Tracing Invisible Threads

by C. Fonseca

  Alexa shrugged. “On one hand, I’m bursting with curiosity to explore my heritage, but I’m also reluctant. Finding out that Mei-Li was accused of murder, well, it is a big deal. Shocking. And what if we find out she was responsible for that women’s death? I would have to tell Gran. I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “You said the case was dismissed for lack of evidence.” Eleanor tilted her head and spoke softly, “There may be a positive outcome, and you’d help Grace feel at peace.”

  “Let’s hope so.” Alexa smiled.

  She squeezed Eleanor’s hand, gazing into her eyes as they shared a moment of intimacy, before Eleanor let go of Alexa’s hand and swung her legs over the bench seat, jumping to her feet. “I’ll be right back,” she said, heading inside the café.

  Alexa smiled. Eleanor was just the right blend of shy and sweet. Caring and considerate. Seemingly unaware of her attractiveness, though not entirely lacking in self-confidence. She was definitely more comfortable with expressing her feelings than Alexa herself was.

  Alexa propped her head on her hand. She should have thought this through a little more. Girlfriend. Perhaps just a slip of the tongue, but was that how Eleanor thought of them? After Tuesday night, there was no doubt they were more than friends. But had it been a rash decision to invite Eleanor away for the entire weekend, three days and two nights?

  Alexa gathered her hair away from her face and let it fall back on her shoulders. Why hadn’t she asked Eleanor about her future plans? Probably because she didn’t want to appear needy. She was ashamed that, in the past, any sign of neediness in her girlfriends had triggered her flight response. Really, she’d have no one else to blame if Eleanor was biding her time with Alexa and took off on assignment or returned to London where she’d based her career for many years. Alexa had plenty of time to talk to her about it this weekend.

  The moment of self-derision was broken by the jingling of car keys.

  “Hey, ready to get on the road?” Eleanor’s bright eyes and warm smile chased away the cloud of doubt for the time being.

  Alexa smiled back. “Yep. But this time, my eyes will be on the road signs, so you don’t take any more wrong turns.” Alexa sprung to her feet. She tapped Eleanor’s fancy watch. “Can’t be late for our first appointment, the one with the historian.”

  “And what is our second appointment?” Eleanor exchanged a knowing look with Alexa.

  Alexa arched an eyebrow. “I have plans for you.”

  “I hope they fit in with my plans for you.”

  Chapter 22

  Chinese odds

  “When you uncover secrets from the past, the revelations are not always pleasant.” Phyllis reached inside her embroidered tote bag and pulled out a portfolio.

  Eleanor cast a quick glance towards Alexa to gauge her reaction to the historian’s statement. Alexa was sitting on the edge of her chair, her hands tightly clasped together on the table.

  Phyllis continued, “We’ve found newspaper articles relating to the proceedings of the 1926 Castlemaine Court case that shed some light on the mystery surrounding your great-great-grandmother Mei-Li Brown, née Kwan.” She tapped her freshly polished plum-coloured fingernails on the portfolio. “It’s not a great deal, Alexa, but it’s a start on that journey to seek the truth for you and your family.” She slid into a chair across the table, pulled a sheet of paper from the portfolio, and laid it in front of them. “Let’s see what we have here.”

  Eleanor reached under the table to lay her hand reassuringly on Alexa’s leg.

  Alexa squeezed her hand tightly. Her other hand swept up to her chest, and she pressed there as though to calm herself. “I’m grateful for your help, Phyllis.”

  “That’s what we’re here for.” Phyllis nodded, pointing at the photocopied page. “This is a newspaper clipping from The Forrest Creek Mail, dated 10 June, 1926.”

  Phyllis presented the information methodically and spoke in a slow, rather ponderous manner. Eleanor realised the meeting may take a while, but it would be worth it for Alexa to find out more about her ancestors.

  Alexa put on her glasses and began reading,

  Mrs Mei-Li Brown, a Chinese herbalist practising under the name of Mei-Li Kwan, was arrested today under suspicion for the manslaughter of Mrs Edith Foster. Mrs Foster is said to have died from an accumulative allergic reaction to a mixture of herbs and potions prescribed by the Chinese quack—

  Alexa lifted her head. “Typical.” She continued,

  …over a course of three weeks’ treatment.

