Anne Brear Read online

  Nicola tried to regain her feet, but the effort took strength she didn’t feel she had.

  A black carriage pulled up further along the road. A stout gentleman climbed down the carriage steps and after donning his tall hat hurriedly walked towards her. “Miss? May I be of assistance?”

  She turned to him like a child seeking its mother. “Oh, y-yes…”

  “Are you ill or have you been attacked?” He looked about for an assailant.

  “Not attacked. I-I felt faint.”

  “Come, lean on my arm.” He took her elbow, supporting her weight easily. His large grey side-whiskers and friendly blue eyes helped to calm her. He reminded her of her grandfather long buried in a small graveyard in Wakefield, Yorkshire.

  “Thank you.” She managed a quick shaky smile.

  “Do you wait for family?” He scanned the area as if expecting someone to come and claim her.

  “No. No one at all.” She blinked back the tears that blurred his round profile. In all her life she’d never been as emotional as she’d been in the last weeks; even saying goodbye to her homeland hadn’t wrenched the tears as quickly as they formed now.

  “Do you live close by? I can take you.”

  She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “I shall be quite all right in a minute. Silly of me to not eat properly this morning.”

  “Come to my carriage, I shall escort you home.”

  “Thank you, but there is no need.” She straightened, ignoring the dizziness and forced her shoulders back and held her chin high. “I’m much better already.”

  “Where do you live?”

  She smiled at his friendly persistence. “I lodge at Cordell’s Hotel.”

  “Cordell’s Hotel.” He frowned. “You lodge, did you say?”

  “Yes, until I can find work.”

  “You are newly arrived in the city?”

  She sighed. “Is it obvious?”

  ‘To me, yes, but that is because of my experience.” He gently guided her back to his carriage, his gold-topped cane tapping with every step. “I am Frederick Belfroy.”

  “Nicola Douglas. I thank you for your help.” She stopped and gave him a brief smile. Slight dizziness remained, but she grew stronger each minute.

  “What is your trade, Miss Douglas?” Mr Belfroy asked, opening the carriage door.

  “Governess, sir, but I can work as a teacher or child’s nurse. I have-I have experience in both.”

  “Do you have a letter of introduction?”

  “Indeed, yes. In my room.” She gestured towards the distant hotel, where, in between the pages of her diary, lay her most important papers. “Do you need a governess or perhaps might know of someone who might?”

  “No, not myself, but I may be able to help you.”

  Hope flooded her and she swayed again. “I can show you my references. I’m honest and loyal and very punctual. I can teach piano and—”

  “Come, come, my dear.” Belfroy gently stayed her urgency. “First things first. Let us find an establishment that offers a refreshing cup of tea. Yes?”

  In a daze she followed, not asking why he helped her and not really caring at the moment.

  “Douglas... A Scot?” He helped her into the carriage before climbing in himself and giving instructions to his driver.

  Nicola relaxed against the dark leather seat. “My grandfather was, yes.”

  “Splendid. The Scottish are fine people. Very hard working. And inventive. I met a man once…”

  His words grew dim as Nicola swayed, blackness threatening to swallow her.

  “Oh I say, Miss Douglas!”

  Her last thought was of Mr Belfroy’s alarmed expression.

  * * *

  Nicola sat stiffly on the iron bed, its white sheets and grey-green blanket pulled so tight, she was worried she might bounce right back off them. Beside her she placed the carpetbag, and at her feet, stood her large trunk. Through the small square window opposite, she looked out over a narrow yard with its own vegetable garden and line of washing at the end. She remembered little of the last hour. Only, that Mr Belfroy had collected her luggage and insisted that she be looked after in his own establishment. The rest of his conversation, of packing her things, moving to this house and being greeted by an older couple had simply gone over her head. She had been guided and led, talked to and fussed over and her mind, which felt like it was stuffed with wool, couldn’t take in any of it.

  Mrs Eldersley, the landlady, had brought up a jug of hot water and a freshly laundered towel before bustling back downstairs. The wash refreshed Nicola but she longed for the bath she had ordered for later. Weeks without a proper bath made her skin itch.

