The De Lanceys were there, and the frail, white-haired lady in the black lace gown occupied a chair, talking animatedly to those seated on either side of her, one of whom Kitty recognized as the judge who had fought at Waterloo. The other had been a passenger in the Broomes’ phaeton-a lovely young
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woman, with dark hair and deep-set blue eyes, whose fashionably cut magenta silk ballgown was draped to conceal but did not entirely hide the fact that she was in an advanced state of pregnancy.
Behind her, a hand resting affectionately on her shoulder, was the redheaded Captain Broome, as pleasant looking if not quite as tall as his brother John, who performed the introductions with faultless courtesy.
“May I present the latest arrivals in the colony-Lady Kitty and Mr. Patrick
Cadogan. Mrs. Dawson, to whom we all lay claim as our aunt Abigail. Justice De Lancey, Will and Jenny De Lancey I think you’ve met-Mrs. George De Lancey, who is my aunt Rachel. My father, Captain Justin Broome, late of the Royal Navy. My brother Red-Captain Broome, Royal Navy, and his wife, Magdalen. Alexander Dawson, of Her Majesty’s Fortieth Foot …” The names tripped off his tongue, and even as she acknowledged them, Kitty became confused.
As John Broome had confided to her, it seemed that they were all related, close-knit families, descended from both convict and free settlers but with little social difference between them now, since they had intermarried and-yes, as the uniforms bore out-many of them held commissioned rank in the armed forces of the British Crown. Doubtless the rest were landowners, with vast sheep runs and palatial houses, whereas poor Michael-how had John Broome
described the wretched prisoners now being evacuated from Norfolk Island to continue their living death sentences in Tasmania?
He had said they were capital respites, hardened criminals, considered to be beyond reform or redemption …
Michael,
her beloved elder brother, whose only crime had been defiance of an unjust system that deprived the Irish people of their freedom! But they had termed it treason and branded him a traitor, for whom there could be neither forgiveness nor mercy.
Magdalen Broome was speaking to her, inviting her to seat herself, and Kitty swallowed her momentary resentment, recalled to the role she must play. But the talk passed over her head; she
managed to smile, to murmur polite and meaningless rejoinders, even to reply to questions with the right degree of evasive reticence. Let them think her shy or even gauche, so long as she did not betray herself. .
. . Patrick, she observed thankfully, had attached himself to the group surrounding Captain Red Broome and, with his accustomed easy charm, was seemingly quite at ease.
A tanned, white-haired man in civilian evening dress-evidently a late arrival-joined the party. Magdalen told her his name, which was Tempest, adding the information that he was a member of the Legislative Council and the owner of a sheep and cattle station near Bathurst, and Kitty listened, without any particular interest, until she heard him say, in a voice harsh with pain, “It was bad enough, losing our dearest Elizabeth and the child-but now we’ve lost Luke as well.”
“You’ve lost him, Rick?” Judge De
Lancey exclaimed, clearly startled. “You don’t mean the boy’s dead, do you?”
Rick Tempest shook his head. “No, no-he simply walked out on us, said he could not bear to stay at Pengallon, which I suppose is understandable.
He had no plans, poor lad, but nothing I could say would induce him to change his mind.
I’ve been worried about him, as you can image, but … I learnt today that he shipped out in one of Claus Van Buren’s traders, bound for New Zealand-as a deckhand.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, and Kitty’s heart went out to him as she heard him sigh, the pain he was enduring somehow reaching across to her as if it were a living thing.
“Luke’s heartbroken,” he added flatly.
“And so are we all. Given time, though, the lad will get over it and come back to Pengallon, God willing. Well-was He braced himself and then bent to drop a kiss on Abigail Dawson’s lined cheek. “Forgive me if I don’t stay. I had to put in an appearance here, but I won’t wait for the toasts-I’m aiming to make an early start for Pengallon in the morning. We’re short of labor, as always, and the Chinese I’ve taken on are pretty useless, though they claim to be shepherds.”
He turned to shake Judge De Lancey’s hand and then that of Captain Justin Broome. “I’m resigning from the Council-in fact, I informed the governor today. Edmund is going to stand for election to the Assembly in my place.”
