A Crooked Rib

by Judy Corbalis

‘I’m sure that’s so, Ernest. Fanny was merely curious. Your glass is novel to her.’

  ‘She has no business in my room at all. Does she not know the limitations of her place in this household?’

  ‘I’m sure she does. I think perhaps a child’s natural instinct overcame her. But you’re right, my dear. She shouldn’t have entered your room without permission. That was very wrong of you, Fanny. You must apologise to your dear papa.’

  He was not my dear papa but I did not say so. ‘I’m sorry, Papa.’

  ‘There, Ernest, she has said she regrets what she did, so perhaps you may release your hold on her wrist. She is, after all, too small to inflict damage on such a strongly built man as yourself.’

  She said this very mildly, but Papa at once dropped my wrist and strode downstairs.

  AUCKLAND, 1846

  Since the success of the party, both Lucy and her husband had appeared in better humour. Then, she and I came in to breakfast one morning to discover the Governor sitting grimly in his chair, clutching a letter.

  ‘Why, George, whatever is the matter?’ asked Lucy.

  He laid aside the sheet of paper. ‘The most shocking intelligence. Reverend FitzRoy is dead.’ He paused. ‘And by his own hand.’

  Lucy took up the letter. ‘You may not yet have received the sad tidings … my painful duty to inform you … Oh, how very dreadful … that he slit his throat with his shaving blade … But how frightful for his poor wife and children.’ She turned to me. ‘Reverend FitzRoy was the cousin of the last Governor here. Not a very likeable character, I’m afraid.’

  The Governor set his mouth in a disapproving line. ‘You are speaking disrespectfully of the dead, Eliza. It does not befit your position.’

  ‘I am speaking no more than the truth. Of course I’m grieved at this news, and especially at the manner of Reverend FitzRoy’s death, but everyone here knows he caused nothing but trouble with the missionaries in the North. He was singularly gloomy, Fanny, and very dogmatic and fixed in his views. He and Governor FitzRoy held that every word of the Bible was the literal truth. People say that’s why they fell out with Mr Darwin.’

  I saw how the more she spoke, the more her husband’s anger increased, but she seemed impervious to this.

  ‘Madness must run in the FitzRoy family, I think, Fanny. Their uncle, Lord Castlereagh, took his own life, and in exactly the same manner, slitting his throat with his shav—’

  Her husband slammed his fist on the table. ‘Leave this room at once, Mrs Grey. You’re allowing your foolish tongue to run away with you.’

  ‘I will not leave this room. Not at all. The entire world knows the truth of what I’m saying. It was Lord Castlereagh’s valet who found him. It was in all of the newspapers of the time. Fanny, can you imagine such a fearful sight?’

  ‘No!’ I said. ‘And I’ve no wish to. Hush, Lucy, I beg you. Leave the dead in peace.’

  ‘I can’t help but think,’ said wilful Lucy, ‘how very odd it is that a man devoted to religion and the Word of God should commit the sin of self-slaughter.’

  The Governor rose. He bowed to me. ‘Your sentiments do you credit, Miss Fanny. Perhaps you could instil some of your gentility of manner into my wife. Her comments are extremely unbecoming to a lady.’ And he left us.

  Lucy’s cheeks were flushed, but she held her composure. ‘You see how pompous, how—’

  ‘I see how very silly you are to antagonise him so. Couldn’t you see his temper rising?’

  ‘It’s better than complete indifference.’

  ‘He’d just received terrible news of his friend. He was certain to be a little—’

  ‘His friend,’ she cried. ‘Theodosius FitzRoy was never his friend. My husband despised him. He often complained that FitzRoy was in an unholy alliance with his cousin, Captain FitzRoy. And he was the weakest, most ineffectual Governor, who fervently embraced the Holy Book but allowed grog-shops and houses of ill-repute to flourish unchecked in Kororareka. And now my husband pretends sorrow at the Reverend’s passing. He’s nothing but a hypocrite.’

  ‘Lucy! Stop it. If poor Uncle could hear you speaking like this, he’d be grieved beyond measure. It’s entirely possible and natural to feel sorrow at the death of any other fellow creature, no matter what views one held of him in life.’

