Early one evening, Rémi Newland strolled along beside the River Thames, wondering whether he ought to throw himself in and be done with it. He grimaced at that idea. No, of course he didn’t want to die and wasn’t seriously considering suicide, but he didn’t want to continue living like this, either.
He’d walked out of the family business a few hours ago, after yet another dressing down by his Uncle Arnold for untidy work – this time in front of lowly clerks, too. He hadn’t deigned to answer back, just walked out.
He couldn’t go back to work there, just … couldn’t. And yet, he couldn’t think what else to do with his life. The only thing he knew for certain was that he didn’t intend to spend any more years, or weeks even, peering at accounts and scratching figures into long columns, on and on till he felt he’d go mad from the tedium of such work.
Every time he looked at his permanently ink-stained fingers, he wanted to hurl his pen across the room instead of dipping it into the inkwell over and over again.
He knew that eventually he’d have to go home and face his uncle. He always seemed to be upsetting the old man these days. A previous confrontation had resulted in him being moved to this tedious job and threatened once again with imprisonment.
‘You are still legally and morally bound to repay me for your parents’ debts,’ his uncle had said, with that sneering look he saved for those completely in his power.
Rémi doubted that his uncle would understand a plea of temporary insanity caused by utter boredom as mitigation for today’s offence. He also doubted that his uncle would have him imprisoned for debt, because it’d shame the family. But unfortunately, Rémi did consider himself honour-bound to repay his uncle.
He’d been twenty-five when it happened, travelling round France with his mother’s cousin Pierre, helping him buy classical antiquities for rich clients. A lazy, enjoyable sort of life. He’d gone to university and trained as a lawyer, but his parents had enough money to make him a generous allowance – or so he’d thought – and he hadn’t needed to work for a living.
And then his parents had been killed in an avalanche while climbing in the French Alps. Rémi had gone rushing to bury them.
The debts had come as a shock. He knew his mother had brought money to the marriage. His father’s brother told him in clipped tones that the money had been invested unwisely and spent lavishly.
‘I will pay off those debts for the sake of the family name,’ his uncle had said, ‘but I will expect you to pay back that money.’
What could Rémi do but agree?
It hadn’t been too bad working for Newland Importers at first, and he’d learned a lot about buying and selling. His cousins were younger than him, but as they grew old enough to take over the more important jobs in the family trading business, Rémi had been moved to other positions, each less interesting than the one before.
And his parents’ debts had been so huge, he’d still not paid them back completely, even after twelve years working for his uncle.
Many times he’d contemplated running away and abandoning the debt. Once, at the end of the third year, he’d got as far as telling his uncle that he’d paid enough and was leaving. The old man was rich enough not to need the money, after all.
Which was when Uncle Arnold had produced a paper Rémi had signed at that sad time, without realising its implications. So much for his legal training!
‘If you leave, I’ll have you arrested and imprisoned for debt. Make no mistake about that, Rémi.’
He had stayed, withdrawing into himself, taking refuge in books, finding a few friends with similar tastes. He’d tried his hand at writing novels with dreams of earning extra money, but found he hadn’t a good enough gift for storytelling. He’d managed the small amount of money left from his wages carefully, living with his aunt and uncle, and attending his aunt’s dinner parties when she needed a man to balance out the numbers.
He avoided young women of his own class because he couldn’t afford to marry, but he’d indulged in a few romantic affairs. Not all married ladies were faithful and he had a normal man’s desires and needs. He wasn’t good looking, but for some reason he seemed to be attractive to women.
The trouble was, if he did leave the family business now, he would not only have to leave the country to avoid being arrested for debt, but he’d still need to find a way to earn a living. He didn’t have enough money to live on permanently.
He shouldn’t have spent as much on books, but he would have gone mad over the years if he hadn’t had books to turn to. They’d provided food for his brain, as well as a way of escaping reality. They’d also led to friendships with bookshop owners and other avid readers. He was, he knew, very well read. For all the good that did him.
Every now and then he’d break out, just a little: get drunk, or go off to the country for a few days without getting his uncle’s permission. Once he’d lain in bed for weeks, unable to face getting up. Suffering from a ‘melancholy’ the doctor had said, and recommended rest.
After a while, resting grew so boring that Rémi had pulled himself together and gone back to work.
The differences between him and his cousins had increased over the years. They had married well, choosing respectable young ladies who’d have bored Rémi to tears in a week.
Once her sons were safely wed, his aunt had turned her matchmaking skills on Rémi, introducing him to various young ladies who would bring him money. He’d not wanted to marry any of them. The debt would be paid off in another two years. He wasn’t going to tie himself to a boring, unattractive woman for the rest of his life.
He’d only been fond of one of his father’s English relatives: an elderly aunt of his father’s, who had taken a fancy to him.
Jane had been a jolly old stick and he’d enjoyed visiting her, because they shared a sense of humour that made the other relatives frown. She had considered him a fellow rebel against ‘The Bores’, which was what she called the rest of her family.
Unfortunately, by the time Auntie Jane died, she’d had only a modest amount of money to leave him, as well as her books and furniture, because her main income had been an annuity, which had died with her. He could have used her legacy to pay off the debt, but that would have left him penniless, so he told his uncle it was only twenty pounds.