“I’ll walk you to the door,” the older Broome said, and took his arm. Watching them go, Magdalen Broome said sadly,
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“Poor soul, his only daughter died in childbirth a few weeks ago, Lady Kitty.
Her husband, the one he was talking about-Luke Murphy-is such a fine young man. An
American, he came over here from the California goldfields, and the whole family are devoted to him. It’s a tragedy—they were so happy, he and little Elizabeth. I …” She flushed, looking down at her distended stomach and then at Kitty.
“It makes me a little afraid, you know.
Childbirth can be risky, and Elizabeth was so young.”
Kitty’s diffident attempt to console her was cut short by the announcement that a buffet supper had been prepared for the viceregal guests and was now ready. They wended their way slowly into the adjoining anteroom, and seeing that Patrick was engaged in earnest conversation with Captain Red Broome and his father and brother, she did not go to join him but remained in the pleasant, feminine company of Magdalen and the two ladies John Broome had
claimed as his aunts Abigail and Rachel.
The laden tables occupied their attention, and when they had again found seats, the servants brought round glasses of wine, and Governor Denison rose to make a short speech. Kitty gave it only cursory attention; the governor’s delivery was slow and a trifle pedantic, but when he raised his glass to propose the first toast, she heard him say, with a wealth of pride and feeling, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I ask you to charge your glasses and be upstanding? Let us drink to the heroic victory of Great Britain and her allies in the Crimea, and to pray for peace henceforth with Russia and all other aggressors. As you will have read in your newspapers, a peace treaty was signed in Paris on March the thirtieth, and our troops and ships will, by this time, be on their way home.”
The toast was drunk to loud acclamation, and the governor, still on his feet, held out his glass to be replenished and again raised it high above his head.
“This reception, as you will also know, my friends, is being given in order that we may bid farewell to Colonel and Mrs. William De Lancey, who are about to depart this colony for service in India.
William De Lancey was one of that
immortal band which, in obedience to an order from their commander in
chief that was most tragically misunderstood, yet obeyed and charged the Russian guns at the far end of the valley that has come to be known as the Valley of Death. Few survived the charge unscathed, and Colonel De Lancey, in a selfless endeavor to save the life of one of his troopers, suffered most grievous wounds. His heroism is, we have been given to understand, to be rewarded with Her Majesty’s highest honor-the medal of the Victoria Cross.
I regret that I shall not have the privilege of investing the colonel with it-that privilege will, in due course, be given to the governor general of India, since Colonel De Lancey will be unable to attend the investiture in London by Her Majesty the Queen in person.”
The governor paused, an erect, soldierly figure in his full-dress uniform. He lifted his glass to William De Lancey, a warm smile lighting his austere, high-boned face.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to drink to the health and future prosperity of Colonel and Mrs. De Lancey, to wish them Godspeed and, let us hope, a safe return to these shores when, in the fullness of time, the colonel’s service with the Honorable East India Company comes to an end and both are free to come home to Sydney!”
The applause was thunderous, and Magdalen turned with tears in her eyes to clasp Kitty’s hand before resuming her seat.
“They are both such fine people,” she said huskily.
“And we shall miss them sorely-my husband more than most, for he worships Jenny. I just hope and pray that
he
will be permitted to remain on this station. There are alarming rumors of trouble in China, but-was She blinked back her tears. “At least whilst his ship is engaged in the evacuation of the Norfolk Island convicts, Their Lordships cannot order him there. And Red does not anticipate such an order. The Huntsman
was sent to join the China Fleet a few weeks ago, so that the
Gaiah
is the only frigate left here now. Red says that it is unlikely in the extreme that the Admiralty will contemplate denuding Australia and New Zealand of all save a few small
sloops and colonial steam vessels. I hope, with all my heart, that he is right!”
It was natural, Kitty thought with ready sympathy, for her to want her husband at least nearby when their child was born, but, with newfound cynicism, she wondered whether the British William Stuart Long
Admiralty would set as much store by the evacuation of a far-off colonial penal settlement as they would over the protection of commercial interests in China.