  The mention of Uncle seemed to calm her a little.

  ‘You must apologise,’ I said. ‘Go to your husband and say … say … your senses were disturbed at such distressing intelligence.’

  ‘Then I’ll be just as great a hypocrite as he is.’

  ‘It’s not hypocrisy, it’s common sense. What will you profit from your husband’s being in such ill-humour with you?’

  She considered a moment. ‘Well,’ she said sulkily, ‘I will do it, just for your sake.’ She paused. ‘But you know, Fanny, you’re grown so very parochial.’

  Lady Martin’s house, at some distance from Auckland town, sat on a sloping hillside, looking towards the harbour. Lucy being engaged elsewhere, I was driven alone by Ingrams to pay my promised visit. I had not noticed at the dinner at Government House that Lady Martin suffered from some condition which made walking extremely difficult for her. She came now to greet me, leaning heavily on two sticks.

  ‘Look there,’ she said. ‘In the bay below.’

  ‘Maoris in canoes,’ I said, a little alarmed. ‘Are they friendly?’

  ‘Entirely friendly and well disposed to us. Do you see that man with the flax kits? In those he has kumara and fish fresh from the sea, and by and by he’ll bring them up to sell to my servants. I watch the natives every morning. They set out in their canoes with the sunrise and lay nets in the harbour. See, there’s another one coming around the point, laden with vegetables. The Maoris cultivate abundant vegetable gardens on their lands on the North Shore opposite us.’ She pointed across the harbour. ‘The ground there is particularly fertile.’

  ‘Are you afraid of them?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘In Albany, we heard the most alarming accounts of their warlike habits.’

  ‘And I daresay they were true,’ said Lady Martin. ‘In some parts of New Zealand, relations between the two races are not at all harmonious and there have been violent disputes over land. But here, in Auckland, we’ve had little trouble.’

  ‘I was told that a Captain Wakefield and some of his men were murdered in cold blood by the Maoris … after they had surrendered.’

  ‘That was at Wairau and it was a most dreadful affair. But to the natives, surrender is an unknown act. Poor Captain Wakefield had no idea of this and, more importantly, Te Rau-paraha’s— Have you heard of Te Rau-paraha?’

  ‘The Governor calls him the Napoleon of the South.’

  ‘His daughter, Rongo, the wife of his nephew, Te Rangi-hae-ata, was accidentally killed in the crossfire and it’s the Maori way to have utu, or revenge, for any killing. That’s why Captain Wakefield and his men were slaughtered.’

  ‘The Governor says there are uprisings in the south. He intends go there soon to restore order. I hope he’ll be safe.’

  ‘Don’t trouble yourself on that account. The Maoris will never harm him because of his great mana.’

  ‘Mana?’

  ‘It’s a native word meaning high status or rank. All their chiefs and tohungas, their priests, have mana, and since the Governor is the representative of the Queen, he’s regarded as our European paramount chief.’

  ‘I confess I’m in awe of their appearance. The lines carved into their faces lend them such a ferocious air.’

  ‘Some of them are extremely confrontational, but a great deal of their fighting takes place among themselves, you know. And things are much quieter now than they were. Not so long ago, while my husband went to take the thermal waters, I stayed with Mrs Watson, the wife of an old missionary, near Tauranga, and she told me of her life at the Mission there twenty years ago, when they were the only Europeans in the place. Two of the local tribes were engaged in a skirmish,
and the battle raged around and about the Watsons’ house.

  ‘She was very nervous, she said, but the chiefs assured her husband they wouldn’t be harmed provided they stayed inside. Unfortunately, her husband decided that, as a missionary, he couldn’t merely stand and watch as one group slaughtered the other, so out he went to remonstrate with the natives and plead for them to turn to peace.’

  ‘Was he killed?’

  ‘No, no, he was quite unharmed. But the chiefs were very much angered at his intervention so, to teach him a lesson, both tribes joined forces and ransacked the Watsons’ house, then, their looting and pillage over, they resumed battle with each other. Mrs Watson said she was most put out to observe one of the Maoris running about outside their house, mother-naked and clutching his tomahawk, with her best black bonnet tied on his head.’

  I laughed.