  A knock sounded at the door and it was opened before Nicola gave admittance. Mrs Eldersley hurried in, her thick bulk instantly dwarfing the room. She smiled with motherly wholesomeness.

  “Well, my dear, are you settled yet? At least your colour has returned to your cheeks.” She spoke between puffs while placing a tea tray onto the washstand.

  From her earlier experience downstairs, Nicola knew the older woman didn’t need an answer to her questions.

  “I’ve got a nice pot of tea here for you and some of my pound cake. There’s a good piece of mutton simmering for your dinner,” she continued, pouring the tea and adding a dollop of cream to the cup. “Mr Eldersley is cutting some kindling for your fire, and I’ll have it laid ready for when you have your bath.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Eldersley, you are most kind.”

  The landlady swelled at the compliment. “Well, happen I don’t want my reputation to suffer by not giving a good service.” She heaved up her heavy bosom with her arm and swept a critical glance around the plain but spotless room. “I may not have run a boarding house for long, a mere six months, but I can keep a clean house fit for Queen Victoria herself.”

  Nicola smiled. “I am most fortunate Mr Belfroy brought me here.” The gentleman had proven to be a valuable new friend.

  “Aye, Mr Belfroy is a good man. It was his idea for me to set up a boarding house once my husband’s ill health made me unable to work for him any longer.”

  “Does Mr Belfroy live close by?” Nicola sipped the tea handed to her. It tasted different to that of home, but it was not unpleasant, and like most things she would become used to it.

  “Oh no, dear, he’s on yonder side of the harbour.” Mrs Eldersley flicked at a speck of fluff on the bed’s thin blanket. “Poor man is at a loss since his lovely wife died some months back. She went to the grave taking their newborn son with her. Most tragic.” She shook her head in sadness. “I did think Mr Belfroy would lose his head over the whole incident. She was much younger than him and not of his class, not that he cared, even if others did. Now I believe he thinks he’s too old to try again. You see he saved her, his wife, I mean, saved her from a marriage to a brute of a man. Such a kind soul is Mr Belfroy.”

  The distant sound of the front door bell tinkling brought Mrs Eldersley’s head up with a snap. “I do hope that’s not more ladies arriving. Three left yesterday and with only you here I was hoping for a bit of quiet. Now drink that tea and eat up that cake. Mr Belfroy said you’re nothing but skin and bones and he won’t have it and neither will I.” With a hasty exit she left Nicola alone to the silence of her room.

  After finishing her tea and a piece of cake, Nicola felt better, more able to concentrate. She gazed down at her trunk. Within its age-worn timbers rested her most treasured possessions. The last link she had to her family, her home.

  Reverently, she unlocked the weighty lid and carefully pushed it back until it laid bare her life. The musty odour of the ship’s hulk cloaked the contents. Nicola gently lifted out the top layer of clothes and put them on the bed. She ran her fingertips over the leather bound books stacked in the corner before taking them out and placing them on the floor rug she knelt on. Little boxes of personal items joined the books, along with a pair of supper slippers, her jewellery case, and a small hatbox contai
ning her best black felt hat, her paints, an old sketch book and a pouch of charcoal. In another corner, she picked up her mother’s blue woollen shawl and buried her face into it, trying desperately to smell her mother’s faint lavender scent. Wrapped sheltered in the folds of her father’s handkerchief, she took out the miniature portrait of her parents. Nicola smiled at their familiar faces.

  “Mother, Father,” she whispered. “Well, I am here, on the other side of the world. Who would have thought?” She ran her fingers tenderly over the frame. “It has been a long journey, but I am safe and well. You would have been most interested in all that I’ve seen, Father.” Her gaze shifted to look out the window at the endless blue sky and she imagined her parents looking down on her with pride.

  The clamour of footsteps on the wooden stairs outside her door made Nicola rise from her knees. She began picking up her items when another knock sounded before the door opened again.

  “My dear, Miss Douglas,” Mrs Eldersley hustled in, “let me introduce Miss Robinson.” She pushed in front of her a rosy-cheeked, sparkling-eyed, curly black-haired young woman, who was already laughing at Nicola.