  Eleanor scowled. “Talk about racist,” she whispered under her breath.

  Mrs Foster was the young wife of prominent Castlemaine hotelier Perceval Foster, who is now left with the burden of caring for their three-year-old daughter with no family assistance in Australia.

  Alexa cleared her throat.

  The grieving husband pleads with the community to support him and put the charlatan behind bars.

  “Charlatan. Really?” Eleanor clenched her fists at the biased tone of the article.

  “Indeed, racism ran rampant at the time,” Phyllis said. “Chinese traditional medicine has been part of our Australian heritage since the gold-rush era, and on the whole, Chinese herbalists were still well respected in the 1920s, especially in Victoria.”

  “Clearly not by everyone.” Alexa rolled her shoulders. “What happened to Perceval Foster and his daughter?”

  Phyllis’s forehead creased into a frown. “Unfortunately, I can’t help you with that; however, I have summarised the main points of the trial as recorded in the articles.”

  With a flash of concern about what might be revealed, Eleanor stroked Alexa’s knee and shuffled her chair closer until their thighs touched.

  “Please, go ahead, Phyllis,” Alexa said.

  “Right-ho, then. According to Foster’s recorded testimony, he and his wife came by ship to Victoria where he managed an American-financed hotel just outside Castlemaine.”

  “Did he mention any signs of illness before they travelled?” Eleanor asked curiously.

  “It doesn’t say. But after leaving America, Edith worked at home caring for their young daughter and keeping the books for her husband.”

  “I see,” Alexa said quietly.

  Phyllis continued, “When Edith first visited Mei-Li Kwan, she complained of sore teeth and gums with abscesses forming in her mouth, a sore throat, and aching limbs.”

  Eleanor wondered if they could be symptoms of a virus. She watched Alexa silently drum her fingers on the table as they waited while Phyllis extracted another page from the portfolio.

  “Mei-Li prescribed Dang Gui,” Phyllis said. “It’s a common herb known as Angelica, and was added to a bone stock of beef or lamb to treat her patient’s anaemia. She believed, at first, that Edith suffered from internal disharmony involving the kidneys and stomach, so she prepared a herbal mixture to be boiled up with water and used as a mouth wash every day.”

  “Angelica.” Alexa rubbed her forehead.

  Phyllis nodded. “Yes, otherwise known as female ginseng.”

  “I’m sure there is some growing near the compost heap at the cottage. Mum wrote something about it in her notebook,” Alexa said to Eleanor. “A fragrant plant with small white flowers. It doesn’t sound dangerous, does it?” Alexa tilted her head to one side, as if struggling with the information.

  Phyllis shook her head. “Mei-Li states firmly that when Edith returned to the dispensary three days later, she was upset because her husband wouldn’t allow her to prepare the remedy at home. He said the odour was repulsive. So, she suggested Edith visit her dispensary each day for the remedy. Despite daily visits, the woman’s health continued to decline. She became frailer. Although by now Mei-Li was sure the illness was caused by some kind of poison, but she could not determine the exact one.”

  “What about
the husband? Isn’t the husband often the first suspect?” Eleanor shook her head, heart aching at what she was hearing. “Did the newspapers cast any suspicion on him?”

  Alexa huffed. “I doubt it. Of course, the courts would have sided with the grieving husband, now with a motherless child to care for.” She tossed her hair out of her eyes.

  “This newspaper article says that Foster visited Mei-Li and was furious,” Phyllis explained, turning to the next page she’d marked. “He said that Edith had fallen, broken her hip and leg, and was in hospital. He’d found out about the secret visits to take the ‘foreign muck’ and blamed the Chinese charlatan for the fall. He prohibited Mei-Li from visiting his wife in hospital. Edith died a few days later from pneumonia.” She looked up from the paper with a sad expression. “Mei-Li was arrested, accused of poisoning Edith Foster, and charged with manslaughter.”