As a light rain began to fall, Rémi sighed wearily and turned towards home, shivering. He might as well go and face the music.
When he entered the house, the senior housemaid was passing through the hall. She usually had a smile for him, but today she shook her head at him, as if irritated.
‘The master would like to see you in the library, Mr Rémi.’
‘I’d better change my clothes first. I’m a bit damp.’
Her expression remained wooden. ‘The master left word that he would like to see you immediately on your return.’
Squaring his shoulders, Rémi made his way to the library, stopping in the doorway when he saw that all three of his cousins were there as well, sitting with their father in the big armchairs. They turned to stare at him, but didn’t greet him by more than the slightest of nods.
His uncle gave him a basilisk stare, which seemed worse than his usual loud anger. ‘Come and sit down, Rémi.’
He did as he was told and waited to be enlightened as to his fate.
‘My sons and I have discussed your future at great length this afternoon.’
Rémi continued to wait in silence for him to get to the point.
‘Clearly you can’t continue to work for the family. Today’s shocking incident, coming on top of your recent liaison with another immoral woman, was the final straw! Something must be done about you, that’s for sure.’
Uncle Arnold paused and his three sons nodded agreement, as usual.
Rémi dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand. Don’t lose your temper! he told himself.
‘We feel you need a complete change of scenery.’ The words hung in the air and his uncle studied him as if he was a beetle impaled on a pin. ‘So we’re sending you to Australia.’
Rémi gaped at them then frowned in puzzlement. ‘But you don’t trade with Australia.’
‘No. You won’t be working for us there. In fact, you won’t be working for us ever again.’
‘I have no desire whatsoever to go to Australia. And anyway, what about The Debt?’ He noted in amusement that his uncle didn’t even realise he was mocking them.
‘We shall consider it to have been paid in full. It wanted only two more years’ payments at the slow rate you could manage on your wages.’
Relief ran through Rémi like a warm fire. ‘I’m grateful, but I repeat, I have no desire whatsoever to go to Australia. Mon dieu, what would I do with myself there?’
His uncle scowled at him. ‘If you don’t go, you can take yourself off wherever you like, but I won’t be financing you. If you go to Australia, however …’
Again he let the words hang in the air, but the implication was that he would pay his nephew to go away, and that made the proposition more interesting, worth consideration anyway.
‘Oh?’ Rémi cocked his head as a sign that he was listening.
‘In your reading, have you ever come across the phrase “remittance man”, by any chance?’
‘I don’t think so.’ He hadn’t read much about Australia.
‘It means someone sent to the colonies and paid to stay there – hence the word “remittance”.’
Hell, they were deadly serious about getting rid of him completely, Rémi thought, feeling shocked. They not only intended to send him as far away as they could, but would pay out good money to keep him there.
‘You’re a fool if you don’t take up Pa’s offer, Rémi,’ his cousin Henry said sharply when he didn’t respond.
Uncle Arnold frowned at his son and continued to speak as slowly and deliberately as always. ‘If you go to Australia, nephew, I’m prepared to make you an allowance – a generous one, given the circumstances – and if anything happens to me, your cousins will honour it for as long as you live.’
‘How much?’
His uncle glared at him for this bluntness, but condescended to get to the point. ‘Two hundred pounds a year, on condition that you stay there. The allowance would cease immediately if you returned to England, or indeed moved to anywhere in the northern hemisphere, and it would never be resumed. You would be required to sign a legal document agreeing to that.’
Rémi breathed in very carefully and slowly, feeling a sense of panic at how neatly they were tying him into a plan that still didn’t appeal to him.
‘You don’t have any choice but to accept.’ His cousin Randall didn’t attempt to hide his feelings, his expression and tone of voice showing quite clearly the relish with which he contemplated the prospect of getting rid of the cousin who had embarrassed the family in various ways over the years.
Rémi measured out his words. ‘I do have a choice. However, if the offer were a little more tempting, I might accept it. But two hundred pounds is not much upon which to make a new life. I shall need to buy a house, furniture, all sorts of things, as well as requiring money to live on.’ He waited.
The silence was as heavy as lead.
‘How much would you consider “tempting”?’ his uncle asked.
‘Five hundred pounds a year.’
‘Never.’
‘I’ve been talking to Mrs Hauder. She’s offered me a post as her secretary.’
His uncle’s face turned puce. And no wonder. Mrs Hauder always called her young man of the moment a ‘secretary’. She hadn’t approached Rémi, but as his uncle didn’t move in the same circles as her, he wouldn’t know that.
‘Three hundred, then, and not a penny more. On condition you have nothing more to do with Mrs Hauder.’
‘Plus another hundred to set myself up there.’ He held his breath as that was greeted with silence.
‘Very well. A once-only payment.’
Rémi inclined his head, hoping he’d hidden his relief that his bluff had paid off. ‘It is, as you say, Uncle, a generous offer, and I’m not a fool. I shall, however, take legal advice before I sign anything this time. And I do have one other condition.’
