The talented mrs greenwa.., p.28
The Talented Mrs Greenway, page 28
Which would mean that Bill too had been under the care of the church. No doubt he had a story to tell in his own good time. ‘I don’t believe we have to see the Reverend Marsden. I’ve been told we need to speak to a Mrs Hoskings, and request that Aggie is apprenticed out to me.’
By the time they arrived at the orphanage Bill looked ready for the gallows. Mary stopped on the corner. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’
‘Yeah, it’s what I want and I’m pretty sure it’ll be what Aggie wants—she’s been at me for months to get her out of the place. She wants to be with me, but that can’t happen.’
‘I’m sure she’ll understand, and you’re always welcome to visit. Let me do the talking.’ Mary raised her hand and rang the bell attached to the side of a heavy door with a Judas window, and the memory of her visits with Mudd to Newgate made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle until an apple-cheeked, smiling face appeared at the window. ‘I’d like to speak to the matron, Mrs Hoskings.’
‘Got an appointment?’
‘No. No, I haven’t but I have been assured Mrs Hoskings would be happy to see me.’
‘Name?’
‘Mrs Greenway, Mrs Francis Greenway, and …’ She paused. She had no idea of Bill’s full name. Bill’s shoulders straightened and he lifted his head. ‘Mr Edwards,’ he said in a firm voice. Two sides to every character, indeed.
The window closed and after some rattling and banging the door swung open and they were led into a small courtyard. ‘Wait here and I’ll see if she’s available.’ The girl, dressed in a blue gown with a white apron and cape, scuttled off.
Bill stood shuffling his feet, mumbling to himself. His face was the colour of whey.
‘Everything will be fine. Trust me.’ It was so strange to see the usually confident young man twisting his hands, a mass of nerves. She couldn’t even imagine what he and Aggie must have been through as children, and she didn’t dare ask. No one enquired into anyone’s past in the colony.
A few minutes later the girl reappeared. ‘Follow me.’ She led them into the main building, down a corridor, and knocked on a door. ‘They’re here, Mrs Hoskings.’
The door closed behind them and a tall thin woman with a beak of a nose rose from her desk. ‘Mrs Greenway, Mr Edwards …’ her face creased in a frown, ‘… have we met before?’
Before Bill could answer Mary stepped in front of him. ‘Mrs Hoskings, how very good of you to see me. I am looking for a new servant girl, someone young, to help with my five children.’
‘I’m sure we can find someone suitable. Our girls are well trained, can read and write, know their numbers, and have excellent needlework skills. We are always keen to house them in good family homes.’ Her eyes darted once again to Bill.
‘My husband is the civil architect, and we have ample room to accommodate another maid.’
‘If you’d like to sit down, I will arrange for you to meet some of our more presentable girls.’
Mary sucked in a deep breath. It was now or never. ‘I have one particular girl in mind who has been in your care for over five years and is approaching thirteen. Mr Edwards’s niece, Aggie.’
‘Ahhh!’ Mrs Hoskings plopped back down in her chair. ‘I thought I recognised the young man. We have several girls who would be better suited.’
‘No, I have quite made up my mind and I have discussed the matter with Mrs Macquarie,’ she said, throwing down her trump card.
Mrs Hoskings jumped to her feet. ‘Mrs Macquarie? She pays a keen interest in our girls and visited only the other day. She mentioned someone who was in need of assistance … I shall go and arrange for Aggie to come down.’ She bundled out of the room.
Bill let out a long slow wheezing breath and then grinned. ‘Nicely done, Mary Merino. Though I’m not sure Mrs Macquarie will appreciate her name being bandied about.’
‘She herself told me to come and see Mrs Hoskings about a new maid.’
‘So that note I delivered …’
‘As I said, let me do the talking. We’ll see what Aggie has to say.’
‘Mary Merino …’ Bill shook his head. ‘Always knew there was more to you than meets the eye.’
Before she could reply, the door swung open and Mrs Hoskings ushered a sour stench and a red-faced Aggie into the room. She took one look at Bill, flew to his side and burst into tears.
‘Silly girl. Stop that nonsense at once. This nice lady, Mrs Greenway, she’s come to offer you a place.’
