by Carol Jones
Or indeed a muslin-clad governess, half a world away from London.
5
Pearl River Delta, China, 1856
With only three weeks to go before the Seven Sisters Festival, the preparations were an explosion of colour amidst the grey plaster walls and tamped earth floor of the girls’ house. Seven suits of brightly coloured paper clothing hung upon one wall. Seven miniature wooden chairs were set out ready to receive any of the Seven Sisters who deigned to visit from heaven, and the girls were at work embroidering seven pairs of tiny silk shoes as offerings.
Sitting cross-legged on wooden beds, they chatted as they plied their needles by candlelight. The festival was the highlight of the year for unmarried girls in the village and they all made monthly contributions to the girls’ association that planned the event. But this evening Little Cat could not get excited about those plans. She was still thinking about the words of her twin and the Wu boy earlier that afternoon. Her twin’s words had wounded her more than the bruise colouring her shin. She was thinking so hard that she jabbed her needle through the soft pad of her finger, inadvertently sewing her finger to the silk before she realised. Little Cat was tough. She didn’t cry out, for the pain would fade. The smudge, however, was a different matter. She frowned as she considered her handiwork. Her shoes had never been pretty but now they were marred by an ugly brown stain. She tried spitting on the bloody mark but that only made it worse. So did blotting it with the hem of her tunic. She couldn’t offend the Empress of Heaven by offering Weaver Girl or one of the Empress’s six other granddaughters blood-spotted shoes.
‘Little Cat needs all the help she can get from Weaver Girl,’ laughed her friend Siu Wan, noticing her dilemma. Weaver Girl was the youngest and most romantic of the heavenly sisters.
She wasn’t offended by Siu Wan’s laughter. Her friend didn’t have a mean bone in her body. In fact, her prettiest feature was her laughing mahogany eyes. Those eyes were so sharp and her hands so steady that she had won the village needle-threading competition three years running. She could thread silk through a seven-eyed needle with only the barest sliver of moonlight to guide her hand. Unlike Little Cat, she didn’t need any heavenly help from Weaver Girl.
‘It’s all right for you; your embroidery skills are legend. But I’ve been cursed with fat fingers,’ Little Cat said, throwing an envious glance at her friend’s slim hands, graced with the classical beauty of tender bamboo shoots.
‘Your fingers aren’t the problem. It’s your brain that doesn’t pay attention to what your fingers are doing,’ Ming Ju said, glancing over at Little Cat’s handiwork with a frown. ‘How will you sew sturdy clothes for your husband if you’re always daydreaming?’
Ming Ju was the eldest of the girls in the house and clearly disturbed at the thought of this future husband’s poorly tailored trousers. She had been betrothed for almost a year and considered herself an expert on all things matrimonial, including some rather surprising information she had gleaned from her elder sister. Information that she delighted in passing on to the other girls as they huddled beneath their blankets at night, alternately intrigued and repelled. For who knew that a man might want to touch that part of a woman’s body? Little Cat still wasn’t convinced that Ming’s sister was telling the truth.
‘From what your sister says, it’s not my sewing he’ll be interested in,’ Little Cat said, and the other girls giggled.
‘Sometimes a man wants to eat you down there,’ pronounced Mei Ying in a knowing voice. Young Wu’s sister was only fourteen and the youngest girl in the house, except with two older sisters and an indulgent mother she sometimes acted more worldly even than her elders.
‘What would you know?’ asked Ming.
‘Second Sister told me.’
‘Don’t pay any attention to her, Ming. She just wants to be a crane among the chickens.’
‘But it’s true,’ whined Mei Ying.
‘I’m not letting my husband eat me down there even if the rice bucket is empty and the larder is bare,’ said Siu Wan, in such a serious tone that they all fell about laughing again.
