The Unmourned

by Meg Keneally

  ‘So have you seen this woman since then?’

  ‘No. I’m sure I wouldn’t know her if I did, though. I could not see her face. More’s the pity – I should like to meet her.’

  ‘Perhaps you shall. Your statement could lead to her apprehension.’

  ‘I doubt that very much, Mr Monsarrat.’

  ‘Why should you doubt it? It is the best information we have had so far!’

  ‘You made me a promise in exchange for my testimony.’

  ‘Yes, very well. What do you require of me?’

  ‘My requirement is simple. The women in the stores – they were stealing, yes, but doing so for a good purpose. The authorities won’t see the purpose – all they will see is the theft. There is too great a risk of their exposure if my statement becomes official. And they are still in the First Class, better placed than me to take things forward. So, you are not to use my statement, you are not to talk about it to anyone. It will stay in this room. And should you decide to write it up, I will deny it. Every last word.’

  Chapter 26

  Grace O’Leary, Monsarrat thought, could be the most head-strong, contrary woman he had ever met. And given that her competition for that honour included Hannah Mulrooney, he felt it was high praise indeed.

  ‘What … why would you deny it?’ he had asked. ‘What possible reason could you have for doing so?’

  ‘A few. For a start I don’t think it will do any good. No one will believe me.’

  ‘Let’s test that theory, shall we?’

  ‘No, we shan’t. Because my usefulness is at an end, I fear. Superintendents come and go. The girls will still need a protector.’

  ‘So, for the last time, why are you staying silent?’

  ‘For the sake of a woman – a stranger – who has put herself at great personal risk, and in doing so has already helped more than I ever could.’

  ‘But you have no idea who she is! And no guarantee she will continue to act in their interests. It is insanity!’

  ‘A little more insanity, here, could hardly make a difference. Do you know, Church actually enjoyed snapping minds? There was one woman – unstable to start with – who lost her son, years ago, on the other side of the seas. Church reminded her of it again and again. Told her she could have, should have done more to save him. She wanted nothing to do with the actuality of life after that. And neither do I. I will deny the crime, of course, as I am not guilty. But that is all. I will not close off the way for someone who can do more than I.’

  ‘Why tell me at all, then?’

  ‘You are very persuasive, and I thought someone, at least, should know. But remember, you gave your word.’

  He had no intention of honouring his promise. Of course he would write up a statement, of course he would present it to the authorities. He was not at all certain it would make any difference. And it might, as he’d feared, put his own position at risk. But he would try to save her life, whether she liked it or not.

  By now it was mid-morning, and most of the convicts were still in the workrooms. Monsarrat decided to follow the invisible trail laid down by Robert Church’s killer around the Third Class penitentiary to a grassed area where the convict women used to be able to walk down to the river and bathe, until concerns of escape had led to the erection of the stone wall.

  He tried the gate. Locked. He considered finding Hannah to see if there was a key on the ring Rebecca Nelson made her carry which would work. But now, his muscles still stiff from sleeping in an unfamiliar bed and the rollicking cart ride which followed, he was expected back at the governor’s office and did not wish to stretch Eveleigh’s patience any further. Nonetheless, he had an errand to run on the way.

  Twenty minutes later, after checking the address Henson had given him, Monsarrat was looking into the window of David Nelson’s warehouse.

  ‘Ah, I was hoping you might come today,’ Henson said as he entered. ‘Those beautiful – in my opinion – tea services have just arrived. All Meissen, as I said. The painting on one is particularly fine.’

  He led Monsarrat into a room with a table. Crates were stacked around it, and Henson reached into one, plunging his hand into the sawdust, and pulling out a cup and saucer. He went through the process a few times, and laid out the pieces on the table for Monsarrat’s inspection.

  Monsarrat made complimentary noises about each one, holding them up to the light (he imagined that was what a connoisseur of fine china should do), exclaiming over the delicate blue flowers on one, the vines on another.

  ‘Extraordinary to have so many treasures in one building,’ he remarked. ‘I’m surprised you don’t have an army outside to guard them all.’

