Chapter 11

Rutherglen, February 1869

One day in late February, May walked into Rutherglen, as she usually did, to collect the post. The worst of the summer heat was over and all round her the vines were heavy with grapes. Soon it would be time for the vendange. She took the small bundle of mail and glanced through it and her heart gave a sudden thump and then speeded up as she recognised James’s writing. She managed to thank the post mistress politely and walked out of the post office as if nothing unusual had happened, but she had calculated that James must have taken his last examination before Christmas, so there would no longer be any reason for him to remain in Liverpool. The moment for him to make a decision had arrived and this letter was the result.

She seated herself on a bench in the shade of the veranda of the Star Hotel and slid her finger under the flap of the envelope. The letter was shorter than usual. She read it through twice. Then she jumped up and began to run in the direction of home. After a few strides she pulled herself together and forced herself to proceed at a more decorous pace. This news was not something to be blurted out to the first person she met. It needed to be delivered at a suitable time and place.

May succeeded in behaving normally until the family gathered at the table on the veranda for the midday dinner. When they were eating dessert she put down her knife and said, ‘I have something to tell you all.’

Her father and Gus and Pedro looked up with mild curiosity. Only Maria, with intuitive understanding, caught her breath and raised a hand to her heart.

‘I am engaged to be married,’ May said.

Reactions round the table ranged from surprise to satisfaction at a prediction confirmed.

‘You’ve seen the sense of what I told you and changed you mind about marrying Anton,’ her father said.

‘No, sorry, Papa. It’s not that.’

‘My God, you’ve managed to hook Rudi Marshall!’ Gus exclaimed.

May gave him a look of reproof. A year at sea followed by months associating with men who had grown up in some of the rougher neighbourhoods in England before finding themselves transported to Australia had swept away any inhibitions he might once have had about blasphemy.

‘No, Gus,’ she said. ‘It’s not Rudi, either. It could have been. He asked me if I fancied being Lady Eskmere one day, but I told him I didn’t think that would work.’

‘Then who the devil is it?’ Her father normally watched his language in the presence of ladies but this was too much.

‘You haven’t met him, Papa. His name is James Breckenridge. We walked out together in England before I came here.’

‘You’re not going back to England?’ Surprise had turned to concern.

‘No, Papa. James is coming here. He is already on his way.’

‘But I thought he’d thrown you over,’ Gus said, ‘and that was why you were happy to come out at such short notice.’

‘No, he didn’t throw me over,’ May said with a hint of irritation. ‘In fact it was the other way round. I realised that marriage for us simply would not work at that time.’

‘Why not?’ her father asked. ‘Who is this fellow?’

‘He is the son of a lady I used to make hats for. When we met, he was an articled clerk in a solicitor’s office. By now, he will be a fully qualified solicitor.’

‘A pen-pushing lawyer who can argue both ends against the middle,’ her father said disparagingly. May remembered with misgiving that he had no reason to be fond of English justice. ‘So why do you say your marriage wouldn’t work?’

May’s initial euphoria was beginning to evaporate as she understood that it was not going to be as easy as she had expected to reconcile him to the prospect of this unknown future son-in-law.

‘You remember what English society is like, Papa. How rigid the divisions are between the working classes and the people who think they are a cut above that – the professionals, the doctors, the lawyers, people like that.’

‘So this man thinks you’re not good enough for him?’ Her father’s tone was becoming steadily more belligerent.

‘No, that’s just it! He loves me. We love each other. But if we were in England people would never accept a milliner’s apprentice who was brought up in the workhouse as a suitable wife for a successful solicitor. It could ruin his career. And his mother was against the idea. She wanted him to marry a suitable young lady from his own class. He wanted us to get married anyway but I realised that if we did I should have to spend my life trying to pretend to fit in and being afraid all the time that someone would find out the truth. And that was when I got your letter, Gus, and the ticket for the steamer. It seemed like the perfect solution. But I had to act quickly because the ship left in two days. I wrote to James, telling him where I was going and why. I thought that by the time he got the letter the ship would have sailed. But it must have been delivered very early, because just as we were pulling away from the quay he appeared on the dockside. He shouted across to me, begging me to come back, but of course by then it was impossible. So I shouted back that, if he really loved me, he should follow me. And he promised he would.’

