September Free Chapter - The Jade Widow by Deborah O'Brien

7/29/2019 September Free Chapter - The Jade Widow by Deborah O'Brien

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5

I

AMY

Millerbrooke House, Millbrooke, NSW

Saturday 14th February, 1885

All afternoon the fierce February heat had kept the two youngwomen indoors, sipping lemonade and wafting silk fans in avain attempt to cool themselves. Even the children had abandoned

their outdoor pursuits and disappeared into the depths of the cellar

where they were busy building a fort from fruit boxes.

I fear I will succumb to the vapours if this heat continues,

sighed Eliza Miller, waving her fan theatrically.

I didnt know you could catch the vapours from the heat, said

Amy Chen, her voice full of anxiety.

Eliza began to laugh. Of course you cant. I was speaking in jest.

There is no such thing as the vapours.

Did you learn that in your studies at the Sorbonne?

Hardly. The professors are men.Then how did you reach such a conclusion?

Have you ever heard of a man having the vapours?





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Of course not. It is a disorder of the feminine constitution.

Piffle! It is an ailment created by physicians to keep us in our

place.Although Amy was inclined to berate Eliza for her use of a curse

word, she really wanted to hear more. Us? she enquired.

Women. They tell us were weak and hysterical. Which is

why we cant be entrusted with the vote. But thats utter twaddle!

The women of this colony are its unsung heroines, the silent

supporters in a world where men claim all the credit.

This time Amy couldnt let the curse pass without a comment.

Eliza! What if the children heard you speaking in such a manner?

They are playing in the cellar. And Josephs dead to the world.Her older brother, who had only just returned from mustering, was

slumped in an armchair, his yellow curls falling over his forehead.

Well, thank goodness for that. I daresay he wouldnt approve of

anything youve said.And what about you, Amy?

Sometimes I think you live in a different world from the rest

of us, Eliza. A strange land where things are upside down and back

to front.

Eliza just smiled. It never hurts to look at things from a different

perspective, you know. Some people around here are far too set in their

ways. She shot a glance at the sleeping Joseph. Beside them a card

table was piled neatly with Sydney newspapers. Eliza took the upper-

most journal and glanced at the headline. Do you think hell escape?

General Gordon? Of course I do. I pray for him every night.

Its odd, isnt it, how an Englishman, besieged in Africa, has

become the focus of attention around the world. Everyone is waiting

with bated breath for the latest news even in little Millbrooke.I dont think its at all odd. General Gordon is the greatest hero

of our time. The entire British Empire is following his story, from





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THE JADEWIDOW

India to Canada to . . . New Zealand. It was the most far-flung

outpost of Empire that she could think of, save for her own country.

Well, I dont think he should have been there in the first place,said Eliza. And why in heavens name did Gordon take it into

his head to stay on and defend Khartoum? Couldnt he see it was a

lost cause?

Keep your voice down, Eliza. You do say the most provoking things.

But Eliza gave her a Sphinx-like smile and began flicking through

the pages of the newspaper. As the clock struck five, the first hint of

a breeze fluttered at the muslin curtains. Amy noticed it before the

others. Born in Scotland thirty years earlier, she had never really

become accustomed to Australian summers, even though she had

spent the past two decades in New South Wales. The cool change

has arrived at last, she said, rising from the chesterfield and moving

towards the French doors leading to the verandah.

Its your imagination, said Eliza, who nonetheless proceededto the glass doors and opened one to see for herself. I think youre

right, she added after a moment. Come on, we shall take tea on the

verandah, and Joseph and the children can play cricket on the lawn.

Its still too hot for cricket, protested Amy. They will surely

succumb to heat stroke.

Dont be such a spoilsport, Amy, said Eliza, giving her friends

arm a gentle nudge. In a years time, I shall be a doctor. I wouldnt

allow them outside if I thought theyd become ill.

Amy continued to look doubtful. Lets wait until the tempera-

ture drops. They will have a couple of hours of daylight even then.

