23
Alicia Hall
Victoria Avenue
Adelaide
5th June 1912
My dear Kitty,
It is with a heavy heart that I write to you, because you alone can imagine the joy I felt when I received Andrew’s telegram from Broome telling me the miraculous news of his survival.
My dear, you are the only other soul I know who truly understands what it is like to go through the gamut of emotions I have suffered in the past few weeks. In truth, for days after the tragedy, I struggled to find a reason to go on. My entire world was lost to me in the space of a few hours, but thankfully I had the Lord.
To have Andrew return to us was a miracle that we could hardly have hoped to receive. But receive it we did, although, as I said above, it will not be on a happy note that I end this letter.
I was fully expecting Andrew to visit me here in Adelaide so that I could see my precious son with my own eyes. Yet, yesterday I received a visit from Mr Angus, the family solicitor, to say that Andrew had been to see him and had asked him to pass on a letter he had written to me. According to Mr Angus, it seems that the blow of losing both his father and brother on a voyage that Andrew himself was meant to take has affected him deeply. He carries dreadful guilt that he still walks the earth while they have been taken. Dear Kitty, perhaps the shock has been simply too much for him, for Mr Angus inferred that he did not seem to have his full faculties and seemed quite unlike himself.
Andrew asked Mr Angus to tell me – and you – that he has decided to go away to recover. To put himself back together, if you will. I only wish he had come to me in person as I would have entreated him to stay. There are many good doctors who can help with a nervous collapse – he always was highly strung as a child – but Andrew apparently insisted he needed to do it alone. He also asked Mr Angus to beg your forgiveness for deserting you so soon after he was returned, but he did not wish to inflict his confused state of mind on you.
I wish I could provide comfort by telling you when he will return to us, but he gave Mr Angus no indication. He also – although I believe it was madness to do so – insisted on putting all the Mercer business interests into a trust for Charlie. Mr Angus brought the documents round to show me and it was quite dreadful to see that the signature hardly resembled Andrew’s at all. If Andrew has not returned, the businesses will pass to Charlie when he is twenty-one.
In Andrew’s letter, he tells me he visited Noel Donovan before he left Broome and told him of his decision. Mr Donovan is a capable man and will no doubt run the business efficiently. Andrew has also made you, Kitty, the sole executor of Charlie’s trust. Again, I queried his decision – the responsibility places a heavy burden upon you – but Andrew tells me he trusts your judgement implicitly.
I should also mention that when Mr Angus read out the wills of my beloved husband and Drummond, made only a few weeks previously when they were here in Adelaide, Charlie’s dear uncle had also endowed his nephew with all his worldly goods, which means that our beloved boy is the soul heir to the Mercer fortune. What a weight lies on his young shoulders, but as it stands, there is nothing we women can do to alter Andrew’s wishes. His letter asked me to assure you that a sizeable monthly sum will be deposited into your Broome account from the trust, which will amply cover your living costs. I realise, however, that it is but cold comfort in the face of – for now at least – losing your husband once more.
Dear Kitty, I am sure that this will come as another shock to your already battered nerves. I beg you to consider bringing yourself and my grandson back to live at Alicia Hall, so we can take comfort and strength from each other as we ride out this new storm.
All we can do is pray for Andrew and his swift return.
Please let me know of your decision forthwith.
Edith
Kitty put down the letter, feeling cold beads of sweat break out over her body and bile rise to her throat, before running to the basin in her bedroom and vomiting into it. Wiping her mouth and face with a towel, she carried the basin to the privy and emptied it into the bowl, as if she was discarding the last, poisonous entrails of Drummond’s deception. Camira found her washing out the bowl in the kitchen.
‘You bin sick again, Missus Kitty? You ill? I gettum doctor fella come and see you. Skin an’ bone, that what you are,’ she clucked as she filled a cup from a pitcher of water and handed it to Kitty.
‘Thank you. I am fine, really.’
‘You look in dat mirror lately, Missus Kitty? You like-a spirit.’
‘Camira, where is Charlie?’
‘In hut with Cat.’
‘Then I must tell you that Mister Boss has gone away for a while.’
Camira eyed her suspiciously. ‘Which “Mister Boss”?’
‘Andrew – my husband, of course.’