  “Sounds like they were too ready to blame my great-great-grandmother,” Alexa said picking up a small glass paperweight from the table and turning it repeatedly in her fingers. “By the 1920s, Melbourne had a substantial Chinese population and their businesses were thriving, but it was still rare for Chinese women to be allowed into the country. Can you believe it was to prevent their children from being born in Australia? How difficult it must have been for Mei-Li to practise as a herbalist in country Victoria.” She placed the paperweight heavily on the table. “I don’t believe the court would have treated her fairly at all.”

  Eleanor gently squeezed Alexa’s knee.

  “I know it’s hardly a consolation, but many of Mei-Li’s patients testified to her honesty and the positive effects of her treatments.”

  “Unfortunately, by then her reputation had been destroyed. She lost everything.” Alexa raised her voice and thumped the table. “Even after she was released, the scandal continued to take its toll. Her husband, her home, her business. Her good name. Gone!”

  Seeing Alexa’s anxious expression and her hunched shoulders, Eleanor took her hand and covered it with her own, wanting to give comfort.

  “I’m so sorry, Alexa, for what your great-great-grandmother suffered.” Phyllis settled back in her chair. “In those days, especially in small townships, there was a lot of anti-Chinese sentiment.”

  “Can you tell us any more about Mei-Li’s family?” Eleanor was anxious for Alexa to learn everything she could. “About her parents? Whether she had any siblings?”

  “How did Mei-Li get here?” Alexa rubbed her forehead.

  Phyllis reached inside the portfolio again. “Those are interesting questions. More information has come to light. I’ve researched the photograph of the gentleman you weren’t able to identify from the Lehmann Collection. You labelled him, Unidentified Chinese Herbalist.” She placed the image Alexa had e-mailed in front of her. “The genealogical company we use for facial recognition uploaded his picture into their database and came up with a probable match.” Phyllis extracted two sheets of paper and placed them next to the photo of the herbalist.

  Eleanor’s head collided with Alexa’s as they both leaned over the table for a closer look.

  Alexa rubbed Eleanor’s forehead and mouthed, “Sorry.”

  Their eyes met, and Eleanor was lost in the tenderness of Alexa’s gaze. Her heart swelled when Alexa pinched her on the arm and smiled at her fondly.

  Phyllis cleared her throat. “It is good news.”

  “You’ve identified him?” Eleanor asked excitedly, turning her attention back to Phyllis.

  “Yes. With the help of National Archives and the facial recognition software, it appears we do have a match.”

  “Oh, that’s incredible.” Alexa stood, pushed her chair back, and set her hands on the table. “Who was he?” Her eyebrows were narrowed, and she licked her bottom lip in concentration, studying the photos for a few moments before passing them to Eleanor. “Take a look.”

  Eleanor stared at a coloured copy of a faded yellowed image depicting columns of handwritten notes and figures in cursive script. “Ah… I’ve seen something like this before. Is it some sort of ship’s ledger?”

  “Well, sort of.” Phyllis pointed to a spot in the middle of the list. “I apologise; it is not clearly visible on this copy, but it says here that the captain of the ship that had sailed from Amoy, China, paid the sum of ten pounds in December 1855 to allow his passenger, Guãn Li-Shen, to disembark in Melbourne.”

  “The Chinese Immigration Act of Victoria passed in 1855,” Alexa stated emphatically. “The government charged a tax for each passenger and restricted the number of Chinese on each ship.”

  Eleanor smiled to herself. Alexa was a genius at recalling facts and figures.

  Alexa pressed her glasses to her nose. “‘Guãn Li-Shen from Guangzhou,’” she read. “Guangzhou was known by the British as Canton.” She frowned. “How old would he have been then?”

  “Maybe, around thirty years of age. This is where things get interesting,” Phyllis said. “Travel to Australia was very expensive, and most of the Chinese paid for their passage using a ‘credit-ticket’ system. They borrowed money from merchants, and on arrival here, they had to pay back their debts with interest. Guãn Li-Shen was a merchant.”

  Alexa pointed at the other document and motioned for Eleanor to come closer. “This looks like some sort of identification travel document.”

