The Valley

by Di Morrissey

  If she noticed, Emily gave no sign, but on her weekly expedition she was observed by Nola Richards. Although even as paternal grandmother she was not invited to share the joy of Lara. As far as Emily was concerned, Clem Richards and his family did not exist. When Nola dabbed at her tears in their kitchen Walter Richards was brusque.

  ‘They don’t want to know us, love. They never did and never will. I bet if Clem were still alive we’d be jolly lucky to ever see that baby. Forget her. There’ll be plenty of grandkids coming now Keith is married.’

  ‘But she’s the first,’ sighed Nola. ‘And I want to hold her. Just once.’

  Isabella

  Isabella’s mouth was tightly clenched, her expression grim as she rode with speed and purpose away from Riverview to Dungog to see her solicitor. Over and over in her mind she ran the nightmarish events of the past several weeks.

  That Skerrett had been pardoned by the chief justice, not just given a ticket of leave, was shocking enough, but that he had now made good his threat to see her brought before the courts for perjury was unbelievable. Sadly, as Florian and others had warned her, Skerrett was a contemptible man who would sink to the lowest deceit to get his way. Worse, he was clever, manipulative and a skilled liar: he had managed to convince the chief justice of his innocence. Isabella ignored the beauty of the countryside that normally soothed her. The words of the summons and warrant for her arrest kept coming back to haunt her.

  Though dusty and weary from her journey, she went straight to her solicitor’s office. ‘How can this be?’ demanded Isabella across his desk. ‘Skerrett was found guilty and sentenced to ten years’ hard labour.’

  ‘It does seem quite irregular, I grant you, Miss Kelly. But he has convinced his friends and others with connections that he was hard done by in court. His wife has been persistent to the point of harassment in petitioning for his release.’

  ‘How did he come to beg the ear of the chief justice, who, after all, was the trial judge who convicted him?’ asked Isabella.

  The solicitor shrugged. ‘I believe Mrs Skerrett pursued and harangued the judge’s wife. The judge met with Skerrett before court sittings on several mornings and was persuaded by his arguments to re-examine his case. Skerrett produced new written evidence to explain several points of doubt in his case, and so the judge wrote a letter asking the bench to look at Skerrett’s argument. The magistrates believed his explanation and decided to release him.’

  ‘And we know who those magistrates were,’ declared Isabella bitterly.

  ‘Therefore, it followed in the mind of the chief justice if Skerrett was innocent you must have perjured yourself to sway the jury at his trial.’

  Isabella glared at the solicitor. ‘Utter lies and fabrication. He has forged papers before, he’ll do anything to get his way it seems.’

  ‘Unfortunately whatever he has said swayed the chief justice and other magistrates in the district. Having said that, Miss Kelly, I’m sure you will be vindicated in the end. It is indeed unfortunate that you will have to endure the inconvenience of a court case to defend yourself.’

  ‘And the expense. These past two years have been most difficult for me. Agents have let me down, made poor sales when my cattle and horses should have fetched far higher prices, and I have suffered theft and unjust claims against me and my property.’

  The solicitor didn’t answer, simply gave a little nod and stroked his chin. While Isabella Kelly drove a hard bargain and expected the highest prices for her good stock, privately he was convinced she had been the victim of some unscrupulous deal-making by other parties. She had indeed suffered losses and theft and, despite her suspicions and threats of litigation, she had no hope of pinning down the culprits.

  ‘Skerrett has continued to make claims against my property at Birimbal, and my cattle, which are outrageous,’ continued Isabella angrily. ‘I believed once he was convicted the matters would be dropped. But he is still pursuing these claims – claims that are totally false. He is a convicted felon and forger, yet his word is believed over mine!’

  The solicitor refrained from mentioning that there were quite a few local people who had run up against the wrath and high principles of Isabella Kelly and disliked her so, although they didn’t actively support Skerrett, or were ambivalent about him, they were happy enough to see Isabella in trouble. The solicitor had no doubt that the fact she was a single woman alone and successful in a man’s world counted against her too. ‘All people in the district know that Skerrett has recently been found innocent of the charges for which he was sent to prison. Indeed, as you are well aware, he is pursuing a claim for compensation. Now that Skerrett has gone on the attack as a wronged man, it may be hard to prove him a liar.’

