Emily

by Valerie Wood

  Philip shook hands with the governor. ‘Thank you for your help in the matter. I am much obliged.’

  When he returned to his lodgings that afternoon there was another message waiting, this time from Mary Edwards, who urged that he visit her with all possible speed. He walked quickly down Savile Street and across the Junction Bridge to Whitefriargate and knocked on the door of her shop, which surprisingly had a closed notice on it.

  Mary Edwards lifted the door curtain and on seeing him, opened the door. Her face was pale and her eyes red-rimmed. ‘Please come in, Mr Linton, and forgive me for involving you, but I have just learned some tragic news.’

  He followed her into her sitting room and was surprised to see Deborah Purnell sitting by the fire in almost the same position as when he had brought her from Purnell’s house. She didn’t look up as he entered, but stared into the flames. Behind the chair with her hand on Deborah’s shoulder stood an older woman, who inclined her head in greeting.

  ‘Mrs Purnell you already know, Mr Linton. This is Mrs Brewer, Mr Francis’s housekeeper and former nurse to – Miss Deborah.’

  He glanced at Mary Edwards anxiously. She was obviously under a great strain, her voice trembled as she spoke. ‘I – we have terrible news to impart.’

  Mrs Brewer stepped forward and, taking Mary by the elbow, led her to a chair, where she sat her down. ‘Mr Linton,’ she said, ‘perhaps I might be permitted – I have had a little more time to digest the news. Mr Francis – Miss Deborah’s father and my most benevolent employer – died yesterday.’

  Philip stared, stunned, at the three women in turn. Mrs Brewer continued. ‘I’ve sent messages to Mrs Francis and to the lawyer and to everyone I thought should know.’ She glanced at Mary Edwards and then at Deborah. ‘Miss Deborah, I fear has not yet grasped the significance, but when I told her that her father had gone, she insisted on coming to stay with Mrs Edwards.’

  Mary wiped her eyes. ‘We formed a friendship when you first brought her here, Mr Linton. I think she felt secure under my roof whilst she waited for her father.’

  Mrs Brewer nodded. ‘You were always warm-hearted, Mary, even when you were young. Miss Deborah would sense it.’

  Deborah lifted her eyes; they were glazed as if she wasn’t seeing properly. ‘I told Papa that I would like to live with Mary Edwards in her lovely shop and he said that perhaps one day I could.’

  Philip crossed over towards her, took her hand and gave a slight bow. ‘I will do what I can to help you, Miss Deborah,’ he said, using her old name familiarly, then turning to Mary Edwards he said, ‘I am so sorry. So very sorry for your unhappiness. He was a kind, honourable man and will be greatly missed. Just tell me what I can do, and I will do it.’

  There wasn’t a great deal he could do apart from wait with them for the lawyer and help with the funeral arrangements. Mrs Francis wrote to the lawyer that she would not be attending the service and that she should only be contacted by letter. To her daughter she made only a passing reference in that as she was now a married woman, she was her husband’s responsibility, and to her son, incarcerated in an asylum, she made no reference at all.

  Mary Edwards, against her instincts, was persuaded to attend the funeral service at the chapel in Elmswell Manor. She shrouded herself in black and walked with Deborah, who was prostrate with grief. The house servants, the farm labourers, the tenant farmers and so many people from the surrounding villages attended the service and Philip, standing at the back, looked at the people filing in and wondered if Mary and Roger Francis’s son, Samuel, was there.

  He said his farewells to Mary and Deborah and left to attend to the most important matter of his life, that of acquiring Emily’s pardon. As he stepped into the hired chaise, Mr Francis’s lawyer came hurrying towards him.

  ‘Mr Linton, I understand that you are returning to Australia and will be in contact with Miss Emily Hawkins?’

  ‘Indeed. I am under orders to sail but must first attend to the business of obtaining a pardon for Miss Hawkins.’

  ‘Then please attend me at my chambers and I can expedite matters for you. I know of this case already as Mr Francis has consulted me. You will be pleased to know that proceedings have already been started.’

  Philip heaved a great sigh of relief. Thank heavens! If proceedings have begun then hopefully I can sail very soon to give Emily the best possible news, he thought. I can bring her home. She will be free at last!

