A Changing Land(93)

It was a well known Sydney matron who whispered sweetly behind the sanctity of her fan at a ball one evening:

Your husband is most charming, Mrs Gordon. I must compliment you on subduing the brigand of New South Wales.

It was such a short statement, yet that one word carried so much potency that Claire would never forget it. And so she had made Hamish promise that however he accrued his fortune, henceforth she wished to hold her head high in public. Indeed they both did the following year when, at the introduction of the doyenne of society, Mrs Oscar Crawford, they were invited to Government House. To Claire’s mind the Gordons’ rise in society had taken far too long; however, having been taken under the rather ample arm of Mrs Crawford, their place would not be rescinded. Yet it came too late to be enjoyed for any length of time. Hamish had drifted apart from her. Although they played at their relationship, only in appearance were they successful. In truth she was like a cat scrabbling with an inanimate toy.

‘Things have been good for the family, Luke. I don’t want anything to jeopardise everything I’ve worked for.’

Luke slipped their horses reins about the smooth railing and, tying a loose knot, joined Claire in one of the wicker chairs ‘You think Hamish has something on his mind apart from the purchase of Crawford Corner?’

‘Crawford Corner?’

At Claire’s repetition of the property name Luke faltered. ‘You didn’t know?’

‘No,’ she replied, smoothing her skirt over her clammy knees. She undid the row of buttons on the jacket of her riding habit, would have escaped to the coolness of her room had she not realised how desperately alone she felt. She’d done her best at being his wife. Rarely had she earned his scorn, except perhaps in the matter of child-bearing. What was it about his man she’d entrusted her love to?

Luke poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the table, replacing the doily over the top of it to keep the flies out. ‘He has always been changeable in character. You know this. The wonder of it is that you have been happy for so long and for the last ten years or so he has behaved himself.’

‘In matters of business?’

‘Look, the mail has arrived,’ Luke diverted. Knowing the delight Claire received from a newspaper or fashion catalogue, he passed her the bundle sitting on the wicker table. As she sorted through the pile he considered telling her of his plans, of sharing his excitement of his proposed new life in Ridge Gully.

‘Luke, there is one for you.’

The letter was addressed in handwriting unknown to him, although the address given was that of Ridge Gully. He peered closely at the cramped writing, deciphering the name Shaw-Michaels. His chest tightened with excitement. This then was the news of his new life. At the thought he looked across at Claire.

‘They expect Deakin to be elected prime minister again,’ read Claire from the newspaper headlines. ‘Oh, and Dame Nellie Melba is planning on giving a series of concerts this year.’

He sat forward in his chair, opened the envelope. There were two letters inside.




May God bless you, Luke,





Although we have never met I imagine you strong and fierce like your father and perhaps a little soft like my daughter, your mother, Rose.





Luke glanced down at the signature. It was from his grandmother, his dead grandmother.

‘And what do you think about this, Luke, the government of New South Wales is thinking about reintroducing assisted migration.’




I’ve not been one for travelling nor correspondence so you must forgive me that, as I forgive you. The doctor tells me I’ve not much time though I doubt his knowledge for it only comes from a book and I’ve never placed great store in another’s words. Still if the learned man is right then I best have my affairs in order. It is important for me to safeguard that which was manufactured by my own hands and you have your own responsibilities. Your father is in agreement.





My Rose and the little ones departed this life so long ago, God bless them. Visit your mother’s grave for me, say a prayer lad, say good-bye,





Your loving grandmother





Luke reread the contents before reading a second letter from his grandmother’s solicitor. He had been left out of her will. The entire amount had gone to some acquaintance of his grandmother’s. Stunned, he reread her letter again. Your father is in agreement.