  ‘I often wish we had, to be frank,’ said Henson. ‘Had a dreadful time of it recently. The last six months or so, stock has been draining away. Not in large amounts, of course, nor in any discernible pattern. A piece of cloth here, some silver plate there. But enough to cause consternation, particularly as the thefts were so frequent.’

  ‘Were? You have the matter under control now?’

  ‘Yes, thankfully. Mr Nelson hired a nightwatchman. For a few weeks it seemed to make no difference, almost as though the merchandise walked out of here under its own steam in the dead of night. But then, whoever the thief was, he must’ve noted the vigilance of the man. For it all tailed off, and we’ve had nothing go missing for the last week or two.’

  ‘Good news indeed. I wonder, who is this fellow? We need additional guards from time to time at Government House. I don’t want to rob you of your nightwatchman, but should you decide you have no further use for him we may be able to offer him employment.’

  ‘Most certainly, and I’ll hold you to your word as a gentleman that you will not offer alternative employment until he has left ours.’

  ‘You most certainly have it.’

  ‘Very well then. His name is Ernest Holford. He’s been in Parramatta for only a short time, and I believe he is currently residing at a guesthouse – the Stag, I think it’s called.’

  Or more fully, the Prancing Stag, Monsarrat thought. Sophia’s guesthouse.

  ‘That’s interesting, as I happen to know the proprietor,’ he said. ‘I wonder, would it concern you if I was to introduce myself to the man?’

  ‘By all means, I see no harm in that.’

  ‘Thank you. And now we come to one of the most difficult decisions I have made: which of these charming tea sets to acquire. I am rather leaning towards the green, you know. Those tiny clovers around the rim – they look like shamrocks, and I know someone to whom that would appeal very much indeed.’

  Monsarrat’s purse was discernibly lighter when he left the warehouse. He really must sit down and assess his financial situation – he feared it was becoming somewhat tenuous.

  He returned to Government House to find Eveleigh waiting out front.

  ‘You are far later back from the Female Factory than I would have anticipated, Mr Monsarrat. You have not been conducting your own investigations, I trust?’

  ‘Sir, I do apologise. Superintendent Rohan gave me permission for one last interview with prisoner Grace O’Leary. New information has come to light which may have some bearing on the case. I am fully aware, sir, that you were kind enough to give me until Friday – tomorrow – to resolve this matter, and now we may be in a position to begin to do just that.’

  ‘Where did this new information come from, may I ask?’ said Eveleigh. He avoided looking at Monsarrat as he spoke – a bad sign from this man, who always took pains to engage with his eyes as well as with his words. He directed his gaze, instead, past the main house to the sloping, curved driveway, as if he was expecting the new governor to pull in at any moment.

  ‘From the prisoner herself, sir. It seems that from her window in the penitentiary she witnessed the escape of the murderer. She confirms Dr Preston’s suspicions: the killer is a woman.’

  ‘And was she able to identify this woman?’ He had turned, was walking back into the offi
ces as he spoke, without checking to make sure Monsarrat was following.

  ‘No, sir,’ he said, taking care that his longer legs did not propel him ahead of Eveleigh. ‘But after the attack, she saw the killer leave through the gate to the river. And I happen to be aware that the gate isn’t always locked.’

  ‘I see. So we have a gate which may or may not have been unlocked. We have the testimony of a woman who feels the noose drawing tighter, and suddenly claims to have witnessed another unidentifiable female flee.’

  It did, Monsarrat had to admit, sound rather flimsy.

  ‘Sir, there is another point to consider. Prisoner O’Leary is not aware of the suspicion that the murder was carried out by a woman. So if she were fabricating it, would it not make more sense for her to put a man in the role?’

  ‘In a building full of women? No, were I the dissembling type, I would invent a woman too.’

  ‘But there are other considerations, sir. She asked me to promise not to tell anyone of her confession.’

  ‘I am quickly forming an impression of a woman who is skilled at manipulating good-natured souls such as yourself, Monsarrat.’

