by Lena Dowling
‘The not so charming Captain Anthony Tompkins over there for one.’
Perturbed, Harry looked over towards the billiards table. Tompkins, who was preparing to make a shot, scowled up over his cue at Harry.
‘Your bank manager is another,’ Tristan continued, ‘And many a free settler has fancied the notion of installing her on his property.’
‘But a convict and former prostitute?’ Despite what Somerset had told him about the calibre of some of Sydney’s elite, it stretched credulity that anyone of standing would take up with a woman of her background.
‘In a town with so few available single women, almost anything can be overlooked. See Tompkins’s opponent over there?’
Harry leaned forward to observe an older gentleman hunched over the billiard table, sawing a cue back and forth to line up a shot.
‘That’s George Johnston, a former lieutenant governor whose wife arrived in the colony not only as a convict, but with an illegitimate child in tow. I’m afraid the Johnstons are not at all an isolated example. While not without a certain charm, Mrs Johnston isn’t remarkable, whereas Nellie …’ Tristan trailed off as a waiter approached.
‘A woman capable of arousing that much passion?’ Harry said pausing, until after the waiter set down the drinks. ‘You’re hardly underselling her.’
‘I’m just telling you how matters lie out here,’ Tristan said, then raised his glass and took a sip.
‘So which half is James Hunter in, do you think?’ Harry asked recalling Hunter’s odd expression when Nellie had been discussed.
‘Half?’
‘You said half of Sydney’s men were in love with Nellie.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Tristan set his glass back down on the occasional table between them. ‘Nellie was always James’s particular favourite,’ Tristan said, waiting long enough for Harry to absorb the full force of his meaning. ‘However, James is very much committed to reconciling with his wife.’
Harry took a good slug of his drink. ‘He and Lady Hunter are separated?’
Harry had been introduced to Hunter’s wife as some of the guests were leaving. She and James had been the last to go, and he recalled that they had travelled in the same carriage. Harry hadn’t seen any affection pass between them, but then neither had anything tipped him off to an estrangement.
‘Separated in all but name. When James is not doing business in town, he lives at a new homestead on Hunter Downs at Parramatta, which he built to entice her back, but Thea still prefers to live with the children in the original, much smaller house on the property.’
‘What is the issue?’ Harry had imagined them well matched. ‘They make for a handsome couple.’
‘Don’t they? Unfortunately, Thea didn’t know about James’s past fondness for the bawdy house until Nellie’s cousin, Colleen Malone, married their overseer, Samuel Biggs. That brought matters out in the open. It was all a long time ago, but Thea took it very badly.’
Harry leaned forward and swiped at an imaginary spot on his trouser leg. It had been almost a year now and yet a sight, a sound, a smell, anything could still stab him with the reminder of Selina’s betrayal when he least expected it. Lady Hunter had his heartfelt sympathies.
‘So that explains why Emily is so against Nellie,’ Harry said.
‘Lady Thea Hunter and Emily have become the very best of friends. Emily’s very loyal and that clouds her judgement sometimes.’
Harry raised his glass in mock salute. ‘Lucky for you.’
‘No need to rub it in. I’m not the only man who’s bettered himself through marriage when I married Lady Emily Deveraux. It was such a relief to me, and I suspect to James as well, that our wives were able to find the company of another from a similar background. While they are welcomed by most, their singular choice in husbands has seen them shunned by a few of the Exclusives.’
‘And their friendship has not been bad for your business as well?’
‘Where Hunter goes, the other Emancipists and self-made men tend to follow. Snagging Hunter as a client was a boon to our fortunes.’
‘Hunter retains an interest in Nellie?’ Harry asked, not able to let the question in his mind go.
‘If he does, it would only be a nostalgic one. James would never jeopardise matters with his wife. And even if he were interested, I doubt very much Nellie could be persuaded. Plenty have tried. The wager running on how long she would stay solvent isn’t the only one down in the betting book. As far as I know, that wager is still running.
‘Hmmm. Somerset said something very similar.’
Tristan shook his head.
‘What?’
‘I know how competitive you are.’
‘Me? Competitive?’
‘I’m serious.’
‘Relax. I have no intention of pursuing Nellie.’
If Tristan wanted logic, then he had two unassailable planks of his own. He was hardly going to involve himself with a woman whom sooner or later he would have to evict, to say nothing of her questionable past.
Chapter 8
The morning after Harry Chester’s second visit, Nellie hadn’t slept a wink for worrying about what to do. And no matter whether she was on her right side or her left, there was only one idea she kept coming back to. One idea to make enough money to pay proper rent on the place. It was risky but what choice did she have?
‘I don’t like it, Nell,’ Pikelet said, pushing his plate away after she told him. His bowl had been emptied of porridge without complaint even though the tempting smell of the bacon she had fried up for the guests still hung in the air. ‘It would be better if we could keep going the way we are.’
