But others did. Mrs. Burk came to see me in my cabin with a clear message. “You have made many friends with the emigrant women. They seem to be a better fit for you than the first-class passengers.”
I was in no mood for her snide comments. “What do you want, Mrs. Burk?” I said coldly.
“I won’t waste your time. Do you have any money?”
“A little.”
“I will take what you have. You can stay with the women in Victoria until you get a job.”
I had no choice. I said yes.
* * *
The blast of the ship’s horn signalled our arrival in San Francisco Bay, and I stepped out on deck and dropped my letter for Wiggles into the bag that the mail jitney would soon pick up. In the distance I knew was the great gold rush town of San Francisco, of which I had heard so much about during our journey, but I couldn’t see it. A fog hung low over the water, and the city was shrouded in a misty veil of white, though in moments of shifting breeze I thought I could make out the ghostlike images of some of the buildings in the town. All I could hear in the eerie quiet around me were the mournful cries of foghorns and the gentle lapping of waves against the ship. As the mail jitney came alongside, I blinked back tears, knowing the little rowboat would soon carry my sad news to a clipper ship destined for England.
After a long turn around the deck, I returned to my room and dug out my jewellery box. I wound the crank on the bottom, then lifted the lid. Tinkling musical notes filled the small room, and I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be soothed by the lilting notes of “Greensleeves.”
I was still feeling low when John knocked on my door later. I had been avoiding him in the last weeks, not yet ready to have the painful conversation I knew we must. I let him in now and invited him to sit down. He slowly lowered his large frame into one of the chairs, crossed and uncrossed his legs a few times, and then began to pace the floor of the small cabin, his usual jovial expression sombre.
He held a letter in his hands. “It’s from my brother,” he said. “My father’s had a stroke and can’t manage the estate anymore. Andrew has taken over for the time being, but… it’s my duty to return. Today. In a few minutes.”
Despite my anger towards him, I knew what it was like to have a sick parent. At the same time, I couldn’t help but suspect he was going back to Agnes.
“I’m very sorry, John. I know how much you were looking forward to your work in the colony, but maybe this is for the best.”
He looked up at me suddenly. “What do you mean?”
I took a deep breath. “John, we can’t be close. You’re betrothed to Agnes. I know all about it. Reverend Burk told Hari.”
John flushed. “Burk is an idiot. He thinks he knows everything, but he understands little of the real story.” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. That man gets under my skin. What I’m trying to say is that Agnes is the daughter of my father’s best friend. The two men betrothed us when we were just five years old. It was partly a joke at the time. I have never taken it seriously, and I don’t feel any obligation towards her.”
It seemed like such an easy response, and I didn’t trust it. After all, what was Agnes’s side of the story?
“Does Agnes know you have no intention of marrying her? There must be some reason why Reverend Burk thinks you are betrothed. What is Agnes telling people?”
“Up until now I haven’t given it much thought. Perhaps she and her father are trying to pressure me, but I would never marry her. I want to marry you.” He reached forward and took my hand. “Since that dinner the first night of our journey, I was attracted to you. And later when we talked over tea, I felt a connection like never before. Come with me now; we’ll have the captain marry us.” He smiled. “You’ll be the first of the brideship women to become a wife. We’ll return to England together.”
I could hardly comprehend what I was hearing. I knew I should feel happy, ecstatic. Wasn’t a proposal everything that I was working for? But all I felt was numb. I wished Harriet were here to advise me. Would she tell me to follow my heart? But where was it leading me now?
“Charlotte?” John said. “Will you marry me?”
I tried to picture my life with John if I said yes. Upper-class English society was a small world. Gossip traveled like wildfire. John’s friends and family would hear stories about me if I returned as his bride. And then there was the stigma of my sister’s divorce on the grounds of adultery. It was in all the papers. The thought brought with it a wave of sadness and anxiety.