At night, as they slept jumbled together, they often speculated about their future husbands, a speculation tinged with fear at the prospect of going to live with their new husband’s family, perhaps far away, further than they had ever travelled before. Perhaps as far as two or three days’ walk from their village, for only the luckiest girls found suitable husbands of a different surname in their natal villages. Sometimes Little Cat thought that choosing the right mother-in-law might be a more reliable predictor of future happiness than choosing the right husband, since the mother-in-law would have the ordering of her new daughter. A girl could only hope that her parents wouldn’t be hoodwinked by a wily matchmaker into arranging a marriage with a wastrel, a pauper, or a man with a cruel mother. A mean mother-in-law would ensure a lifetime of misery.
‘You had better pray to Weaver Girl for a forgiving husband if you don’t improve your sewing skills,’ Ming insisted when the laughter died down. She was such a stickler for doing the right thing. She knew more of the pao chuan stories and songs than any of them.
But they all knew by heart the story of Weaver Girl and Cowherd, the star-crossed lovers of the Seven Sisters Festival. The two bright stars separated by the starry river of the Milky Way. Their love was remembered each year by girls across the land. According to legend, Cowherd discovered Weaver Girl and her heavenly sisters swimming naked in a lake. Unknown to him, they were the granddaughters of the Empress of Heaven. When he snatched their clothes as a jest, Weaver Girl, as the youngest sister, was delegated to negotiate their return. Unsurprisingly, Cowherd fell in love, as boys are bound to do with pretty, naked girls, and asked her to become his wife. She agreed and the pair lived contentedly together until the Empress of Heaven grew annoyed at her granddaughter’s neglect of her weaving duties and insisted she return to heaven. Cowherd tried to follow her but the Empress foiled his attempt by separating the two lovers with a river of silvery stars, allowing them a single conjugal visit once a year on the seventh day of the seventh month.
Secretly, Little Cat thought there was something to be said for this arrangement, because apart from a little weaving, Weaver Girl could do what she liked the rest of the time without a husband or mother-in-law to order her around. But the other girls in the house got all choked up every time the story was told.
The girls’ house was one of three in the village and unlike the lineage temples it didn’t matter what surname a girl held – whether Wu, Mo or Yee – she might be invited to join if she had friends or relatives staying there. Each night the girls returned to the house after taking their evening meals with their families. Sometimes one of the bride-daughters, who lived with her parents before moving permanently to her husband’s village, might stay with them for a night or two. Sometimes one of the sworn spinsters might come back to visit old friends, but mostly it was just the girls supervising themselves.
Siu Wan was Little Cat’s closest friend in the house. Her perpetual smile made Little Cat less cranky, while Siu Wan always said that Little Cat made her braver. With her friend by her side, she felt brave enough to walk outdoors during the Hungry Ghost Festival. She would even venture into the woods at the foot of the mountain, unfazed by the thought of giant centipedes or spiders as big as birds.
‘It’s not so bad. I can fix it for you,’ she said now, eyeing the spoiled shoe. ‘See how the stain is shaped like a peony.’
Little Cat squinted, turning her head first one way then the other, trying to imagine the stain as a flower, but no matter the angle, it still looked like a sad brown smudge. ‘If you say so,’ she said doubtfully, handing over the shoe and watching as her friend’s needle darted in and out of the silk, transforming the dirty mark into a bright pink peony. ‘You’ll make someone a fine wife one day, if your skill with a needle is anything to judge by,’ she told her with a smile.
‘You’re making fun of me.’
&
nbsp; ‘No, I’m not. Well, maybe a little. You will make someone a fine wife one day but not because of your embroidery skills. Because of your patience and kindness.’
A flush of red coloured the tips of Siu Wan’s ears and she stared even more closely at her sewing as Little Cat continued, ‘If we have to marry, I wish we could marry brothers and then it wouldn’t matter so much if we have to live in another village, because we could go together. You could marry the older, more sensible brother and I could have the wild younger one. And then Mother-in-law would treat you kindly because she was too busy scolding me to notice if you threw away a few grains of rice or forgot to feed the chickens. Each year we could return to Sandy Bottom Village together for our New Year visits and we wouldn’t have to be dragged kicking and screaming back to our mothers-in-law when the visit was over. And if you were with me, I wouldn’t mind so much if Ma admired Elder Brother’s new wife’s cooking skills, or praised her filial piety in front of me.’
