Daughter of the Murray

by Darry Fraser

  ‘No. Actually, I was sitting in Conor’s office earlier when Mr MacHenry arrived. I felt I had left something unfinished. And then I heard your voices.’

  Angus frowned.

  Dane spoke. ‘Yes, I believe I might know how you feel. Though in my circumstance, not a spouse gone, but a father. This house still has a presence.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, that is it.’ Georgina was dry-eyed, and although she was pale, there was no sign of hysterics or the faints. She looked around the room calmly and her gaze rested on Angus. ‘I will have a lot to do in the next few days, I expect, Angus.’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about those things right now, Georgina. There’ll be time enough.’

  She nodded. ‘What should I do?’

  ‘Why, nothing at all, my dear. We will finalise the formalities of course, and from then, we can appoint a manager or caretaker for the companies until we sell—’

  ‘I see.’ She raised her brows.

  ‘Is something the matter, my dear? Other than the obvious, I mean.’

  ‘Perhaps this is not the right time, Angus.’

  Dane stepped forward. ‘It is time I took my leave. You have much to discuss.’

  ‘Do forgive this talk of family business in your presence, Mr MacHenry, but I fear if I don’t say something now, my wishes might be overlooked.’ Georgina sat with her hands folded in her lap, but her gaze was steady on her brother-in-law.

  ‘There is nothing you can do,’ Angus said.

  ‘Why not? They are my companies, now, are they not?’

  ‘Well, yes, but—’

  ‘I am of age, I am widowed and they are mine by right. I believe Conor had a lawful will.’ She sat very still, upright and calm.

  ‘You have absolutely no knowledge of the business or of the affairs of men and—’ Angus blustered at her then threw his hands in the air. ‘Georgina. This is a very trying time for you, but the businesses were completely run by Conor, and his accountant, Mr Wardle. We should perhaps leave the running of things to him for a little while longer.’

  Georgina nodded. ‘You will, then, please read his will this afternoon. I don’t wish to drag this out any longer.’

  Angus’s mouth opened, shut, then opened again. ‘Of course,’ he said, quietly. ‘As you wish.’ He excused himself and closed the door behind him.

  ‘And if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone in here,’ Georgina said to Dane.

  ‘I came primarily to see for myself that you are all right, Georgie.’

  ‘That is too familiar, Mr MacHenry.’

  When she looked up, Dane saw her eyes were clear, and there had not been many tears at all, if any. It surprised and heartened him at the same time. To see her saddened would have distressed him.

  He took a step towards her. ‘I could assist if you—’

  She held up her hands. ‘Though none of your concern, my reasons for independence in these matters are well founded. They would have me ensnared here unless I speak up for myself. I have begged to become part of it all and nobody has listened. In fact, if anything, life has been more stifling and restricted.’ She squared her shoulders and looked at him. ‘Now I am free to learn everything I need to know about it.’

  ‘You don’t sound like a grieving widow.’

  She stared at him coldly. ‘You know nothing about my feelings.’

  He inclined his head, then poured himself a drink. ‘As you believe, they won’t let you run any of it.’

  She nodded. ‘They will try to stop me.’ She laughed shortly. ‘Why am I telling you this? You said you would ruin him. Or us. Had it not been for the death certificate you brought from Swan Hill, I might have suspected your hand in his death.’

  Dane flinched. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I know you bought a paddle-steamer. Was that the first step in your plan to ruin him, as you said you would? Or perhaps instead you would have engaged him in a card game.’ Her brow furrowed.

  ‘You believe none of your ridiculous assertions.’

  She reddened.

  He took a swallow of rum. ‘Are you aware Angus has asked me to stay on as long as he and Kate do?’

  Georgina’s lips thinned. ‘Angus has asked? You see? My own home is out of my control.’ Her voice rose. ‘It leaves me breathless. Guests telling me when they stay and when they go.’ She stood up. ‘I was used to wide open spaces and a certain freedom … certainly not the—the forced—’ She huffed out a breath and steadied. ‘I should perhaps look for someplace else to live.’

  ‘Running away again?’

  ‘I would need my own horse first.’ The words flashed from her mouth. ‘Which I will soon acquire.’

  ‘I hear more self-pity than the grief of a widow.’

  ‘Perhaps you hear neither,’ she shot back.