But she refrained from saying so, and Magdalen went on, in a more optimistic tone, “It was a stroke of good fortune, really, that the colonial vessel Lady Franklin
was found to be unseaworthy and had to be taken out of service. For the past six months the Lady Franklin
had been employed in the evacuation, you see, and Red’s ship was the only vessel large enough to take her place. Otherwise, I feel sure, the Galah,
too, would have been on her way to Hong Kong. But-was She broke off, with an apologetic exclamation.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, telling you all this, Lady Kitty, since you cannot possibly be interested in the navy’s comings and goings.
Or, come to that, in Norfolk Island.”
“Oh, but I’m very interested, Mrs. Broome,”
Kitty began impulsively. “You see, my brother is-was She had been about to embark once more on a description of Patrick’s proposed book, but there was a call for silence, and Colonel De Lancey rose to reply to the governor’s toast.
He spoke briefly and modestly, expressing his regret and that of his wife that they must leave the colony, and then, bowing to Governor Denison, invited the assembled company to join him in drinking to Their Excellencies’ health.
The toast was drunk, and, as the applause died down, Kitty saw Patrick making his way through the crush of people toward her. He looked elated, and her heart quickened its beat when he reached her side and whispered triumphantly, “It’s all arranged, Kit-we sail for Norfolk Island on board the Galah
in two days’ time.”
“We?” Kitty echoed, unable to hide her surprise. “Do you mean that I-was
“That’s precisely what I mean, little sister,” Patrick confirmed excitedly. “But we can’t talk now. I’ll tell you all about it on the way back to the house.”
It was another hour before they were able to take their leave, and as their hired carriage bore them away from the congested streets of the city, Patrick launched into his promised explanation.
“I had a long talk with Bishop Willson, and he gave me
chapter and verse concerning the inhuman treatment meted out to the Norfolk Island convicts by the civilian commandant, a certain John Price.
I won’t go into the details, Kit, because they would break your heart, truly they would. Suffice it to say that Price must be the most brutal, sadistic human being I’ve ever heard of! But he married the daughter of a former lieutenant governor of Tasmania, owed his appointment to Norfolk Island to another, and was supported throughout by Governor Denison, despite the evidence of his extreme cruelty put forward by a onetime Anglican chaplain named Rogers-whom he had dismissed-and the bishop himself. There were others, too, quite a number of them, but Price got rid of them, and their protests were ignored. It seems there was a mutiny on the island, due to laxness on the part of a previous commandant, and Price was charged with the task of restoring order and discipline. He did that all right-with torture and the lash!”
Kitty caught her breath on a sob. “Oh, poor Michael,” she whispered, her throat tight.
“Poor, poor Michael!”
“Yes, poor Michael,” her brother echoed grimly. “But-was He brightened. “There’s hope for him, Kit-we’re going to the island, both of us, as I told you. It was lucky, really, that I had the chance to speak with Bishop Willson and that the governor saw me speaking with him, for it seems they are on very bad terms, and he was only invited to this evening’s reception because he was a guest of the archbishop. Well, to cut a long story short, I made a point of staying close to Captain Red Broome. He mentioned that he was shortly sailing for Norfolk Island, and I took my courage in both hands and, after giving him a much exaggerated account of the book I’m supposed to be writing, asked him point-blank to give me passage in his ship. And I asked him if I could bring you with me.”
Patrick smiled widely. “He was on the point of refusing-I could see it coming. He started to say that, provided I obtained official permission to visit the island, he might consider taking me, but women on board ships of war were a distracting influence, and it was a practice frowned upon by the British Admiralty. But thenwas He threw back his head and laughed aloud. “Oh, Kit, it was a wonderful stroke of luck! His Excellency was passing, and he overheard us-I suppose he took in what I’d been saying about William Stuart Long
the book. Anyway, he intervened. “By all means give them both passage, Captain Broome,” he said. “Let Mr. Cadogan
see for himself what manner of men are imprisoned as capital respites in our penal settlements.
Once he has done so, I do not doubt that he will be less inclined to give credence to Bishop Willson’s carping criticism, and his book might then be unbiased.” his