  Chapter Forty-Four

  As his ship sailed through the Heads into Port Jackson and Sydney Cove, Philip thought that it had seemed to be the longest voyage of his life, though they had had good winds and an uneventful voyage. On board they carried supplies and a hold full of immigrant passengers, eager to brave the seas and come to a new country with the opportunity to make a good living in trade or on the land, and without, as they thought, the petty bureaucracy of England, not realizing that the laws of England still applied. The difference was that in Australia the laws were not as easily regulated, owing to the Crown’s inability to manage the scattered inhabitants in that vast country.

  He took leave of the ship as soon as he could and hired a mount to ride up to Creek Farm. It was almost nine months since he had left, it was spring and he could smell the blossom on the trees and the new grass after the winter rain, and as he climbed higher he heard the squalling voices of the cockatoos and saw a flash of white plumage as they swooped overhead. They were big birds with loud voices and a curl of yellow feathers on the top of their heads and beneath their tails. He turned in the saddle to view the Cove, shimmering in the sunshine below him, and wondered if Emily would still want to return to England.

  I could stay here, he thought, if she wanted to. It is a beautiful country, though the seasons are not so gentle as at home. He rounded the last bend and looked up as he had done before when first he had ridden up with Meg and Joe. The farm had looked shabby then with peeling paintwork on the windows and an untidy drive leading up to it. Now it looked different, someone had freshly painted the woodwork and the neatly clipped hedges were underplanted with spring flowers.

  As he reached the front of the house, he heard the sound of a woman’s laughter and the squeal of childish chatter and Emily came into view running down the veranda steps in chase of Ralph, who was tottering unsteadily into the paddock in pursuit of two puppies. She scooped up the child and swung him round, and as she did she caught sight of Philip and stopped in her tracks. It is such a happy family scene, he thought as he gazed at her, her face flushed and animated. One that I want to be part of.

  Emily put Ralph back on the veranda and shooed him inside, calling to Meg to come as she did so. She walked slowly towards him, her fingers partly raised to her lips. He dismounted and stood waiting. ‘Emily!’ He put out his hand.

  She put her hand in his and he closed his fingers over hers. ‘Mr Linton,’ she breathed. ‘I’ve watched for your ship every day. I’m so glad to see you at last.’

  ‘And I you, Emily. So very glad!’

  He was vaguely aware of Meg coming out on to the veranda and picking up Ralph, then going inside again, but his eyes were only for Emily. Her skin was golden from last summer’s sun with a faint flush on her cheekbones, and her hair was streaked even blonder than he remembered. Her hand as he held it was brown and firm and strong.

  ‘Emily,’ he said softly, ‘I have missed you so much.’

  She gave a hesitant, gentle smile and replied in no more than a whisper. ‘And I’ve missed you, sir. More than it is seemly to do.’

  Do I tell her now that I love her, he worried, or is it too soon? Do I tell her the news of her pardon first? The fact that she is now a free woman and can make her own decisions as to what she wants to do or where she wants to go and with whom?

  She took her hand from his and, as if making a great effort to be practical, she forestalled his decision. ‘There have been so many things happening in your absence, Mr Linton. I trust that what we have done will meet with your approval.
’

  ‘Emily!’ He reached for her again and turned her towards him. ‘I don’t want to talk of mundane matters just yet. I have so many things to tell you.’

  She lowered her eyes. ‘And I have things to tell you also, Mr Linton, if only I dare and if I don’t lose your regard for me.’

  ‘You can never do that, Emily. You have my regard for ever.’ He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. ‘But first, before I say more about my feelings for you and therefore influence you, I am the bearer of good news. Excellent news.’

  She looked up into his face. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yes. You are a free woman, Emily! I have an absolute pardon in my pocket. Hugo Purnell withdrew his evidence against you and the charges have been dropped. The magistrate who heard them initially has been forced to retire, being considered an unsuitable person to carry out his duties.’

  ‘Free!’ Her voice was choked. ‘Free! To go home?’

  ‘If that is what you want. Is that what you want?’

  She continued to gaze at him. ‘I want –’. She hesitated. ‘Where will you be, Mr Linton?’