Aggie peered at Mrs Hoskings through a curtain of dishevelled hair, then tipped her head up and stared at Bill.
‘That’s right, love. Mrs Greenway’s looking for someone to help her with her children. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
‘I want to go with you.’
‘You can’t do that, Aggie, love, but if you’re a good girl and do what you’re told Mrs Greenway will let me come and visit.’
Mary swallowed the words she wanted to utter, taking in the girl’s filthy apron, torn dress and scratched face. ‘Bill can come and visit but only if you work hard and do what you’re told.’
‘There’ll be paperwork to sign,’ Mrs Hoskings interrupted. ‘We can’t have our charges just leaving with anyone who …’
‘I’d be happy to sign any paperwork and I’m sure Mrs Macquarie will vouch for me. I would like Aggie to start today.’
‘I’m not sure that can be arranged …’
Mary drew herself up to her full height. She hadn’t intended to take Aggie immediately, but the poor child was obviously deeply distressed and badly in need of a bath. ‘If you’d like to give me a pen and paper, I shall write a note to Mrs Macquarie. I’m certain she’ll agree when I explain Aggie’s …’ she cleared her throat, ‘… distress.’
Mrs Hoskings’s cheeks filled with air, and she let out a series of huffs punctuated by a few dry coughs. ‘No note will be necessary. Go and collect your belongings, Aggie.’
Aggie gripped Bill’s hand as though her life depended on it, which it possibly did, and shook her head.
‘Please have Aggie’s belongings, along with the necessary paperwork, delivered to my home. The corner of George and Argyle Streets—anyone can direct you to Mr Greenway’s residence. Come along, Aggie.’ Without waiting for a response, Mary turned on her heel and led the way out of the room. She could do this.
When Francis returned home Hannah had taken charge of Aggie and she sat scrubbed and glowing on the kitchen floor building a castle with Caroline from her wooden offcuts. Bill had left, virtually speechless with gratitude, promising to return in the morning.
‘Francis, this is Aggie, our new help. I chose her from the orphanage today. Aggie, this is Mr Greenway.’
Aggie bounded to her feet and made a clumsy curtsy. Francis did little more than nod before heading for the would-be dining room and his paperwork. ‘Mary, I need to speak with you.’ He tossed the words over his shoulder.
Her stomach sank. He couldn’t complain about Aggie, he’d agreed only the day before. ‘Hannah, we’ll all eat together. Can you round up the boys, they’re outside in the garden. I’ll go and see what Mr Greenway wants.’
Much to her amazement Francis had poured two glasses of wine and stood waiting for her. ‘I have news and we should celebrate.’
She took the glass and studied his face, searching for some indication as to his mood. It was always so difficult to gauge— sometimes sarcasm got the better of him.
He proved her wrong and beamed. ‘There is to be an official opening of the Hyde Park barracks on June fourth to celebrate the king’s birthday. It is a triumph! The opportunity to prove that function and design can exist in harmony. And we, my dear …’ he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, ‘… will attend with the official party. At long last I feel my efforts are appreciated.’
Not sarcasm, simply genuine pride in his achievements. Before her stood the man she’d first met—enthusiastic, optimistic and confident. Matters were definitely looking up.
Twenty-Nine
Francis’s exuberant optimism reached into every corner of the household. George achieved his heart’s desire when Francis spoke with Mr Watson and secured him a part-time job in the harbourmaster’s office and traded his lessons at home for those of Sydney Cove. William spent more time travelling with Francis—learning the trade, he told Mary with a gleeful glint in his eye—and Aggie settled in after a few hiccups, taking responsibility for Frankie, Caroline and Charles as though born to the role, leaving Mary very much the lady of the house.
‘Aggie, would you do me a small favour?’ She folded a paper and dropped a blob of heated wax to seal it. ‘Could you go down to the stores?’ She handed over the small purse she kept for household expenses.
Aggie’s pretty blue eyes lit up. It was over two weeks since she’d last seen Bill.
‘While you’re there give this to Bill. He has some seeds for me. Don’t forget your bonnet and perhaps Frankie would enjoy a walk. I’ll see to the babes.’