‘He’s taken his time about it,’ her father grunted.

‘That’s not his fault. I realised as soon as I said it that he couldn’t come straight away. For one thing, his mother was very ill and not expected to live much longer. He’s the only child. He couldn’t leave her alone at a time like that.’

‘Of course he couldn’t,’ Maria murmured sympathetically.

May threw her a grateful look. ‘And there was something else. He had nearly finished his articles but he had one more year to go and one final examination to take. It would have been foolish to give that up and fail to get his qualification.’ She looked at her father. ‘He was adamant that he wouldn’t come until he felt he could establish himself in a decent career and support a wife and family. He didn’t want to seem to be relying on your generosity.’

‘Well, that’s something in his favour,’ her father grudgingly admitted. ‘So what’s changed now?

‘His mother died about six months ago, and now he has taken his final exam, so he’s free to leave. Please, Papa, give him a chance. He’s throwing up an absolutely solid prospect of a comfortable future with people he knows in order to come out to a country he knows nothing of, except what I have told him in my letters. And he did so much for me. I might have lost my position at Freeman’s if it wasn’t for him. He found out I love music, so he took me to concerts and I heard music I would never have heard otherwise. He saw that I had a talent for design and he took me to art galleries and encouraged me to paint. I was really uneducated and he gave me books to read. Being with him gave me the confidence to go to places and try things I would never have dared to do before.’ She met her father’s gaze. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to fit in here, and act as your hostess at dinner parties with people like the Schloers, if it wasn’t for James.’

‘Hmm.’ Her father turned to Gus. ‘You’ve met the fellow. What do you think of him?’

May watched her brother and saw the familiar conflict in his expression between his natural good nature and his suspicion of anyone who seemed to stand above him in the social hierarchy.

‘You owe James a lot, Gus. If it hadn’t been for him, you would have gone to jail, instead of getting that job with White Star Line.’

‘How’s that?’ her father asked.

Gus looked uncomfortable. ‘I got into a scrap with bloke who was harassing a … a young lady I knew. He turned on me, but then he went to the police and told them I’d set on him and he was a gent, so of course they believed him. I was accused of affray and told to appear before the magistrate.’

‘As it happened,’ May took up the tale, ‘I’d recently met James. His mother had come to pick up a hat and he’d come to escort her home. She’d told me he was studying to be a solicitor so I called at her house and asked James for his help. He’d said at first that there was nothing he could do because he wasn’t qualified to speak in court, but then he’d changed his mind.’

‘Because he’d taken a shine to you,’ her brother put in with a glint of mischief.

‘Just as well he had,’ she retorted. ‘Gus was unemployed except for casual work on the docks. James said that if he had the prospect of a proper job we might be able to persuade the magistrate that he would lose it if he went to jail, and it would be better for everyone if he was working rather than hanging round the streets. So we spoke to Mr Freeman, who was always so good to me, and he persuaded the chairman of the White Star Line to offer Gus a position as a clerk. Then James persuaded his boss, Mr Weaver, to speak for him when he came up in court and he got him off. So you do owe him a debt, Gus.’

‘I suppose I do,’ Gus conceded.

‘Never mind that for the moment,’ her father said. ‘I want to know what he’s like as a man.’

Gus considered for a moment. ‘He’s a decent enough sort. A bit of a toff, but he doesn’t give himself airs.’

‘Good enough for our May?’

There was a brief hesitation. ‘Yeah, I suppose so. She thinks so anyway.’

‘He’s a good man, Father,’ May said. ‘I know you’ll like him when you meet him.’

‘Well, as long as he is going to make you happy, I suppose that’s good enough for me,’ her father said.

