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5
I
AMY
Millerbrooke House, Millbrooke, NSW
Saturday 14th February, 1885
All afternoon the fierce February heat had kept the two youngwomen indoors, sipping lemonade and wafting silk fans in avain attempt to cool themselves. Even the children had abandoned
their outdoor pursuits and disappeared into the depths of the cellar
where they were busy building a fort from fruit boxes.
I fear I will succumb to the vapours if this heat continues,
sighed Eliza Miller, waving her fan theatrically.
I didnt know you could catch the vapours from the heat, said
Amy Chen, her voice full of anxiety.
Eliza began to laugh. Of course you cant. I was speaking in jest.
There is no such thing as the vapours.
Did you learn that in your studies at the Sorbonne?
Hardly. The professors are men.Then how did you reach such a conclusion?
Have you ever heard of a man having the vapours?
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Deborah OBrien
Of course not. It is a disorder of the feminine constitution.
Piffle! It is an ailment created by physicians to keep us in our
place.Although Amy was inclined to berate Eliza for her use of a curse
word, she really wanted to hear more. Us? she enquired.
Women. They tell us were weak and hysterical. Which is
why we cant be entrusted with the vote. But thats utter twaddle!
The women of this colony are its unsung heroines, the silent
supporters in a world where men claim all the credit.
This time Amy couldnt let the curse pass without a comment.
Eliza! What if the children heard you speaking in such a manner?
They are playing in the cellar. And Josephs dead to the world.Her older brother, who had only just returned from mustering, was
slumped in an armchair, his yellow curls falling over his forehead.
Well, thank goodness for that. I daresay he wouldnt approve of
anything youve said.And what about you, Amy?
Sometimes I think you live in a different world from the rest
of us, Eliza. A strange land where things are upside down and back
to front.
Eliza just smiled. It never hurts to look at things from a different
perspective, you know. Some people around here are far too set in their
ways. She shot a glance at the sleeping Joseph. Beside them a card
table was piled neatly with Sydney newspapers. Eliza took the upper-
most journal and glanced at the headline. Do you think hell escape?
General Gordon? Of course I do. I pray for him every night.
Its odd, isnt it, how an Englishman, besieged in Africa, has
become the focus of attention around the world. Everyone is waiting
with bated breath for the latest news even in little Millbrooke.I dont think its at all odd. General Gordon is the greatest hero
of our time. The entire British Empire is following his story, from
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THE JADEWIDOW
India to Canada to . . . New Zealand. It was the most far-flung
outpost of Empire that she could think of, save for her own country.
Well, I dont think he should have been there in the first place,said Eliza. And why in heavens name did Gordon take it into
his head to stay on and defend Khartoum? Couldnt he see it was a
lost cause?
Keep your voice down, Eliza. You do say the most provoking things.
But Eliza gave her a Sphinx-like smile and began flicking through
the pages of the newspaper. As the clock struck five, the first hint of
a breeze fluttered at the muslin curtains. Amy noticed it before the
others. Born in Scotland thirty years earlier, she had never really
become accustomed to Australian summers, even though she had
spent the past two decades in New South Wales. The cool change
has arrived at last, she said, rising from the chesterfield and moving
towards the French doors leading to the verandah.
Its your imagination, said Eliza, who nonetheless proceededto the glass doors and opened one to see for herself. I think youre
right, she added after a moment. Come on, we shall take tea on the
verandah, and Joseph and the children can play cricket on the lawn.
Its still too hot for cricket, protested Amy. They will surely
succumb to heat stroke.
Dont be such a spoilsport, Amy, said Eliza, giving her friends
arm a gentle nudge. In a years time, I shall be a doctor. I wouldnt
allow them outside if I thought theyd become ill.
Amy continued to look doubtful. Lets wait until the tempera-
ture drops. They will have a couple of hours of daylight even then.
Amy moved to the verandah and took a seat overlooking the
circular memory garden she had planted in remembrance of her
husband, Charles, who had grown up at Millerbrooke House afterhis father died in an accident on the gold diggings. Every plant
had been chosen for its significance. In the centre was a small bay
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Deborah OBrien
tree which had survived the last eleven summers, even the year a
severe heatwave turned its leaves brown, making it appear dead.