  ‘Very well, sir. Thank you for your consideration. I will continue, with your permission, to attempt to find out what I can.’

  ‘Is there any point, Monsarrat? I doubt there is anything further to discover. I have more than enough to keep you busy here, in any case. I suggest you write your interview up, for what it’s worth, which is very little in my opinion. We will hand the whole matter back to the police.’

  ‘Mr Eveleigh … You did say I might have until tomorrow to work on this matter.’

  ‘Oh, Lord have mercy, Monsarrat. All right then. In that case, I shall invite the superintendent of police to meet us here in the afternoon. By that time, I anticipate you will have all the depositions appropriately drafted so we can hand them over to him and end this business. Don’t forget, Monsarrat, a new governor is on his way. We do not wish him to form an impression of us based on what the Chronicle says about the deplorable delay in laying charges.’

  Monsarrat sincerely hoped Hannah would have more luck than he had when she visited the Factory tonight.

  He wondered whether the woman Grace had mentioned – the one who had been distressed beyond bearing by Church’s continual reference to her dead son – was Lizzie. It seemed likely, and he hoped to be in a position to pass the information on to Hannah before she left.

  Monsarrat spent the afternoon transcribing Eveleigh’s letters, orders and requisitions for supplies for Government House to ensure that the new man when he arrived would have sufficient provisions. Reports on the state of the grounds. A letter to the colonial secretary regarding what was to be done with the old governor’s follies, the observatory and the bathhouse – the new governor might find them delightful or ridiculous, and Eveleigh would rather know which was more likely before the new man arrived.

  Long past the hour when most men in Eveleigh’s position would have left (but long before Eveleigh usually did), Monsarrat presented the results of the day’s labour.

  Eveleigh flicked through the pages, giving a small nod to indicate his satisfaction where, not long before, he would have praised the neatness of the writing, the lack of errors.

  ‘I wonder, Mr Eveleigh, whether you would have any objection to me going through the archives?’

  ‘That rather depends, Mr Monsarrat, on what it is you’re looking for.’

  ‘I simply wish to seek out some more background on prisoner O’Leary. To place in my final report to be handed to the police superintendent tomorrow.’

  ‘I wish you the best of luck with it. As you know, the Factory archives are in quite a state. As a matter of fact, perhaps that can be your task come Monday morning, when you will certainly have a lot more time to devote to it.’

  ‘I’ll be delighted to assist in any way possible, of course. In fact, I had a notion I might make a start tonight, if you’ve no objection.’

  ‘I intend to be here for the next hour. As I’m responsible for the security of this place – particularly in the absence of the governor and the extra staff who would be here if there were one in residence – I do not wish to leave anyone on the premises each night, without my supervision. You have until my departure.’

  The disorganised state of the archives did not faze Monsarrat, given that he had managed to find what he wanted last time he was down there. Although this time he had no idea what he was looking for. No date, no ship, no crime. Just the name Edwina, and the second-hand ramblings of a madwoman to guide him.

  Chapter 27

  The evening was a warm one as the trap moved through the slow twilight, past cottages and slab huts which gave way to stands of gum trees, with underbrush choking the sides of the rutted road.

  Hannah would have found the journey in the open trap rather pleasant had it not been for the task ahead, and the frown on Rebecca Nelson’s face.

  ‘Not like you, Hannah, to be so absent-minded. Imagine not realising you were no longer carrying the sewing basket!’

  ‘Ah, but I fear it happens from time to time. As I get older, you know, things just drop out of my head.’

  ‘Well, it can wait till tomorrow,’ said Rebecca, sounding wearily annoyed.

  ‘That’s the problem, you see. Mr Monsarrat gave me some money to purchase some butter tomorrow morning, before I arrive at the Factory. So I’d as soon not leave the basket there overnight – there are some wonderful girls in that place, but there are others, as well.’

  ‘True enough,’ said Rebecca. ‘Do you know where you left it?’

  ‘I’m fairly certain it’s in the corner of the drying grounds. I set it down there when I was helping at the meal hour.’