While my future in Victoria was murky and unclear, the picture, however dim, didn’t frighten me as it once did. If anything, it was an opportunity to start over. I remembered the foreboding I felt when Charles had pronounced what had felt like a life sentence in the colony. But instead of a punishment, I now saw it as an opportunity, a chance at freedom. I didn’t want to give up on it. As much as I cared for John, I knew it wouldn’t work.
“No,” I said, pulling my hand from his. “I can’t marry you.”
His eyes widened. “I seem to be buggering this whole proposal up rather badly. Look, come with me now—there’s little time, the jitney is leaving soon. We’ll sort everything out in due course.” He gestured to the door. I remained where I was.
“John, I can’t. I can never return to England. I plan to start a new life in the colonies.”
“I care deeply for you and no one else. However poorly I presented it, my proposal is sincere and heartfelt. I think we could be happy together, if you would just give it a chance.”
I didn’t respond to his final plea, letting the silence hang in the air. His eyes reddened and grew wet, then he turned his face from me and left the cabin. I stood there on the threshold, uncertain for a moment, before slowly latching the door behind him. He was gone. Back to England. I tucked my jewellery box away next to Hari’s. Tomorrow, we would set sail for Victoria, in the colony of Vancouver Island.
PART THREE The New World
Chapter Thirty-one
There was a hint of autumn in the air as the tender from the Tynemouth slowly approached the city of Victoria’s inner harbour, and I pulled my shawl tight around me as if to steel myself against what was to come. But nothing could have prepared me for my first glimpse of my new home.
All manner of men, well-scrubbed and in their Sunday best, stood thick like lemmings on the edge of a seaside cliff, ten or twelve deep in some cases, jostling and pushing each other for a better vantage point. Some men hung off lampposts, while others sat dangling their legs from rooftops, and still others took turns hoisting each other in the air for a better look.
It seemed as though every red-blooded, single man, and some I guessed who were not so single, was here. I heard later that hundreds of prospective bridegrooms had come from as far north as the Cariboo goldfields and as far south as Washington Territory.
As the men caught sight of us, a great roar went up. Next to me in Sarah’s arms, Jacob startled at the sound and began to cry.
“What on earth?” Sarah breathed.
Just before we reached shore, Florence Wilson leaned in close to me. “One of us needs to speak up for the rest, and we don’t trust Mrs. Burk to do it. The ladies want you.”
“Me?” I said. “But I’m not even officially one of you.”
“That’s the point. No one pays us the slightest mind. We all want food, shelter, and hot water for washing right away,” she said. “But there’s more. We need to know about jobs, not just husbands, and now that we’re off the boat, we all want to be free to move about at will.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I replied, but I wasn’t sure anyone would listen to me.
The vast crowd of men had grown restless waiting for us, and some had clearly brought out strong drink. By the time we were all ashore, we faced a near riot of unruly, besotted men who seemed convinced they were in love with each and every one of us. After the navy band, looking festive in their dress blues on a floating barge tied to the dock, str
uck up “Rule Britannia,” the crowd of several hundred erupted into their own ribald version of this most patriotic of songs, the lyrics slurred and off tune.
We blushed deeply and kept our eyes glued to the ground, but Mrs. Burk clucked like a mother hen, prevailing upon each of us to stand tall in rows of two and to walk off the dock with calm dignity. “Come, girls,” she squawked, “show them how true Christian daughters of the empire conduct themselves.”
“Once I get my hands on some of that whisky, I plan on showing them a thing or two about how daughters of the empire really behave,” Alice murmured next to me.
I had come to accept Alice and her ways. In fact, I had grown fond of her. Under her brash exterior was a heart of gold. Still, I was somewhat dismayed at her chosen gown, which I thought gave these men the wrong impression. It was black muslin with a low-cut, close-fitting bodice, only partially shrouded by a red lace shawl. Dangling earrings made of red feathers, a red velvet choker necklace, and black gloves that sported fur trim at the wrists accented her entire ensemble. She had rouged her face and rimmed her eyes with kohl, and there was even a rather saucy black beauty mark pasted to one corner of her mouth. But I knew that Alice could take care of herself. The question was, could I?