  Dane’s retort stopped as Kate and Angus came into the room. Angus carried a long, narrow packet. Kate’s face was ravaged, eyes puffy and her nose red and scratchy. She had done her hair simply and wore a plain, dark gown. She acknowledged Dane, then addressed her sister-in-law. ‘Angus says we should read the will now, dear, if that’s all right with you.’

  Georgina looked at her brother-in-law, and he met her gaze squarely. ‘Of course, it’s all right. Will you excuse us, Mr MacHenry?’ she asked.

  ‘No need, Dane,’ Angus parried. ‘Please take a seat.’

  Georgina rolled her eyes.

  Angus looked at her, glanced at Kate, at Dane, and back at Georgina. ‘This is not the will I witnessed. The date on it is a month later.’

  Dane heard Kate inhale but his eyes were on Georgina. She sat forward, and her hands slowly clenched in her lap.

  Angus shook his head. ‘I was not aware he wrote another will. But it seems so. This is his solicitor, Mr Hodgkin’s, crest.’ He turned the envelope to them as if to prove it. ‘It is legally lodged.’

  Kate turned to stare at Georgina. She reached out for her hand, but Georgina ignored it.

  ‘Please open it and read it, Angus.’ Her voice was low.

  He glanced at Dane, who lifted a shoulder. ‘She must hear it sooner or later, Mr Forrestor.’

  Angus sat in an armchair, cracking the seal with a fingernail. He withdrew the thick lawyer’s parchment, opened it and spread it on his lap. ‘Properly witnessed … ’ he read briefly, opened and close his mouth, then tried again. ‘I, Conor Dalton Foley … and so on … do bequeath the main of my real estate to my sister Katherine Mary Forrestor being the house in Main Street, Hawthorn, the residence in High Street, Malvern, and the commercial property at Swanson Street, City, the allotments of land at … so on, so on … These properties have no encumbrances over them … and so on … ’ He paused to look at Kate, then at Georgina.

  Dane had his eye on Georgina, but she sat unblinking, silent and inscrutable.

  ‘ … The cottage at Port Fairy in the Western Districts of Victoria I bequeath to my wife, Georgina Foley, and also to her the property known as Jacaranda in the Mallee District of northwestern Victoria … ’

  Dane jolted at that. Georgina blinked.

  ‘ … that the company known as the Carriers comprising paddle-steamers Lady Goodnight and Lady Mitchell be administrated for my said wife by my brother-in-law, Angus Forrestor, until sold whereby the proceeds shall revert to her … ’ Angus paused then, his shoulders drooping. ‘ … That my personal estate be divided as follows: that my funds in account marked Foley Holdings I bequeath to my said wife and that she also be given an annuity from my remaining personal estate of two thousand pounds a year until she remarries. That the rest of my personal estate be administered by my said brother-in-law for my said sister … and so on.’ Angus sat back. ‘It goes on, but that is the main of it.’

  Kate dropped her face in her hands and sobbed silently.

  Dane made eye contact with a hollow-eyed Angus and both men looked at Georgina.

  Angus placed his hands on the will. ‘Of course, Georgina, it has to be approved through probate—’

 
She held her hands up and Angus fell silent.

  ‘I have been well taken care of, I see. Yet, what a strange thing Conor had in store for us.’

  She was far too calm for Dane’s liking. ‘Georgina, should you wish to speak with Angus about—’

  She glanced at him but turned her attention to her brother-in-law. ‘There is nothing to discuss other than the finer points, and then probate will determine the final outcome. Isn’t that right, Angus?’

  He nodded, then left his seat and went to his wife. He dropped to her side, an arm around her shoulders. ‘I had no idea he’d changed his will, Georgina.’

  Georgina only raised an eyebrow. ‘Will you and Kate contest it?’

  Kate raised her tear ravaged face. ‘Good heavens, no, my dear. If anything we will talk between us regarding a—a fairer distribution. I know Angus would be with me on that—’

  ‘If you will not contest it, then neither will I.’

  Dane started from his seat. ‘Georgina—’

  ‘If there will be no contest, I am content.’ She stood abruptly. ‘I ask permission to stay here until I can remove myself to Port Fairy.’

  ‘As long as you like, my dear,’ Kate cried. ‘As long as you like. This is still your home.’

