The talented mrs greenwa.., p.30
The Talented Mrs Greenway, page 30
‘He’s certainly strong and healthy.’ Aggie hefted the swaddled bundle into her arms. ‘I think he’s already putting on weight.’ She reached for the tin of chocolate, eyes sparkling, and dipped her finger in. ‘For me, not for baby Henry Valentine.’ Her index finger disappeared into her mouth, and she groaned with pleasure.
Mary returned to her letter.
When you are up and about, please let me know. I have missed our meetings and would love to be introduced to Henry Valentine. I thought we might take a closer look at the stables and the fort as they are both finished and discuss plans for Government House.
Plans for Government House. Francis had mentioned nothing— she’d spent hours working on her preliminary ideas but had shown no one. She’d made some changes to the original drawing that she’d first shown Elizabeth, and the floor plans had become a secret delight which had kept her amused while Francis attended to Macquarie’s more mundane, necessary public buildings— courthouses, wharves, gaols, military barracks and churches—and now he’d even roped Aggie into his wretched accounting. ‘Aggie, tuck the baby into his cot. I think it’s time we settled down for the evening. Take the hamper down to the scullery where it is cool and then off to bed, but before you go could you find me my folio. It’s in the chest, right at the very top.’ She pointed to the end of the bed.
Aggie fussed around and settled Henry in the fruit crate that had served the last three children so well then lifted the lid of the chest and took out Mary’s folio. She smoothed her palm across the well-worn leather. ‘It’s so soft. It must be very old.’
‘It belonged to my papa; he used to keep his correspondence in it when he was at sea.’
‘How nice to have something that belonged to your father.’ Aggie’s voice held a wistful note. ‘I don’t even know my father’s name. Now Mam’s gone there’s no one to ask.’
It was on the tip of Mary’s tongue to suggest Aggie should talk to Bill, but he would have told her long ago if he knew. ‘You have Bill, and he’s the best uncle in the world.’
‘Yes, he is, isn’t he?’ Her face brightened. ‘Living here is so much better than the horrid orphanage. Thank you for rescuing me.’
Mary stretched out her arms. ‘Come here.’
Aggie hovered for a moment as though unsure how to respond, then with a strangled sob threw herself into Mary’s embrace.
The poor, poor child. What a blessing that Mary had, with Elizabeth’s help, managed to make Aggie’s life a little better. No one deserved to live in the comfortless, cold orphanage under the guardianship of the Reverend Marsden.
After a while Aggie sniffed and disentangled herself. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be; everyone needs to be loved.’ Mary brushed Aggie’s bright hair back from her face and knuckled a tear from her cheek.
‘I’ll take the hamper down. Little Henry Valentine is sleeping.’ She tucked the blanket tighter around him. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
As soon as the door closed Mary lifted her folio to her cheek. How lucky she’d been. She had never known Mama, but she’d had the love of Papa and he had kept Mama’s memory alive with his stories of their life together. He would never have condoned her devious behaviour, or accepted that his daughter would have stooped to forgery. Goosebumps peppered her skin as she took out Miss Bingle’s notes and letter. They had to go. Nothing could jeopardise Francis’s position, most especially if Bigge was scrutinising his accounts. She held them up to the candle one by one. A great sense of relief filled her as the paper curled, crackled and turned to ash. No more. She turned to her designs for Government House. There were better ways to use her talents.
Dr Redfern released Mary from her confinement. The sting had gone out of the heat, and the humidity had eased. She pulled on one of her old muslin dresses and ambled down to the kitchen in search of an orange, and possibly some chocolate. She found Bill sitting at the kitchen table, rolling one of the oranges around in his large hands.
‘Oi! Mary Merino. How are you?’
‘I’m well, thank you. What are you doing with my orange?’
‘Young Aggie was telling me all about the hamper of goodness you received from Government House.’
Really, she was going to have to have words with the girl. She couldn’t have news of her relationship with Elizabeth getting out, not after Bigge’s complaints of favouritism and extravagant building programs. ‘It’s not to be discussed,’ she snapped.
‘I guessed as much, and I told Aggie the same. I’ve got some news I thought you ought to hear. Hoped to catch you on your own. Didn’t want to be upsetting Mr Greenway like last time.’
Mary lowered herself into the chair. ‘Where’s Hannah?’
‘Out fetching some fish for your dinner, though I suspect she’s more interested in the bloke down at the Three Squares than his wares.’ He winked.
‘If that’s your news I don’t want to hear it. She’s a grown woman who has worked out her sentence and is entitled to her own friends.’
Bill nodded. ‘You’re right. It’s not what I’m here to say. Just wanted to catch you on your own. Bigge has refused Dr Redfern’s appointment as chief surgeon or magistrate. His emancipist status counted against him despite all the good work he has done in the colony.’
‘Yes, I already know, he told me that himself.’ Mary folded her arms, inordinately pleased that she was already aware of Bill’s news.
‘Seems the governor’s health isn’t the best, a return of the dysentery that has so plagued him, but he’s insisting on calling Redfern, not the Bowman chap.’
‘Poor man, Elizabeth will be concerned.’
‘She’s got more than that to concern her. Captain Piper seems convinced Bigge is out to replace Macquarie himself.’
‘He can’t do that. Goulburn wouldn’t have it, and hasn’t Bigge returned to England to present his report?’ Whatever was Bill on about? He was dishing up nothing but scuttlebutt. ‘I’m not surprised you waited until Francis was out; none of your chatter is important.’