She got up and moved round the table to kiss him in the cheek. ‘Thank you, Papa.’

‘So you have been waiting for him all this time?’ Maria said. ‘How romantic! And you never mentioned him.’

‘That’s another thing,’ her father said. ‘Why haven’t we heard about all this before?’

May sat down again. ‘It’s hard to explain. I never felt quite sure that it would really happen, and I didn’t want to talk about it in case something went wrong. It’s not that I didn’t trust James to keep his word, but a year is a long time and so much could happen – an accident, an illness. I suppose it was a sort of superstition, that if I told everyone what I was waiting for it would be bad luck.’

‘I understand that,’ Maria said.

‘What I don’t understand is,’ her father went on, ‘why did you leave young Anton hanging around when you had no intention of accepting him?’

‘If you remember, Papa, it was your idea that I should wait a while. And then, I thought that if something did go wrong …’

‘You’d have someone to fall back on?’

May hung her head. ‘It sounds bad if you put it like that, but yes, I suppose that was at the back of my mind.’

‘And Rudi Marshall, too?’ Gus asked.

May felt herself blush, but she nodded.

‘I see, hedging your bets, were you?’ A gleam of amusement shone in her father’s eyes. ‘Well, maybe that’s no bad thing. But you’re going to have to make it right with both of them now.’

‘Yes, I will,’ May promised.

‘So when is this James character going to arrive?’

May reached into a pocket and produced a small wad of letters. Opening one she said, ‘This was written on December twelfth and he says he has booked his passage on a ship sailing on December twenty-third – but he doesn’t say when she is due to dock in Melbourne.’

‘That isn’t very helpful.’

‘No, but he was writing in a hurry. He had to arrange the sale of his mother’s house and put all his affairs in order, so he had a lot to think about.’

‘Mr Croft will know,’ Gus said. ‘He will have the list of all the arrivals over the next month, so he knows when to expect people at his hotel.’

Croft’s Hotel was where Gus had been kindly received on his first visit to Melbourne as part of the crew of the Shenandoah and had found a job on his return.

‘Telegraph to him and ask if he can give us a date,’ Mr Lavender said.

‘I should like to be there when James arrives,’ May said. ‘I think he will be disappointed if I’m not there to greet him. Do you mind, Papa?’

‘You’re free to come and go as you please, my dear. If you want to make the journey, I shan’t stop you.’

‘I’ll go with her,’ Gus said unexpectedly. ‘If you don’t need me for a day or two.’

‘Good idea. I’d be happier knowing she wasn’t travelling alone. You’d better book a couple of rooms at Crofts – and one for James.’

‘We need more than that,’ May said. ‘He’s not travelling alone.’

Her father looked suspicious. ‘He’s not bringing a crowd of aunts and cousins and hangers-on, is he?’

‘No, he’s not. But he is bringing me a bridesmaid and his best man.’

‘How’s that, then?’

‘It’s a bit of a long story,’ May said. ‘You remember I said it was because of James I didn’t get the sack from Freeman’s? This all happened while you were still on the Shenandoah, Gus. But it starts when I was still in the workhouse. I used to help out in the nursery and one day I found that a little child, not quite two years old, we reckoned, had been left on the doorstep during the night. She was the prettiest little thing, with blonde curls and blue eyes, and I called her Angel. She had obviously been well cared for up till then, but you can imagine how unhappy she was, suddenly finding herself among all those strangers with no mama or papa.’

‘Poor little mite!’ Maria exclaimed.

