The Jade Widow

by Deborah O'Brien

  ‘Good evening, Miss Miller,’ said Martin Burns as he swept past her with Amy in his arms.

  ‘Good evening, Doctor Burns,’ she said curtly. She refused to call him Martin.

  When the waltz was over, there was a two-step and a mazurka. Doctor Burns seemed determined to monopolise Amy’s dance card. She in turn appeared to be charmed by the man in the brown suit, smiling up at him and conversing in an animated fashion. Although Eliza had no interest in dancing with Doctor Burns, she was decidedly offended he hadn’t even asked her. So she danced with a succession of gentlemen and ignored his presence altogether. When the orchestra announced the last dance of the night, it was another waltz. Amy was standing at the opposite side of the room. Where was Doctor Burns? Surely he wouldn’t abandon his favourite dance partner at this late stage.

  ‘Is this dance taken, Miss Miller?’

  She gave a little start at the sound of his voice. Was he speaking to her? Yes, indeed he was. Not only that, he was offering his hand and leading her to the dance floor. When the music began, she was surprised at how well he danced, although he held her far too close for two people who hardly knew each other.

  ‘Doctor Burns,’ she said primly, ‘I can hardly breathe.’

  ‘I do apologise,’ he said, loosening his grip only slightly.

  As the waltz came to an end, Eliza felt both relieved and disappointed. Finally the orchestra struck up ‘Rule Britannia!’ and everyone, save Eliza, sang the song with gusto. She spotted Daniel across the other side of the barn with his arm indecorously wrapped around a young lady with dark hair. Eliza hoped her mother hadn’t noticed the lapse in etiquette. Still, who could condemn him for seeking a little affection when he was off to war in a few days? Off to war! Suddenly the thought hit home. With tears stinging her eyes, she turned away so that Doctor Burns wouldn’t see her moment of weakness. Then the song was over, the band began to pack up and the barn emptied of its guests.

  ‘Would you like me to walk you back to the house, Miss Miller?’ the doctor asked.

  ‘I am perfectly capable of walking from the barn to the back door, thank you.’

  She started out of the barn, picking up her skirt so that the hem was clear of the damp grass.

  ‘Your sister is a charming lady,’ said the doctor, who had chosen to walk beside her anyway.

  ‘Amy is not my sister, not in the literal sense. Though we are as close as sisters, and people say we look alike – it’s the fair hair, I suppose. She was married to my foster brother, who died tragically young.’

  ‘Yes, she told me she had lost her husband. Even when she smiles, one can see the sadness in her eyes.’

  ‘She’s never got over Charles. But she seemed cheerful enough this evening when she was dancing with you.’ Oh dear. Would he infer that she had been observing the two of them while they were dancing together? Quickly she added, ‘I just happened to notice when I passed you on the dance floor.’

  ‘We were discussing matters dear to her heart.’

  ‘Do you mean her son?’

  ‘Yes, and others of whom she is fond.’

  ‘I’m surprised that she confided such details. She is not known for sharing confidences with anyone, let alone a stranger.’

  They had reached the house, where an oil lamp illuminated the kitchen. Eliza was about to go inside when he said:

  ‘Miss Miller, before you take your leave, there is something I need to clarify with you. I understand that you have been helping Doctor Allen in the surgery. I trust you intend to continue your work. I certainly wouldn’t want you to feel excluded just because I am here.’

  ‘Haven’t you heard the old saying, Doctor Burns, “Two is company, three’s a crowd”? Besides, I will be leaving for Paris in June and in the intervening time I am intending to help my mother raise money for the troops. Even though I don’t believe we should be involved in this war, I feel strongly that we ought to rally behind our soldiers.’

  ‘I agree with you on both counts, Miss Miller.’ He paused for a moment and ran his fingers through the brown hair which matched his suit. ‘Actually, I do believe this is the first time we have been in accord about anything.’

  ‘Well, at least you’ve shown some sense at last,’ she said with the hint of a smile. ‘Goodnight, Doctor Burns. Don’t forget church starts at nine. And wear your best suit.’