As I gathered my skirts to step off the dock, I called upon all my inner resources to quiet my fluttering stomach. There was a surprising moment of calm, as if shyness had gotten the best of these lonely bachelors, but it didn’t last long. Then someone from the back shouted, “I love you, marry me!” and the crowd erupted into raucous laughter. More cries were taken up, and pandemonium broke loose. The few members of the navy there presumably to keep order had their hands full as men pushed from behind to get a better look, threatening to send some of those at the front spilling forward at our feet.
A small delegation of men, in starched white shirts and freshly pressed suits, stood at the front of the crowd and introduced themselves as the welcoming committee. One of them, a tall man who seemed to be the leader, doffed his hat and read slowly from a script.
“ ‘On behalf of Governor Douglas we would like to welcome you to the colony of Vancouver Island. May you prosper in this wonderful place and live long, fruitful lives here.’ ”
I couldn’t help but notice the sly sidelong glances as the dignitaries openly appraised us. I overheard one tell the man next to him that some of us were a bit long in the tooth and had seen better days. I may have left England far behind, I thought, but not the base attitudes of some of the men.
Florence nudged me, and I stepped forward. “These women have had a long, exhausting journey,” I said, “and now all they want is a place to rest, some warm water for bathing, and food, of course. They’d also like—”
“The welcoming committee has it all well in hand,” the spokesperson interrupted.
I tried once more to press our requests upon them. They continued to dismiss me, but I persevered, and they finally agreed to meet with me in the morning to address my other concerns.
A fair-haired man burst through the crowd and came to a stop in front of Alice.
“You are the most beautiful woman I ever seen. Will you marry me?” he asked, bending his knee. He pulled a large wad of bills from his breast pocket. “You can use this to buy the best wedding clothes you ever imagined. And we’ll have a wedding feast to top all, no expenses spared.”
A hush fell over the scene as everyone waited for Alice’s answer, but she looked dumbfounded and turned to me. “What should I do?”
I could see the young man was earnest and had a touch of youthful innocence in his wide, blue eyes. And while I couldn’t imagine saying yes to someone I had just met, I knew Alice didn’t have the luxury of waiting.
“Come what may, he doesn’t look the sort to treat you ill,” I replied. “But only you can decide.”
She said nothing for another moment or two and then, in a calm, clear voice, declared, “I will!”
With both hands, she took the money from her new fiancé’s hand and tucked it down the front of her dress. The groom jumped to his feet and twirled her around in the air as the crowd cheered.
The welcoming committee impatiently beckoned us forward, and Alice broke away to keep up with us, beaming with delight.
“Your friend has made an excellent match,” a slim, dark-haired man said, falling into step beside me as we continued along the edge of the harbour. “That’s Mr. Pioneer. He’s just struck a very rich vein of gold in the Cariboo.”
“I’m sure they’ll be very happy,” I said, taking hold of Sarah’s elbow and briskly moving forward. I hoped this man wasn’t trying to propose to me. If he was, he’d be disappointed.
“Amor De Cosmos,” he said, holding out his card. He was the editor of the Daily British Colonist. “How are you and the other sixty marriageable lasses feeling right now?” He pulled out a notepad and pen.
“We’re all feeling a little overwhelmed.”
I picked up my pace, but he matched it.
“And what led you to leave England and come here? In need of a husband, I presume?”
“I—we are hoping for a better life than we could have had back home.”
“My readers will want to know what sort of man will attract the ladies’ interest? They are all vying for your favour. The strong woodsman? The intellectual businessman? The sensitive poet?”
Would he not stop? “I… can’t say.”
“That’s a shame,” he said, and turned to Sarah, ready to interview her, but seeing the baby in her arms, thought better of it and hustled after Florence.
