When Macquarie rejected Francis’s claim for payment, he determined to present his case to Sir Thomas Brisbane. To Mary’s horror his itemised accounting concluded that he was owed £11,877/15/6—and sixpence, for heaven’s sake! A mere three hundred pounds less than the governor’s own annual salary.
Mary was at her wit’s end. The Macquaries had left town again, travelling from one end of the colony to the other in some kind of a farewell tour, and all the while she imagined them sleeping under the stars discussing the strange quirk of fate that had seen her designs adopted. Thank goodness they didn’t know the rest of her story. In the darkest moments of the night, she pondered the possibility of Francis being accused of poaching her designs but as the sun rose, she’d concluded he was quite within his rights— not only had she freely given him her drawings but she was, as Elizabeth insisted, the architect’s wife and as such he had every right to her work.
Meanwhile Francis continued to draw up his own plans for various private commissions and trained Aggie to calculate the costings. It seemed news of Macquarie’s displeasure hadn’t filtered through to the exclusives, or perhaps it had, and by being out of favour with Macquarie he had unwittingly become sought after. However, Francis, being Francis, refused to let the matter of payment drop.
‘My letters have finally born fruit. Macquarie has deigned to see me. I am to present myself at Government House. No doubt to be formally introduced to Brisbane and discuss ongoing projects.’
A cold shudder crossed Mary’s shoulders. ‘They have returned from their travels?’
‘Obviously, and I am expecting every satisfaction.’
She didn’t share his optimism. ‘When are you seeing the governor?’
Francis gave a casual wave of his hand and pushed back his hair from his red-rimmed eyes. ‘As yet a date has not been set. In the meantime, I have work to do. My building program will no doubt continue under Brisbane’s watch.’
A breath whistled out between Mary’s lips. If she could manage to arrange a meeting with Elizabeth, perhaps she could ease Francis’s path, prevent him from doing anything foolish. ‘I’ll leave you to your papers.’ She shot up the stairs and wrote a note to Elizabeth. Francis aside, she would like the opportunity to bid her farewell as it was only a matter of weeks before the Macquaries would be leaving.
Two days later Mary met Elizabeth in their usual spot with Henry strapped firmly to her chest. Once she’d untangled him, she held him out to Elizabeth.
‘He’s such a bonny lad.’ Elizabeth’s voice carried a Scottish lilt Mary hadn’t recognised before; no doubt she was preparing herself for their homeward journey. ‘He must be close to walking.’ She held him against her and laughed as he bounced on his chubby little legs. ‘If there’s one thing I regret about my life it is my apparent inability to carry children to term. It makes Lachie even more special. You are so very lucky, my dear.’
Mary opened her mouth to explain that once, in the now distant past, she too had suffered the same affliction but instead bit her tongue as Mrs Rudge’s long-ago whispered reference to the French Disease, common amongst sailors, echoed. How dreadful for poor Elizabeth to blame herself when the fault might not rest with her. After all, despite her own earlier difficulties, she had successfully borne four children with Francis. She shook the thought away and grasped Elizabeth’s hand. ‘You have Lachie, and he is a credit to you both.’
‘He is, as I’m sure this little bundle will be to you and Mr Greenway.’ Elizabeth dropped a kiss onto Henry’s cheek and put him down on the ground. ‘Now, you must promise me that you will write and tell me all the news. I’m sure Mr Greenway’s business will continue to thrive. There are so many new settlers who will require houses, in the city and Newcastle and the surrounding area when the Hunter Valley is proclaimed a free settlement.’
Mary let Elizabeth prattle on, waiting for a chance to bring up Francis’s demands on the governor. She was in no doubt his claims for payment would be refused. As a ticket-of-leave man he had been obliged to work for the government in exchange for rations. Once he had been appointed civil architect he had received a salary from the government purse. No matter how much he might have wished for a percentage payment on completion of the buildings it had never been agreed.
‘Land in the Hunter Valley will be greatly in demand once the convicts are moved to Port Macquarie.’ Elizabeth raised her finger to her lips. ‘But that is not yet public knowledge.’
Mary’s head came up with a snap. Francis had talked of Macquarie’s offer of a land grant, and had always presumed it would be the plot between George and Argyle Street, but pastoral acres in the Hunter Valley could be worth a lot to the colonialists in the future. It would cost the government nothing to grant him land, and thus both parties would be appeased. Francis would have the payment he so richly deserved, and Macquarie would not lose face or, more importantly, incur the wrath of the authorities in London. ‘Elizabeth, may I speak frankly?’
‘Haven’t we always been open with each other?’
