Daughter of the Murray

by Darry Fraser

  No, she would just revel in the freedom of being out of that house.

  Once they’d crossed the Punt Road Bridge, Georgie tapped on the ceiling of the coach.

  Buttons pulled aside and leaned down. ‘Yes, miss?’

  ‘There’s a presentation of sorts in the south end of the park in the city, Buttons. Please take me there.’

  ‘Very good, miss. A presentation. Where would that be?’

  She leaned out a little. ‘Just drop me at the gates and find a place to stop. I might be an hour.’

  Mrs Isabella Goldstein and her daughter, Vida, were addressing the ladies of Melbourne in the streets and in the parks. They wanted signatures for the Women’s Suffrage Petition. Georgie was eager to sign, and to hear from the ladies Goldstein for herself.

  She could see a little group of women milling about, some with intent and purpose, others looking around furtively, only to move away. She stood and watched her heroine, Vida, a tall young woman about her own age—she recognised her from the newspaper picture—approach and chat to a lady, then stand unhappily as her target walked away.

  Georgie hesitated only a moment before approaching the group, careful she didn’t slip on the damp grass. She stood before Miss Goldstein, who smiled at her and held out a clipboard, a paper secured to it, already half full of signatures and addresses.

  ‘Are you here to sign for us, miss?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Goldstein. We must have women’s suffrage. We have new property laws but—’

  ‘Yes, we do, but so much more work to undertake. Thank you so much for coming. Will you please sign here and give your address … here.’ Miss Goldstein smiled again, handing Georgie a quill dipped a moment before. She was intent on her next signatory but looked back at Georgie. ‘We have a long way to go, but with your help … ’ She was distracted again and as she removed the board and quill from Georgie’s hands, she nodded and smiled. ‘Do not forget there is so much more work for us women to do to enfranchise ourselves.’

  Georgie watched as she moved further into a tight knot of women whose hats bobbed and skirts swished. Their subdued voices carried, low key but determined. Miss Goldstein moved along and Georgie’s gaze swept around until she found Mrs Goldstein, who stood with someone who could be no other but Miss Annette Bear.

  I am part of history, Georgie thought. She smiled at the throng of women as if she herself were moving the Victorian Parliament to a glorious decision. She was positive Miss Goldstein would bring about change. Perhaps the vote for women in Victoria would come soon if Miss Goldstein and company had their way.

  There was no more for her to do at the moment. She didn’t know anybody here, could not just fall into a casual conversation with a group of women without an introduction, as she had no formal society, so she refrained. That in itself annoyed her. This was the reason women needed a vote: to be independent of constrictions and outdated customs. Yet, with no money of her own …

  Be sensible. You are not married, have no family standing, and do not know a soul. Yet.

  It was time to go back to Buttons and the carriage. When he helped her inside, she said to him, ‘Let’s drive down the city and back up again, Buttons. But tomorrow, I will need to go out again.’

  ‘Certainly, miss. To where?’

  ‘To wherever the best horses are for sale.’

  Buttons did not bat an eyelid.

  Spending Conor’s money was not the purpose of her drive but she thought she should at least glide past the shops, as he expected her to do. She let the pretty gardens of Melbourne soothe her as the carriage trotted into town. Federation was not far off and Melbourne looked as if it would revel in it. Such a growing cultural centre. The gardens, the wide roads, the bobbing carriages. The road works and the new buildings.

  The slums, the depression, the angry men.

  The sights of Melbourne really did nothing to distract her from thoughts of the certain confines of her approaching marriage. She would have to make her own way as best she could. Oh, she was certain Conor loved her—in his own way—but she wasn’t sure what she felt for him was love at all. Not at present.

  Now, when she was all but living her dream, things didn’t seem to be quite as she’d expected when she lived at Jacaranda. At Jacaranda, the aroma of the eucalypts was not lost as it was in the busyness of the city. At Jacaranda, you could hear the birds trill and caw, ride to the banks of a mighty river and sit in the dirt, throwing stones, or doze off under a tree.

