Standing Stones

by Beth Camp

  “Very well. If I may ask, when do we leave for Edinburgh?”

  “Possibly October, but no later than mid-November. We'll return here in the spring, March or so. I’m not ready to winter at Westness. Yet.”

  “Will we be close to the University?”

  “I’ve been rereading Drummond’s study. New Town is quite modern. I’ve leased a house on Hanover Street near St. Andrew’s. I’m sure you will find it pleasant.”

  “That’s the other side of the city from my family. If we're going to be here until October, I really would like to send for Diana.”

  “Perhaps. Just not now.” Gordon picked up another letter, this one from Hyderabad. “Ah, news from India.”

  For a moment, the office was quiet. Gordon heard Alice’s skirt rustling as she rose and left, shutting the door behind her.

  Alice spoke to Mrs. MacNaught about dinner and directed Perkins to hire two day workers. Alone in her rooms, she drew the heavy hangings open. Cold air seeped through the glass. She stood close to the peat fire in the fireplace and stared at the closet that connected her rooms to Gordon’s bedroom.

  Her rooms had high ceilings and wooden panels; they were bright and airy despite the dark furniture that looked as if it had been imported from the mainland many decades before. The Persian carpets they had brought from London bloomed underneath her feet as she paced back and forth. She pressed her stomach. I wish I could send for Diana.

  In the beginning, Lord Gordon had seemed romantic. Alice, the second daughter of Dr. William Butler Wheaton, professor at the Edinburgh School of Medicine, had attended a lecture at the Great Hall. There, Lord Gordon, short of stature and with a slight limp, enthralled the audience with his tales of battle in the remote mountains of Afghanistan, his visits to the Deccan courts in southeastern India as an attaché, and his descriptions of the mussel men, their harems, and the threat of pirates along the coast of West Africa.

  His reserved and courteous manner struck her, and she welcomed him when he called later that week. He talked with her father about exotic plants and herbal medicines and took tea with the family. Everyone liked him. The following day, Gordon brought a ginger plant from India, calling it Inji, from its Tamil name, and demonstrated how to make a kind of pickle from its roots, to counter the effects of the heat, he said.

  Over the next several weeks, Gordon visited frequently. One evening after dinner, he strolled with Alice out into her mother’s expansive garden. “I am a simple man,” he said, drawing her into a gazebo.

  Alice could hear her younger sisters, Sarah and Rebecca, talking as they picked flowers nearby.

  “I’ve returned to Scotland, God willing, to make my home. I am searching for a wife, one who is well educated, and of a calm and virtuous temperament.” He took her hand. “You appear to be such a lady.”

  “I had not thought to marry, Lord Gordon.” Alice replied. “My sisters and I, we’ve had a somewhat different upbringing. I fear some would call us bluestockings. Our parents have encouraged us in our studies and in our charitable works.”

  “I applaud your independent mind. Forgive my bluntness, for I have returned to England only recently from many years in India. I have holdings in Scotland.” He looked at her with the compelling gaze of one who has commanded many. “I estimate we could manage quite well together.”

  “Perhaps,” Alice replied.

  Gordon pursued her with military exactness over the next month, escorting her to lectures and amusing her with anecdotes of his twenty-year stay in India. He professed interest in her small library. She was finally won over by his gift, a small leather-bound copy of the Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals, by the Edinburgh philosopher, David Hume. They were married by her father in the garden she so loved.

  How she missed her home in Edinburgh, her mother’s garden and glass house filled with ferns and orchids, her sisters’ good humor, their daily noisy routine, even their weekly charity work at Magdalene House. She missed Papa’s office, the mornings set aside for patients, and the afternoons, his desk muddled with papers and his work interrupted by constant visitors from the university.

  But she was far from Edinburgh. In the last year, Gordon had stopped smiling. She didn’t understand why. She knew his leg pained him in damp weather, but he never complained. He withdrew immediately after dinner to his study, professing paperwork. She suspected he smoked his hookah there. He did visit her very late at night, but his embrace seemed forced, as if he performed a duty.

  Alice watched from her window as Perkins gave a small boy a slip of paper and sent him off on an errand. The boy scampered over a patch of ground protected from the harsh winds by rock walls.