Just as the gardener was about to pull it out, he had noticed tinygreen shoots. No wonder it was considered a symbol of resurrection
and renewal, Amy had thought when he showed her the buds. At
its base was a leafy mass of chrysanthemums, the Chinese flower
of mourning. Around them Amy had planted violets, her favou-
rite flower; she had been wearing its perfume the first time Charles
had held her in his arms. The outer circle was filled with pansies
for thoughts, hearts ease for comfort, and tiny forget-me-nots.
Everything bloomed at different times, but in Amys imagination
she saw Charless garden as a ring that flowered eternally.
Beyond the flower plots and verdant lawns, the paddocks were
burnt brown by the summer weather. Some two miles away she
could make out the town of Millbrooke, its church spires shining
in the afternoon light. Although she tried to identify the red ironroof of the store that she owned jointly with her brother-in-law, it
was impossible to distinguish it from the other buildings in the main
street. Her house in Paterson Street was obscured by a screen of
eucalypt trees. As she gazed towards the east, she spotted a cloud
of dust about a quarter of a mile away.
Are you expecting anyone, Eliza? she asked her friend who had
joined her on the verandah.
Not today.
Well, theres somebody riding up the road from town. Do you
think it might be your father?
Hes not expected back until tomorrow morning, Eliza replied,
peering into the bright sunlight.
Oblivious to the conversation on the verandah, Joseph contin-ued to recline in the armchair, snoring so loudly they could hear
him through the open door.
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THE JADEWIDOW
Id better tell Mama we have a visitor, said Eliza. She wouldnt
want to be caught unawares. Elizas mother, Charlotte, was taking
a cold bath in the newly completed bathroom.Amy could almost smell the dust now, rising from the road
leading into Millerbrooke. Suddenly a horse and sulky came over
the rise. Its Papa, she cried. He must have returned on the after-
noon train.
At the sound of her voice, the children emerged from the cellar
and raced down the drive to greet their grandfather.
Charlie, Amy called to her son, who had been named for her
husband, dont inhale that dust. It will give you bronchitis.
But eleven-year-old Charlie and his nine-year-old cousin James
had already reached the sulky. So had the stable boy, who helped
John Miller to dismount and then led the horse and sulky towards
the barn.
By now Eliza and Joseph had appeared from the house to greettheir father. Meanwhile Charlie and James were carrying his heavy
Gladstone bag between them.
What brought you home so early, Papa? asked Eliza, giving him
a kiss on the cheek.
John Miller removed his top hat and shook his head wearily.
Theres been some bad news.
Not Daniel? asked Eliza anxiously. Her brother, Daniel, was a
captain in the regiment at Paddington Barracks.
No, he is hale and hearty. And so is your Aunt Molly, he said,
smiling in Amys direction. It is not someone we know, yet he has
been close to all our hearts. As he spoke, John Miller waved a
rolled newspaper in front of them. Let us take tea and I shall tell
you what has happened.Having been reassured that all was well with her family members in
Sydney, Amy could hardly wait to hear the unravelling of the mystery.
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Deborah OBrien
Do come and sit on the verandah, Papa, she said. He wasnt her
father. Not even her father-in-law. Not in the literal sense. Yet he
felt more like a father to her than the Reverend Matthew Duncanhad ever been.After her marriage to Chinese merchant, CharlesChen, the clergyman had shunned them both. John Miller, on the
other hand, had welcomed his foster sons bride as one of his own.
That was his nature.
They settled on the verandah and Matilda, the maid, brought
a tray with tea for the adults and glasses of lemonade for the children,
as well as a cake stand laden with jam kisses and fruit cake. John
Miller unrolled the newspaper and began to read aloud.
Via submarine cable. Today the world mourns the death of
Major-General Charles George Gordon C. B. R. E. who was stabbed
and killed on 26th January during the fall of Khartoum.
