us raise our glasses to Millbrooke,’ he said. ‘May the next fifty years bring continued prosperity and growth. To Millbrooke.’
‘Millbrooke,’ everyone repeated in unison.
When all the guests had left and Sir Henry was safely in his room, Amy went to her office to check on Charlie, who was asleep on the sofa, wrapped tightly in a blanket.
‘Would you care for a cup of tea, Mrs Chen?’ Mr O’Donnell was standing at the door with a tray in his hands. ‘I managed to persuade Mrs Watson to make a pot before she closed the kitchen.’
‘Thank you. I could do with a nice cup of tea. Why don’t you join me?’ she said, noticing there were two cups on the tray. ‘You must be weary after such a long evening. Not to mention your heroic efforts with the ascending cabinet.’
He laughed. ‘Sir Henry certainly made the most of that incident. I suspect he has gained many new supporters this evening.’
‘So did you, Mr O’Donnell. My aunt was most impressed. She said I was lucky to have you here. Speaking of which, I have a small gift to say thank you for your hard work over the past few months.’
‘I couldn’t accept a gift, Mrs Chen. I was simply doing my job.’
‘You have done far more than that. Please accept it as a token of my gratitude and esteem.’
‘I’m truly not worthy of either. I . . .’
‘Of course you are,’ she interrupted, taking a small box from her desk drawer and handing it to him. He hesitated so long in opening the box that she thought he was going to hand it back to her. Finally he removed the lid and held up a pair of silver cufflinks in the shape of shamrocks. Amy had found them in the Anthony Horderns’ catalogue and thought immediately of her Irishman. Well, he wasn’t really hers – that was just a figure of speech.
‘You shouldn’t have done this,’ he said softly.
‘Don’t you like them?’
‘They’re beautiful.’ In the lamplight his eyes shone like wet emeralds.
‘Then take them. It’s not as though I know any other Irishmen to whom I can give them.’
‘In that case, I shall wear them every day.’
As Charlie dozed on the sofa, they drank their tea in comfortable silence.
‘By the way, Mrs Chen, I’ve had the beds in the Lotus Room made up for you and Charlie.’
‘Thank you. I’m really far too tired to go home tonight.’
‘Would you like me to carry Charlie upstairs?’
‘But he’s such a big boy now.’
‘I don’t mind, and it would be a pity to wake him.’
When they finished their tea, Mr O’Donnell carried a blanketed Charlie up the stairs. As they passed the portrait of Charles, he paused for a moment and looked at it, before continuing up the next flight and down the hallway to the Lotus Room where he gently deposited Charlie on the bed.
‘Goodnight, Mrs Chen. Thank you for the cufflinks.’
‘You’re most welcome, Mr O’Donnell.’
They exchanged a long look and then he left the room, closing the door behind him.
The next morning, the Mayor showed Sir Henry the sights of Millbrooke, followed by morning tea at the hotel. Then it was time for him to leave.
‘I have enjoyed my sojourn immensely, Mrs Chen, even to the adventure with the ascending cabinet,’ he said as they stood under the portico, waiting for Arthur and the carriage. ‘And I shall be recommending the Emporium Hotel to my parliamentary colleagues as a most pleasant rural establishment.’
Impulsively Amy stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Oh dear, had she breached the rules of protocol by doing so? But Sir Henry didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was smiling. Then he said, ‘I couldn’t help noticing that you are still in mourning. Might it not be time to leave the sombre colours behind?’
‘The Queen mourns Prince Albert to this day,’ Amy said defensively.
‘That is true, but she was forty-two when he died, while you are a young woman with your life ahead of you. Do not let it pass you by.’
‘I have my son and this hotel.’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘What I meant was, don’t close your heart to life and its possibilities. There’s a poet I met while I was in America, a talented gentleman by the name of Mr Whitman. He’s been
unwell for some time now. But in his heyday he penned a piece about President Lincoln’s untimely death. You might find it helpful, my dear. I shall post it to you.’
‘Thank you, Sir Henry. I would appreciate that.’
His secretary was hovering nearby, anxiously checking his fob watch. ‘We’ll miss the train, sir, if we don’t leave now.’
‘I wouldn’t mind spending another day in Millbrooke,’ said Sir Henry mischievously.
Mr Mitchell protested that they had to be in Granthurst that afternoon, and Sir Henry gave Amy a wink. Or perhaps it was her imagination. Then he boarded the carriage. As it set off for the station, he turned and waved.
Amy waved back, observing the carriage until it reached the crest of the hill and disappeared over the rise. Just as she was about to go inside she saw Mr O’Donnell standing in the doorway.
‘I think you have won a heart,’ he said.
‘Or lost mine,’ she replied with a grin.
One sunny May morning when the gardens of Millbrooke were bursting with frilly chrysanthemums, Eliza and Nancy appeared at Amy’s office carrying a large white box between them.
‘It’s your birthday present,’ Eliza said, pushing the box towards her.
‘We made it for you, Amy,’ said Nancy.
‘Nancy did most of the sewing,’ added Eliza. ‘As you’re well aware, I’ve never been one for needlework.’
When Amy lifted the lid, she spied a gown of lilac voile, its bodice decorated with French lace.
‘Oooh,’ she squealed. ‘It’s positively beautiful. Thank you!’ She hugged each woman in turn. Then something dawned on her. ‘But I can’t wear lilac.’
‘Of course you can,’ said Eliza firmly. ‘It’s the colour of half mourning. Everyone knows lilac or lavender or mauve – whatever you wish to call it – is perfectly acceptable after the first year has passed. You can’t remain in full mourning forever.’
‘Queen Victoria has done so,’ Amy countered. ‘And Nancy is still wearing black.’
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