  ‘“Are there any lions or tigers about here?” she asked timidly.’

  LEWIS CARROLL

  Through the Looking-Glass, Chapter IV

  V

  AMY

  Sunday 1st March, 1885

  Nobody had time for a hot breakfast on Sunday morning – they had all slept late. As a consequence, they were forced to rush to be ready for the nine o’clock service. Amy donned her crisp black dress and pulled her hair into a queenly bun. With the added presence of Daniel and Martin, there were too many of them to cram into the open carriage so Joseph took the sulky and Martin kept him company.

  When they reached St John’s, the family walked down the aisle to the very front where they had their own pew. James and Charlie arranged themselves on either side of their Uncle Daniel. Beside them was Charlotte, followed by John, Joseph, Amy and Eliza. Martin, who had been delayed in conversation with Doctor Allen, came into the church last. Once he reached the Millers’ pew, everyone moved a little closer to the window to allow room for him to sit down. Everyone, that is, except Eliza at the aisle end. She seemed oblivious to his presence.

  ‘Make room for Doctor Burns,’ Amy whispered in Eliza’s ear, but she remained exactly where she was. In the meantime he had taken a seat in the row behind. Amy was so incensed at Eliza’s rudeness that she rose from her seat, pushed past her friend and moved to the row behind, next to Martin Burns.

  ‘We can’t have you sitting on your own for your first church service in Millbrooke, can we, Martin?’ she said lightly, hoping to make up for Eliza’s lack of manners.

  Directly in front of them, Eliza was sitting bolt upright, her golden ringlets tied loosely with ribbon and cascading from under a green velvet hat.

  As she browsed the order of service, Amy looked sideways at her neighbour. He was wearing a brown suit, but not the one from the evening before. There was a light fleck in the fabric, though she had to look closely to see the pattern. He had donned a smart black bow tie as well. Amy decided he was quite pleasant-looking, but he wasn’t dashing like Daniel, or handsome like Joseph. And he certainly wasn’t dazzling like Charles Chen.

  She had enjoyed his company at the dance. He was the kind of person she could share her feelings with, even though she was accustomed to keeping them stored inside her. She suspected that those qualities would make him a good doctor. Oddly enough, the two of them had spent a great deal of the evening talking about Eliza. Not gossiping, of course – that was the devil’s work – but conversing about how she came to study Medicine.

  ‘Eliza would have gone to France much sooner,’ Amy had told him, ‘had it not been for me. She postponed her departure to be present at Charlie’s birth and afterwards she stayed on to help me with my baby and keep me company. I don’t know how I could have coped without her in those early years. All the same, I felt guilty, keeping her from her vocation. Then Sarah – Joseph’s wife – died and Eliza delayed her departure yet again to help Joseph with James. Finally we all convinced her it was time to follow her dream. And that is what she did.’

  ‘She told me she is returning to Paris in June. Do you know what she plans to do after she graduates?’

  Didn’t Martin realise that he had taken the job Eliza had always wanted? Although she might not have stated her feelings outright, her resentment coloured every word she exchanged with him. Surely he could sense she viewed him as a usurper. Or perhaps he just saw her churlish behaviour as the sign of a spoilt brat, the Millers’ only daughter brought up to expect a life of privilege – nothing could be farther from the truth.

  Then Reverend Brownlow announced the first hymn – ‘A
ll Things Bright and Beautiful’. Having been brought up in the Presbyterian Church, Amy had never become accustomed to the Church of England melody. By the second verse she was lost in her thoughts and miming the words. Although Eliza was her best friend, Amy couldn’t help secretly sympathising with Doctor Allen. He had been poorly for a while now. In fact, he had even considered retiring altogether – John Miller had told her that in confidence. It had been a matter of urgency to find a junior partner, and although Eliza might well be a doctor by nature, she lacked the qualifications to make it official. Doctor Allen would never have thought of consulting Eliza about his decision, and why should he? Even Eliza’s own father had seen nothing amiss in the appointment of Martin Burns.