‘Maybe for best.’ Camira nodded knowingly. ‘Me an’ Fred takem care of you an’ Charlie. Dem men’ – Camira’s eyebrows drew together – ‘makem big trouble.’
‘They certainly do.’ Kitty smiled weakly at Camira’s understatement.
‘Missus Kitty, I . . .’
Charlie and Cat arrived at the kitchen door, and Camira sighed and said no more.
That afternoon, Kitty sat on the veranda and reread her mother-in-law’s letter. Given that Drummond had sent a telegram to say that ‘Andrew’ had survived, Kitty supposed Drummond had had little alternative but to carry his charade through until the end. At least he had kept his promise to her and disappeared. She was particularly moved by the fact that, before any of this had happened, Drummond had already left all that was his to Charlie in his will.
Now that her initial horror had abated, Kitty knew she was in danger of wishing she had never acted in such haste. First had come anger, then sorrow and finally regret. During the long, achingly lonely nights, Kitty agonised over whether she should have allowed some time to let the dust settle. Now it was too late – Drummond had gone forever as she had asked him to.
Having mourned him once, she now had to mourn him again.
Charlie hardly raised a glance when he was told ‘Papa’ had gone away again on business. Having become used to Andrew’s absences, and involved as he was in his own childish world of make-believe with Cat, he accepted it without rancour. Heartbreakingly, Charlie talked far more of ‘Uncle Drum’.
‘I know he went up to heaven ’cos God wanted him, but we miss his games, don’t we, Cat?’
‘Yes, we do,’ Cat nodded solemnly.
Kitty smiled at the little girl’s speech. Kitty had spoken to her in English from birth and she even knew a little German too. She was a lovely child: polite, well-mannered and the apple of her mother’s eye. Yet Kitty wondered what Cat’s future could hold. For, despite her beauty and intelligence, she was a half-caste child; an outcast to both her parents’ cultures, and therefore at the mercy of the society that currently ruled them.
Kitty slid open the drawer in her writing desk to write to Edith and refuse her offer of a home for her and Charlie at Alicia Hall. Even though she was aware of how challenging it would be to stay in Broome as a widow, at least she had her independence here. Perhaps, she thought, she might take Charlie to Scotland in the next few weeks to meet his family and decide whether to return there permanently.
Her fingers felt the coolness of the brass key that unlocked the secret drawer. Amidst the chaos of her emotions, she had forgotten about the pearl that Drummond had given her just before he’d left. She unlocked the drawer, pulled out the box and opened its lid. And there it sat, shining in the light, its magnificent pink sheen and size marking it out as a pearl of great worth. Any malevolence it was reputed to hold was deeply hidden in the grain of sand that had given birth to its luminous beauty. Like the evil but beautiful queen of childhood fairy tales, its outer shell gave no hint of what it hid at its core.
Heeding Drummond’s warning not to touch it and never to ‘own’ it, Kitty put it down and paced the room. In one sense, it was Andrew’s last gift to her and should be put on display round her neck and treasured. On the other hand, if Drummond was right, a deadly curse was attached to it.
There was a knock on the door.
‘Come,’ called Kitty, still thinking.
‘Missus Kitty, dem children, they restless and say to me an’ Fred they want to run on beach. I . . .’ Camira’s glance fell on the pearl and her black eyebrows drew together. ‘Missus Kitty, you nottum touch that!’ Camira mumbled some words to herself and dragged her eyes away as a shaft of sunlight sent sparkles reflecting off the pearl. ‘Closem box! Now! Do not look, Missus Kitty! Closem box!’
Automatically, Kitty did as she was bid as Camira unfastened the window behind the desk.
‘Dun worry, Missus Kitty, I savem you.’ Muttering further incomprehensible words as Kitty looked on in astonishment, Camira drew a handful of her muslin skirt into her palm, swiped at the box and hurled it through the open window.
‘What on earth are you doing?! That pearl is valuable, Camira! Extremely valuable. What if we cannot find it?’ Kitty craned her neck out of the window.
‘I see it,’ Camira said, pointing to where the box had fallen. ‘Missus Kitty, you no sella dat pearl. No takem money for it. Understand?’
‘My . . . husband mentioned the curse that was attached to it, but surely that’s just an old wives’ tale?’
‘Then you tellum me why Mister Boss now dead? And many before him.’