‘We don’t make enough money off of the rooms on their own to pay the sort of rent Harry Chester will be askin’, and unless I can make it, he’ll take someone who can. Then that someone will put me out on the street.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Don’t I? How will this place with new management be different to anywhere else I’ve tried?’
While Danny was on his last legs, fighting the fever, she had gone doorknocking. The kindest folks pretended not to be home even though smoke was belching out the chimney. Others slammed the door shut in her face. At one place, the lady of the house chased her out onto the street with a bowl of slops and then doused her with it anyway. She had trudged home, dripping wet and stinking to high heaven, with only blisters for her trouble.
Pikelet sighed. ‘If you go down that road, this place will need watching like a hawk.’
‘We won’t have the girls and the cards, which are the things that cause the fights.’
‘There will still be the rum and that’s enough to create trouble on its own.’
‘You used to be Danny’s heavy.’
‘I worked for Danny. Not that I’d ever wish the man to be raised from the dead. But who’ll help me now if things get out of hand?’
‘It’s the only plan I can think of that could make us anywhere near the money we need without me goin’ back to whoring or running card tables, and you know I’ll never do that.’
‘It’s a big gamble you’ll be taking.’
‘Nothing’s certain yet. I still have to get the proper permission from the Governor.’
‘There’s no doubt you’ll get that.’
Nellie shook her head. ‘I can’t be sure.’
‘I am. You’re holding aces with that Rowley. I’m sure I don’t know what it is between you two.’
She smiled at him, tapping her nose to her finger. ‘And you never will. Just like no one will ever know the things you’ve told me.’
‘Aye, fair enough. You must be holding more secrets than anyone in the colony, save maybe what Father O’Meara gleans in the confessional.’
‘Could you watch the place a while?’
‘You’ll go and see Rowley?’
‘Once the morning rush is over. I’ll stop here till we get through that,’ she said, feeling guilty. She wasn’t exactly lying. She would be
going to see Rowley, only she had another stop to make first, one Pikelet wouldn’t like.
Pikelet took Jammy’s leash down from the hook where it hung on the wall. ‘Will you take Jammy then? She’s been nipping at my heels all morning. It’d do her good to get a run.’
Nellie hesitated. Dogs weren’t allowed where she was going, but if she refused, Pikelet would be suspicious.
‘Sure I can.’
Pikelet turned to go, but when he reached the doorway, he spun around as if he had forgotten something. He pulled his hands into fists, the good side of his face all pinched up as if he were in pain. ‘Damn those that turned their backs on you when you needed help. If they only knew half the person you are, Nell.’
‘Get away with you, Pikelet,’ she said, swiping at tears burning their way up from the back of her throat to the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t give in to feeling sorry for herself. There’d be plenty of time for that if her plan went wrong and she ended up in the Factory.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘Oh Pikey—what would I do without you?’
‘You’d get on better than you think. You’re a strong one. If anyone can turn this place around and convince Harry Chester to give you the lease, you can.’
***
Later that morning, after Harry had hitched a ride into town with Tristan, pleading pressing business, Harry took up a seat at an empty table at the rear of the dining room of the guesthouse.
There was little to occupy him while Tristan was at work at his office in town, and with there being no rents to collect for a couple of weeks, he found himself temporarily at a loose end.
While the Mallard house was comfortable, it wasn’t overly large and there was nowhere for him to work, save in his room. His accommodations had been set up to Emily’s taste, with a dressing table rather than a desk and with the window facing north. By midday it had a tendency to become uncomfortably hot. Even though Tristan had chambers in town, it felt too much of an intrusion to trespass on Tristan’s study.
By contrast, the dining room at the Tullamore was spacious and cool, and tucked in at a table in the back he was not in the way.
And there were worse things than watching Nellie Malone work.
At first Nellie had appeared out of sorts, but that had disappeared the moment a steady trail of customers began appearing from upstairs. Nellie had a natural ease with them, speaking to each one as if they were an old friend, and rather than take exception to the familiarity, everyone responded in kind.
When he had arrived, Nellie had been busy giving directions to the post office and offering advice on the idiosyncrasies of colonial post. Next she haggled for, and extorted, a fair sum by way of bond for the loan of a sewing box. Now she was engaged in advising a woman on the nature of the market, who had the best produce, and which stallholders were known for nudging the scales. The woman said something he didn’t catch and Nellie’s face lit up, her unaffected laugh rippling through the dining room like music, filling Harry with warmth.
But it was evident that Nellie had created a home at the Tullamore for her and her guests.
Tristan’s comment about James and the bawdy house had taken him aback. In fact, it took some time to get the image of James and Nellie out of his mind. It was only returning to the guesthouse and seeing Nellie in her environment that had banished it.
Having found relative peace and a decent surface on which to apply pen to paper, he pulled a notebook from his satchel and began to draw.
Whatever he might have done in the past, meeting James Hunter had inspired him. If James was an example of what a man could achieve with the handicap of having arrived on board a convict ship, he could afford to be optimistic about his own future.