There were gasps of shock. Amy placed her hand over her
mouth, while Joseph shook his head in disbelief.Reports suggest the attack took place on the steps of General
Gordons palace and that his head was carried on a pike through
the streets.
As John Millers voice faltered, he laid the newspaper solemnly on
the wicker table. Even the children were silent. Finally Joseph spoke:
How appalling! Far worse than the killing of Nelson at Trafalgar.
Its a terrible blow, said Amy softly.
He should have pulled out before things became irrevocable,
said Eliza.
Her father shot her a warning look. There has been a huge out-
pouring of grief in Sydney, he said, swiftly changing the subject.
It is almost as though our dear Queen had passed away.
At that moment Charlotte Miller appeared in the doorway,dressed in a crisp muslin gown, her damp hair pulled into a bun.
John rose and kissed her on the cheek.
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THE JADEWIDOW
Daniel sends you his love, he said, offering her a seat.
Did I hear you say the Queen has died? she asked, her face
turning white as chalk.No, my dear, he replied, taking her hand. Nothing quite
so dreadful, but it is a calamity nonetheless. General Gordon has
been killed.
Oh my goodness, said Charlotte. I cant quite believe it.
Eliza poured her mother a strong cup of tea and added extra sugar.
None of us can, said John. Though I suppose we should
have been steeling ourselves for the worst. Things did look
dreadfully bleak once the General was besieged by the rebels. All
the same, its a tragedy that Mr Gladstone waited so long to send the
relief force.
It wasnt Mr Gladstones fault, interjected Eliza. He didnt
want to be involved in the first place.
John Miller frowned but didnt admonish her.If only Sir Charles Wilson and his regiment had arrived in
time, said Amy, referring to their ill-fated attempt to steam up the
Nile and rout the rebel forces.
They found themselves in a perilous position, said John Miller,
being shot at from the banks by enemy troops. The only positive
occurrence in this sorry tale is their rescue by Captain Lord Beresford.
What has happened to the garrison General Gordon was
commanding? Eliza asked. Thousands of Egyptian troops, not
to mention the loyal local soldiers. Do you think they managed to
escape?
I fear not, said her father.
Then that is surely the greater tragedy. Why are we concentrat-
ing on one English general and ignoring the others?How dare you ask such a question! said Joseph, rising from
his seat and pacing back and forth. The Generals murder is an
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Deborah OBrien
abomination. And his killers are an evil, dark-skinned rabble. No
gentleman would act like that.
You should not judge them by the colour of their skin, saidAmy quietly.
Are you taking their side? asked Joseph.
Of course not. I am only recalling the false judgements made
about my own husband on the basis of his skin colour.
Charles was a true gentleman, Amy. If I have offended you,
I apologise. I did not intend to draw any parallel between Charles
and the Generals assassins.
I accept your apology, she said. I think we are all a little
emotional in the light of this dreadful news.
Meanwhile, the two boys had retreated to the lawn where they
were acting out the beheading of General Gordon.
I shall put a stop to their disrespectful behaviour, said Amy,
standing up and making for the steps.Leave them, Amy, said John Miller. They are just play-acting.
They do not understand the significance of this event.
Off with his head! cried Charlie as he swooped towards James
with a dead branch from a tree palm.
Amy flinched at his words.
Its just a line fromAlices Adventures in Wonderland, said Eliza.
I was reading it to them only last weekend. They loved the scene
with the Queen of Hearts.
Amy was about to offer a retort when she remembered her
childhood obsession with A Thousand and One Nights, a collec-
tion of thrilling tales in which the villains often met a grisly end.
Instead, she picked up the newspaper and examined the engraving
of General Gordon accompanying the article. After a moment shesaid, He was a fine style of a man, wasnt he? A great hero. He will
be sorely missed.
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THE JADEWIDOW
His death must be avenged, said Joseph. These murderers
cannot go unpunished.
I suspect they will soon feel the full power of the BritishEmpire, said John. Before I left Sydney I heard that the New
South Wales government, under the auspices of the Colonial
Secretary, has already tendered military aid. They are awaiting
word from London. Should theImperial Cabinet give its consent,our government intends to despatch a contingent at the earliest
possible date.
