Paula Marshall - An Unconventional Heiress

‘And that statement merely confirms me in my opinion of your lack of judgement, Sarah. The man is an ex-felon, a thief, a ruffian—you cannot know what you are saying.’

‘I know that he is the Governor’s friend, as is Dr Kerr—’ and why should she mention him? ‘—and that Lachlan Macquarie is not a fool, whatever you may think of me.’

‘I only know that every person of consequence in New South Wales disagrees with him over his attitude to Dilhorne and his friend Dr Kerr—and those like them. You would do well not to offend the people among whom you have chosen to live. No gentleman will respect you if he becomes aware that you are hobnobbing with such a ruffian as Dilhorne—to say nothing of what judgement on you our military friends will pass.’

Sarah felt suffocated. It was a feeling from which she had frequently suffered since Charles’s betrayal of her. To overcome it she turned angrily on her brother.

‘Gentlemen!’ she exclaimed. ‘The military! The proper thing to do! I sometimes wonder if we know what we are talking about. Do all these fine words mean that the men who utter them treat women with respect? If I had married Charles, how long would it have been before he took a mistress? As for the military, even innocent little Lucy Middleton knows that the officers, as well as the men, take their pleasure at the houses in The Rocks. Do not look at me like that, John. You know that I am telling the truth. I shall say no more, but I do reserve the right to choose my own friends, now and in the future.’

‘My only relief so far,’ he returned stiffly, ‘is that I am at least fortunate enough not to number Dr Kerr and Dilhorne among them. I can only hope that you will come to see the wisdom of what I have been saying.’

‘Oh, let us leave it at that.’ Sarah thought that she would begin to scream if this unseemly wrangle continued much longer. ‘I cannot say that confining myself to proper gentlemen has been very successful in the past. At least Tom Dilhorne spares me empty compliments and fine, meaningless manners. He talks more sense than all of the beaux I have ever met. Yes, yes,’ she added hastily when John began to reproach her again, ‘I will not speak of him in future, but I will not promise not to speak to him. And that is enough. Do not ask me for more.’

‘Quite so, you are determined to go your own way, I see, but do not be surprised if you find yourself left out of Sydney’s social life in consequence. I wish that I had never consented to bring you with me.’

Sarah bit back yet another riposte and simply swept out of the room, wishing for the thousandth time that she had never left England. Damn Sydney, damn its social life, damn Charles Villiers and Dr Alan Kerr, too—and damn John for being such a pompous ass. Conversation with him had become impossible.

What in the world was happening to her that she should use such dreadful language even to herself? If she weren’t careful, she would find herself saying these unladylike things aloud!

‘So the Langleys have left Government House, I hear,’ said Alan Kerr, who was eating a bachelor dinner with Tom Dilhorne in Tom’s home off Bridge Street.

‘Yes. The Governor not only found them a house, not far from yours, through his aides, of course, but he also had it furnished and managed to conjure up a housekeeper for them into the bargain.’

‘A housekeeper? However did he manage that? There’s a desperate shortage of such useful creatures in the colony.’

‘Indeed.’ Tom drank up his port before giving a short laugh. ‘Well, if I tell you that he supplied them with Corporal Hackett’s widow, you’ll gather that he did them no favour. On the other hand, she was probably the only woman available.’

‘Mrs Hackett!’ Alan nearly choked over his lamb. ‘Now that I should like to see. The thought of that high-nosed fine lady, trying to keep in order a woman who has created chaos in every kitchen and drawing room of those foolish enough to employ her, has quite made my day. You know that Major Menzies threw her out of his home after she had reduced the whole household to tears? Yes, any woman who can reduce Mrs Menzies to tears is well worth knowing.’

‘Now what should make you think that she’ll subdue Miss Langley?’

‘Come, come, Tom, you know that in the great houses in which Miss Langley lived all the real business of running a home was done behind the scenes so far as she was concerned. Here, she’s living in a little two-storey villa, on top of the kitchen, the cooking and the cleaning. Yes, I can only imagine how hard she’ll find it to cope with such a come-down in the world. I am still wondering what odd whim brought her here, so far from the comforts of her English life.’

It was useless to argue with him. He had taken against Sarah Langley from the first moment they had met, and God only knew if he would ever be able to change his mind about her. Tom was sure that his friend was misjudging her badly, that he was unaware of the dark shadow in which the poor creature was living. He also knew that the misjudgement arose from the circumstances of Alan’s own sad past, and he could do nothing about that.

Best to say nothing, then. After all, it was likely that the Langleys’ stay in the colony would be short, and then there would be nothing to provoke Alan Kerr into forgetting his better self, the self that had rescued Tom Dilhorne from the gutter, and was also fiercely maintaining the good health of Sydney by his tireless hard work.

When Sarah heard that not only had the Governor found and furnished a house for them, but had also appointed a housekeeper to look after it for her, she was overjoyed.

Her joy did not last long. Mrs Hackett was a woman with the build of a pugilist and an expression that was so sour that Sarah felt she probably only had to look at milk to make it turn. If her manner to Sarah was surly, her behaviour towards the servants, also provided by Government House, was downright cruel. Sarah remembered her introduction to them and to Mrs Hackett’s malevolence…

She had been seated at her portable writing desk, trying to finish a letter to her best friend and John’s sweetheart, Emily Hazeldean, when Mrs Hackett had come in to say that the servants had just arrived in a gig driven by one of the corporals with whom her late husband had served.

‘The servants has come, Mam, and most unsatisfactory they are.’

Sarah put down her pen. ‘Why, what is wrong with them, Mrs Hackett?’

‘Sluts,’ she said, balefully, ‘and trollops.’

‘You are speaking of the servants?’

‘Who else, Mam? They’re a convict and a convict’s daughter, and no better than they should be. They’re waiting in the kitchen for you to look at them. You said as how you would.’

She spoke as though Sarah had expressed a wish so outlandish that it scarcely needed to be discussed. Sarah was half-annoyed, half-amused by her insolence, reflecting that from her manner of speaking one might think that Mrs Hackett was the mistress and Sarah the servant!

Settling into her new home had, as Alan Kerr had supposed, taken up a great deal of her time and energy. John, of course, had left everything to her. Not only that, he had departed earlier that morning on yet another sketching expedition and had announced that he would not be back until late since he proposed to dine in the Officers’ Mess again. To make matters worse, she was unable to mend her quill pen since he had inconsiderately made off, without permission, with her only sharp knife, having been unable to find his own.

The letter to Miss Emily Hazeldean would have to wait. Sarah set off for the tiny, stiflingly hot kitchen, sighing gently. What appeared to be two bundles of clothing stood waiting for her. The older and larger of the shapeless pair was introduced to her as Nellie Riley; the younger and smaller as Sukie Thwaites. They were both, it seems, untrained and their final roles as assistant cook and maid-of-all-work were to be decided in the future.