The girl was out of the door, Frankie’s hand clasped in hers, before Mary could issue any more instructions. It warmed her heart to be able to make Aggie happy, and a visit to Bill kept her from straying. She’d no need to give instructions about the note. Bill would peel off the sealed outer page and see Elizabeth’s name. She wanted to thank Elizabeth for her assistance with Mrs Hoskings and the tiresome paperwork involved in securing Aggie’s release from the orphanage, and despite the harmony in the house with time on her hands she missed the opportunity to talk of matters other than the daily routine. She scratched at the back of her neck; truth be told she wanted to ask Elizabeth another favour. The idea had come to her only the night before as she’d lain in Francis’s arms, revelling in their rediscovered closeness.
Mary’s luck held and not two hours later Aggie returned with a small box containing a complete range of seeds for winter planting, obviously intended as a gift because she handed back the purse still containing every one of the coins, and tucked beneath the seeds, a note from Elizabeth. Mary had no idea how Bill had managed such a swift response. Elizabeth would be at her favourite spot that afternoon.
‘Hannah, can you see to the children’s meal? I have business to attend to.’
‘What about you? Have you given up eating? You’re not …’ She waggled her eyebrows.
‘I’ll take something to munch on the way.’ She snatched a piece of cheese and an apple from the table. ‘And no, I’m not. Charles is barely more than a year old.’ Without waiting for a response, she picked up her folio and made for the door. ‘I’ll be back before dark.’
She as good as flew along George Street, cut across in front of the men beavering away on the rising walls of Fort Macquarie and headed down to the cove. She found Elizabeth sitting staring out at the ocean, an unnatural slump in her shoulders. ‘My dear.’
Elizabeth lifted her tear-stained face. Mary flew to her side. ‘Oh, how can I help?’
Elizabeth shook her head and wiped her hand over her face in a strangely childish gesture. ‘A little homesickness, nothing more.’
‘Has something happened?’
‘Nothing unexpected. I shouldn’t speak of it …’
Mary took her hand, ‘Anything you say will be in confidence. Besides, whom would I tell?’ The truth of her words hit with a blow. She wouldn’t, couldn’t talk to Francis of anything Elizabeth said. Certainly not Hannah or Aggie, and she had no other close friends in the colony, except perhaps Bill.
Elizabeth shuffled back on her cushion and arranged another next to her. ‘Come sit. I’m being foolish.’
‘If whatever it is has made you unhappy then you are not foolish.’
Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and offered a wan smile. ‘We have been waiting for a response to several letters Macquarie has sent to England tendering his resignation and he still hasn’t received a reply. It seems we are to remain here forever—no reprieve for the king’s representative.’ The words flew from her lips and she clamped her hand across her mouth.
The governor had tendered his resignation? Mary’s eyes widened. ‘Why would he do that? All his hard work, the wonderful progress he has made in the colony, the buildings, the roads, the …’
‘It is politics and the tittle-tattle of the exclusives who think he favours the emancipists. It is taking such a toll on his health and his wellbeing. Lord Bathurst is sending out some commissioner, to examine the effectiveness of the colony and investigate every aspect: financials, the church, the judiciary and the convict system. There have been complaints about his extravagant building program, his compassion towards the convicts and his support of the emancipists.’ Two red spots highlighted Elizabeth’s cheekbones. ‘The implication is that Macquarie is in some way personally benefitting from the system. Bathurst couldn’t be further from the truth. Macquarie wants everyone, settler or felon, to thrive.’
The free settlers and the military had been up to no good. It was strange to think that but for her action the Greenways too might have numbered with the exclusives, something she no longer regretted. She applauded Macquarie’s sympathy for the convicts and his belief that once they had served their sentence they should be admitted into their previous rank in society. Dr Redfern, Mr Lord and Mrs Reibey were but three fine examples.
‘I fear our halcyon days may be over. But enough of such maudlin matters.’ Elizabeth shook back her hair and her face brightened. ‘I believe you have received an invitation to attend the official opening of the Hyde Park barracks.’