He sketched out a house plan in pencil. Of modest dimensions; even Tristan, the son of his father’s estate manager, had grown up in a home with a bigger footprint. Four rooms were all he would be able to afford to start with, four rooms and a wraparound veranda, which from what people had told him would be essential in the heat of summer. But with the veranda left off on one side for now, the house could be expanded as funds permitted.
Nellie had made something here. Not profitable, granted. But it was the beginnings of something. He wasn’t insensitive to the fact he would be taking that away from her.
The idea of building something from nothing, his success dependent entirely on his own efforts was something he could understand. It made him feel alive. And he hadn’t felt alive in a long time.
***
While she had been serving customers, Harry had plonked himself down in the corner dining room.
He sat at the farthest table with his coat and cravat draped over a chair; his shirt was at full stretch across his shoulders, the cuffs turned back on broad wrists. Once he was a man who might have turned her head, but that was when she was young and foolish.
Him being there made her nervy, and if it weren’t for the fact every time she looked over he was bent over drawing something on a piece of paper, she would have thought he had set up there to watch her on purpose.
Gathering up her courage, she walked down the dining hall clutching a piece of paper that had gone floppy from the sweat coming off her palms. She flapped it around in the air but it wasn’t much help, and the noise startled him from his work.
She had been curious about what he was drawing, but as soon as she got near enough to see, he scooped it up and put it into his satchel.
‘Good morning, Miss Malone.’
She hesitated then, the words all coming out together in a rush. ‘I reckon I know how to get more money off this place.’
‘You know someone who wishes to rent?’
She shook her head, handing over the paper.
‘What’s this?’ he said, holding it up between thumb and forefinger.
‘I know how to make this place pay more than it is now.’
He stared at her a moment, as if he was trying to work something out, then motioned for her to sit down. ‘Go on.’
Nellie cleared her throat. ‘I can sell liquor, and sell to the public, not just guests.’
‘For that, you’d need a licence,’ he said, pushing the paper back across the tabletop towards her.
‘Rowley will put in a word.’
‘Even if you could get a licence, how do you know that selling rum will provide you with sufficient profit?’
‘I’ve worked it out here, see,’ she leaned over, picked up the paper and placed it closer to him. Then she pointed out on the list where she had put down what she thought she could sell the rum for, based on Danny’s prices, less what it cost her to buy it in, times the number of drinks she reckoned she could sell.
‘You can sell this much?’
‘I don’t know for certain, but Danny used to sell twice that amount—only he had the gamblin’ and girls upstairs as his draws. So without that, I cut it in half.’
Harry squinted at her figuring.
‘There are plenty of pubs between here and the far end of The Rocks. How would you guarantee your custom?’
‘We’ll have music. Just me and a fiddler to start, but we’ll build up from there. And I’ll pay the musicians well. It will cost, but then we’ll always have the best and that will get the people in the door. That’s the extra I’ve put down in the column for wages, see.’
***
Harry picked up the proposal again and studied it more closely this time. The handwriting was in the childish hand of someone whose education hadn’t exceeded the primers, but everything was there. Her figures made sense. And then there was what the waiter at the club said about liquor being the way to make money.
He went through her analysis again, trying to find the reason to decline her proposal, but everything had been itemised and every cost he pointed to, she could justify. On top of that, her predictions were conservative.
‘And the rum. Where will you obtain that?’ he said pointing to the quantity estimated on the
paper, the only potential fishhook he could find with her plan.
‘I can get it.’
‘Legal rum, I mean.’
‘More’s the pity.’
He jerked his head up to look at her.
‘You needn’t look at me like that. It’s not that I’m sorry to be buying it, but only who’ll be getting hold of it.’
‘Captain Tompkins?’
‘As low as a poisonous snake and twice as venomous.’
‘Shame he couldn’t be dealt with in the same time-honoured fashion.’
She laughed, with a conspiratorial twitch of an eyebrow. ‘You’ve met him then.’
They had barely spoken, and yet even that fleeting encounter had left Harry wishing he could shed his skin with the way the man made it crawl.
‘I can hardly argue with any improvement in profits you can make until the new tenant is signed up.’
‘And if my plan works? If I can manage to pay the rent you’re askin’ for. What then?’
‘Then I’d consider it,’ he said easily. After all, the point was moot. Hunter would likely find a tenant in short order.
‘So you’re saying I can try it?’
‘For as long as you’re here, I see no harm in it. But I have to warn you, I’ll be keeping a close eye on my investment.
‘Closer than you have all morning?’ she said huffily.
‘Much closer than that, since I intend to take up residence here.’
Chapter 9
Nellie’s heart picked up, beating hard in her chest.
Take up residence?
Exactly what did he mean by that?
She pointed to the satchel and his papers lying about on the table. ‘You mean like an office to work on your papers?’
‘No, I mean as in a place to stay.’
‘That won’t work.’
Harry stared at her. ‘Why not?’
‘Because … because … your takin’ up a room would eat into the profits even more,’ she said with triumph, hitting on a reason Harry couldn’t argue against.
‘Not if I take that room off the kitchen.’