  ‘Do not be hasty over this, Georgina,’ Angus warned.

  Georgina nodded. ‘Please excuse me.’ She turned and left the room, her back rigid, eyes straight ahead.

  It seemed to Dane she could not speak more even if she wanted to.

  Georgie steadied herself at the foot of the stairs. Words that seemed to come from long ago grew loud in her head.

  How much more deceit and manipulation is in store for me?

  None from me.

  There had been many secrets between them, and no time to unlock any of them.

  Jacaranda was hers. Good God, what had possessed him to do that? And the Carriers? A business in a dying industry. She knew because the newspapers were full of it. She wouldn’t know where to begin.

  Climbing the stairs, her hand dragged on the banister. Conor had provided for her, at least he remained true to that. She was well situated with the cash in his Holdings account. Now she would have to use her wits to ensure she could indeed administer her own affairs. Perhaps that was the best legacy he had left, because she didn’t for a moment believe he intended any part of his greater wealth would ever reach her.

  Dane returned to John Cawley’s residence unable to think clearly about Foley’s will and its ramifications.

  Distracting himself, he sifted through his mail, and found a letter from his mother. Her script was flowing and confident and he felt a familiar pang for home.

  He had neglected them for too long. He would rectify that situation later. First he needed to reconfigure his plan.

  As he tucked the letter into his pocket, John Cawley poked his head into the hallway.

  ‘Thought it was you, my boy. How did it go?’

  ‘I need to hear myself think, John. I have a plan, but it needs some work.’

  ‘Well, you’ve come to the right place. Join me for a drink and tell me everything.’ John clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘I feel sure we can come up with some solid solutions.’

  Twenty-Six

  Ranald Finn came to the Foleys’ house, where he was ushered in to wait. Deborah went to ask Angus, who was overseeing Georgina’s affairs, to receive him.

  Angus rose from the desk, tidying the small stack of papers that included Dane MacHenry’s letter and offer. He waited for Deborah to return with the riverboat captain. What an odd coincidence that Finn should arrive at the same time as MacHenry’s mail.

  ‘I beg your pardon for arriving unannounced, Mr Forrestor, but your man at your house directed me here, said that you’d be with Mrs Foley. I’ve come with news of the men and the boats, and I felt you needed to hear it.’ Finn folded and unfolded his cap in his hands, his forehead partly tanned where the hat had not shaded his face.

  ‘Quite all right, Mr Finn. I’ve asked Deborah to call Mrs Foley down. She will be along in a moment. She will want to hear any news you have.’ Angus waved Finn into a chair and passed him a tot of rum. ‘But by all means, tell me what brings you here before she graces us with her presence.’

  Ranald Finn placed his rum on a small table beside his chair and sat on the edge of his seat. ‘Well, sir, since Mr Foley’s passing, I took it upon myself to look after a few things, as you know.’

  Angus nodded.

  ‘But the boats are too much for me, now. The freight, the river itself, the men. Times are changing, Mr Forrestor. They’re not good times and I’m not Mr Foley, sir. I can’t be doing the whole lot by myself.’

  Angus thought Mr Finn was getting himself into a state. ‘Mr Finn, you’re not thinking of leaving us, are you?’ Angus couldn’t imagine this weatherbeaten river man doing anything else but being a river man. He was leathery skinned after long years on the boats, lean and perhaps fifty years of age; the river would be all he knew.

  Ranald Finn, still on the edge of his seat, picked up his glass, his hands steady. ‘Well—there’s been some talk on the river. It appears common knowledge the Carriers is up for sale. Of course, I don’t want to be leaving, but I don’t want to be thinking that I might get left, either.’

  ‘It’s not true, Mr Finn. The Carriers is not up for sale.’

  ‘That and this bloody depression is harder, Mr Foley, on a man my age.’

  ‘I understand all too well, Mr Finn.’

  Mr Finn nodded. ‘Also I hear that Mrs Foley will be running things until it’s sold.’

  ‘No, Mr Finn.’

  Ranald Finn was dogged. ‘I hear that Mrs Foley wants a position in the running of the business.’

  ‘No, Mr Finn,’ Angus repeated firmly. He hoped he wouldn’t be caught out on that score.

  ‘I know the men wouldn’t work under a woman, Mr Forrestor.’