Amy moved to the verandah and took a seat overlooking the

circular memory garden she had planted in remembrance of her

husband, Charles, who had grown up at Millerbrooke House afterhis father died in an accident on the gold diggings. Every plant

had been chosen for its significance. In the centre was a small bay





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tree which had survived the last eleven summers, even the year a

severe heatwave turned its leaves brown, making it appear dead.

Just as the gardener was about to pull it out, he had noticed tinygreen shoots. No wonder it was considered a symbol of resurrection

and renewal, Amy had thought when he showed her the buds. At

its base was a leafy mass of chrysanthemums, the Chinese flower

of mourning. Around them Amy had planted violets, her favou-

rite flower; she had been wearing its perfume the first time Charles

had held her in his arms. The outer circle was filled with pansies

for thoughts, hearts ease for comfort, and tiny forget-me-nots.

Everything bloomed at different times, but in Amys imagination

she saw Charless garden as a ring that flowered eternally.

Beyond the flower plots and verdant lawns, the paddocks were

burnt brown by the summer weather. Some two miles away she

could make out the town of Millbrooke, its church spires shining

in the afternoon light. Although she tried to identify the red ironroof of the store that she owned jointly with her brother-in-law, it

was impossible to distinguish it from the other buildings in the main

street. Her house in Paterson Street was obscured by a screen of

eucalypt trees. As she gazed towards the east, she spotted a cloud

of dust about a quarter of a mile away.

Are you expecting anyone, Eliza? she asked her friend who had

joined her on the verandah.

Not today.

Well, theres somebody riding up the road from town. Do you

think it might be your father?

Hes not expected back until tomorrow morning, Eliza replied,

peering into the bright sunlight.

Oblivious to the conversation on the verandah, Joseph contin-ued to recline in the armchair, snoring so loudly they could hear

him through the open door.





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Id better tell Mama we have a visitor, said Eliza. She wouldnt

want to be caught unawares. Elizas mother, Charlotte, was taking

a cold bath in the newly completed bathroom.Amy could almost smell the dust now, rising from the road

leading into Millerbrooke. Suddenly a horse and sulky came over

the rise. Its Papa, she cried. He must have returned on the after-

noon train.

At the sound of her voice, the children emerged from the cellar

and raced down the drive to greet their grandfather.

Charlie, Amy called to her son, who had been named for her

husband, dont inhale that dust. It will give you bronchitis.

But eleven-year-old Charlie and his nine-year-old cousin James

had already reached the sulky. So had the stable boy, who helped

John Miller to dismount and then led the horse and sulky towards

the barn.

By now Eliza and Joseph had appeared from the house to greettheir father. Meanwhile Charlie and James were carrying his heavy

Gladstone bag between them.

What brought you home so early, Papa? asked Eliza, giving him

a kiss on the cheek.

John Miller removed his top hat and shook his head wearily.

Theres been some bad news.

Not Daniel? asked Eliza anxiously. Her brother, Daniel, was a

captain in the regiment at Paddington Barracks.

No, he is hale and hearty. And so is your Aunt Molly, he said,

smiling in Amys direction. It is not someone we know, yet he has

been close to all our hearts. As he spoke, John Miller waved a

rolled newspaper in front of them. Let us take tea and I shall tell

you what has happened.Having been reassured that all was well with her family members in

Sydney, Amy could hardly wait to hear the unravelling of the mystery.





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Do come and sit on the verandah, Papa, she said. He wasnt her

father. Not even her father-in-law. Not in the literal sense. Yet he

felt more like a father to her than the Reverend Matthew Duncanhad ever been.After her marriage to Chinese merchant, CharlesChen, the clergyman had shunned them both. John Miller, on the

other hand, had welcomed his foster sons bride as one of his own.

That was his nature.

They settled on the verandah and Matilda, the maid, brought

a tray with tea for the adults and glasses of lemonade for the children,

as well as a cake stand laden with jam kisses and fruit cake. John

Miller unrolled the newspaper and began to read aloud.

Via submarine cable. Today the world mourns the death of

Major-General Charles George Gordon C. B. R. E. who was stabbed

and killed on 26th January during the fall of Khartoum.