  They were interrupted by a sudden shout from the top field and, turning, they saw Joe and Benne and a dog coming towards them.

  ‘Who’s that with Joe?’ Philip asked. ‘And we seemed to have acquired several dogs.’

  ‘It’s Benne,’ she said. ‘The old Aborigine’s grandson, and we’ve three dogs, two for the sheep and one for the house and two puppies, oh, and two cats to catch the mice and rats.’

  He laughed. ‘Is there room in the house for me?’

  Joe took off his large-brimmed hat and stood in front of Philip. ‘Welcome back, sir. Hope you had a good voyage?’

  He seems more assured, Philip thought. Being in charge has done him good, given him back his selfesteem. ‘I did, thank you, Joe. Everything all right here? Everything looks in good order.’

  ‘Aye, sir. Meg and Emily painted ’house, and, well we’ve a few things to talk about. This here is Benne, he’s been helping wi’ sheep. He’s not had any wages, but we’ve just fed and kept him, same as his grandda. I doubt we could have managed without ’em.’

  Philip looked up into the hills beyond the pasture land. ‘Is it my imagination or are there more sheep than I remember?’

  Joe glanced at Emily. ‘Just a few, sir. We’ve done nowt underhand. Mr Clavell has given his approval and he’ll be up to see you, I expect, as soon as he hears that you’re back.’

  Philip started in surprise. ‘You’re not telling me that Clavell is going in for sheep rearing?’

  Joe grinned. ‘In a manner of speaking, sir. In a manner of speaking.’

  ‘Well, shall we go inside? And then perhaps Emily would like to tell you of her good news!’

  He had brought a bottle of cognac and they gave a toast to Emily’s freedom, and then Philip said, ‘And one more piece of news which I’m sure you will be glad to hear before we get on with the happenings here.’ He glanced at Meg and Joe standing together. ‘Meg, you are already a free woman simply by the fact that you are, to all intents, married to Joe, an assigned man. And you, Joe, would have been free anyway, in – what? One year? Two?’

  ‘Would have been? What’s would have been?’ A flush touched Joe’s face. ‘I will be! I’ll have served my time.’

  ‘You are!’ Philip’s face broke into a grin. ‘Whilst I was talking to a lawyer about Emily’s pardon, I mentioned you and the life you had led as a child and how you came to be transported. With his influence we obtained a conditional pardon for you! It means that although you can’t go back to England – you are now free! You can do whatever you want within the rules of this country.’

  ‘Free?’ Tears ran down Joe’s face. ‘A free man? Does tha hear that, Meg, Emily? I’m free! I can buy land, graze sheep –!’ He crossed the room in two strides and grasping Philip’s hand shook it vigorously. Then he put his face into his hands and wept.

  Meg rushed towards him and put her arms around him and Philip looked enquiringly at Emily, who, as she brushed away her own tears nodded her head. ‘They’re going to be married properly,’ she said, her voice choked with emotion. ‘They’ve been waiting for you to come back.’

  They sat long into the night as Joe told of the discovery of gold; of Clavell’s involvement so that the adjoining land could be bought in his and Emily’s name, and that Joe and Benne had already started work on the seam.

  ‘Mr Clavell has been listening around Sydney and says rumours are rife that gold has been found at Wellington and along ’Macquarie River. Men are leaving their jobs on ’farms to start digging and ’stores are running out of picks and shovels and you can’t buy a wheelbarrow for any price. They’re also saying it won’t be long before Crown licences’ll be issued. I won’t be able to apply for one as I’m a convict and Benne being an Abo wouldn’t be able to keep any gold anyway.’

  ‘Clavell?’

  ‘Aye, he could, but all ’gold will belong to ’government eventually and we’ll have to sell it to them, so what we thought, Mr Clavell and me, was that we’d do some prospecting first, just to see if it was worth continuing. Trouble is, you see, that I can’t take it for testing, being a convict – I’d probably be flogged for stealing it, and Mr Clavell doesn’t want to show his hand, so what we’d thought, Mr Linton, is that maybe you would take it to England on your next voyage and get it tested there.’

  He grinned. ‘’Course, now I’m a free man, things’ll be different. I’ll be able to apply for a licence and ’tek gold down to Sydney myself.’

