The Woman In the Green Dress

by Téa Cooper

  ‘I would like to speak with the Governor.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible. Who may I ask is calling?’

  ‘Captain Stefan von Richter.’

  ‘I beg your pardon. I didn’t recognise you, Captain.’

  Obviously, a hint that he should have paid more attention to his dress but surely on a sunny morning he couldn’t be expected to be in full military regalia. Ridiculously pompous, these imported Englishmen.

  ‘The Governor is at his Parramatta residence. I can refer you to his secretary who will have a clearer idea of his movements. Please follow me.’

  The butler led the way into a wide panelled entry hall and gestured to a wooden bench. ‘Perhaps you’d be good enough to wait here for a moment.’ He beetled off into the dark depths of the hallway behind the stairs and a few moments later a wizened man, with flyaway hair and spots of something vaguely unsavoury attached to his cravat, appeared.

  ‘Captain von Richter, good morning. Unfortunately, the Governor is in Parramatta and will be for the next few days. I am Sir Charles’s secretary. May I be so bold as to enquire the reason for your request.’

  ‘It is of the utmost importance and, without wishing to exaggerate, a matter of life and death.’

  ‘Good heavens that sounds very dire.’

  ‘I have recently returned from the Hawkesbury region where I witnessed an appalling and unprovoked attack on a group of New Hollanders. I know the men responsible and managed to remove their weapons, but unfortunately they disappeared into the scrub before I could apprehend them. I witnessed the shooting of one of the New Hollanders and I am led to believe they are responsible for many such attacks.’ He could feel the outrage building once more, the appalling manner Dobbin had rounded up the defenceless women and children, the crack of the whip as it cut into their flesh. ‘Women and children have been beaten and treated no better than animals. I have a witness who can corroborate my evidence and testify that this is not a singular occurrence.’

  ‘These attacks are unfortunate, however the settlers have a right to defend their land.’

  ‘It was not a question of settlers defending their land—this was an out and out attack on a group of defenceless people who were doing no harm. If anything, the boot was on the other foot.’

  ‘Oh, come now, Captain we all know these natives don’t have fixed habitation. They wander. Nomadic.’

  ‘They were in no way encroaching on any settlers’ land grants. They have every right to be on their own land.’

  ‘Their own land. Please, please. The concept of Terra Nullius was established over twenty years ago by Sir Richard Bourke. We simply do not recognise the natives’ right to occupy the land. Just let the matter drop, Captain. There is no more harm in shooting a native than one of the wild dogs.’

  ‘This is ridiculous.’ A pulse began to throb in his temple. ‘I insist that I speak with Sir Charles.’

  ‘As I said Captain, the Governor is not in Sydney at present. He is in Parramatta on urgent business.’

  ‘Then I will ride to Parramatta.’

  ‘He cannot be disturbed.’

  ‘We’ll see about that!’ He took a step forward, his temper bristling, then pulled up short. It would do his case no good to cause a disturbance.

  The despicable little man held out his filthy hand and gestured to the door.

  The walk across the Domain and the fresh air helped his frustration cool. He would need to speak to the Governor. Parramatta was hardly more than a couple of hours ride and he had a raft of invitations to stay in the district should it be necessary. He might take Bert with him.

  There were, however, several things he must do before he left. Firstly, speak with Mrs Atterton; perhaps she could throw some light on the situation. The men must be brought to justice, otherwise the atrocities would continue. Surely she wasn’t aware of the way Gus and Dobbin were acquiring the artefacts. Why else would she have invited him to go along? And if she was not forthcoming, he could possibly exert some leverage by refusing to purchase any of Della’s wonderful specimens. Besides it would give him the perfect opportunity to call. Then he would attend the card game again and ask a few pertinent questions. Everyone seemed to know everyone’s business in this town.

  Within moments he was standing outside the Curio Shop. The door was open and a large group of women crowded the interior. He inhaled the now-familiar odour and slipped inside. Cordelia sat at her desk in deep discussion with two women, however there was no sign of the lovely Della.