The quivering, undulating crowd of expectant bridegrooms reluctantly parted as we made our way two by two, like captured prisoners of war, through the harbour and into the town. At one point, we had to stop and step around the luggage cart that had lost a wheel and overturned, spilling trunks and cases out onto the street. Some of the women stopped, seeing to their belongings, but the welcome committee urged us on. We marched up a wide dirt street lined on one side with several two-story brick and stone buildings. On the other side, on the edge of the harbour, were wooden warehouses and fisher’s shacks. On several of these, I saw a poster proclaiming our arrival.
THE TYNEMOUTH’S INVOICE OF YOUNG LADIES
A general holiday should be proclaimed; all the bunting waved from flagstaffs; salutes fired from Beacon Hill; clean shirts and suits of good cloths brought into requisition, and every preparation made to give this precious “invoice” a warm welcome.
How fitting that I should see the notice of the Tynemouth’s arrival today, I thought. It was a bookend to the one that Charles had handed me only a few short months ago at the beginning of this journey. As much as I still grieved Harriet, and always would, I took it as a sign that I needed to put the tragedy behind me.
We continued on to our new home, a narrow one-story building of grey wood and few windows on a large fenced property. Stepping inside, we discovered a low-ceilinged room with two long rows of tightly packed cots arranged military style.
“We’re ladies, not soldiers,” Florence said in disgust.
I had to agree. The accommodations were sparse. My private maid’s room on board the ship seemed like luxury in comparison.
Through the main window, we had a view of the backyard, where an open fire served as a kitchen and a line of washbasins and tubs as a laundry room. Given the barrels of rainwater, there was likely no running water. At the back of the property sat one decrepit latrine with only a half door for privacy. My spirits fell at the sight. This was a far cry from how I imagined Sir Richard and Lady Persephone were being welcomed at Governor Douglas’s.
Behind us, Reverend Burk cleared his throat and called for our attention. I cringed at the thought of another long prayer, but it was Mrs. Burk who held up her hand.
“Ladies, Reverend Burk and I must leave you now. We are under the employ of the Columbia Emigration Society and they are sending another shipment of brides. We are going back to England and will chape
rone them just as we did you.”
“Poor buggers,” Alice mumbled.
As we waved our goodbyes at the front door, I was shocked to see men standing behind the fence just fifty feet away, watching our every move.
“Sarah, look,” I said, pointing.
“Don’t worry,” she replied, patting Jacob’s back. “This is only temporary. Ignore them and come inside and unpack your things.”
Sarah’s small trunk rested neatly on her bed, and my larger one was at the foot of mine. As soon as I saw it, I knew something was wrong. At first, I thought it was just the new scuffs and scrapes, but my stomach turned when I realized the lock was broken too. I threw back the trunk lid and dug deep. My fingers easily found the jewellery boxes on the bottom and I let out a short laugh of relief. But when I flipped open my red-lacquered box, I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was empty. Wiggles’s necklace was gone.
I flopped down on the bed, my head in my hands. How could I have let this happen? I should have worn the jewel, not packed it. How would I ever tell Wiggles her precious gift was gone? How would I start a new life with no way to raise money? It could be months, maybe years, before I received Hari’s money, if I ever did.
Sarah tried to soothe me, telling me everything would work out all right. I knew she meant to comfort me, but she would be leaving soon, heading north to her father. In that moment, I envied that she had family here and desperately wished Harriet was still by my side. My grief hung on me like a stone. How would I find a way forward without Hari? During those last weeks on the boat, the one thing that had brought me solace was a new, fragile dream of buying my own house and maybe some land. That dream had disappeared with my empty jewellery box.
Chapter Thirty-two
The welcoming committee arrived just after breakfast the next morning. They were clearly in a hurry to say what they needed to and get on with their day, but the women were all anxious to hear about employment opportunities and wages—myself included, now that Wiggles’s precious necklace had been taken.
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