‘She cried all the time, and the women looking after the nursery couldn’t put up with her, so I looked after her, whenever I could. She was quiet with me and when I walked in she used to call, ‘May-me! May-me!’ I loved that little girl! Then one day I went to the nursery and she wasn’t there, and they told me she had been adopted, but they wouldn’t say who by. I was heartbroken. The only thing she had left behind was an old rag doll that was found with her and she was absolutely devoted to. So I kept it as a souvenir. Then, years later, when I was working at Freeman’s this woman came in, an Irish woman called Mrs McBride, and she had Angel with her. Of course, she was much older, about six by then, but I knew her at once and I called to her and held out my arms. I think she knew me, but Mrs McBride was furious. She sent Angel out of the room and told me I was being presumptuous. Of course, I realised later, she was ashamed that she had found Angel in the workhouse and didn’t want anyone to know. She and her husband had cooked up some tale about Angel being his brother’s child, born in Ireland. I didn’t like Mrs McBride. She was rude and pushy and expected to be served before anyone else. But she complained about me to Mr Freeman and he made me write a letter of apology. Well, that gave me the address, so the next Sunday afternoon I went there and hung around until Angel came out with her nursemaid. I followed them to the park and when the nursemaid was busy chatting to some others I called Angel and gave her back her rag doll. I wanted to talk to her, to find out if she was happy, but she just grabbed the doll and ran back to her nursemaid. Somehow Mrs McBride must have found out it was me who gave it to her and she went to Mr Freeman and said if I wasn’t sacked she would never buy another hat from Freeman’s. I was telling Mrs Breckenridge about it and that was when James came to pick her up. He suggested that his mother should get all her friends to write to Mr Freeman and say that, if I was sacked, they would never buy their hats there. So he saw that sacking me would be worse for business than annoying Mrs MacBride and he kept me on. But of course I never dared go near Angel again and I thought that would be the end of the story.’

‘But it isn’t?’ Maria said.

‘I don’t see where this is getting us,’ her father put in.

‘I’m coming to that. A few months ago I had a letter from James. He told me that a man had come into the solicitor’s office where he worked and told him he was looking for a child he had left on the workhouse doorstep years before. That sounds a terrible thing to do but it seems his wife had died and left him with the little girl and he was destitute. He had a chance of a job in South Africa but he couldn’t take the child with him. From his description James guessed that the child might be the one I had called Angel so he started to investigate, but before he got very far he discovered that the McBrides had sent her to Ireland, to a boarding school, but she had run away and disappeared.’

‘Oh no!’ Maria exclaimed. ‘That’s terrible! That poor child!’

‘That’s exactly how I felt,’ May said. ‘Night after night after I read that I lay awake wondering what had happened to her.’

‘But I don’t see what this has to do with the present situation,’ her father said. ‘I thought you said James was bringing her with him.’

‘He is,’ May told him with a smile. ‘She has been found. I haven’t got the full story yet, but it seems she was taken in by some gypsies and somehow ended up with a company of travelling music hall artistes. James says she has a remarkable singing voice for a child of her age. They brought her to Liverpool and somehow James and Mr Kean found her. There was some kind of confrontation with her adoptive parents but they managed to get her away, and now they are all coming here. Oh, and they are bringing a girl called Lizzie as her nursemaid.’

‘I thought you said he wasn’t bringing a lot of hangers-on,’ her father said.

‘They are not “hangers-on”, if you mean they are going to expect you to support them,’ May replied. ‘Mr Kean is a mining engineer and he feels sure he can find work in this area. Angel and her nursemaid will live with him. But can we put them up until they get settled?’

‘I don’t see how. This house is big but now you and Gus are here there is only one spare bedroom. Kean and the women will have to take rooms at the Star for the time being.’

May sighed. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. I’m sure they will understand.’

‘And what about you?’ Maria asked. ‘When are you planning to get married?’

‘As soon as it can be arranged,’ May said.

‘Hold your horses!’ Her father stubbed out the cigar he had been smoking. ‘I haven’t met this fellow yet. When I have, and if I think he’s a suitable husband for my daughter, then we’ll talk about weddings.’

‘But …’ May began to object.

‘No buts! You may have had to plough your own furrow for most of your life but I’m still your father and you are still under age. You don’t marry unless I say so.’

May was about to argue but Maria laid a hand on her arm and shook her head warningly. May took the hint and lowered her eyes. ‘Very well, Papa. But I can go to Melbourne to meet him?’