  Had he made a mistake allowing Della to return unaccompanied? Bert had said they had exchanged words. He shook the thought away—he was jumping to conclusions. It was highly unlikely Della’s aunt would be responsible for Gus and Dobbin’s appalling actions and now he had their guns as evidence he doubted they’d dare show their faces.

  ‘Mrs Atterton, good morning.’ His voice carried over the tittle-tattling of the women who all turned their faces to him and presented him with simpering smiles. If their appraising looks were anything to judge by the marriage market was alive and well in this corner of the world, as it was everywhere else.

  ‘Captain, good morning.’ Cordelia rose from the desk, dressed again in the brilliant green she favoured. ‘I must thank you for escorting Della back to Sydney.’ She held out her hand to him. He took it, ignoring the bemused whispers of their audience. ‘Have you come to discuss your purchases?’

  ‘Yes, yes I have.’ However, he had no intention of discussing anything in front of these gawking women. ‘I also thought I might suggest a short walk to Miss Atterton. It’s a beautiful afternoon and I have it on very good authority that there are strawberry ices to be had in George Street.’

  ‘I’m sure Della would be delighted to see you. You’ll find her upstairs in the back room. She’s resting. She found the trip to Sydney quite tiring.’

  How very strange. He hadn’t imagined for one moment she would have suffered any side effects. She’d been as bright as sunshine, and although they had made the journey quickly they’d hardly broken any records.

  ‘If you can find your own way.’ She indicated the stairs. ‘I shall finish up this little piece of business and be right up to join you.’

  There was a communal intake of breath at Cordelia’s suggestion and he masked the grin on his face by offering a sweeping bow to the gaggle of women in the shop. Emancipists like Cordelia were perhaps not quite so concerned about propriety as the newly arrived, affluent English matrons.

  Reaching the top of the stairs he stopped and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light on the small landing. Two firmly closed doors greeted him. Cordelia had said the back room so he knocked gently on the door and, receiving no response, eased it open.

  In the semi darkness, it took him a moment to see Della. She sat in a chair by the curtained window overlooking the backyard, her hands in her lap and her head bowed as though deep in thought. When he cleared his throat, she lifted her head. ‘Stefan.’ She offered a wan smile and attempted to struggle to her feet.

  He reached her side in two paces. ‘Please sit down. Don’t tire yourself.’ He helped her back into the chair.

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s so silly of me.’ She groaned and settled into the cushions like an old woman. ‘I’m perfectly all right, just a little tired. Could you open the curtains? Some light will cheer me up.’

  It didn’t cheer him one iota. It only served to emphasise her appalling pallor. Her glorious hair hung limp around her face and the light in her eyes had dimmed to such an extent he could hardly believe she was the same person he’d left only twenty-four hours earlier.

  ‘If I had known you were unwell I would have come sooner. Why didn’t you send a message?’

  She tried in vain to straighten her shoulders, her face ashen. ‘I’m simply suffering from a headache, a little queasiness.’

  ‘Let me call a doctor. Mr Philpott, the Governor’s physician, frequents the Berkeley. I met him last evening.’

&nbs
p; ‘It’s nothing. I’m sure it will soon pass. Cordelia has been looking after me. Now tell me what you have been doing. It’ll cheer me up.’

  ‘Can I get you anything. A drink. A cup of tea.’

  ‘I should be offering you refreshments.’

  ‘I think we are long past such niceties.’

  His words brought the slightest smile to her bloodless lips. ‘A glass of lemonade would be lovely. There’s some in the bottle on the table. Cordelia made it up especially for me. I’ve been so very thirsty.’

  He poured the lemonade and carried the glass back to her then drew up a chair and brought it to the window.

  ‘When did the illness commence?’

  ‘I’m not very sure. The hours seem to have merged. How long have we been back?’ She rubbed her hand over her eyes and slumped back in the chair.

  He opened his mouth to answer but her eyes were closed. Reaching for her small hand he held it in both of his. Her mouth quivered with a smile and he rubbed his thumbs gently over her fingers. Such small hands yet so capable. The vision of her drawing the needle through Jarro’s skin with such skill and precision flashed through his mind. In the few days since he’d known her he’d come to hold her in such high regard.