  Philip sat back in amazement. ‘So – you did find gold?’

  ‘Oh, aye! We’ve got a bagful inside ’mattress and Meg and Em have got their old boots stuffed wi’ it and Mr Clavell’s got some under a roll o’ bandages at Parramatta.’

  ‘So, you’re a rich woman and a landowner, Emily,’ Philip smiled at her. This puts a different complexion on things, he mused.

  ‘Not at all, Mr Linton. Mr Clavell has taken the risk. It’s his money that bought the land and the sheep and it’s only in my name because it couldn’t be in Joe’s. It belongs to Mr Clavell and Joe, not to me.’

  Joe and Meg both protested. ‘It’s for ’family,’ Joe said. ‘We’ll have no squabbling ower it. It’ll be shared out equal just as soon as we can sell it, which won’t be yet. It’ll depend on whether Mr Linton is willing to tek it.’

  ‘Or even if I am going back,’ Philip said, glancing at Emily. ‘And that has yet to be decided.’

  The decision had to be Emily’s and as he and Emily sat on the veranda long after Joe and Meg had gone to bed, he put the question to her. ‘Will you stay in Australia now, Emily, or will you return to England?’

  She hesitated and then said softly, ‘My whole heart tells me that I want to be in England again, in the country where I was born. It has such a strong pull for me and although I could settle here if – if I had to, my dearest wish would be to return home.’

  ‘If you had to? You can go wherever you want, Emily. You are free! Are you thinking of Joe? Of Meg?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I’d miss them of course, and Ralph too, but – most of all, and please forgive me for being so forward and presumptuous, but I’ve thought long and hard over this whilst you have been away.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Mr Clavell said that we must take our happiness whilst we can. I want, Philip, to be wherever you are.’

  He was by her side in an instant, kneeling down and grasping her hand and showering it with kisses. ‘Emily! Emily, I am lost for words. You can’t imagine how I have been waiting to declare my love for you, and you – I cannot believe that you feel the same way!’

  ‘But I always have.’ She smiled at him. ‘Since we first met. ‘But –’. Her smile faded. ‘I knew that I was spoiled, that no man would want me for his wife after what happened with Hugo Purnell, but I have buried my pride. Philip, if you will have me as your mistress, your housekeeper, I will serve you well and love you more than any wife could.’r />
  He rocked back on his heels. ‘How can you speak of such a thing! That is not what I want!’ He drew away from her and paced the floor, running his fingers through his hair in a way which she remembered so well. ‘I want you to be my wife! I don’t want to hide you away like Mary Edwards has been hidden away all these years.’ Through his flash of anger he suddenly realized that he had not yet told her the news of Roger Francis’s death.

  ‘It was her choice,’ she said appeasingly. ‘She told me that Mr Francis had wanted to marry her, that he was willing to leave the country if she would go with him.’

  ‘These strong women,’ he muttered. ‘But I will not have you hidden away,’ he said firmly and drew her towards him. ‘I want you as my wife, to bear my name and my children. I have no obstacles in my way, no estate to lose, no loss of face. In fact,’ and he felt a shiver of doubt run through him, ‘it seems that if you agree to marry me, you may well be marrying a poor man in comparison to the riches that are in front of you.’

  ‘It is not a matter of riches, Philip,’ she said quietly. ‘It is what I am, what I have been.’

  ‘What you have been is in the past and was not of your making.’ He kissed her gently, regretting his outburst. ‘And what you are is the same as always in spite of the humiliations and privations you have endured. You are still the pure, gentle woman I have always known.’

  Meg and Joe were married by the Reverend Fowler in his tiny wooden church. Joe gave his name as Joseph Hawkins and Meg as Margaret Johnson. Philip gave the bride away and Mr Clavell and Emily were witnesses. After the ceremony Ralph was baptized with Ralph Clavell and Emily as godparents.

  ‘So you knew all the time that Ralph belonged to that poor woman who threw herself overboard?’ Meg said to Clavell as they sat in the Reverend Fowler’s house, where they had been invited to tea.

  ‘I did.’ He stroked the little boy’s head. ‘But I reckoned that he stood a better chance with you than he did in an orphanage or workhouse.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘You have no idea the difference he’s made to my life.’