  Eleanor stood beside Alexa. “The man in the photograph is very smartly dressed, in a full suit. It says here he’s a merchant.” Eleanor picked up the image of the herbalist and compared it to the young man’s picture, excitement building inside her. “Oh, my goodness. Look at this, Alexa. The man from the negative slide is older, and the image quality a lot better, but they are very similar. That’s him.”

  “Yes. I believe so.” Phyllis rapped her hand on the table. “It’s Guãn Li-Shen. The dated stamps on the document indicate that he travelled back and forth from China a number of times as a trader. His travel documents were issued before Chinese were allowed to apply for naturalisation, but they allowed merchants like Guãn to move between countries relatively easily.”

  “It’s bloody brilliant, Eleanor. They’ve discovered the identity of the herbalist.” Alexa placed her arm around Eleanor’s shoulder and pulled her close. “This could be the lead to why your aunt had the slides.”

  “It’s fantastic we have a name,” Eleanor said. “But there’s still not an obvious connection to Helen.” Had her aunt known Guãn Li-Shen’s relatives in China? This could be the link Eleanor was hoping for, but she was hesitant to believe anything without definitive proof.

  Phyllis nodded sagely. “I’ll tell you more about the image. Mr Guãn is sitting in front of the now demolished Ball and Welch building, built in the 1860s. He practised from a small dispensary in the lane behind that building.” She waved another page in front of them. “That address is here on the travel card and states his occupation as Merchant and Chinese Medical Herbalist.”

  Eleanor grinned. “Wow, you’ve discovered a lot.”

  “We’re very grateful, Phyllis.” Alexa nodded vigorously in agreement.

  “Ah, but there’s more.” Phyllis gathered the scattered papers and placed them in her portfolio. “When you asked me to investigate your mysterious herbalist, I couldn’t have imagined this outcome. Not in a million years.” She motioned to their chairs. “I think you should both sit down.”

  Alexa gave Phyllis an incredulous stare. “What? What else did you find?”

  Eleanor rubbed Alexa’s back in a gentle circling motion. What more could Phyllis possibly reveal?

  “Certificates for births, deaths, and marriages in Victoria date back to 1853, when the government began civil registration.” Phyllis held a paper to her chest. “This Alexa, is your great-great-grandmother’s birth certificate.”

  “What? It is?” Alexa dropped into her chair and leaned forward. “May I see it?”

 
“Of course; here.” Phyllis handed it over.

  Alexa scanned the page for a few moments, slowly shook her head, and gazed up at the ceiling. “I’ll be damned. This is unbelievable.”

  Eleanor could hardly contain her excitement. “Show me, Alexa. What is it?” she asked, sitting down beside Alexa.

  Alexa just shook her head again. “Eleanor, please read this out. I think I’m seeing things.”

  Eleanor took the page from her trembling hand and began reading, “‘Mei-Li, Kwan. Female. Born Castlemaine, Victoria, 1870.’ It says her mother was Guãn Hei-Kim, born in Canton. Why is Mei-Li’s surname different from her mother’s?”

  “That’s because the Romanised version of Guãn is Kwan, with a K,” Alexa said.

  “Really? It’s the same surname as the herbalist. Guãn.” Eleanor frowned. “That is so weird and really confusing.”

  “Eleanor, keep reading.” Alexa drummed her fingers on the desk.

  Eleanor squinted, holding the page up to her eyes. “The print is faded. It’s not easy to read. Okay, ‘Father, Guãn Li-Shen, Canton, 1825.’ Oh, my God. Absolutely no way.” She closed her eyes and leaned back, resting her head against the wall behind them.

  Alexa’s hand was shaking when she clutched Eleanor’s thigh.

  Eleanor opened her eyes and stared at Alexa, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. She handed the page back to Alexa and combed her fingers through her hair. “Is it really true?”

  “This birth certificate says Guãn Li-Shen was Mei-Li’s father.” Alexa’s eyes were now glued to the paper. “How can that be possible? Why would your Aunt Helen have a slide of Mei-Li’s father? My ancestor.” She rubbed her face with her hands before meeting Eleanor’s gaze again. “A photograph taken in Castlemaine and found in China. Brought into the library by you, Eleanor, and handed in to me. I can’t believe the absurdity of it all.”

  Eleanor was speechless. She couldn’t believe it either.