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Douglas,” the newcomer boomed loud enough to make Nicola take a step back in surprise.

  “Likewise, er…Miss Robinson.” Nicola offered her hand and found it pumped up and down.

  “Call me Meg. You just docked have you? Fresh meat and all that, hey?” Meg laughed and picked up Nicola’s sketchbook. “You draw? I just landed in from the bush out west. The countryside here is a God-awful place that is all dust and flies and nothing, miles and miles of nothing. Can you imagine? I couldn’t until I saw it for myself. And then there’s the threat of Bushrangers. A gang of them held up an inn only ten miles from where I was staying. Imagine that.” She put down the sketchbook and picked up a book. “How did you like the voyage? I’ve heard it’s a bothersome bore. I was born here, see, never been to good ole England.”

  Nicola’s head swam as Meg didn’t pause for breath. She turned to Mrs Eldersley for help.

  At once the older woman took the signal. “Come, come, Miss Robinson, I must show you your room.”

  “Lord, yes, I’m near dying from thirst. I’m sure I have swallowed more grit than a camel in a dust storm.” Meg followed their landlady out, but at the door she quickly turned back to Nicola. “See you downstairs for high tea, Miss Douglas.” She put her gloved finger to her lips and gave Nicola a grim look. “What is your first name? I cannot call you Miss Douglas all the time, that would be too tiresome.”

  “Nicola.”

  Meg grinned and her rounded cheeks developed two identical dimples. “That’s a pretty name. It suits you.” She tossed her head and her black curls bounced. “My mother gave me a mouthful of a name and I will never forgive her. Margaret Helen Alice Mary Robinson, can you imagine?” Meg laughed. “She was most put out that at the age of five I insisted on plain Meg.” She sobered for a moment and looked thoughtful. “Mother spent the vast majority of her time and mine being put out over something I had done.” Suddenly the grin returned wider than before. “Still, parents must be disappointed in their children at one time or another, otherwise it spoils their old age, nothing to whine about see!”

  Nicola closed the door on Meg’s laughter. Exhaustion dragged at her bones. She slipped her belongings off the bed and then laid down without taking her ankle boots off. A sigh escaped as she relaxed and snuggled further into the mattress. Images and people fluttered behind her closed eyelids. Meg’s laughter filtered through the walls. Nicola smiled. What on earth would happen to her next?

  Chapter Three

  The wind gusted down the street chasing papers along the gutters. Nicola held onto her black hat with one hand and with her other struggled to hold her parcels. Unable to gather up her skirts, she staggered against the battering gale. Constant cold, windy days grew tedious. Mrs Eldersley mentioned that on this side of the world late August was known for its wind and gales. Privately, Nicola would be glad to see spring, which if she looked closely enough at the trees she could just see the hint of blossom opening.

  Suddenly, she was bumped and jolted to the side as a gentleman exiting a shop knocked into her.

  “Forgive me, please.” He made a small bow to her just as the wind took hold of his hat, sending it trundling off along the paved footpath.

  Nicola turned to watch him chase after it and couldn’t help but chuckle at the spectacle. With a smile on her lips, she continued her journey back to the Eldersley’s Lodging House, which although only a few miles from Cordell’s Hotel, was in a much more influential area on the edge of Double Bay.

  She hoped a letter waited for her on the small table in the hall. Since coming to Eldersley’s she’d had two interviews, but no appointment as yet. For a moment her smile faltered and then disappeared altogether to be replaced by a frown. If there wasn’t a governess role for her at present then she could manage for a few weeks more on the money she brought with her, as Mr Belfroy insisted she pay no rent until she had work, but after that she’d have to find alternative work. So far, she’d managed to sell three of her drawings, two to Mr Belfroy friends and one in Mr Price’s shop. Mr Belfroy suggested that she should send them to England to be sold, but she had no agent and knew no one well enough to trust with such a task.

  Turning up the street, she squinted against the wind to see a gig outside the lodging house. Curiosity made her hurry. Maybe someone had come about the new advertisement she put in the paper two days ago.