  All of a sudden the hymn was over and everyone sat down. Amy gazed absently at the hymn book, running her fingers over the gold embossing on the cover. It was a pity that Eliza felt such animosity towards Martin. It wasn’t his fault the decision had been made. If only Eliza could overcome her prejudice towards him, the two of them might be able to share their medical knowledge in a collegial way. But Amy knew Eliza better than anyone, and it wasn’t likely to happen. Her best friend was a determined woman. And whether Martin was an innocent party in this or not, Eliza wasn’t intending to let him off easily.

  When the sermon started – a tribute to the NSW Contingent – Amy willed herself to pay attention. By the end of it, Charlotte was sobbing and Amy could detect a shaking in Eliza’s shoulders which might well indicate she was doing the same. For her part, Amy was trying not to think about the possibilities lying ahead for Daniel. In the wake of her husband’s death, she had become an expert at denying her true feelings. After a while it came automatically to her.

  As they stood for the final hymn, Amy saw several ladies in the congregation looking in her direction and whispering to their companions. Oh dear. The Millbrooke rumour mill. No doubt it would be all over town by tomorrow that there was a budding romance between the black widow and that young Doctor Burns.

  While Reverend Brownlow was shaking hands with each parishioner in turn, Amy noticed Eliza wandering off in the direction of the carriage. Was she trying to avoid the new doctor?

  John Miller was in the process of introducing Martin to the minister when Doctor Allen interrupted them.

  ‘Please excuse the intrusion, gentlemen, but Bill Farrar has sent word that his three children have fallen ill with a fever and sore throat. One of them has also developed a rash on his chest.’ As he said this, he caught Martin’s eye as if that piece of information was a vital clue to the diagnosis. ‘Unfortunately I have a lady here in town, who has just gone into labour. The midwife is with her now.’

  ‘You look after the lady, I’ll go to the farm,’ said Martin.

  ‘Take my sulky,’ said Joseph, who had overheard the conversation. ‘We can squeeze into the carriage.’

  ‘Thank you, Joseph. In that case, I shall bid you all good morning.’ He turned briefly in Amy’s direction and inclined in a slight bow. In return, she gave him a quick smile.

  ‘We shall keep your roast dinner warm,’ she said.

  While Doctor Allen spirited Martin away to supply directions to the farm, the Millers piled into the carriage.

  ‘You ought to go with him, Eliza,’ said Amy. ‘He’ll never find that farm otherwise.’

  Eliza gave her a dark look. ‘But I don’t want to miss Daniel’s farewell at the station.’

  Amy glanced at her fob watch. ‘It’s only quarter past ten and you’ll be at Cockatoo Ridge by eleven. Anyway, Daniel’s not leaving till the middle of the afternoon.’

  ‘Amy is right,’ said Charlotte.

  Eliza shrugged her shoulders petulantly and replied, ‘All right. But only this once. From now on he’ll have to learn to read a map.’

  On Monday morning, as the long-case clock struck eleven, Amy set Charlie a French translation from a children’s anthology of Bible stories that Eliza had brought back for him from Paris.

  ‘Now, which of the stories would you like to translate?’ Amy asked.

  He leafed through the book and came to ‘Daniel and the Lion’s Den’ or ‘Daniel dans la fosse aux lions’, as it was called in French.

  It seemed strangely appropriate in the light of his uncle’s imminent departure for the Soudan. The previous afternoon the entire town had gone to the station to see Daniel off. At the end of the platform a young woman with dark hair and a feathery hat had been sobbing uncontrollably.

  ‘She’s the one I saw him with at the dance,’ Eliza had whispered to Amy.

  Amy had always found farewells difficult, but Daniel seemed cheerful, even elated. He had always lived in the shadow of Charles and Joseph, but now he was his own man, a captain in the infantry and a heroic figure in the eyes of each and every Millbrooker. While they waited on the platform, he had let James and Charlie take turns wearing his white helmet. They marvelled at the brass spearhead emerging from the top and remarked upon the striking badge on the front, bearing the Southern Cross and a lion in the centre. At the apex of the medallion sat Queen Victoria’s crown. When it was time to board, he shook the boys’ hands solemnly and hugged Amy, who fought back tears. John, Charlotte and Eliza didn’t have to say goodbye because they were accompanying Daniel on the afternoon train to Sydney, intending to stay there until later in the week. Meanwhile, Joseph remained behind to mind the property. Good old Joseph, the mainstay of the family.