Mary nodded her head in agreement, although their conversations had always steered away from matters political. ‘I’m not sure whether you are aware, but Mr Greenway has presented an account for payment to the governor. He is very bitter, and determined to pursue what he sees as his just remuneration. If only I had known, I could have tempered his letter to the governor.’
‘Lachlan is no longer able to authorise any payment. Thomas Brisbane will take over the reins of office tomorrow.’ The tremble in Elizabeth’s voice tugged at her heartstrings. Bigge hadn’t only destroyed her own hopes and dreams of recognition, he’d trampled upon both Elizabeth and Macquarie’s aspirations too.
‘I wondered if perhaps the governor would see fit to grant Mr Greenway land in settlement of his claim, then both parties would be satisfied …’ The pounding of her heart echoed in her ears. How had she the audacity?
‘… and honour would be served. I see your point. Let me talk to Macquarie later today. He will spend the remainder of the year travelling, introducing Brisbane to the country. Now enough of these men. Tell me what you have planned for the future. I want to be able to imagine you and your lovely family on the long voyage home. Perhaps you might return to England now Mr Greenway has an absolute pardon.’
‘I doubt that very much. Mr Greenway has his private business here; he hopes to continue as government architect, but I will not involve myself in his practice any longer. It would be the final straw if any mention was made. His reputation would be destroyed.’
‘Mary, let me assure you, your secret is safe, all will be credited to Mr Greenway. Bigge’s arrival unleashed a series of disasters, and we are all balanced on the brink of an abyss, surveying the wreckage of our hopes and dreams.’
Mary reached for Elizabeth’s hand and squeezed her fingers tight, a wave of relief swelling in her chest, partly because her audacious suggestions had been so well received and partly because she wanted to give voice to a thought that had been keeping her awake at night. A plan, a way to ensure their security no matter how Francis’s business progressed, and it would not include any forays into architectural design. ‘I must provide for the children. The children, the safety of my family, are my priority.
‘I am considering opening a small school. There is a shortage, only those run by the churches. Mine would be a private venture with a dozen or so pupils, girls. At the moment all the tutors are men. I don’t want that for Caroline.’
‘And you’d employ a teacher?’
‘I would teach the children. Aggie has a natural gift for arithmetic and is already running our household budget and assisting Francis with his costings. She would help me. I want the girls to learn more than the feminine arts—to understand they are worthy and capable of more than embroidery and pianoforte, that their lives need not be dictated by a husband or a father. I believe that there are several families who would appreciate such an education for their daughters, which would recognise their skills and abilities.’ Her voice rose as the words she’d never dared utter tumbled out. ‘If the old laboratory was cleaned and whitewashed it would make a perfect classroom and the money from fees certainly wouldn’t go amiss. My pupils would be both exclusives and emancipists—perhaps I can break down some of the preconceived notions that prevail in the colony and continue the work you and the governor have done. It would be a shame for all your efforts to be wasted. I hope we can look towards a time when the convict taint will be washed away. Even if it can’t happen for their parents then their children should be free of their inherited stigma. I thought I could balance the pupils by also selecting girls from the orphanage who show an interest in something other than needlework and household duties.’
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. ‘A class of architects perhaps.’
‘Not only architects but doctors, lawyers—who knows, one day we might see a woman magistrate.’
‘You’d have a way to go since we couldn’t get Dr Redfern onto the bench!’
‘Nothing is impossible. An educated woman is a force to be reckoned with. After that it’s simply a case of self-confidence, a voice of reason and breaking the stronghold the exclusives have.’
‘I’m sure the good wives of the colony and their daughters would be fighting a path to your door. A schoolmistress. Whatever next? You are a woman of many talents, Mrs Greenway.’ Elizabeth reached into the basket, amongst the untouched wine and cakes, and brought out a rectangular package wrapped in muslin. ‘I have something for you. Perhaps you’d allow me to contribute your first textbooks.’
Mary took the package, untied the pale blue ribbon, and unfolded the fine muslin. Two books. A smile tugged the corners of her mouth as she read the titles: Gyfford’s pattern books that Elizabeth had brought with her from England.
‘There is an inscription.’ Elizabeth leant towards her and turned the page: You have no need of these as I am well aware but please accept them in memory of the delightful hours we spent and remember your secret will remain safe. Your friend, Elizabeth Macquarie.
Tears sprang to Mary’s eyes as, incapable of speech, she enveloped Elizabeth in a long and heartfelt embrace. The pain in her chest was a nagging reminder of all that might be if women had the freedom to express their ideas and follow their dreams.