  Funny to miss a garden. She stared out the window. Certainly it would be possible to grow roses here. Even in this isolated island, one could make a glass house, though the very elements seemed to be at war. Alice returned to her desk, the quiet in her room broken by an occasional rattling of the wind at the windows. She began a letter to Diana.

  CHAPTER 6: STROMNESS

  “Nothing like an excursion to shake you from your doldrums.” Gordon looked out at the busy port from the fourth floor window of the Stromness Inn. “I shall return in time for dinner. There's a garden behind the hotel. Try some walking today. It will do you good.”

  Alice turned over on the bed. She tried not to cry as he left the room, the floorboards creaking at his every step. Every noise he made hurt her head. Why couldn’t she have stayed home? She cringed when she thought of the journey. It had taken a full day of sailing to come from Foulksay Island to the port town of Stromness. They would stay a week and then return. She was still not ready to travel, yet Gordon had insisted. Diana would have known what to do.

  Gordon had left the window partly open. Outside, people shouted. Something about the carter not bringing beef. She fell asleep again.

  When Alice awoke, clouds darkened the sky, and the wind blew fitfully. Someone had closed the windows. She finally got up, washed her face in the porcelain bowl provided, and dressed. She was still so tired. She thought of that long night, the miscarriage, Gordon’s disappointment, and her own. Perhaps I shouldn’t have married. I only wanted what others seem to have so easily, a home of my own. A child. Alice lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. If I’m being honest, I’m fortunate. I have my books. But not a child.

  “Still malingering, are you? Don’t know how you slept through that rain. But it’s finally lifting.” Lord Gordon stumped into their rooms. “Good view of the harbor we have from here."

  Alice shut her eyes. She didn’t want to be awake yet. She didn’t want to be here. She didn't want to talk to him.

  “Come here. Have a look. A ship from London’s taken shelter.” Gordon rapped his cane on the floor.

  Alice peeked out the window. A three-masted barque had docked at the pier, its outlines barely visible in the dusk.

  “It's the Rajah. I know her captain. I met him in India before I returned home. A good man. He’ll join us for dinner.” Gordon consulted his watch and then looked at Alice. “You’ll come to dinner, won’t you?”

  Alice shook her head tentatively. The headache was gone. “Yes, I’ll come down. I do feel better.”

  “Good. You’ll be back to yourself before you know it.”

  “Will you send Sheila up?”

  “If I can find her. Worthless girl. I saw her all the way over to the docks when I was there. Business went well, though.” Gordon patted her arm. “It’s good to see you coming back to yourself.”

  Alice rested her head against his shoulder for a moment and then turned away. She didn’t want to talk about anything. Outside the rain began again, dripping on the casement.

  The private dining room was well lit by candlesticks and sconces on the wood paneled wall. A long table and a sideboard took up nearly all the space. Captain David Ferguson had brought two guests, Dr. James Donovan, a young ship’s surgeon hired from an Edinburgh medical school, and Miss Kezia Hayter, a
slim, almost child-like woman with large dark eyes. Gordon had invited his man of business as well. The six guests sat congenially around the table, while the owner of the Stromness Inn brought another steaming platter in. “Lobster, sirs, fresh caught. And there’s oysters baked in a pie, with beef rump and country mushrooms to follow.”

  A hum of appreciation rose.

  “What a pretty name,” said Alice to Kezia.

  “Thank you. I hear you’re not well.”

  “Lord Gordon brought me over from Foulksay Island for a change of scene.” Alice didn’t want to talk about herself. She felt suddenly as if sitting at the table were more than she could do. She put her fork down. “Tell me about you. What are you doing on the Rajah? I hear it’s a prison ship, and you’re going to New South Wales?”

  “Yes, I am," said Kezia. "Actually we’re bound for Van Diemen's Land. We have 180 women on board from Millbank Prison. They’re a pretty sad lot after that storm.”

  The clink of wine glasses and silverware continued.

  “Conditions must have been very bad for the ship to shelter here in Stromness.”

  “The storm was ferocious. Captain Ferguson locked us in our cabins, and the women below, I was told, could not even have a light for fear of fire. Praise God we put in here to avoid the worst of it.” Kezia shuddered. “Even in my cabin, I felt at the mercy of the sea. I couldn’t stay in my bed, and my trunk flew open, scattering everything. I wasn’t sick, but many were.”