Charlotte turned pale. Does that mean Daniel may be required
to go to the Soudan?
If he is called to serve, it is his duty, replied her husband.
But why should we send troops to a foreign land halfway across
the world? Eliza asked. And what help can they be now? General
Gordon is dead. We cannot bring him back. It is too late.
It is never too late to avenge a murderous deed, said Joseph, orto quell the insurgents.
But what of Daniel? asked Charlotte, wringing her hands.
When he joined the army, I never imagined he would have to leave
these shores and fight overseas.
There has to be a first time. And he is keen to serve his Queen
and Empire, said John. It is a noble cause.
It may well be noble to lament General Gordons death, Eliza
interjected, but to seek vengeance is something altogether differ-
ent. Anyway, its not our cause.
Dear sister, said Joseph, I beg to differ. As a member of the
weaker sex, you cannot possibly understand a mans need to defend
his countrymen.
Countrymen? But this is our country, said Eliza, waving her handtowards the distant purple hills. Right here under the Southern
Cross. And nobody is attacking us.
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Deborah OBrien
We are British first and foremost, replied Joseph. And the
murder of General Gordon is an attack on all of us.
I was born in this colony and so were you, Joseph. I dont seehow you can call yourself British.
Josephs sun-browned face was turning puce. Dont ever say
anything like that outside this family, Eliza Miller. People will
denounce you as a traitor to the British race.
Now stop arguing, the two of you, said their father. Daniel will
do what he is ordered to do. And for my part, I want to see these
rebels defeated. Then at least General Gordon will not have died in
vain. And I am sorry, my dear, he said, turning towards Charlotte,
but in joining the army, Daniel understood it wouldnt always be
about parades, dress uniforms and regimental balls.
John Millers words signalled an end to the debate. He comman-
deered Joseph and the boys for a game of cricket on the lawn while
the ladies remained in the shade of the verandah.For Amy, the conversation had presented a dilemma. On the
one hand, she revered General Gordon. He had long been her hero,
together with Admiral Nelson and General Washington. In her
china cabinet, alongside the blue and white porcelain and the jade
statues, stood Staffordshire figures of the two long departed leaders.
All the same, she felt sympathy for Charlotte, a mother whose son
might soon be heading to Africa to face an enemy who appeared to
possess no sense of gallantry. Was the defence of the British Empire
and the desire for vengeance really so important that the govern-
ment would risk sending their troops to face possible death?
Amy had witnessed the precariousness of life and the tragedy of
loss when her husband of two months developed a cough and died
two days later of diphtheria. Charlotte knew it too, having lost twochildren in infancy to the same hateful disease, and her foster son
some twenty years later. Didnt Joseph realise that his mother was
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THE JADEWIDOW
in dread of losing another child? How could he place Queen and
Empire before all else?
As for Eliza and her talk about the Southern Cross, Amycouldnt help smiling. Eliza was all for the union of the colonies
and a great supporter of the former Premier, Sir Henry Parkes, who
was now languishing in retirement. But her favourite cause was
the fledgling suffragette movement. Ever since her return from
France, she had been corresponding with Rose Scott, a country girl
by birth, who now lived in Sydney, where she maintained a fash-
ionable salon for poets, journalists and politicians. Like Eliza, she
dreamed of forming a right-to-vote league for womanhood. When
Joseph had referred to ladies as the weaker sex, it was a wonder
Eliza hadnt given him a swift jab in the ribs.
There were times when Amy was drawn to the topsy-turvy
world that Eliza espoused, where women were able to vote and Aus-
tralia was one nation. Then again, it might be like falling downAlices rabbit hole to a place where no one understood the rules
and chaos reigned. Amy knew all too well the dangers of breaking
rules. Everything might seem wonderful for a while, but eventually
you would be punished. In her own case, the punishment had come
swiftly and horribly. Better to leave Wonderland to Alice and abide
by the established conventions.
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