He held up a hand as his uncle took a deep breath, ready to shout at him. ‘It’s nothing to do with the annual payments. I’d like to take my books and Aunt Jane’s furniture with me, which you’ve kindly been storing here in the attic. I’m very fond of the things she left me. Their transportation would need to be paid for as well.’
His uncle contemplated this, head on one side, chewing the corner of his lip, then shrugged. ‘Very well.’
‘Thank you. In that case, I accept your kind offer.’
All four of them let out their breath in a sound that combined relief with an echo of pain. How the senior branch of the Newland family hated parting with money!
His uncle leaned forward and Rémi tensed.
‘There’s a ship sailing in a week or so. Henry will book your passage and arrange for the shipping of the goods you specify, plus any of the other possessions and clothes you wish to take from your room here. James will escort you round the ships’ chandlers to outfit you for the voyage. The legal documents will be ready for signing tomorrow.’
Rémi sucked in a breath at how quickly he’d have to leave, but managed to say quietly, ‘Fine.’ He glanced at the clock, surprised that only a bare half hour had passed since his return to the house. As quickly and easily as that, they’d put matters in train to get rid of him.
His uncle took out his pocket watch. ‘And now that’s settled, I think we should have our dinner. No need to change your clothes tonight, Rémi. We don’t have any guests. What about you, boys? Will you join us?’
Only James agreed to stay to dinner with his parents. Rémi stayed where he was as Uncle Arnold escorted his two eldest sons out to say a quick goodbye to their mother. James was the cousin with whom Rémi got on best, though even so, they weren’t exactly close.
‘You shouldn’t have defied him in front of his employees today, Rémi, old boy. I’d have thought even you had more sense. Coming on top of your rather public affair with that woman, it was, as Papa said, the final straw.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I hated working on accounts, as you well know. I never understood why he put me there.’
‘His idea of punishment and bringing you into line. I could have told him it wouldn’t work. It pushed you into rebellion, instead. I hope you find something more to your taste in Australia, old man.’
‘I dare say I shall. I’ve heard that Sydney is quite a civilised place now.’
‘Ah. Well, the thing is … Papa isn’t sending you to Sydney, I’m afraid.’
‘Where, then?’
‘He took advice from an acquaintance who has relatives in the Antipodes. Sydney’s grown into quite a big city now and Pa feels there would be too many temptations there for you to waste your money. So he’s sending you to the Swan River Colony – though people mostly call it Western Australia now. It’s a very quiet sort of place, apparently. Roughly ten times as big as Britain, but with a population of only about thirty thousand to the whole colony. And a large chunk of it is useless desert.’
Anger rose in Rémi, scalding hot, and he jumped to his feet with an involuntary exclamation. But he’d had years of controlling his feelings, and even with James, he managed to close his lips on any revealing outburst. He had, after all, just won more money for himself. He must keep that in mind. And there would no doubt be some decent people in Western Australia.
James stood up too and came across to clap him on the shoulder. ‘There’s only one way to get your own back on Papa, you know.’
‘Oh?’
‘Make a success of your new life. Doesn’t matter how you do it, but make money. It’s the one and only thing Papa respects.’
‘I thought I’d proved to him beyond doubt that I have no business sense,’ Rémi said lightly.
‘You’ve proved that you have no interest in our family business. Which isn’t quite the same thing.’ He gave his cousin a gentle nudge. ‘Look, I’ll try to fend Papa off you as much I can during dinner. Try not to make Mama cry. She’s upset about this. It’s not easy being married to a juggernaut like Papa.’
Rémi shrugged and followed his cousin into the dining room. He couldn’t think about the future properly until he was on his own. For the moment all he could do was keep quiet and eat his dinner. He wasn’t hungry, was more shocked than anything, but he forced himself to eat and chat politely to his aunt.
He was grateful to James, who did manage to fend off some of the hectoring and lectures. Although James was five years younger than him, he’d been kind to Rémi over the years in many small ways.
After the meal ended, Rémi sat by his aunt in the drawing room while his uncle unlocked the tantalus and took out the cut glass decanter of brandy, pouring some for himself and James, not offering any to his nephew. Another sign of his displeasure.
How petty are your ways! Rémi thought and turned to his aunt.
She was looking at him sadly, tears welling in her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry you’re leaving us, Rémi,’ she said in a low voice.
‘I’ll miss you. But it’ll be an adventure, won’t it?’
‘You’ll write?’
‘Yes, of course.’
He was surprised to realise he meant it about the adventure. He might dislike the way this was being done, but it would mean freedom. At last. He was itching to find out more about the place to which he was going, itching to start on his journey, and leave the ink and accounts behind.
He grinned as he got ready for bed that night. So he was going to be a remittance man, was he? Well, that wasn’t all bad. He’d have more money than ever before in his whole life and since he had never learned to be extravagant, he had no doubt he’d manage perfectly well on it.
In fact, he’d make sure he did. He wasn’t going down the same path as his father, and he’d be damned if he’d ever go cap in hand to his uncle for more help.
His last thought as he drifted towards sleep was: he’d be completely on his own in Australia. He wasn’t sure about that aspect of his new life. He’d never been completely without family and friends before.
Well, he’d make new friends … wouldn’t he? Surely he would.