  ‘It’s not even conceivable.’ God almighty, how did this even get around? ‘Mrs Foley does own the company, but she has me and Mr Wardle to manage for her. And you, of course.’

  Mr Finn nodded, this time apparently satisfied. ‘Then there’s that Mr MacHenry, sir.’

  Angus Forrestor held his breath. Perhaps Finn knew of MacHenry’s offer somehow, and that was the actual reason for his visit.

  ‘What about Mr MacHenry?’ Georgina asked from the doorway. She entered the room and extended her hand. Both men stood. ‘It is such a pleasure to see you, Mr Finn. It’s been many a long month since you saved my life on the Echuca wharf.’

  Ranald Finn quickly clasped her outstretched hand then let it drop. ‘Well, Mrs Foley, it’s a pleasure to see you safe and sound. Believe me, I am awful sorry about Mr Foley.’

  For the first time in weeks, Angus saw her smile.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Finn. And I am very well. But what of Mr MacHenry?’

  Angus looked at Ranald Finn, whose eyes were fixed on Georgina’s face. ‘He’s got himself a lovely boat, Mrs Foley. Better than our Lady Goodnight or the Lady Mitchell.’

  ‘Has he?’

  Angus frowned. And that was exactly it—the reason Ranald Finn had come to Melbourne to see him. He worried a rival would drive Foley’s River Carriers under. Or … was he talking up MacHenry rather than warning Angus? Clever man if that were so. The men would look up to MacHenry. He was a river man, too. But surely he needed no assistance from Mr Finn?

  Mr Finn seemed increasingly uncomfortable. Angus made a mental note to chase the fellow up, if Georgina let him out alive.

  ‘Is that all, Mr Finn, that he has a lovely boat?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘I understand you came to the house to see Mr Forrestor. Surely not to tell him about a lovely boat.’

  Angus glanced at the ceiling. Deborah and her information sharing.

  Mr Finn sat opposite her, his hands on his knees. ‘Well, Mrs Foley—’

  ‘Tea for anyone?’ Georgina asked as Deborah knocked and brought in a tray. S
he set it on the table to Georgina’s right and departed as quietly as she’d entered.

  ‘Mrs Foley, I was in Melbourne to visit some family. Of course, I would not miss the opportunity to visit you, to meet with both of you. As I was saying to Mr Forrestor, I am finding the workload just a wee bit too heavy for me, at my age and all. Perhaps I might ask for an assistant, or an office in Echuca, or some such thing.’

  He is a clever man. Angus glanced at his sister-in-law’s face. He couldn’t read her expression.

  ‘An assistant, Mr Finn.’ She glanced at Angus. ‘And what would this position entail? Who would be suited?’

  ‘Well, a—a man, or a grown lad. Someone who can read and write and—and put his back to it when required. Someone who knows the rivers backwards.’

  ‘Oh.’ She poured two cups of tea and handed one to each man.

  Mr Finn didn’t seem to know what to do with his. He placed it by his rum.

  Angus marvelled at the old boy. He’d cut her out of this proposed position as neatly as he could without ruffling her feathers. She didn’t have any knowledge of the rivers, and it was an absolute prerequisite. She wouldn’t be able to lift a bale of wool—who could? She wouldn’t be able to grumble about that, even if she did grumble about jobs for men only. She was taking this suffragist business too far.

  ‘Then you must find someone, Mr Finn. A local person perhaps,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, there’s always people on the river looking for work, Mrs Foley, this day and age, the depression and all.’

  ‘Tell me, are we faring well at this awful time?’

  Mr Finn leaned forward, his earnest face glowing in his appraisal. ‘Well, now, considering how Mr Foley had won himself quite a few contracts before … I have to say we’re as well as he expected us to be. We’re on time, and a day or two back, we were even ahead, so the Lady Goodnight got herself a good mooring, first on the wharf, first at the cranes.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘Mr Foley was my friend, Mrs Foley. He taught me more than I taught him. He was a fine man to work for.’ He licked his lips, glanced at Angus then back at Georgina. ‘And now we need another man such as him to take the wheel, Mrs Foley, to carry on where he left off.’ He wiped his large hands on the knees of his pants. ‘The other carriers are moving in on contracts we would normally tender for—it’s getting cutthroat—so we need a new man to head us up. I believe I know of such a man—’