She didn’t notice at first that Wan’s needle had grown still, for she was too caught up in her vision of marital bliss, until her friend interrupted her to ask, ‘Is Ah Keong to be married?’
‘What? No. Not yet.’
‘But there is talk of it?’
‘None that I’ve heard. Then again, Ma doesn’t tell me anything. Elder Brother could be betrothed to the Emperor’s daughter and I would be the last to know,’ she said with a shrug.
‘Your parents could betroth you to the son of a butcher and you would be the last to know,’ laughed Ming. ‘Parents don’t tell their children anything until the deed is done. That way the children can’t cause trouble.’
‘If my parents betrothed me to someone without telling me I would run away. I would comb up my hair and become a sworn spinster like Second Aunt. Or I would run away to the mountains and become a nun. A Shaolin nun with fighting sticks and a sword,’ Little Cat said, warming to her theme. She was quite taken with the idea of a sword and proceeded to practise a few swipes at her friends’ heads with an invisible sword.
‘But by the time you discovered what they’d done it would be too late. The bride gifts would be arriving, the sedan chair would be at your door and you would be barricaded in your room with no escape.’ Ming Ju tossed another fried bean in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, taking great delight in this scenario.
‘Little Cat could escape from anywhere,’ Siu Wan shouted suddenly, throwing down the slipper she was working on and waving her needle at Ming like her own tiny sword. ‘She is the best climber in the village. And besides, her father would not do that. He would not betroth his son… I mean his daughter… without discussing it with her first.’
Every girl in the room turned to stare at their normally quiet friend. The last time Little Cat heard her shout was when a bat flew out from the stand of wild banana trees at the village edge and blundered into her hair. She screamed because she thought a banana ghost was attacking her. Anyone would have done the same. But for the most part she never raised her voice above a murmur.
‘Would your mother betroth you without your knowledge, Ah Wan?’ asked Mei Ying, a wide-mouthed smile making apples of her cheeks. Little Cat wondered what she was up to. As the spoiled youngest daughter in her family she was accustomed to stirring trouble wherever she went.
‘What do you mean, Mei Mei?’ she asked on her friend’s behalf.
‘I mean, would her parents discuss their choice of husband with her before they made the arrangements?’ Mei Ying looked pleased with herself now that she had captured their attention.
‘I think so,’ Siu Wan said softly.
‘Or would they make sure that the matchmaker came to the house while you were out?’
‘I don’t think they would do that.’
‘Hmm. Then I suppose there’s nothing to be concerned about.’
Little Cat relinquished her phantom sword to sit on the bed closest to the door, the one occupied by Mei Ying. Wriggling her bottom, she squeezed into the space between the girl and the door saying, ‘What is it that you think you know?’
‘Nothing important,’ Mei Ying said, laughing behind her hand.
‘Nothing?’ said Little Cat, pinching her on the arm.
‘Ow! What are you doing? I’ll tell my brother.’
‘Only babies let their brothers fight their battles for them,’ Little Cat said, pinching her again, this time to the tender part of her inner thigh. ‘Anyway, I could throw your brother to the dirt with my eyes closed.’
Mei Ying yelped, looking to the other girls for reinforcements but they would not meet her eye. They all wanted to discover what she thought she knew.
‘Stop trying to be important, Mei Mei, and tell us what you know,’ ordered Ming.
‘Well, if you really want to know… yesterday as I was on my way to visit my aunt to play with her new baby, I saw a visitor arrive at Siu Wan’s house. A middle-aged woman in a skirt and jacket. A woman with eyes that roamed over everything and a frozen-mouthed smile.’ Mei Ying paused, raising her chin and tilting her head before adding, ‘A stranger.’
Strangers were rare in Sandy Bottom Village, especially ones who arrived in long skirts and jackets where everyone else wore trousers. Visitors were usually known; married women returning to visit their natal families, pedlars and itinerant tradesmen advertising their wares, or local dignitaries attending to official business. As for strangers, the arrival of a visiting opera troupe would always be greeted with excitement, the incursion of bandits with fear. Other than that, the arrival of a stranger usually heralded a betrothal. All her friends knew and feared the arrival of a stranger at their door. In fact, they relied upon each other as spies, for parents often sent their daughters on errands when a matchmaker came calling or betrothal gifts arrived.