There were gasps of shock. Amy placed her hand over her

mouth, while Joseph shook his head in disbelief.Reports suggest the attack took place on the steps of General

Gordons palace and that his head was carried on a pike through

the streets.

As John Millers voice faltered, he laid the newspaper solemnly on

the wicker table. Even the children were silent. Finally Joseph spoke:

How appalling! Far worse than the killing of Nelson at Trafalgar.

Its a terrible blow, said Amy softly.

He should have pulled out before things became irrevocable,

said Eliza.

Her father shot her a warning look. There has been a huge out-

pouring of grief in Sydney, he said, swiftly changing the subject.

It is almost as though our dear Queen had passed away.

At that moment Charlotte Miller appeared in the doorway,dressed in a crisp muslin gown, her damp hair pulled into a bun.

John rose and kissed her on the cheek.





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Daniel sends you his love, he said, offering her a seat.

Did I hear you say the Queen has died? she asked, her face

turning white as chalk.No, my dear, he replied, taking her hand. Nothing quite

so dreadful, but it is a calamity nonetheless. General Gordon has

been killed.

Oh my goodness, said Charlotte. I cant quite believe it.

Eliza poured her mother a strong cup of tea and added extra sugar.

None of us can, said John. Though I suppose we should

have been steeling ourselves for the worst. Things did look

dreadfully bleak once the General was besieged by the rebels. All

the same, its a tragedy that Mr Gladstone waited so long to send the

relief force.

It wasnt Mr Gladstones fault, interjected Eliza. He didnt

want to be involved in the first place.

John Miller frowned but didnt admonish her.If only Sir Charles Wilson and his regiment had arrived in

time, said Amy, referring to their ill-fated attempt to steam up the

Nile and rout the rebel forces.

They found themselves in a perilous position, said John Miller,

being shot at from the banks by enemy troops. The only positive

occurrence in this sorry tale is their rescue by Captain Lord Beresford.

What has happened to the garrison General Gordon was

commanding? Eliza asked. Thousands of Egyptian troops, not

to mention the loyal local soldiers. Do you think they managed to

escape?

I fear not, said her father.

Then that is surely the greater tragedy. Why are we concentrat-

ing on one English general and ignoring the others?How dare you ask such a question! said Joseph, rising from

his seat and pacing back and forth. The Generals murder is an





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Deborah OBrien

abomination. And his killers are an evil, dark-skinned rabble. No

gentleman would act like that.

You should not judge them by the colour of their skin, saidAmy quietly.

Are you taking their side? asked Joseph.

Of course not. I am only recalling the false judgements made

about my own husband on the basis of his skin colour.

Charles was a true gentleman, Amy. If I have offended you,

I apologise. I did not intend to draw any parallel between Charles

and the Generals assassins.

I accept your apology, she said. I think we are all a little

emotional in the light of this dreadful news.

Meanwhile, the two boys had retreated to the lawn where they

were acting out the beheading of General Gordon.

I shall put a stop to their disrespectful behaviour, said Amy,

standing up and making for the steps.Leave them, Amy, said John Miller. They are just play-acting.

They do not understand the significance of this event.

Off with his head! cried Charlie as he swooped towards James

with a dead branch from a tree palm.

Amy flinched at his words.

Its just a line fromAlices Adventures in Wonderland, said Eliza.

I was reading it to them only last weekend. They loved the scene

with the Queen of Hearts.

Amy was about to offer a retort when she remembered her

childhood obsession with A Thousand and One Nights, a collec-

tion of thrilling tales in which the villains often met a grisly end.

Instead, she picked up the newspaper and examined the engraving

of General Gordon accompanying the article. After a moment shesaid, He was a fine style of a man, wasnt he? A great hero. He will

be sorely missed.





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His death must be avenged, said Joseph. These murderers

cannot go unpunished.

I suspect they will soon feel the full power of the BritishEmpire, said John. Before I left Sydney I heard that the New

South Wales government, under the auspices of the Colonial

Secretary, has already tendered military aid. They are awaiting

word from London. Should theImperial Cabinet give its consent,our government intends to despatch a contingent at the earliest

possible date.