  As Amy watched Charlie translating the story, she realised there was a certain irony in his choice of subject matter. Not that Charlie was aware of it. But if his enrolment at St Cuthbert’s was accepted, the school might well prove to be his own fosse aux lions. After all, it was a place where the headmaster had made an unsettling comment about foreigners and refused to shake his hand. If Amy had misgivings about the school, she kept them to herself. For his part, Charlie couldn’t wait to become their pupil. What had redeemed the day for Amy was Mr Marshall’s kindness towards Charlie. If only he could be assigned to Wellington House, she felt certain the House master would keep an eye on him and treat him as an individual rather than a ‘Celestial’.

  From the east came the piercing whistle of the morning train as it approached the crossing at the edge of town. Any minute now, it would be pulling into the station, bringing the mail. It had been ten days since the visit to Granthurst.

  ‘I shall go and visit the post office while you’re working,’ she said to Charlie. ‘And I might even purchase some currant buns from the bakery.’

  ‘I love currant buns.’

  ‘I know. So did your father.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Amy detoured via the emporium, popping her head in the door to say hello to Jimmy. Then she checked the progress on the neighbouring block. Only last week, work had begun on the foundations, and deep channels were now being dug into the clay soil. Soon stone footings would be built to support the three-storey building to come. Amy prayed it wouldn’t rain before the brickwork began, though it was not a prayer she could share with her fellow Millbrookers, who were always looking heavenward for signs of precipitation.

  ‘How are things progressing, Mr Rotherwood?’ Amy asked the builder, a man in his forties with a ruddy complexion, no doubt acquired from too many years in the sun.

  ‘Damned clay, pardon my French. There will be cracks later, mark my word, and they won’t be my fault.’

  ‘There’s not much we can do about the soil, is there?’ said Amy cheerfully, recalling that John Miller was wont to praise the rich red earth around his property. ‘The local farmers seem to like it well enough,’ she added. ‘One man’s treasure is another man’s poison, I suppose.’

  Mr Rotherwood gave her a stern look, which seemed to suggest that ladies should attend to womanly matters and keep their noses out of men’s business. She bid him farewell, bought some buns at the bakery and headed up the rise to the Post and Telegraph Office. Inside its doors the postmaster was sorting mail.

&n
bsp; ‘Good morning, Mrs Chen,’ he said. ‘Nothing for you, I’m afraid.’

  She felt a flood of relief. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with the school’s response today – whether it was in the affirmative or not. As she turned to go, the postmaster said:

  ‘Just a moment, ma’am. I missed this one.’ He held up a brown envelope with elegant writing across the front.

  She took it from him, noting the Granthurst postmark. Resisting the urge to tear it open and read the contents then and there, she walked sedately out the door and down the street. She reached her front garden before she could stand it no longer and peeled open the envelope. The bright noon light made it difficult to read, but the meaning was clear enough.

  Dear Mrs Chen,

  It is with regret that we write to inform you that your son, Charles Chen, will not be accepted as a pupil at St Cuthbert’s School, owing to his unsatisfactory performance on the entrance examination.

  Yours faithfully,

  G. S. Carruthers

  George S. Carruthers, B.A.

  Headmaster

  With a grim face she went inside and handed Charlie the letter. The reason offered by St Cuthbert’s was a blatant lie. Amy knew it and Charlie would too. He was silent for a long time, scrutinising the contents as if they held a secret message. Then he tore the sheet into tiny pieces, gathered them up in his hands and went outside to the compost heap where he scattered the shreds of paper among the kitchen scraps. She knew he was angry, but he didn’t cry or stamp his feet or even curse out loud. When he returned to the dining room, they went through the translation, sentence by sentence. Afterwards they drank milk and ate currant buns. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He suddenly seemed much older than his eleven-and-a-half years.