If Siu Wan’s ears had flushed red before, now her entire face paled beneath its tan. ‘Ma sent me to pick wild lychee yesterday. I was gone all morning.’
‘Perhaps the visitor came on another matter,’ Little Cat suggested, trying to reassure her. But her words were in vain. She watched as a tear rolled down her friend’s cheek and dripped onto the shiny silk slipper, now lying forgotten in her lap.
‘They sent her away and a stranger just happened to turn up on the same day? If a wind comes from an empty cave, it does not come from nowhere,’ Ming confirmed with a nod. ‘It looks like your mother has someone in mind for you. We must hope she has found you a pleasant fellow from a good family with a kind mother.’
Siu Wan’s shoulders shook as the words emerged from her mouth in a series of gulping sobs. ‘I want to choose my own husband.’
Coming from obedient, dutiful Siu Wan, these words surprised them all. Girls did not expect to choose their husbands. At best, their parents might consult them and perhaps allow the young couple to meet before arrangements were finalised. At worst, they would be informed on their wedding day. But neither girls nor boys chose their future partners. Marriage was a family affair, not a love affair. The other girls might expect such rebellious talk from Little Cat, but not Siu Wan.
Little Cat rose from her seat next to the younger girl and flopped down on the bed next to her friend, placing her head on Siu Wan’s lap so that she could peer up into her face.
‘You’re crying a river on my face, Wan,’ she said, trying to cheer her up. ‘Your mother wouldn’t arrange a match without talking to you.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Siu Wan inhaled between sobs. ‘My father has already sold one plot of land to pay for Elder Brother’s wedding, and I have three more brothers.’ She didn’t say that her parents needed the money a generous bride gift would bring them, for that would reap shame upon her family. But this fact was understood.
Lifting her hand, Little Cat wiped away the tears that rolled down her friend’s face. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to make it better.
‘We must all do our part for our families,’ said Ming.
‘You could comb up your hair and take your
spinster’s vows,’ Little Cat suggested. ‘You could earn money to help your family that way.’
‘I’m not like you. I want to have a husband. I want to have babies. But I don’t want any old husband. Besides, Ma would never hear of it.’ Her sobs had subsided now but her eyes were still clouded with tears, her face shrouded by a curtain of long black hair that tickled Little Cat’s nose.
‘We will just have to ask Weaver Girl for help then,’ Little Cat said. Perhaps heavenly help would do the trick.
6
Robetown, South Australia, 1856
‘Almost there!’ Thomas called as they approached the turn to Noorla. On the far side of the lake, the house gleamed as raw and new as its owners’ wealth.
‘Won’t Mama be surprised to see us arrive on Mr Thomas’s bullock dray?’ James turned to her with a wide grin. The boy’s enthusiasm was infectious, if somewhat exhausting, and she was sorry to disappoint him but his mama would not be surprised at all. Violet did not intend her to see them with the bullocky. That would entail an inquisition she would rather avoid.
‘Mr Thomas will not wish to churn the approach to the house with his company of bullocks,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I can hobble the last yards with some assistance from you and Alice.’
The Wallace residence stood all alone on the banks of Lake Butler, its high gabled roof, octagonal bay windows and coloured fanlights setting it apart from the more modest houses closer to town. It had been built with the proceeds of Mr Wallace’s sheep and cattle station; plus his bark-stripping, horse-rearing and leather-tanning enterprises, for her employer was a man of many and varied interests, she had discovered upon her arrival. He had established the Craigie run in the earliest days of the Guichen Bay District, when land could be gotten for the claiming of it, a five-pound per annum fee to the Crown, plus a halfpenny per sheep, a penny halfpenny per head of cattle, and threepence a horse. The original inhabitants had no say in the acquiring of it, for she supposed the land was not empty when the Wallaces arrived.