‘You mean, Mister Drum, Camira,’ she corrected sharply. ‘Missus Kitty,’ she said with a sigh, ‘I knowum dem fellas from each other, even if you don’t.’
‘I . . .’ Kitty realised there was no point attempting to keep up the charade as far as Camira was concerned. ‘You believe in the curse?’
‘The spirits find greedy men and killem them. I can feel dem bad spirits around that box. I tellum Mister Drum no good.’
‘What do you suggest I do with it, if I can’t sell it, Camira? Apart from the fact it was my last present from Andrew, it is worth a fortune. I can hardly just throw it into the rubbish.’
‘You give to me. I takem box away so no harm comin’.’
‘Where?’ Kitty’s eyes narrowed for a second, thinking that, however much she loved and trusted Camira, the girl was poor and the pearl was worth a whole new life to her and her child.
Camira studied her expression and, as usual, read her thoughts. ‘You keepum that bad cursed pearl, an’ you sell for money from the big rich fella, an’ Charlie orphan in three months.’ She crossed her arms and looked away.
‘All right,’ Kitty agreed. After all, she hardly needed the money and nor did her son. ‘It’s brought the most dreadful luck to all of us. If I was to believe in the curse myself, I might say that it has destroyed our family.’ Kitty swallowed hard and eyed Camira. ‘Maybe the sooner it’s gone, we can all begin to breathe again.’
‘Fred takem me to place he know. Me n’ Cat go for one day with him.’ Camira walked towards the door. ‘Best thing, Missus Kitty. Putta bad thing where it can’t do no harm.’
‘You make sure it doesn’t. Thank you, Camira.’
* * *
A few days later, Kitty had a visit from Noel Donovan.
‘Forgive me for intruding again, Mrs Mercer, and at such a difficult time for your family, but I am sure ye’ll be knowing that your husband has placed the running of the Mercer Pearling Company into my hands until either he returns, or little Charlie comes of age.’
‘Let us pray it will be the former,’ Kitty replied.
‘Of course, and I’ll not be doubting it. Such a difficult time for ye, Mrs Mercer. Me own family lost ten in the potato famine last century. That’s what brought what was left of us here. There’s many a man and woman who’s arrived on these shores through tragedy.’
‘I did not arrive with it, but it seems to have followed me here,’ Kitty said brusquely. ‘Now, Mr Donovan, what can I do for you?’
‘Well, the thing is that you’d be the closest to knowing what was going through Andrew’s mind. And I’m wondering if ye know exactly when he’ll be back?’
‘He gave me no indication, Mr Donovan.’
‘Did he not talk over your supper table as my missus and I tend to?’ Noel continued to press her. ‘If anyone knows his thoughts on the future of the business, t’would be you.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Some deeper instinct in Kitty told her to answer in the affirmative. ‘Before his departure, we spoke of many things.’
‘Then ye’ll be aware that your husband removed twenty thousand pounds from the company bank account only a few days before he died?’
Kitty’s stomach plummeted as she realised what Andrew had almost certainly used the money for. ‘Yes. What of it?’
‘Perhaps t’was for a new lugger?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘And would ye be knowing who was building it? There seems to be no record in the ledgers.’
‘I’m afraid not, although I believe it was a company in England.’
‘Could well be. The fact remains, Mrs Mercer, that we lost three luggers in the cyclone. I’m thanking God t’was the lay-up season, or t’would surely have been more. The problem is that, combined with the deficit of twenty thousand pounds, it means that we’re running a substantial overdraft with the bank.’
‘Are we really?’ Although Kitty was shocked, she did not show her surprise. ‘Surely the debt can be repaid over an agreed period of time, while the company recovers from its loss?’
‘Twenty thousand pounds and three luggers down is a lot to recover from, Mrs Mercer. Even with a good haul in the coming months, I’d say t’would take us a good three years to pay it off before we’re back into profit. Unless, of course, we strike lucky . . .’ Noel’s voice trailed off and she read the concern on his normally placid features.
‘I see.’
‘And the other problem we have, if ye don’t mind me saying so, is that morale amongst the crew’s low. ’Tis the double loss, see. However hard your husband worked, many of them would still be seeing Mr Stefan as the boss. As it is, with Mr Andrew absent, some of our best men are being lured into taking offers from other companies. Only yesterday, Ichitaro, our most experienced diver, told me that he and his tender were off to work for the Rubin company. ’Tis a huge blow, and will only encourage other men to do the same.’