  ‘It was returned to her in due course — along with most of their other goods — but by then it smelt so highly of the fish oil that some of the Maoris use to dress their hair, she could never wear it again.’

  I began increasingly to warm to Lady Martin and her frank, open manner.

  ‘Do you never find life here a little … narrow … compared with England?’ I asked.

  ‘Why, sometimes, but in general I have a great deal more freedom here than ever I should have in an English shire. And I meet people from so many different backgrounds, none of whose society I’d be permitted at Home. Then there’s my dear husband. He and I are very well suited and agree on most topics. And, of course, I have my garden.’

  ‘Lu— Mrs Grey is not as happy as you are.’

  Lady Martin considered for a moment, then she said, ‘I’ve been in two minds as to whether I should speak to you. I’ve observed that you and Mrs Grey are very close. When she spoke of your arrival, she was as happy as I’ve ever seen her, and from that I assumed you were dear to each other.’ She paused. ‘She is sorely in need of a friend.’

  I was torn. While I had no wish to speak of Lucy behind her back, I had become increasingly concerned for her. I did not feel Lady Martin to be either judgemental or a gossip; her concern seemed genuine.

  ‘The Governor isn’t perhaps the easiest of husbands,’ I ventured.

  ‘I should certainly say not.’ She spoke so vigorously, I was startled. ‘He has many excellent qualities and he’s devoted to his studies of Maori lore and legends, but he’s known throughout the colony as a man who nurses a grudge and pursues his opponents with undue ferocity. My husband says that the Governor is not satisfied merely to defeat his enemies but wishes to break them utterly. That’s not the fabric from which an understanding husband is cut.’

  Her candour, while it surprised me, made me decide to confide in her. ‘At a gathering at the Mission after church last Sunday I met a Miss Cockcraft who was very … outspoken in what I can only describe as her … condemnation of Mrs Grey.’

  ‘Ah, Emily Cockcraft. A notorious young Auckland gossip. She’s in no way to be relied upon.’

  I was relieved by this. ‘I formed a similar impression.’

  ‘You may trust,’ said Lady Martin, ‘that I shall at no time breathe a word of our conversation elsewhere. You may have complete faith in my confidentiality. I wish only to assist Mrs Grey.’

  ‘As do I. Please speak as freely as you wish.’

  ‘The Greys are not liked by many in Auckland,’ said Lady Martin, ‘partly because they succeeded the FitzRoys, and although Governor FitzRoy was very fixed in his opinions, he was agreeable and entertaining enough in company, and his wife loved society. She gave many very jolly dinners and balls, which, of course, made her popular with the settlers. With so few other events to look forward to, balls and parties are much desired here. And the children were delightful and accomplished. They were altogether a devoted family. My husband always said that provided one stayed away from the topics of religion and the Maori land sales, one could pass a most stimulating evening with FitzRoy. Then, too, the FitzRoys delighted so much in each other’s company. He was most attentive and full of praise for her, and she for him likewise, whereas Governor Grey often speaks to his lady in tones that scarcely suggest the most tender of feelings. Sometimes he resembles an army commander giving orders to a subordinate. We all know woman is man’s supposed inferior, but in this day and age no sensible man believes that in his heart.’

  ‘You think not?’

  ‘I’m certain of it. In a new country like this, where men and women must work together to accomplish even the simplest of tasks, ideas of the feebleness of our sex become difficult to sustain. But I’m not so sure the Governor subscribes to such a viewpoint.’

  ‘I fear not.’

  ‘It’s been noted by many people how often he leaves his wife alone, and it’s the talk here — for you know how folk love to gossip and make much of little — that he’s charming but cold and that he forbids her even such simple pleasures as dancing. There’s not enough gaiety or society in Government House.’

  ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Now, mindful of these circumstances, I’ve called on Mrs Grey many times and sought to suggest outings, visits and other similar pastimes in order to supply her with some agreeable form of society but’ — she hesitated — ‘it’s a little difficult to speak of. In the normal course of things I shouldn’t presume to appear to criticise her …’

  ‘Pray continue, I beg you. I shan’t reveal to her one word of our conversation.’