  ‘All I can do is tell the truth,’ said Isabella.

  ‘Then let us discuss your situation and appoint barristers to represent you,’ said the solicitor. ‘My advice would also be to put your properties and assets into the hands of an agent as trustee so, if indeed it did come to the unlikely situation whereby you are convicted, the court cannot confiscate your possessions.’

  Following on from the murder of Noona and her daughter, Florian and the boy Kelly were deeply distressed at this new calamity. Isabella told Florian to travel to Birimbal and stay there to protect the property. The young Kelly, Hettie, two stockmen and the overseer remained at Riverview.

  But when Florian arrived at Birimbal he found Skerrett and another man in the stockyards with a large mob of cattle, all with the IMK brand.

  ‘What are you doing with these cattle? They belong to Miss Kelly,’ said Florian as he rode up.

  Skerrett scowled at him and replied in an arrogant voice, ‘They’re mine, she sold them to me. This gentleman here is Mr Simmons, the agent. These cattle were never delivered and I’ve come to claim what’s mine.’ Skerrett casually rested a hand on his pistol. ‘It’s all before the court right now. I’m within my rights.’

  Florian knew Skerrett was lying but felt he couldn’t stop them. Helplessly he watched the cattle, along with twenty horses, driven from the yards. Skerrett must have sent stockmen to muster a large area of Isabella’s property, for Florian recognised several good horses they hadn’t been able to find when they’d mustered before moving to Riverview. The property was too big to fence and stock often wandered onto neighbouring properties. Florian was surprised by the number of cattle and horses that Miss Kelly’s team hadn’t found on the last muster, and it suddenly occurred to him these animals could have been deliberately taken to another property, or hidden on some remote reach of Isabella’s property during their muster.

  Florian sat on his horse in the shade of a tree as the cattle were taken away by the agent with Skerrett and a young stockman. Florian did not know about the legalities of what was happening, but he did know that Miss Kelly had sent him to Birimbal to protect her property, and he felt he had failed her badly.

  The house was locked up and empty since Isabella had evicted Mrs Skerrett and her children. Florian entered it with the key Isabella had given him and went to her desk as she had instructed. From a locked drawer he took out her writing box, also securely locked. Isabella had told him to bring it to her as it contained deeds, receipts and letters concerning her business transactions over many years. She might need to refer to them for her court case.

  Florian checked the property before he left and all seemed to be in order. He paused to look at the peaceful surrounds but his heart ached at the memory of the murder of Noona and his baby daughter at the creek crossing. He resolved to ride the long way around Birimbal to avoid the crossing and its memories. It meant going through Birimbal’s most remote paddock bordering the Allen property on the western side where cattle from both properties tended to graze. There had been some disputes over ownership of unbranded stock on occasion and Florian was sure Mr Allen was probably pleased his neighbour, the litigious and quick-tempered Isabella Kelly, had moved to Riverview.

  It was the first time he had travel
led past Allen’s to reach the main track to the coast, as most people took the shorter route through the crossing on Birimbal. Through a stand of gum trees in the distance he glimpsed a clearing and what appeared to be yards. At first there was nothing unusual in that but then Florian wondered why Allen would have yards so close to Miss Kelly’s property when his main stockyards were closer to his house and the road. Florian decided to take a closer look.

  It was a basic stockyard with a bark lean-to shelter nearby. Florian, now driven by instinct and curiosity, peered into the windowless hut. There were some old saddles and tack, and a pile of stiff and smelly hides. Holding his breath he flipped the hides over and was shocked to see they carried Isabella’s brand. Clearly they were from cattle that had been stolen and killed for the meat trade in coastal towns.