  ‘Very unwise of you. We shall turn around and get it now then.’

  ‘Oh, but aren’t we close to your house? I would hate to detain you. Perhaps if you were to allow me the use of your trap just for a short while longer, after you are safely home I can return to get it.’

  ‘Very well, then. Grogan will take you.’

  Grogan had the hunched posture of someone who spent much time seated, but on hearing his name his shoulders squared slightly. She did not wish to know how he felt about having a forgetful former convict add an hour or more to his work day.

  So with Rebecca safely deposited and farewelled – ‘You must take care not to do this again, Hannah. I’ve come to rely on you’ – Grogan turned the horse around.

  As they approached the Factory again, Hannah was disappointed to see that she didn’t know the night guard on duty. As she dismounted from the trap and approached him he made no move to stop her, but his eyes never left her.

  ‘I’m assistant to Mrs Nelson, who is helping Superintendent Rohan with the running of the Factory until the permanent matron arrives,’ Hannah said.

  ‘Are you?’ he said.

  ‘Indeed. Mrs Nelson has sent me to recover something left on the premises. I shan’t be long.’

  ‘The superintendent says no one is to enter without his permission.’

  ‘I simply need to find Mrs Nelson’s sewing bag and I will be gone. Look, there’s Mrs Nelson’s driver to stand surety for me. Wouldn’t it be a shame to interrupt the superintendent’s dinner over such a trifle?’

  The man looked over at Grogan. He seemed to recognise him, nodded briefly.

  ‘Find what it is you’re after, and then leave,’ the man said.

  ‘Of course, thank you,’ Hannah said. Then, leaning in she dropped her voice to a whisper, ‘I’m not entirely sure where I left it, but I didn’t want Mrs Nelson to think me half-witted. It may take some time to find.’

  ‘Fifteen minutes, and after that I’ll come and find you.’

  Hannah bobbed her thanks and raced across the yard, dropping a small red cloth on the ground as she ran towards the staircase that led to Lizzie’s room. In an alcove underneath it was the sewing basket, which she would leave in place for now so she could pretend t
o be searching for it should the guard make good on his threat.

  Underneath the basket was a tray of shortbread, wrapped tightly in oilcloth to deter the rats, who liked Hannah’s baking every bit as much as Monsarrat did. This she did remove, together with her shoes, which joined the sewing basket under the stairs. The odd creak was unavoidable but she did not intend to announce her presence any more than necessary.

  She had the key to Lizzie’s room in her pocket, and on using it cursed the poorly fitted door, which scraped the timbers as it opened.

  Lizzie was sitting on her bed in her nightdress, staring at the wall.

  ‘Good evening, Lizzie. I came, as I promised. I’m very sorry I can’t stay long tonight, but I can keep you company for a short while. And, look, I brought the shortbread for you.’

  She placed the tray on Lizzie’s lap and the woman grabbed a fistful, crushing it in her hands while she stuffed it into her mouth.

  When the pace of her feeding slowed somewhat, Hannah patted her hand. ‘Did you enjoy that?’

  Lizzie nodded and smiled, showing crumb-littered teeth.

  ‘Lizzie, my love, will you come to the window with me?’

  So they walked together to the window, Hannah supporting Lizzie.

  When Hannah peered out, the patch of red cloth was clearly visible. Lizzie was looking out too, through unfocused eyes.

  ‘Now, Lizzie, have you seen anything from this window? Startling things, I mean.’

  Lizzie frowned. ‘Eddie won’t get in trouble, will she?’

  ‘Why would Eddie get in trouble?’

  ‘I just wondered. Because I did see a startling thing. Eddie made a man lie down, you see. And she must have done a good job, because he never got back up.’

  ‘Can you point to where it happened?’

  Lizzie tapped the corner of her eye, smiled at Hannah, then turned and moved the tip of her finger forward.

  When she did, she was pointing directly at the red cloth. She noticed it, with a jolt. ‘Has someone else lain down now?’ she said. ‘Because there’s red again.’