‘I understand completely, Mr Donovan. It is indeed a very concerning situation.’
‘Well now.’ Noel stood up. ‘Here’s me bothering you about business at a time when ye yerself have lost so much. I’ll be on me way.’
‘Mr Donovan.’ Kitty also stood. ‘It seems to me that, as you say, the men are dispirited and without a leader. Perhaps it might be a good idea if I came down to the office and spoke to them? Explained that the Mercer Pearling Company is still very much a going concern, and that there is no cause for alarm?’
Noel looked doubtful. ‘I’d say that – without wishing to offend you, Mrs Mercer – I’m not sure they’d be listening to a woman.’
‘Do men not listen to their wives or take comfort from them at home?’ Kitty retaliated and Noel blushed.
‘Well now, maybe ye are right. And I can’t say as t’would do harm. Our luggers are due out the day after tomorrow. We’ve been delayed by trying to find replacement crew.’
‘Have you yet paid those men who have said they are leaving?’
‘No. They’ll be coming in for their final wages in the morning.’
‘Then please gather together as many crew as you can drag out of the bars and whorehouses and tell them that the new boss of the Mercer Pearling Company wishes to address them all at eleven o’clock tomorrow.’
Noel raised an eyebrow. ‘Are ye telling me, Mrs Mercer, that Andrew has handed the business over to you?’
‘In essence, yes. I am executor of the trust in which the business is currently held, so I am the closest thing to a “boss” there is.’
‘Well now, there’s a thing. I warn ye, Mrs Mercer, they’re a motley crew, so they are, and they’ll all be expecting a man.’
‘I have lived in Broome for five years, Mr Donovan, and I am hardly unaware of that. I will see you tomorrow at eleven o’clock sharp.’ Kitty went to the drawer in her writing bureau and counted out a stack of Australian pound notes. ‘Go to Yamasaki and Mise and buy twenty-four bottles of their best champagne.’
‘Are you sure ’tis sensible, Mrs Mercer, given the company’s finances?’
‘This is not the company’s money, Mr Donovan. It is mine.’
‘Well now.’ Noel pocketed the money and offered her a smile. ‘I’d say that one way or another, our employees are in for a grand shock altogether.’
When Noel had left, Kitty called for Fred to take her into town. She walked into Wing Hing Loong’s tailoring shop and asked whether he could run her up a long-sleeved bodice and skirt in the white cotton drill used for the pearling masters’ suits. The bodice was to have five large pearl buttons, which fastened at the front, and a mandarin collar. Having offered double the normal cost to make sure that the garments would be ready for collection at nine the following morning, she returned home and spent the afternoon pacing the drawing room to think what she would say when she addressed the men. At a loss, and wondering if she was completely mad to do this, she remembered her father standing in the pulpit each Sunday. She had often watched the crowd mesmerised, not by his words, but by the sheer strength of his belief in them, and his undoubted charisma.
It’s worth a try for Andrew, for Charlie and for Drummond, she told herself, as an idea suddenly came to her.
* * *
Kitty studied her image in the looking glass the following morning. She fastened on the small gold chain taken from Andrew’s pristine white jacket, which was the symbol of a master pearler. She picked up the white pith helmet, put it on her head and chuckled at her reflection. Maybe it was a little too much, but nevertheless, she stowed it by Andrew’s leather case, which he had used to transfer his papers between office and home.
Taking one last glance at her reflection, she drew in a deep breath.
‘Kitty McBride, you were not born your father’s daughter for nothing . . .’
* * *
‘Gentlemen,’ Kitty began as she looked down at the sea of male faces below her, wondering briefly how many different nationalities she was addressing. Japanese, Malay, Koepanger, and a slew of whiter faces peppered amongst them. She could see some of them were already sniggering and whispering to each other.
‘First of all, I wish to introduce myself to those of you who do not know me. My name is Katherine Mercer, and I am the wife of Mr Andrew Mercer. Due to the recent loss of his father and brother, Mr Mercer has been forced to take a leave of absence from Broome to deal with our family’s affairs. I hope we would all wish him well on his travels, and pray for him to find the strength to deal with such matters at a difficult time for him personally.’