  Florian rode on and later from Riverview he sent a note to Isabella telling her what he’d seen on her neighbour’s property. It would only confirm what Isabella already suspected – that few people in the district liked her or could be trusted.

  The court convened in Sydney one month later. Isabella walked from her boarding house in Hunter Street and sat stiffly in the courtroom ignoring Skerrett as arguments were put forward by her barrister. She was used to managing her life as an independent woman, but this was one of the few occasions where she felt the pain of being utterly alone.

  As the days wore on it seemed to her to be a repeat of the trial where Skerrett had been convicted of cattle stealing and forgery. However, this time a new witness came forward to swear he had given Skerrett the large amount of money he was carrying, money that Isabella believed had come from the illegal sale of her cattle that he’d seized. The witness was a John Blake and he gave Skerrett a glowing character reference, saying they’d known each other in Sydney prior to Skerrett’s moving north. Blake was taken at face value and not examined too thoroughly. It passed unnoticed that he was a distant relative of Skerrett. Nor was it revealed in court that Charles Blake Skerrett had arrived in the colony as a convict and had already ruined two honest businessmen. He was really a man of very dubious character.

  When the judge called for the documents – the bill of sale and the mustering agreement – they could not be produced. They had been held by the court and were now lost, even though the chief justice had taken the documents to examine them. The case now rested on Skerrett’s argument that Isabella had perjured herself in declaring the documents not written by her. Without these documents it would be hard for her to prove her innocence.

  Isabella’s barristers argued her case but when she was cross-examined she was a poor witness, mixing up some dates, and her arrogance and annoyance did not help. The prosecution managed to infer she was not well liked in the district, and stressed that she had appeared before the bench on numerous occasions.

  When Isabella tried to explain that she had won these cases where she had been exploited, she was cut off from answering. Great weight was given to the fact that the trial judge who had sentenced Skerrett to ten years’ hard labour had, as chief justice, recommended his pardon. Combined with the positive evidence given by Blake, Skerrett’s outrage at the injustice of his sentence, and the lack of the documents, the jury found Isabella Mary Kelly – guilty of perjury against Charles Skerrett.

  The judge, surprised at the verdict, had no recourse but to pass sentence. He stared at the plump, fiftyish woman with greying hair and creased face who now rose in the dock and stood straight backed with chin held high as he announced that she must serve a sentence of twelve months in Darlinghurst Gaol and pay a fine of one hundred pounds.

  Isabella sat back in her seat. What distressed her more than the shame and ignominy of the sentence was the fact Skerrett had lied, cheated, bribed a witness, totally fooled the chief justice and won his case. She treasured her reputation as an honest, upright person and now she was discredited.

  The newspapers and many in the valley were critical of the sentence, claiming it was lenient. The prison governor, however, treated Isabella as a privileged prisoner. She was allotted a cell of her own, rather than locked in with the other women prisoners who were prostitutes and thieves – there was even a murderess.

  Isabella lay on the mouldy bed in her damp stone cell and briefly allowed herself to cry. She hoped her affairs were being looked after by the trustees she had appointed and she knew Florian, Kelly and Hettie would care for Riverview.

  On the second day of her incarceration the prison governor sent word to Isabella that she would be allowed to walk in his personal garden each afternoon. For the next three weeks the too-brief hour in the fresh air of the small-walled garden was the only pleasant part of Isabella’s day. She walked slowly, breathing deeply. Already the dank coldness of the sandstone cell was giving her chills and congestion in the lungs. Occasionally she paused, stood still and closed her eyes. She let the pale city sunlight soak into her clothes which constantly felt damp and uncomfortable. She tried to imagine she was back in her beloved valley. She saw in her mind’s eye the spread of the ranges embracing the rich green valley where cleared paddocks and pioneer homes showed the progress of settlement. She imagined she was at Riverview where the lazy stretch of broad calm water slid past her front verandah. Or she was in her shade house with her collection of exotic plants.

  It was hard to open her eyes to the grim reality of where she was.