Charlotte turned pale. Does that mean Daniel may be required

to go to the Soudan?

If he is called to serve, it is his duty, replied her husband.

But why should we send troops to a foreign land halfway across

the world? Eliza asked. And what help can they be now? General

Gordon is dead. We cannot bring him back. It is too late.

It is never too late to avenge a murderous deed, said Joseph, orto quell the insurgents.

But what of Daniel? asked Charlotte, wringing her hands.

When he joined the army, I never imagined he would have to leave

these shores and fight overseas.

There has to be a first time. And he is keen to serve his Queen

and Empire, said John. It is a noble cause.

It may well be noble to lament General Gordons death, Eliza

interjected, but to seek vengeance is something altogether differ-

ent. Anyway, its not our cause.

Dear sister, said Joseph, I beg to differ. As a member of the

weaker sex, you cannot possibly understand a mans need to defend

his countrymen.

Countrymen? But this is our country, said Eliza, waving her handtowards the distant purple hills. Right here under the Southern

Cross. And nobody is attacking us.





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We are British first and foremost, replied Joseph. And the

murder of General Gordon is an attack on all of us.

I was born in this colony and so were you, Joseph. I dont seehow you can call yourself British.

Josephs sun-browned face was turning puce. Dont ever say

anything like that outside this family, Eliza Miller. People will

denounce you as a traitor to the British race.

Now stop arguing, the two of you, said their father. Daniel will

do what he is ordered to do. And for my part, I want to see these

rebels defeated. Then at least General Gordon will not have died in

vain. And I am sorry, my dear, he said, turning towards Charlotte,

but in joining the army, Daniel understood it wouldnt always be

about parades, dress uniforms and regimental balls.

John Millers words signalled an end to the debate. He comman-

deered Joseph and the boys for a game of cricket on the lawn while

the ladies remained in the shade of the verandah.For Amy, the conversation had presented a dilemma. On the

one hand, she revered General Gordon. He had long been her hero,

together with Admiral Nelson and General Washington. In her

china cabinet, alongside the blue and white porcelain and the jade

statues, stood Staffordshire figures of the two long departed leaders.

All the same, she felt sympathy for Charlotte, a mother whose son

might soon be heading to Africa to face an enemy who appeared to

possess no sense of gallantry. Was the defence of the British Empire

and the desire for vengeance really so important that the govern-

ment would risk sending their troops to face possible death?

Amy had witnessed the precariousness of life and the tragedy of

loss when her husband of two months developed a cough and died

two days later of diphtheria. Charlotte knew it too, having lost twochildren in infancy to the same hateful disease, and her foster son

some twenty years later. Didnt Joseph realise that his mother was





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in dread of losing another child? How could he place Queen and

Empire before all else?

As for Eliza and her talk about the Southern Cross, Amycouldnt help smiling. Eliza was all for the union of the colonies

and a great supporter of the former Premier, Sir Henry Parkes, who

was now languishing in retirement. But her favourite cause was

the fledgling suffragette movement. Ever since her return from

France, she had been corresponding with Rose Scott, a country girl

by birth, who now lived in Sydney, where she maintained a fash-

ionable salon for poets, journalists and politicians. Like Eliza, she

dreamed of forming a right-to-vote league for womanhood. When

Joseph had referred to ladies as the weaker sex, it was a wonder

Eliza hadnt given him a swift jab in the ribs.

There were times when Amy was drawn to the topsy-turvy

world that Eliza espoused, where women were able to vote and Aus-

tralia was one nation. Then again, it might be like falling downAlices rabbit hole to a place where no one understood the rules

and chaos reigned. Amy knew all too well the dangers of breaking

rules. Everything might seem wonderful for a while, but eventually

you would be punished. In her own case, the punishment had come

swiftly and horribly. Better to leave Wonderland to Alice and abide

by the established conventions.




September Free Chapter - The Jade Widow by Deborah O'Brien

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