  “I feel guilty for our easy trip over from Foulksay. You must be very brave to venture out in the open sea.”

  “I don't feel very brave. This is my first trip. Captain Ferguson has offered me every courtesy. He has been most kind, a paragon to make the way smooth for my mission.”

  Alice glanced at Captain Ferguson, seated at her left in full dress, gold epaulets shining at his shoulders, deep in conversation with Lord Gordon.

  “He is very nearly heroic,” Kezia said in a lowered voice, almost to herself. She leaned closer to Alice. “Elizabeth Fry recruited me for this voyage. I’m to report back to her on the conditions of women prisoners in Van Diemen’s Land.”

  “Elizabeth Fry?” queried Alice.

  “You’ve not heard of her? She’s rather well known for her advocacy of women in prisons. She looks unassuming, but when she speaks, her words fill you with compassion. You cannot imagine the changes she has brought. She first took Bibles to prisons in London. Then she took groups of ladies through the prisons. Once we saw the conditions, we were compelled to work, just as she did. She has changed my life.” Kezia’s eyes gleamed. “Perhaps we should wait to talk until after dinner.”

  Alice nodded and turned to her companion on her left as a flustered servant offered her a platter of oysters. “Mr. Gray, I understand Lord Gordon met with you today.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” Gray served himself another helping of steaming oysters. “Lord Gordon visited me on business for Sutherland.”

  “Ah, you’re the agent for Lord Sutherland.”

  Mr. Gray nodded as he dexterously stabbed a large oyster and popped it whole in his mouth.

  Alice cringed. The man looked rather small for such an appetite. “Do you live here in Stromness?”

  “Oh, no, m’lady. I came over from Inverness to meet with Lord Gordon. My family’s near London.” Mr. Gray ticked on his fingers. “Two brothers, one at the Registry and the other in the military, currently in India. Three sisters, all happily married.” He blushed. “I’m an uncle five times over.” He patted his mouth and politely burped behind his napkin as laughter arose from the other end of the table.

  “Congratulations, I trust.” Alice felt faint. “Have you been to India?”

  “Oh, no m’lady. I wish I could go. My brother’s in India.” He blushed again. “Sorry, m’lady. I told you that already.” He put his oyster fork down and leaned over his plate, his sleeve catching on the edge of his plate. “I’m sure Lord Gordon’s told you about our venture. We’re outfitting several ships for trade to India. It should be an exciting voyage in spite of the nasty weather, eh?”

  “Lord Gordon has long had interests in India,” replied Alice. She surveyed the table. The dinner was going well. She felt her spirits lift. Gordon gestured enthusiastically as he talked to the ship’s surgeon and Captain Ferguson, quizzing them on their last voyage to India. Good enough, thought Alice.

  Gordon rose from the table. “We hate to leave you lovely ladies,” he said. “But ‘tis time for port and a bit of a smoke.” He nodded courteously to Alice and Miss Hayter. With a courtly bow, Captain Ferguson rose as well. William Gray bumped against his chair and hurriedly joined the other men as they ambled from the room to smoke in the bar.

  Alice felt her headache returning. She wished she could return to her rooms alone. She pushed the plate away from her.

  “Let’s not bother with this,” said Kezia. “Can we go somewhere the air is fresher?”

  “I was just wishing we were home so I could show you my garden. Shall we go up to my sitting room?”

  The two women sat on a small verandah overlooking the gardens at the back of the Stromness Inn. Night had fallen, and the rain had stopped. A few stars seemed to float clear and sharp above the clearing clouds.

  “Lord Gordon was saying your health is not well?” Kezia began.

  “I’m improving. It’s difficult to talk about, but, yes, we had a disappointment very recently. I’m feeling sad just now,” Alice said, pulling her shawl around her shoulders. “You were telling me about Mrs. Fry?”

  “I met her through my cousin at a lecture last year. She recruited me to work at Millbank Prison as a matron. She feels that these women should be separated from male prisoners and male guards. I spent ten months there.”