Bill propped his chin in his hands and pinned her with his blue, blue eyes. ‘But this is, and you need to know. Bigge apparently took a specific stance against what he calls the Gothic follies. Apparently because Macquarie didn’t inform Bathurst of the intricate details and expense of the fort, stables and turnpike lodge, all ornamental features on buildings will henceforth be banned.’
Mary folded her hands tightly in her lap, fingernails scoring her damp palms. The stables, the fort, the lodge—her whimsical Gothic designs, the ones Elizabeth had so heartily championed.
Bill raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought you might be particularly interested. No doubt they’ll feature in his report.’
Heat flew to Mary’s cheeks; she licked her lips and cleared her throat. ‘I’m interested in all of Mr Greenway’s buildings,’ she spluttered. ‘He’s my husband.’ She shot to her feet, grasping the edge of the table to steady herself. She was jumping to conclusions. Bill couldn’t possibly know they were her designs. Only Elizabeth and Francis knew … and neither of them would say anything. Francis regarded the designs as his own. She had to speak to Elizabeth and make sure she hadn’t said anything. Inhaling a steadying breath, she lowered herself back onto the chair and pushed the orange across the table to Bill. ‘Why don’t you have it?’
He shook his head. ‘Nope. I don’t want to eat your orange. I just wanted you to know what’s going on. Give it to Aggie. There’s plenty coming from out Hawkesbury way. I better be making a move. Nothing you need doing? Notes you’d like delivered? I expect Mrs Macquarie is looking forward to meeting young Henry Valentine.’
‘I would like a note delivered to Government House, now you mention it. Can you wait a moment or two while I write it?’
‘That I can. I’ll take a stroll round the garden. Talk to young Caroline’s chickens and see how those vegetables are coming along. Got green fingers, has Hannah.’
Mary and Elizabeth met, as she’d suggested in her note, in the cool of the afternoon at the newly completed arched stone bridge that led to Fort Macquarie. They were in no danger of offending anyone’s sensibilities because the governor had long since decreed that the stretch of shoreline that had once been the preferred bathing place of the military was now off limits, and part of the Domain.
A ripple of pride traced Mary’s skin and she squeezed Elizabeth’s hand as they stood together admiring the perfect symmetry of the octagonal building, the picturesque towers, turrets and bastions and, further up the incline, the matching stables and offices.
‘All that is needed now is a new Government House and our vision is complete. Have you had any further thoughts?’ Elizabeth’s eyes strayed towards Mary’s basket where her folio rested.
‘I have.’ Mary smiled. ‘Shall we go and sit down?’
‘Please … I can’t wait a moment longer. Follow me. I know somewhere we can be undisturbed.’ Elizabeth darted off the path, sat in the shade of a grove of small trees and slipped the worn leather folio from Mary’s basket. ‘Show me.’
‘In keeping with the stables and fort, I took Thornbury Castle as a model.’ Mary took the folio from Elizabeth’s hands, pulled out her plan and laid it flat on her lap. ‘It’s designed around a quadrangle partly open on the southern side. The north side will form the principal entrance and there will be a staircase here, a vestibule, hall and morning rooms.’
Elizabeth’s mouth formed a circle of surprise. ‘It is beyond my wildest dreams.’ She ran a finger over the drawing. ‘And this?’
‘The domestic apartments and bedrooms. They will look to the east and have a view of the harbour, with a wing attached for all the domestic offices for servants.’
‘Yes, I see. The west side will mirror the east.’
‘And contain all the state apartments for public occasions with a museum, library and domestic chapel, and apartments for the civil and military staff. Handsome and commodious, in the castellated style, as requested.’ Mary grinned, a great bubble of happiness swelling in her chest as she revelled in Elizabeth’s rapturous cries.
Until Elizabeth’s face fell, and she breathed a long painful sigh. ‘It is such a shame we will never live in this wonderful palace.’
‘Nor see it built if Mr Bigge and Lord Bathurst have their way. They’re opposed to the “Gothic follies”.’
‘Obnoxious men!’ Elizabeth jumped to her feet and paced then stretched her arms wide. ‘However, I will at least quit these shores secure in the knowledge two women have created a lasting legacy.’
‘And a feeling of guilt on my part.’ Mary failed to control the quaver in her voice. ‘The three buildings which have incurred Mr Bigge’s wrath and caused Governor Macquarie, and Francis, the most grief were based upon my dreams and fantasies.’
‘Dreams and fantasies I wholeheartedly supported and encouraged, as did Lachlan. I am only sorry that you have been caught up in this ludicrous political dogfight.’
‘Neither of us had any choice in the matter. Nor did the governor and Francis. The blame lays fairly and squarely with the hidebound free settlers who believe they are entitled to preferential treatment.’
‘It upsets me so very much to know that Lachlan’s vision for the colony has been tarnished. He has strived only to make everyone’s dreams a reality. His health is failing; it is time we returned to Scotland. Thomas Brisbane has been appointed governor; it’s a position he has wanted for many years. He will take over at the end of the year—and implement many of Bigge’s recommendations, no doubt.’
Mary wiped her damp palms down her skirt. ‘Elizabeth, it is most important that no one knows of my contributions to these designs.’ She patted her folio. ‘Francis would be seen as a fool. His genius questioned. His position ridiculed. His reputation destroyed. Please, I beg of you, keep my secret.’
Thirty-Two
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.’