Kitty heard a slight quaver in her voice as she repeated the lie.
No sign of weakness, Kitty, they’ll smell it a mile off . . .
‘While he is absent, he has asked me to act in his stead, ably assisted by Mr Noel Donovan, who will continue to run the business day to day.’
She saw a number of raised eyebrows and heard whispers of protest from the audience. She garnered every ounce of strength she possessed to carry on.
‘Gentlemen, I have recently heard rumours in the town that the Mercer Pearling Company is struggling financially, due to the loss of three of our luggers in the cyclone. Some have claimed we may well go out of business. I am sure it is none of you here today that would have been so heartless as to spread such rumours given the tragedy that has beset not just our family, but the entire town of Broome. And that each and every one of you remember fondly the man who began all this originally, Mr Stefan Mercer. The Mercer Pearling Company is one of the oldest and most well established in our town and has provided many of you with an income for yourselves, your wives and your children.
‘I am here to tell you that the rumours of financial trouble are completely unfounded. They have been put about by those who are jealous of our heritage and would wish us to fail. The Mercer empire is one of the wealthiest and most successful in Australia and I can assure every man here that there is no shortage of cash, either in the pearling company, or on a wider scale. As of this morning, Mr Donovan and I have signed a contract for three new luggers to be built. We hope to add a further two by the end of the year.’
Kitty took a breath and gauged the pulse of her audience. Some men had turned to a neighbour to translate what she was saying. Many were nodding in surprise.
I nearly have them . . .
‘Rather than the business collapsing, on the contrary, we will be looking to recruit the best men in Broome to join us in the next few months. My own and my husband’s wish is to continue to make the Mercer Pearling Company the greatest in the world.’
At this, a few cheers came up from the men which gave Kitty the courage to continue.
‘I accept that some of you here today have already decided to move on. You shall of course be paid whatever is due to you. If you wish to reconsider and stay, you will receive the ten per cent bonus on your wages that Mr Stefan Mercer requested for all his staff in his will.
‘Gentlemen, on behalf of the Mercer family, I beg your forgiveness for the uncertainty that has beset you in the past few weeks. And your understanding that we, amongst so many families here in Broome, have struggled with the loss we have been dealt. Some of you will also doubt the capabilities of a female caretaker. Yet, I beg you to look to the women in your own family and admit their strengths. They run your households, no doubt the family accounts, and juggle the needs of many. I may not outwardly show the strength or the courage to ride the ocean that every one of you displays day after day, but I have a heart full of both. And the blessing of my dear departed father-in-law and my husband, to steer the Mercer Pearling Company into the future.’
Trying not to pant with emotion and stress, Kitty looked down at her audience, and saw they were silent now, straining to catch every word she spoke. As per her request, trays of glasses containing champagne were being distributed around the room. Noel appeared beside her and offered her a glass, which she took.
‘Tomorrow, I will be on the dock to wave those of you who are still with us off to sea. To wish you good fortune and pray for a safe harbour on your return. Finally, I would like us all to raise our glasses to all the men that were lost to us in the recent cyclone. And particularly to our founder, Mr Stefan Mercer.’ Kitty raised her glass. ‘To Stefan!’
‘To Stefan,’ the men chorused as Kitty took a gulp of champagne with them.
Another silence, then someone from the audience shouted, ‘Three cheers for Mrs Mercer. Hip hip!’
‘Hooray!’
‘Hip hip!’
‘Hooray!’
‘Hip hip!’
‘Hooray!’
Kitty staggered slightly and felt a strong arm go about her as Noel helped her into a chair to the side of the warehouse and she sat down gratefully.
‘That was some speech ye gave there,’ he said as they watched the men having their glasses refilled and beginning to talk amongst themselves. ‘Even I was convinced,’ he whispered to her with a smile. ‘I’d doubt there was a man amongst them that wasn’t. Though the Lord alone knows how we’ll pay for the promises ye’ve just made.’
‘We have to find a way, Noel,’ she told him, ‘and find a way we will.’
‘Ye look exhausted, Mrs Mercer. Why don’t ye be off home now and rest? Ye’ve done your bit here, and that’s for sure. Now they’ll be wanting to drain their glasses and get their money, including the bonus you offered them, and, Mrs Mercer, the accounts are drained already . . .’