  Kezia leaned over to Alice. “You would not believe how grateful the women were. They had been used to so much worse. Only a few were so depraved that they missed Newgate and Pentonville. But at Millbank, they had their own rooms. We set up projects so they could earn money by working. They could attend school. We held services. And we provided better food. It was edifying to see them blossom under these better conditions. Mrs. Fry believes in reform, not punishment.”

  “I have a hard time seeing you as a prison matron,” said Alice.

  Kezia laughed. “So did my father. He nearly didn’t allow me to leave home, but Mrs. Fry was very persuasive. Mrs. Fry asked me to meet with Lady Franklin in Van Diemen's Land and to work with her to improve the lot of women prisoners. I hope I shall be successful.”

  “I hope so too.” Alice replied. “Your courage is inspirational.”

  “Once we’re aboard again and truly on our way, I’ll believe it’s really happening. Oh, I meant to tell you of our project. We’re to make a quilt.” Kezia's face brightened in the lantern light. “Just patchwork at first. Some of the women need to learn how to sew.”

  “You’re making a quilt while on board? Is this possible?” Alice couldn’t imagine sewing on a constantly moving ship.

  “Oh, yes. Mrs. Fry’s ladies’ society gave each woman a Bible, toiletries and a sewing kit. It was quite a bit of work to put the kits together, but we did it. Each kit has 100 needles, scissors, pins, several kinds of thread, and two pounds of cotton and chintz scraps. Mrs. Fry felt the women would find the journey less arduous if they were busy with a project. If we could encourage them to be industrious, perhaps their life in Van Diemen’s Land would be different.”

  “You’ve just come through this terrible storm, and yet you still feel this way?”

  “I sincerely do. Beginnings are always the hardest. Ah, you should meet the women. They are the ones with courage. Perhaps not all of them will survive this journey. I worry most about those who are with child. But somehow, with the help of Providence, we will reach Van Diemen's Land. And these women will begin anew.”

  For the first time, Alice did not cringe when the talk turned to women with babies. “When I was home with my sisters in Edinburgh, we worked a
t the Magdalene House. But we never imagined such a journey as yours. Here I have been thinking of myself and my hopes for a child, but that’s not important, not really. Perhaps I was meant to come to Stromness – to meet you. You make me think there’s quite a bit more I could do on Foulksay. I’d like to write to you.”

  “Please do. Captain Ferguson will be at Hobart Town, but I don’t know for how long. I'm not sure exactly where I will be staying. Send letters in care of Lady Jane Franklin in Van Diemen’s Land. She’s the Lieutenant Governor’s wife. I think I shall be staying at Government House, at least at first.” Kezia patted Alice's hand. “And I shall hope for good news from you.”

  The two women sat quietly, each thinking of the future.

  Downstairs, close to the fireplace, Lord Gordon and Captain Ferguson lingered over their port, long after the other two men had excused themselves. The tap room of the Stromness Inn was empty.

  “Very different from India, eh?” queried Captain Ferguson.

  “Too damn cold here. My bones will never recover. But this voyage of yours interests me. Why would the government pay to transport these women to Van Diemen's Land?”

  “Have you been to Newgate?" asked Captain Ferguson.

  “No, but my brother Alexander served on a Commission for the General Prisons Board last year. They studied Newgate. He reported pure chaos. Corruption everywhere. Gaming, prostitution, drunkenness, and filthy, lewd behavior." Gordon brushed his hands. "Men and women prisoners mixed together. Not even fear of Johnny-the-headsman could stop them from creating hell on earth.”

  “That’s why the government is willing to pay. The prisons throughout the country are crowded beyond belief. It’s cheaper to transport them to Australia, than to build separate prisons for men and women and then to staff the women’s prison with female matrons.”

  “Like Miss Hayter?”

  “Yes, like Miss Hayter, though I think she's an exception." Ferguson smiled and then frowned. "Some of the matrons I've met are little better than the prisoners they keep. The costs are high. Over 500,000 pounds for Millbank Prison. It’s a brilliant design. Built in the shape of an octagon. Guards stationed in the center. Separate wings for men and women. Absolute silence enforced at night. Most of the prisoners at Millbank are held over for transportation, like the women I’m taking to Van Diemen’s Land. But they don’t know what they’ll be getting into. Nothing like Millbank or Pentonville there.”