  It was true she had the most beautiful dresses, a house full of servants, and a friend in her future sister-in-law. She twisted the large engagement ring on her finger.

  A terrible financial depression gripped the country and men in every colony were begging for work. Now she was among the privileged, she would not rock the boat. There were many stories of destitute women, fallen by the wayside, pushed out by angry or unhappy husbands, and she did not want to be one of them. She would toe the line with Conor.

  Why would I want for anything else? I will have more freedoms and the finances to underpin them than most.

  She would marry and—

  Dane MacHenry popped into her head. She shook him away. It was quite ridiculous of her to think of him at all—he was such a know-it-all, so arrogant—and yet, for all those things, there had been a touch of gentleness, an amused glance, compassion when she needed a shoulder to cry on. She thought of the time spent with him riding from Jacaranda to Echuca …

  She knew perfectly well her feelings for him were very different from her feelings for Conor.

  She shook her head again to clear it of Dane. She would never see him again, she was sure.

  Georgie rested her head against the window frame, her face bobbing with the rhythm of the carriage. And as she glanced at the passing throng, there, a tall, striking figure marching up Spring Street.

  She bolted upright.

  There was no missing that easy, swinging gait, or the unruly head of black hair. She simply couldn’t believe her eyes. Had she conjured him up by simply thinking of him?

  She leaned out of the window, squinting as her carriage went past him, her mouth open in disbelief.

  It was him. She gasped as he swung around to check his bearings.

  ‘Oh, my dear Lord,’ she whispered when she looked straight into his eyes. Her breathing stopped and her heart rate soared. A constriction around her forehead squeezed her head and she pressed her hands to her face.

  She watched through them as Dane bolted across the road to the carriage, where a startled Buttons had begun to raise his quirt to fend off an attacker. Dane uttered a few urgent words to him and the quirt was lowered.

  ‘Buttons, the gentleman is known to me,’ Georgie cried and although it was obvious Buttons was unsure, he pulled the carriage around and stopped at a length of gardens.

  Dane followed in a few bounds, and helped her alight.

  ‘I’ll wait and watch out for you, miss,’ Buttons told her. ‘We don’t have much time before we need to be back.’

  Of course Conor would have limited her time away from the house. Georgie walked in agitated silence as Dane gripped her arm, steadying her and steering her into the park. He found an unoccupied bench far enough away from other people to offer some privacy. He waited until she was comfortable then sat beside her. His nearness was like the pull of a magnet.

  Her heart was making such a loud noise she half expected him to shout over its din. He stared at her, and the colour rose in her cheeks. She lowered her head, sure he could see the confusion in her eyes.

  ‘I can hardly believe you’re sitting here.’ She looked up again, composed.

  ‘Indeed, unexpected. But I hoped our paths would cross again.’

  The silence that followed was awkward. There seemed so much to say to him, but what, and how? Her heart still clamoured.

  ‘And you?’ he continued. ‘How did you fare after Echuca? I was told you were on a steamer back to Jacaranda—’

  ‘—Mr Finn shouted
at me and that’s when I tripped on the dock—’

  ‘I saw the steamer go around the bend in the river. I thought you were safely returned to Jacaranda—’

  ‘I was on Mr Finn’s boat.’

  ‘You weren’t hurt?’ His brows furrowed.

  She waved a hand. ‘Bump and gash on my head. Quite a few days not myself. Still not completely steady on my feet.’ She spoke about Ranald Finn’s delivering her to Conor Foley, who was in Echuca hoping to buy a boat, and of her convalescence at Conor’s house.

  Dane nodded, his lips drawn tightly across his mouth. ‘You still don’t look well, Georgina.’ His gaze swept over her and a different kind of heart-thumping sped through her as he leaned in a little. Georgie wondered if she’d willed him to be on the street and then, there he was.

  ‘I don’t know what to say to you. It was an unusual time.’

  ‘That’s Foley’s carriage?’ he asked. She nodded. He took her hand and studied her engagement ring. It sat loose on her finger, heavy with the richness of the stone and the gold. ‘So, not married yet, but very nearly.’