  ‘I’ve observed her closely since she has been in New Zealand. She’s a clever woman, I believe, not in the least empty-headed.’

  ‘You judge her correctly. She has many aptitudes. In South Australia, she set herself to learning the Arabic language with great success.’

  ‘I’m restricted in my ability to walk but, knowing of her interest in flora, I suggested rides together to inspect the Domain. The New Zealand plant life is fascinating and she might gainfully be employed in cataloguing it for publication.’

  ‘Has she told you that when she was first married and in London, she had her researches into Western Australian flora published in a catalogue of plants?’

  ‘She has never breathed a word of it.’ Lady Martin set down her teacup. ‘I suggested, too, that she might assist us in the little hospital my husband and I have set up here, and I advanced the idea of visits to the native settlements, not merely because they’re worthy of notice but because she might usefully acquire knowledge in those areas where her husband is presently so occupied.’

  ‘You’ve been most thoughtful.’

  ‘But it was all in vain. For, in truth, I’ve been met not merely with indifference but by what one must call a sort of arrogant aloofness.’

  ‘I have seen it, though never in relation to myself. To me, she’s always loving and affectionate.’

  Lady Martin took up the teapot which the maid had replenished. ‘I believe her to be very lonely and unhappy,’ she continued, ‘but her demeanour and all her actions serve only to render her more so. She’s what my husband would call “her own worst enemy”. This is a very small and inward-looking society. One is thrust up constantly against one’s neighbours and it is essential — or so I consider it — that one should endeavour to forge common bonds with at least a certain number of them.’

  ‘Which she refuses to do?’

  ‘It seems so. And this has caused her to offend a great many people, not only here in Auckland but in Wellington where she was much criticised, particularly by the detestable Mrs Godley, for failing to leave her cards.’

  ‘She has always scorned such niceties.’

  ‘I feel exactly as she does but, in a place like New Zealand, and if she wishes her husband’s advancement and popularity, she must cut her coat according to her cloth. And the Governor has difficulties enough. He’s been something of a success in managing affairs with some of the natives, but he has grave troubles brewing with the settlers. From the outset, he’s been much concerned with the situation of the Maoris and the lan
d sales. My own husband, and I tell you this in the strictest confidence, Miss Thompson, considers that the New Zealand Company has acted most improperly, even illegally.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘In their sales of land to which there was no title.’

  ‘You mean they didn’t own it?’

  ‘Not an acre. But this didn’t prevent them from selling to unwary buyers in England who arrived to find that either their land didn’t exist or that they had no legal claim to it. There are many people, particularly in Wellington, who’ve spent all their capital on what they believed to be large holdings, and then used up the last of their savings on passages for themselves and their families, only to land in New Zealand and find themselves ruined.’

  ‘Can nothing be done for them?’

  ‘Very little. Some have even been forced to work as labourers, housing their families in tents, while the Company directors have made fine profits for themselves.’

  ‘I have heard nothing of this before, but it seems quite shocking.’

  ‘It is entirely immoral. And, as I said, illegal. But I must ask you again to mention nothing of what I have said to either your host or hostess.’

  ‘I assure you I will utter not a word of it.’ I hesitated. Then I said, ‘There’s another … matter on which I would greatly value your opinion. But it’s a very delicate one.’

  ‘If I can advise or assist you, I shall.’

  ‘Miss Cockcraft, when she spoke to me at the Mission, hinted at some … scandal connected with Lucy. It was to do with the Governor’s former private secretary. She seemed to think I was aware of it, but the ignorance I professed to her was entirely genuine.’

  Lady Martin sighed. ‘From all I understand, it was a very trivial matter, or would have been had the Governor not overreacted so.’

  ‘But surely …?’

  ‘No, no. Nothing of that nature was ever imputed. The Governor’s private secretary was a Mr Cooper, who had been on his staff in Adelaide. Mr Cooper was young, dashing and — more pertinently, I believe — lively in temperament. On several occasions when the Governor was absent, he and Mrs Grey rode together, but always in public places such as the Domain or the shoreline. Perhaps they were thoughtless but I’m sure they did no more than enjoy each other’s company in the most innocent of ways. As I said, I think she is lonely and neglected, and Mr Cooper stimulated her interests.