‘As long as Gus goes with you. I’ll leave you to telegraph Croft’s and book rooms. Now, I must get back to work. Come on, Gus.’

He stomped off with Gus and May turned to Maria. ‘I thought he’d agreed …’

‘I know,’ she said soothingly. ‘But it’s come as a shock. He only found you and your brother a few months ago and now it looks as if he is going to lose you. He needs time to get used to the idea.

‘He isn’t going to lose me …’ May began, but then it struck her that once she and James were married she would no longer live here at Freshfields. Life was going to change again. It would take some getting used to for all of them.

‘He’ll come round,’ Maria assured her. ‘Now, why don’t you go to the post office and telegraph to Mr Croft and find out when the ship is due to dock?’

May threw off her momentary doubts and smiled. ‘Yes, why don’t I do that?’

Ten days later, she stood with Gus on the quayside in Melbourne harbour and watched the steamer carrying James and the others ease its way into its berth. She had dressed in the pale-green silk and bought a new bonnet, which she had decorated herself with white silk roses and green ribbons. As the gangplank was lowered she started to tremble. It had been such a long time. Would she even recognise James? Would he recognise her?

Gus reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Stop worrying, sis. You look a real beaut. He’ll be knocked out when he sees you.’

May watched the passengers streaming down the gangplank and at first she could see no one who looked familiar. A terrible suspicion seized her. Perhaps he had changed his mind at the last moment. Perhaps instead of bringing him the ship brought a letter, explaining that he had had second thoughts. Then, suddenly, there he was, almost at the foot of the gangplank, looking exactly as she remembered him. How had she not seen him before? He stepped onto the quay and stood looking around him. He could not be sure she was there to meet him. He was wondering where he should go next.

May hastened forward, pulling Gus after her. ‘James! James! Over here!’

He heard her and turned. In a few breathless seconds they covered the ground between them and then both stopped, suddenly at a loss. May had thought she would throw herself into his arms, but she felt suddenly shy. For a moment they stared at each other in silence. Then he said,

‘May! At last! It’s wonderful to see you.’

She swallowed and blinked back tears of joy. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. It’s been such a long time.’

‘Yes.’ He seemed at a loss for words. ‘How are you?’

She regained her composure. ‘I’m very well, thank you. And you?’

‘Very fit, thanks.’

There was a pause and she turned to her brother. ‘James, you remember Gus, don’t you?’

‘Of course!’ He shook Gus’s hand. ‘By George, you’ve changed a bit since I last saw you! The climate out here must suit you.’

‘It does,’ Gus agreed. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

James looked round. ‘See who I have brought with me?’ and May became aware of a tall, fair-bearded man standing behind him with a young woman holding the hand of little girl. She dropped to her knees and held out her arms. ‘Angel? Do you remember me?’

The child stepped forward but not into her embrace. ‘I think so,’ she said composedly. ‘But my name is really Amy.’

‘Of course.’ May straightened up. ‘I must try to remember that – but I’m afraid I shall always think of you as Angel.’

‘I don’t mind,’ the little girl said. ‘I’ve had lots of names. I was Angelina once, but I don’t like that. Then I was Maeve, when I was in Ireland.’

‘Maeve?’

‘It means a song thrush.’

‘May,’ James said, ‘can I introduce Richard Kean, Amy’s father?’

Kean offered his hand, a trifle shamefacedly. ‘I am afraid you must think me a very heartless creature, to have left Amy as I did.’

May took his hand. ‘No. I understand something of the circumstances. And I can hardly blame you, I ended up in the workhouse because my own father was unable to look after me. And if things had turned out otherwise, I should never have known Angel – I mean Amy.’

‘Well, I’m delighted to meet you at last,’ Richard said. ‘James has told me so much about you.’ He turned to the young woman. ‘This is Elizabeth Findlay. She looks after Amy – and after me, when she gets a chance. Lizzie, this is May Lavender.’

May held out her hand. ‘How do you do?’

Lizzie made a small curtsy. ‘Please to meet you, ma’am.’

