by Darry Fraser
‘As much as we’d like to go, we need to stay here awhile. For one thing,’ he said, a merry glint in his eye, ‘if we were to move there, or elsewhere for that matter, there wouldn’t be work for a married woman outside of the home.’
A futile spot of fury bubbled inside, then it broke. She shifted onto her other side to get comfortable. ‘We need our say heard, to have our lives made safe, in law. And the law upheld.’ Only a flicker of dark memory invaded their privacy and she pushed it away.
‘You, my love, will always be safe here, will always have a say in this house. However, we will still have to vote for government policy as one, not two.’
‘One day it will change.’ Nell rubbed her hands back and forth across her belly. ‘Our daughter will have a better say in her life, I’m sure of it. She’ll be a strong one.’ She closed her eyes and sighed again. Suddenly, fatigue waved through her.
He lay back, an arm behind his head. ‘Our daughter, Cecilia Celeste Seymour. It’s a long name,’ he went on, considering. ‘It has a ring to it, all the same. Her grandmamas would be proud.’
‘We’ll call her CeeCee,’ Nell murmured. ‘Nice and short.’
‘I like it.’ He gathered her closer. ‘We need a ready name for a boy, as well, just in case.’
Nell huffed a little. ‘We do, but no child of mine will be named after my father,’ she said, and snuggled closer. ‘We will think harder.’
Finn said, ‘If it’s a boy, he will have his own name, start his own dynasty.’
‘Of course, he will. He’ll be very fine, my dearest Finn, just like his papa. CeeCee will be very fine, too,’ she said sleepily.
‘CeeCee Seymour.’ Finn gazed at the flickering shadows on the ceiling thrown by candlelight. ‘For all I have now, I am grateful. I am a lucky man,’ he said, his voice drifting. He reached across and snuffed out the candle then settled back, gathering her alongside.
‘Aye, you are, my love.’ Nell turned again, tucked against him and kissed a spot on his chest. ‘And I am the lucky woman who loves you.’
Author’s Note
There were many women such as Nell and Flora who worked for a living on the goldfields in their capacity as miners, publicans, newspaper journalists, shopkeepers, and a myriad of other roles. Violence within families was rife on the fields and was rarely punished other than orders for the perpetrator to desist. It often culminated in abandonment of the wife, and children if there were any. At least on the fields if a woman held a license she could mine for gold, own a shop and sell wares to support herself. If not, she could starve if she couldn’t find paid work. Otherwise, it was making and selling sly grog, and engaging in prostitution. Many did starve: men, women and children. In 1856, the Miner’s Right replaced the hated license system (the poll tax) and was a ‘necessary qualification for voting…’ There was nothing in the legislation to bar women from purchasing a miner’s right and therefore voting—the miner’s right was not gender specific when it first replaced the mining license. However, the Act was quickly amended in 1865 and the word ‘male’ before the word ‘persons’ was inserted in the Electoral Law Consolidation Act 1865. It would be almost another forty years before some women achieved suffrage—in South Australia in 1895 for both Indigenous and non-Indigenous women, and in Victoria, where better rights for men were fought for under the Southern Cross flag in 1854, non-Indigenous women gained the vote in 1908. Not until the 1960s were Indigenous people allowed to vote.
Acknowledgments
With grateful thanks to the following. Readers who are, of course, most important in a writer’s world. Thank you for your kind words in feedback, for your delight in my stories and my characters. Susan Parslow, your love of a good story makes mine what they are. My heartfelt thanks to you and your red pen. Fiona Gilbert, my research travelling buddy. And thanks also to her husband Tony who holds the fort while we take off and time-travel to the 19th century. Clare Wright and her wonderful book The Forgotten Rebels of Eureka. An inspiration for the story of women on the goldfields at the time of the Eureka Stockade and beyond. Dorothy Wickham’s Women of the Diggings Ballarat 1854, a marvellous insight into the women who lived and loved and lost. Jon and Sarah Lark and the team at Kangaroo Island Spirits (fabulous gin), for taking on a time-traveller at the cellar door who transports herself to and from the 19th century. Amy Andrews, in early draft days, you set me straight once again. Sovereign Hill, Ballarat and the knowledgeable, keen staff whose love for the facility shines in the presentation of this wonderful tourist attraction. The excellent Gold Museum, a wealth of historic information, beautifully and sympathetically presented. Museum of Australian Democracy at Eureka, Ballarat where the breath-taking story of Eureka unfolds on the site itself. Honouring the history, and their love of the site was evident in the passionate members of staff. Matthew Worrell, my accountant, who lent his name to the ledgers man in this story. They both do a fine job of the books. The Kangaroo Island community, the bookselling teams at the Kingscote Gift Shop and the Kingscote Newsagency, and the Kangaroo Island Library, as always for their staunch support. To Jo Mackay, Laurie Ormond, Dianne Blacklock, Kate James, Sarana Behan and Johanna Baker at MIRA (Harlequin Books, a division of Harper Collins) and their teams for all the assistance and professional guidance throughout. To the fabulous Michelle Zaiter and the evocative cover of The Widow of Ballarat, another unforgettable touch of magic. And lastly to family, including Hamish the much loved Wonder-dog.
ISBN: 9781489250414
TITLE: THE WIDOW OF BALLARAT
First Australian Publication 2018
Copyright © 2018 Darry Fraser
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