  She pulled her hands from his as much to hide the ring as to still their shaking at his touch. ‘Dane, I—’

  ‘I apologise to you,’ he said.

  Georgie didn’t want his apology. It seemed to her the ring caused him some misery. She shook her head. ‘No. No.’ She held up her hand. ‘Let’s be clear. It was my intention to meet with Conor after leaving the homestead.’

  The atmosphere became strained. Georgie thought she would have done anything then, had he reached for her. But he didn’t.

  Instead he asked, ‘So, when are you to be married?’ His dark eyes searched her face.

  ‘Soon.’ She did not want to speak of that. She hadn’t expected to see Dane again, and the feelings he evoked were confusing. ‘No date yet.’

  He looked at her, cool, distant. ‘I’ve been in Melbourne since we parted. The visit to my father’s solicitor was an interesting one, after all.’

  ‘I had forgotten you were to visit a solicitor.’ She shifted slightly in her seat.

  ‘I was wrong about you and about your stepfather, Georgina.’ He looked away. ‘Our solicitor told me everything. I don’t like to think my father has been a mean-minded, cowardly drunk, and a liar, but there it is.’ He studied his fingers, turned his hands over. ‘He took advantage of the responsibility placed on him. He took advantage of your allowance and, as a consequence of his greed, he lost Jacaranda.’ He looked back at her intently.

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘What?’

  He moved his shoulders as if he needed to stretch then stared hard at her. ‘I suspect he gambled with your allowance, and most likely with the money he got from selling the things Rupert sent you. God knows my mother and Jacaranda have certainly not benefited. And it seems your last lot of dresses disappeared from the stables before I got back to MacNamara. Stolen, I expect, sold off.’ He shook his head. ‘It seems my father also wasted the funds I’d sent every three months, for years. I presume the problem with drink set in when he realised no matter what he did, he couldn’t pay his way out of his growing debts. Whatever money he could get, by any means, was not nearly enough.’ He was studying his hands. ‘The only thing he had left was the homestead. He got himself roaring drunk, gambled with Jacaranda at cards, and lost.’

  Buttons loped down the slope, waving his arms. ‘Miss! Miss Georgina!’

  ‘How terrible! Oh no, poor Aunt Jemimah. I will write to her. I must. Is there anything I can—?’ She stared at him as he said something so quietly she had to lean towards him. Something about the person who had cheated his father. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Miss Georgina! We must get along—’

  Dane frowned. ‘You don’t know who ended up with Jacaranda?’

  ‘Well—no.’ She shook her head.

  ‘Miss Georgina! It’s time we—’

  ‘This is the first I’ve heard of it.’ Georgina waved a hand at Buttons, stalling him as he approached. ‘I rarely saw the people Uncle Tom met for those occasions. The games were often at Jacaranda, or turn about at different farms, or even on the boats.’

  He looked at her hands, taking the bejewelled one in his. ‘You have absolutely no idea?’ He touched a finger to the large stone.

  Buttons stood in front of them. ‘Miss. We must go.’

  ‘None.’ She withdrew her hand from Dane’s. ‘I could not possibly know such an immoral person.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  Georgina didn’t like Dane’s tone. She stood abruptly and paced on the damp grass in front of the bench. Buttons followed. ‘How ridiculous you think I would know. This is awful. Poor Aunt Jem. What will they do? Where will they go?’ Unsettled by his stare, she walked towards the duck pond and spoke over her shoulder. ‘Is there nothing to be done? Something I can do?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Dane fell into step with her.

  Buttons hovered close by. ‘Please, Miss Georgina. Please. We have to—’

  Dane bent to her ear. ‘I imagine there are no secrets between you and Foley. You live under the same roof.’

  She turned to him, uneasy and angry at the same time. ‘I don’t understand what you—’ Her foot slid out from under her. As she dropped, the back of her head hit the ground with a crack and the breath left her in a rush.

  Dane grabbed for her. ‘Dear God.’ He scooped her up and strode back to the carriage. Buttons ran alongside, spluttering his agitation, panic on his features.