‘Oh, goodness!’ May exclaimed. ‘You don’t need to call me ma’am. There was a time when my position in the ranks of servants would have been far below yours.’

‘This is May’s brother, Gus,’ James said. ‘He’s the lad who sailed on the Shenandoah, if you remember.’

‘Of course!’ Richard shook Gus’s hand. ‘I should like to hear more about that when we have a chance.’

‘Willingly.’ May could see from her brother’s expression that he was pleased and flattered that this was how he was remembered, rather than as the boy who might have ended up in jail if it had not been for James’s good offices.

She looked around at the little group and recalled her duties as hostess. ‘You must all be tired. We’ve booked rooms for you at a local hotel. Shall I show you the way?’

James met her eyes and she saw tenderness vying with amusement. Then he offered his arm. ‘Please, lead on.’

The little procession, followed by a couple of porters carrying the baggage, wound its way through the streets to Croft’s Hotel.

‘Mr and Mrs Croft were very kind to Gus the first time he came to Melbourne and they’ve been our friends ever since,’ May explained as they walked.

And as friends they were welcomed. Mr Croft personally showed them to the rooms reserved for them and then said, ‘When you are ready, please join my wife and myself in the drawing room for a cup of tea.’

Over tea the conversation ranged over the usual topics: the highs and lows of the long voyage, first impressions of Melbourne and so on. Mrs Croft recalled how her daughter Victoria had found Gus, then a boy of fourteen, sitting in the street, having been persuaded by his shipmates to drink too much rum, and brought him home with her. Gus told the visitors how on his second visit Mr Croft had given him a job as his receptionist and how, on one memorable day, the father whom he believed ‘lost at sea’ had walked into the hotel to book a room.

May said little, but she watched with fascination how Angel/Amy responded to any questions with almost adult composure. The little girl was a lovely as she remembered, with her blonde curls and her blue eyes, but she wondered what had happened to her in the intervening years to make her so self-assured.

The one thing May longed for was a chance to talk to James alone, but there seemed little chance of that, until he said, ‘Mrs Croft, I’m intrigued by some of the exotic plants in your garden. May I go and take a closer look?’

‘Of course,’ their hostess replied with perfect tact. ‘Perhaps May would like to show you round.’

May probably knew less about the plants than she did, but she was more than ready to seize the opportunity. She and James strolled together until they were well away from the house and sheltered by a trellis covered by a bower vine, a creeper with glossy green leaves and delicate white flowers. There they stopped by mutual, unspoken consent and looked at each other.

James said, ‘I don’t know what to say. You take my breath away.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I just marvel at the change in you.’

‘Change?’ She felt a sudden stab of alarm. ‘Have I changed?’

He smiled and the look in his eyes reassured her. ‘Oh yes! I said goodbye to a girl, a milliner’s apprentice whose beauty and intelligence captivated me but who still did not know her own power. Now I have just met a grown woman who has come into her own, self-confident and at ease – and more beautiful than ever.’

May swallowed hard. ‘Oh, James! If you could only see inside my head! I’m not confident at all. I’m shaking like a jelly.’

‘Why?’

‘Why? Because I have longed for you for such a long time and I’ve been terrified that you wouldn’t come, or that if you did you might find that it was all a mistake. It’s not a mistake, is it?’

He took her in his arms then and held her close. ‘No, my darling girl! It’s not a mistake. I’ve had my misgivings too, but now I know it’s the best thing I have ever done in my life.’

She drew back enough to look into his face. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Quite sure – as long as you feel the same.’

‘I do! I didn’t know how I would feel when I finally saw you again, but as soon as I did I knew nothing had changed. And I haven’t changed, either.’

‘Oh, but you have,’ he murmured. ‘But only for the better. You are like a bud that has opened into a wonderful flower.

She looked into his eyes and breathed a long sigh of relief. ‘Oh, darling! I love you so much.’

He kissed her then and eighteen months of waiting and wondering dissolved into joy.