  After a few moments, her eyes flickered open. ‘I’m sorry. I seem to be drowsy. I’m sure it’s just the change of air. I’ll be fine by tomorrow. Have you spoken to Aunt Cordelia?’

  ‘Only briefly. She said she would be up in a moment. The shop appeared to be very busy.’

  ‘All the women. I was angry at first when I saw the changes she had made but it seems to be very successful and I’m certain Pa would be pleased to know she has done so well. I just wish she’d told me. She doesn’t seem to think there is anything untoward about Gus and Dobbin’s activities and they haven’t returned.’

  As he suspected. He wished now that he’d put musket balls through the pair of them. Once he spoke with Sir Charles, the matter would be resolved. ‘I’ve called on the Governor …’

  ‘And?’ The light came back to her eyes and she sat a little straighter.

  ‘Unfortunately he is in Parramatta on business. I intend to ride out. I was going to ask you if you would like to accompany me.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m well enough. Is it possible to delay it for a day or two? I’ll be better soon.’

  He didn’t want to delay a moment but his case would have much more credibility if Della accompanied him, she knew so much more about the New Hollanders and their way of life. ‘It can wait a day or two. His secretary said he’d be there for a week.’ And besides, he might have a better solution.

  As if on cue Cordelia swept into the room. ‘Ah! That’s better Della. There’s more colour in your face and I see you have been drinking the lemonade. Captain, can I get you anything? A glass of brandy perhaps. I have a keg of very good French brandy. And we have business to discuss.’

  They did. He inclined his head and Cordelia swept from the room.

  ‘Business?’

  ‘Yes. I told Cordelia that I would like to purchase some of your work. The black cockatoos and the water mole particularly. They are delightful.’

  Her pinked cheeks were almost reward enough but he had a better plan. He just had to phrase it correctly.

  Cordelia reappeared with two glasses of brandy. ‘I have closed the shop. Would you like to continue this discussion downstairs?’ she asked, her expression bland as milk, her back ramrod straight.

  ‘I’m sure Della would be interested in our proposed transaction, after all she is the owner of the shop, is she not?’

  Cordelia’s eyes narrowed, stripping the warmth from her smile. ‘She is. However, I’ve become used to managing alone.’ She threw Della a sideways glance and moved to sit on the window seat. ‘Now. A transaction you said …’

  ‘I’m interested in purchasing a quantity of specimens for my Antipodean collection.’

  Her gaze seemed to lose focus and her expression darkened. Then a spark of animation returned to Cordelia’s eyes. ‘I can sell you any number of specimens and artefacts. The shop is now following a different path, leaning more towards ladies’ fashions.’

  ‘I do however have serious concerns about the native artefacts and the methods of acquiring them.’ He folded his arms and pinned the woman with his most ferocious stare. It took her only a moment to gather her thoughts and digest his implications.

  ‘I can assure you that the merchandise in my shop …’ she cleared her throat and shot a glance at Della ‘… the shop is entirely reputable. This nonsense about my men harming the natives is just that … nonsense. Some simple mistake.’

  ‘I assure you it is not. I witnessed the incident myself. Della treated one of the injured men.’

  ‘In that case both Gus and Dobbin will be severely reprimanded the moment they return.’ She wiped her hands together as though washing away any impropriety. ‘If you’d like to come downstairs we can discuss the pieces you wish to purchase.’

  ‘Until the matter of the raids is resolved I am not prepared to commit. I intend to bring the matter to the Governor’s attention.’

  Her eyes clouded momentarily and then the corner of her lip lifted in triumph. ‘I doubt very strongly the Governor will be the slightest bit interested. I believe the authorities sanctioned a raid on the Hawkesbury natives only a matter of weeks ago. They have been making life hell for the settlers in the area.’

  There was no point in arguing with the woman, she appeared so self-assured and as unconcerned as the Governor’s secretary. The treatment of the New Hollanders was, as Della said, nothing less than barbaric.