  Her head throbbed and her tongue felt like she’d bitten it in half. She clutched Dane’s shirt front and an arm, and held on tight.

  ‘For pity’s sake, Buttons, try to be useful. Help me get her on her feet.’ Dane steadied her. She heaved, trying to catch her breath.

  Buttons held out his arm. ‘My God, miss, are you—?’

  ‘She fell, man, she’s winded. Take her straight home, and mind your manners when you get there—her fiancé need not know she had a friend nearby.’ Dane helped her inside and onto the seat. He kissed her hand. ‘Georgie.’

  She glanced in his direction, her breath still caught in her chest. But he’d turned and gone.

  Buttons threw the carriage into a frenzied drive home and Georgie couldn’t tell if it was the lump on her head, her lungs screaming for air, the ride back to the house or the encounter with Dane that had her hands shaking uncontrollably.

  The dull thud of her aching skull was beginning to subside and her breathing had eased, but her heart was heavy. The terrible news of Jacaranda, and the accidental meeting—

  What had Dane been trying to say to her about secrets?

  Conor was clearly concerned. ‘And I thought it was safe to let you go out in the carriage,’ he said. ‘Katie assures me you’re all right, but Buttons should have walked nearby, not left you on your own.’

  Georgie breathed a sigh of relief. Thank heavens Buttons hadn’t said anything to him about Dane, or about the meeting in the park. A discreet manservant was surely a blessing. She would repay Buttons with an extra shilling from her savings.

  ‘It wasn’t Buttons’ fault, Conor.’ Propped up on far too many pillows in the morning room, she felt fussed over, as though she were a sick infant. The bump on the back of her head only hurt when she touched it.

  It was my own stupid fault letting Dane MacHenry upset me like he did.

  But with that thought came an uncontrollable lump in her throat.

  It wasn’t as if she could confide the terrible news about Jacaranda to Conor without admitting that she had met with Dane MacHenry, albeit accidentally. Not to mention the implication for Buttons. He had not confided in his employer about either the meeting or the presentation to which he had taken her.

  Georgie would tell Conor she wanted to visit with Miss Goldstein, though she suspected her interest in suffrage would not impress her fiancé, just as her interest in riding and having her own horse did not impress him. If he didn’t agree, she would have to choose a more reckless pat
h and hope she would survive it. She would not be stifled for the rest of her life.

  She inhaled as her heart banged under her ribs. The roads ahead were shrouded in fog, and she felt the clamp of doom at her heels. It would not do to be paralysed by her fears, and yet, which road was the one to take?

  Conor sat beside her and held a damp sponge. ‘My dear, my dear,’ he said soothingly and placed the sponge on her forehead.

  ‘Oh, Conor,’ she snapped and pulled her face away. She worked at the ruby ring on her finger.

  He glanced at her hands and, sat back, wary. ‘What is it?’ He watched as she drew the ring along the length of her finger and gripped her hand firmly. ‘No.’

  ‘I cannot, in all conscience allow you to—’

  ‘I was an overbearing lout. I was arrogant, and unfeeling. I am known to be … quick-tempered. I’m sorry.’ He stopped the ring leaving her finger. ‘I should know how much a horse of your own means to you—God knows I saw you riding often enough at Jacaranda. It was your delight and skill that attracted me in the first place.’

  Her gaze steadied on his face.

  ‘At least allow me the time to choose a fine animal for you.’ He still pressed his hands over her ring. ‘Do not be hasty. I do want you for my wife.’

  He thought she meant to break the engagement! She had begun to say she did not want to hide her interests from him, and would argue for her rights, always, as she saw them. She shook her head a little, aware she could press an advantage. She fervently hoped she was right to do so. ‘There are many things I wish to do with my life and if I marry you without—’

  ‘My promise is that you will have what you wish, my dear Georgie. I can well afford whatever you want.’ He rubbed her fingers between his, and his eyes never left her face.

  ‘This seems to me to be a change of heart, Conor.’

  ‘I am contrite.’ His eyebrows moved under a flop of red hair as it fell over his face. He bent to kiss her hands. ‘Name the things you want.’