  She opened the gate and lightly ran up the path to the front door. The blustery gale helped her to open it and nearly wrenched it out of her hands as she stepped into the hallway. A vase of flowers positioned on the cedar hall table teetered dangerously at the sudden gust and Nicola steadied it before shutting the door and then placing her parcels beside the vase. A quick glance showed no envelopes with her name on them and her spirits plummeted.

  Hearing voices in the front sitting room, she quickly unpinned her hat. Taking off her gloves, she then dropped them on top of her parcels and put a hand to her hair that was beyond help in its present tangled state.

  The door to the sitting room was partially open and with a gentle push Nicola stepped into the room. She paused as Mrs Eldersley stood from the settee where she had been comforting a young woman, who cried into her crumpled handkerchief. Across from them in another chair sat a pale-faced older woman.

  “Oh, Miss Douglas.” Mrs Eldersley looked relieved to have another to share her worry. “Do come in.”

  “I do not wish to intrude…”

  “No, you aren’t. We have two more guests.” Mrs Eldersley indicated to the older woman seated. “Miss Burstall and…” She quickly sat next to the younger one, who broke into fresh sobbing. “And this is Miss Downing.”

  Nicola inclined her head to them both. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Mrs Eldersley heaved to her feet once more, her face creasing into a frown. “Can you sit here a minute, dear? I’ll go and make some tea.”

  Nicola perched by the weeping Miss Downing not knowing whether she should make conversation. One look at Miss Burstall’s hard features made her decide to remain silent for the moment.

  Miss Downing raised her head from her soddened handkerchief. She was very young and pretty with wide blue eyes like a porcelain doll. Nicola smiled.

  Wiping her reddened eyes, Miss Downing shuddered. “I am sorry.”

  “There is no need to be.” Although she had no idea why the young woman cried so dreadfully. Nicola patted her hand and was surprised when the girl grasped hers tightly.

  “I would never have left my home if I thought I’d end up like this.”

  Nicola frowned. “Do not take it to heart, Miss Downing. Many of us are out of work, but I am sure that sooner or later we shall all find suitable situations.”

  “I thought there were plenty of positions out here. I begged my father to let me come to this country, but it was such a mi
stake and now I can never go back.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Two years. I’ve hardly been able to find constant work as a governess, so I’ve worked as a children’s nurse, done some teaching, been a kitchen maid and even lowered myself to-to being a barmaid…” At this, Miss Burstall snorted and pulled her skirts away from them. Miss Downing broke into heart wrenching sobs that frightened Nicola. “And now…and now…”

  “You will find a good situation I am certain.” She looked to Miss Burstall for help, but the other woman merely narrowed her eyes.

  “You…I cannot…not now…Oh, I’m so ashamed.” The girl collapsed into Nicola’s arms just as Mrs Eldersley came in carrying the tea tray.

  “Come, my dear, enough crying.” Mrs Eldersley placed the tray on an occasional table next to Miss Burstall. She crossed to fold Miss Downing into her ample bosom. “Shush now. Here, have some tea.”

  Nicola rose and poured for them all. She glanced at Miss Burstall as she passed her a cup and saucer. The woman’s clothing, a black, plain dress made in serviceable cloth denoted her station in life. “Are you also waiting for a situation, Miss Burstall?”

  The woman quickly looked up with cold brown eyes. “Naturally. Would I be here otherwise?” She declined the cup and stood. “Mrs Eldersley may I go up to my room?”

  “Yes, of course. It’s the second door on the left at the top of the stairs. Shall I bring your tea up for you?”

  “No, thank you.” Miss Burstall’s gaze flickered over the tea service as though it was caked in filth. Head held high, she left them without further comment.

  Hiccupping, Miss Downing stared after her. “I am not one to speak ill of others, but she is such an unbending dragon.”

  Nicola sipped her tea. “You know of her?”

  “We came out together on the same boat through the Scheme. Since then we have seen each other at odd times.”

  “The scheme for governesses, the FMCE Society?”