  But even this small respite was soon taken from her. After three weeks complaints were lodged that Isabella Kelly was being given special treatment in prison and the order was sent that she was no longer permitted to walk in the governor’s garden.

  Isabella drew herself up and regarded the unfortunate warder who brought her this news. ‘Then I shall not leave my cell. I will not mingle with riff raff,’ she informed him. ‘There are persons in the valley I would not associate with so I am not about to socialise with inferior people here. And I certainly don’t want anyone to visit me. I shall serve my time alone.’

  The warder shrugged and stuck a notice to her cell door that read ‘Solitary Confinement’.

  Isabella, unlike the other prisoners, was allowed to write and receive letters and she saw an occasional newspaper. With her own money she was able to pay for washing and some small personal items. She wrote to Florian about her business affairs:

  I have decided to sell Birimbal. Mr Lennon from the Trustees has authority to sell the property, the remaining cattle, four hundred horses and the thirteen hundred sheep. I will retain Riverview and the services of yourself and the present staff. I will reduce the stock until I am in a position to rebuild my assets. I am afraid this dreadful business with Skerrett has curtailed my finances. It is very disheartening that documents have gone missing from the court, indeed from the desk of the chief justice himself. My health is suffering badly, the food here is poor – meat – and not very good meat – is provided only once a week.

  Florian folded her letter and sighed. He was concerned for his mistress and wished he could do more to help her.

  Not long after, Florian was in Sydney on business for Isabella and heard gossip about the trial and the prejudice against her. In the public bar of a hotel he listened with interest as a man, about his own age, professed to have inside knowledge of the case because he worked as a clerk of the court.

  Florian drew him to one side and probed further. The clerk introduced himself as Gordon Finch and, as the ale flowed, a strange story emerged that Florian had difficulty believing.

  ‘What you’re telling me is that someone, of some standing in the court, has held back or knows where the missing papers are that were supposedly written by Isabella Kelly?’ said Florian, glad he hadn’t mentioned that he had a connection with the ‘notorious’ woman. ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘She has a lot of enemies and some have been swayed or persuaded, shall we say, by a certain person to ‘lose’ those papers.’ He gave a little wink and smirked.

  ‘They could be worth money if found,’ suggested Florian.

>   The man downed his ale. ‘Wouldn’t do her any good now, she’s in prison.’

  ‘I believe I know someone who would be interested in, er, purchasing them,’ said Florian.

  Finch eyed him. ‘Do you now? Like I said, them papers won’t do no one any good. How much?’ he added.

  ‘I know a man who would pay a good price. I can deliver my side of a deal. Can you arrange to deliver the original papers, the forged ones?’ said Florian, amazed at his daring in suggesting this.

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Name a price then. And I will see you here tomorrow evening,’ said Florian, wondering if this was just a wild goose chase. Where was he going to get the money? And if they were the forged documents, would they help Miss Kelly now the trial was over?

  They settled on a sum of money and Florian returned to his lodging. He was trying to think where he could turn for help, as it seemed even the judicial system could not be trusted. He wondered which magistrate could have so ruined Isabella Kelly’s case.

  Glancing through the Empire newspaper the next morning Florian read an article about the Reverend Doctor John Dunmore Lang and recalled Miss Kelly talking about him as a great friend whom she’d met on the ship on the way to Australia. Florian now knew where to go for help.

  Reverend Lang welcomed Florian to his rooms and listened quietly. Florian produced letters Isabella had written to him from prison and convinced the reverend of his credentials, then told him the full story.

  ‘Are you quite positive this clerk whom you met in a public house can acquire the disputed documents?’

  ‘I believe so, Doctor Lang. Of course I would not part with any cash until I saw the papers. I am familiar with Miss Kelly’s writing and if these are the ones Skerrett produced at his trial, and they are indeed forgeries as Miss Kelly swore, then perhaps they might be of some value?’

  ‘You’re a bright fellow. Indeed they would be. Her case was severely handicapped by the disappearance of the papers. If these are the missing documents which are the forgeries, she can petition the court for a pardon.’