‘We have. Mr Greenway is very much looking forward to the occasion. It has cheered him no end. He’s once more the man I married, the architect intent on making dreams a reality. He believes the barracks to be one of his greatest achievements.’
‘And so it is. It is a man’s building intended for men. Clean simple lines, a sense of permanence and stability …’
‘Nothing like the glorious, whimsical splendour of the government stables, Fort Macquarie or the gatehouse?’
‘Not a sign of a woman’s touch.’ Elizabeth winked. ‘I do hope we have time to finalise the plans for Government House and get it underway before the odious commissioner arrives.’
Mary laughed. Her secret was safe with Elizabeth, governor’s wife or not.
‘You have been such a friend to me. I look forward to inviting you to old Government House before it is demolished.’
‘Government House?’ After all the discussion of Macquarie’s difficulties with the exclusives, why would Elizabeth make their acquaintanceship public?
‘Why not? The barracks are complete.’
Why would the completion of the barracks bring about such a change?
Elizabeth smiled. ‘Wear your best bonnet and brightest smile, Mrs Greenway. You are, after all, the architect’s wife.’
The vast clock above the central door of the convict barracks struck one as Mary and Francis walked through the gates into the courtyard of Hyde Park barracks. It had been a mere eighteen months since the governor laid the foundation stone.
Francis straightened his cravat and tugged at his new coat. ‘Proof indeed that elegant simplicity and faultless proportions will always out.’
The towering grandeur of the three-storey building overshadowed the impressive group of dignitaries, headed by the Governor, Elizabeth, and young Lachlan, making their way through to the dining room where hundreds of convicts sat down at long trestle tables feasting on beef and bread, plum pudding and punch.
‘’Tis as good as Christmas in June,’ a grizzled man remarked as Mary passed by. Her eyes strayed to Elizabeth, who having reached the podium sat, hands folded neatly in her lap, listening first to her husband’s short plain speech and then the more rambling offering from Judge Advocate Wylde. Once Wylde said his piece the governor rose again and, glasses raised, they drank a toast to the health and prosperity of the inmates.
A resounding three cheers from the six hundred men echoed in the cavernous room. Just when Mary thought it was all over, she caught Elizabeth’s eye. Her friend lifted one finger and gave a discreet nod.
Macquarie held up his hand, cleared his throat and waited for silence. ‘Mr Greenway, if you and your wife would be so kind as to join us.’
Francis’s chin tilted and a smile curled his full lips. He gave a slight bow, encouraging Mary to proceed him to the podium.
Elizabeth’s comments two days earlier suddenly made sense. Macquarie intended to make Francis’s conditional pardon absolute. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Heads held high, they would now be able to take their place in Sydney society, accept Elizabeth’s invitation to dine at the governor’s table and, if Francis chose, return to England, the slate wiped clean. With one stroke of his pen Governor Macquarie had put the past to rest. It was strange to think she and Francis were no longer tied to New South Wales, while the Macquaries were subject to the whims of a government fifteen thousand miles across the sea.
Nine years since that fateful day when Francis had taken his life in his hands by pleading guilty, he was free. Free to take his proper place in society. But best of all, this building was Francis’s crowning achievement. She’d offered no suggestions. Hyde Park barracks stood testament to his skill and creative genius, and it had produced the pardon he so richly deserved.
Thirty
1820
When a thirteen-gun salute Jeffery Bent would have envied thundered from Dawes Point, the very air quivered and both Charles and Caroline burst into a torrent of tears. A shiver worked its way across Mary’s shoulders. With the arrival of Mr John Thomas Bigge, life in the colony was about to take a turn for the worse. She could feel it in her bones.
Only five days earlier she’d met with Elizabeth, a very different Elizabeth, her hair awry and her eyes flashing. ‘Matters have reached such a peak that we are to expect the arrival of a Mr Bigge, Lord Bathurst’s under-secretary no less, appointed to enquire into the affairs of the colony. Macquarie is convinced it is for the best and that the progress made turning the wilderness into a haven of civilisation will be applauded. I don’t share his optimism. I have it on good authority letters have been flying fast and furiously between certain members of the exclusives and the Colonial Office in London claiming over-spending, corruption and mismanagement.’