  ‘I will leave you to consider my offer.’ He turned away from her to Della who was staring out of the window, an absent look on her face. ‘Della, I must go. I’m expected at the Berkeley.’ The poor girl was certainly in no condition to take a walk. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to call a physician?’

  She lifted her head and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. ‘I will be better in a day or two.’

  ‘In that case I beg your permission to call tomorrow.’

  His words brought a fragile smile back to her lips. ‘I’d like that very much.’ She made some attempt to rise from her chair but he restrained her. ‘Stay here and rest. I’m certain Mrs Atterton will show me out.’

  ‘I’d be delighted. After you.’

  Once they’d reached the bottom of the stairs he turned to Cordelia, his mind made up. ‘Mrs Atterton, I am determined the New Hollanders should not be subjected to this gratuitous violence. Ensure your men leave the Hawkesbury district and I am prepared to purchase a large amount of your stock.’

  ‘Blackmail, Captain?’ She raised one eyebrow. The wretched woman was enjoying the jousting.

  ‘No, Mrs Atterton. Fact.’ Without another word, he walked from the shop and strode down Hunter Street, his cane banging against the flagstone path. The woman was outrageous. He no longer doubted she was behind the raids and if, as she said, the matter was of no consequence to the authorities, then he would have an uphill battle.

  Twenty-Four

  Sydney, NSW, 1919

  Fleur’s fingers fumbled as she tried to fit the heavy key into the lock.

  ‘It’s no good. The boards are in the way.’ Kip stepped in front of her. ‘Stand back and let me see what I can do.’ He pulled a claw hammer and crowbar from his tool bag. ‘I’m going to see if I can lever these off then we should be able to get to the lock.’

  Against her will she stepped away from the door and stood on the edge of the footpath jiggling from one foot to the other, unable to stand still.

  Kip hefted the hammer then rolled his shoulders and inserted the claw under the corner of the plank of wood. Nothing moved. He flashed her a sympathetic smile. ‘Patience.’ He repeated the process all the way down the length of timber and then returned to the corner closest to the lock. ‘Ready?’

  She nodded, her heart pounding like a drum, the raven on the top of the
key cutting into her palm.

  He threw all his weight against the hammer and levered it up. With a splintering groan and a screech the nails gave. ‘Here, take this.’ He passed the hammer to her and dug his fingers under the wood. ‘One, two, three.’

  An ear-splitting crack sounded and the plank lifted. ‘Hammer, please.’ She passed it to him and he worked his way along the length of the next piece of wood then handed it back. ‘I think I’ve got it now.’ He gave a huge yank and the plank lifted.

  Dying of impatience, Fleur stepped up to the door. ‘Not yet. The other one is across the hinges.’

  Biting back her frustration Fleur stepped back again and waited while he repeated the entire process all over again.

  The splintered wood fell away in chunks. ‘They’re rotten. Rain must’ve collected underneath. Give me a hand.’

  Together they peeled back the damp timber, their hands scrabbling faster as each piece came away revealing the remains of some black paint. Kip flashed her another grin, his eyes dancing.

  With a final groan the last piece came free and they both dusted the splinters from their hands and surveyed the peeling door.

  Now the moment had come, a stab of fear sliced Fleur’s stomach.

  Not so Kip. His wide mouth took on a sceptical tilt. ‘Come on, put the key in, or do you want me to do it?’

  Her heart pricked in her chest. ‘No, no. I want to.’ The only sound was the rattle of the key as she inserted it into the lock then the door swung open with hardly a sound.

  She stepped over the threshold into the dim interior and sucked in a breath of the cold, damp, melancholy air of a place long abandoned. Despite the heat outside a chill crept around her ankles and snaked up her calves.

  She took a couple of measured steps into the long room running the length of the building.

  Dust quivered and swirled in the strange light, as if the past was rising to meet her. The uncanny atmosphere reminded her of the crypt at St Paul’s, ghosts stirring the air with their whispering.

  And then the smell hit her, dark and musty, the air redolent with the odour of vermin and, strangely, an overtone of something oniony.