‘I have the extra amount with me,’ Kitty said firmly. ‘Now, if you have no objection, I would like to greet each of the men personally and pay them what they are due.’
‘I’d have no objection, of course.’ Noel looked at her in awe, gave her a small bow, and hurried away to the clerk in the back office to retrieve the wages.
* * *
At four o’clock that afternoon, Kitty was helped down from the cart by Fred. She staggered through the front door of the house.
‘I’m taking a rest,’ she said to Camira as she passed her in the entrance hall. ‘Could you bring a fresh pitcher of water to my room?’
‘Yessum, Missus Kitty.’ Camira bobbed her habitual curtsey, then studied her mistress. ‘You sick again?’
‘No, just very, very tired.’
Kitty lay on her bed and enjoyed the fresh breeze coming through the open window. In the three hours it had taken to greet each man and ask after him and his family, not a single one had requested his final wages. They had come to her instead with an embarrassed smile, told her of their belief in the Mercer Pearling Company and offered their sympathy – sometimes through a translator – for her recent loss.
The company now had an even larger deficit in the bank, but a full crew and divers and tenders that would set sail tomorrow to restore the fortunes of the ailing company.
Kitty closed her eyes and thanked God for the Wednesday breakfasts her father had insisted on when she was a child. His potted biography of Elizabeth Tudor – even if she had put her Scottish cousin Mary to death – had inspired her speech today.
Though I have the body of a weak and feeble woman . . . Elizabeth had said as she’d addressed her armies at Tilbury Docks, ready to defeat the Spanish Armada.
Forgive me, Andrew, I have done my best for you today . . .
* * *
For the following two weeks, Kitty rose early and was at the office before Noel. She studied the ledgers with a careful eye, using the basic experience she had gleaned from totting up her father’s parish accounts. There were various inconsistencies – amounts of cash withdrawn that she queried with the clerk.
‘Ask Mr Noel. He authorised them,’ the man told her.
‘Well now, there’s sometimes an occasion when a diver has a snide pearl – that is, one that he has smuggled off the lugger. If he believes it might be valuable . . .’ Noel looked down at his hands, which were clasping and unclasping nervously. ‘Rather than having the diver steal it and keep the value totally for himself, Mr Andrew – and Mr Stefan before him – would offer an amount in cash for any man who would bring what they believed to be a particularly special pearl to them. Some of them turned out to be nothing more than blister pearls, but this way, the risk was shared. Do ye see?’
‘Yes, I understand completely.’
Kitty made an appointment at the bank for that afternoon, and sat across the desk from Mr Harris. His face looked pained as she explained the situation to him.
‘I assure you that there is no shortage of funds, Mr Harris. The Mercer empire is worth a fortune.’
‘That may be, Mrs Mercer, but I’m afraid the bank needs immediate surety. Perhaps you can transfer such funds from another part of the Mercer empire.’ The bank manager remained stony-faced, used to living in a town full of souls who would blag their way into gaining further months of credit.
Given the fact that Kitty had no idea what was in the Mercer bank accounts and knowing she would need to take a trip to Adelaide to visit the family lawyer to find out, she nodded.
‘I am aware of that. Could you perhaps give me a month’s leeway?’
‘I’m afraid not, Mrs Mercer. The overdraft is currently running at twenty-three thousand pounds.’
‘Perhaps our house could provide temporary surety for you?’ she suggested. ‘It is in the best part of Broome, and sumptuously furnished. Will you accept that until I can arrange further funds?’
‘Mrs Mercer,’ the bank manager said with a frown, ‘far be it from me to advise you, but are you sure this is wise? Perhaps you do not realise just how capricious the pearling industry can be. I would be most distressed to find you and your son without a roof over your heads in the future.’
‘It is indeed a capricious business, Mr Harris, and if one was a gambler, one might bet on the fact that the Mercer family is due a run of good luck after such a difficult time. I will bring the deeds to you tomorrow.’
‘As you wish, Mrs Mercer. And the bank will require the rest of the funds to be replaced within the next six months.’
‘Agreed. However,’ Kitty said as she rose, ‘if I even hear a whisper about this transaction from any quarter of this town, all our business with you will be withdrawn forthwith. Is that understood?’
‘It is.’
‘Good. I will be back tomorrow to complete the paperwork.’
Kitty left his office with her head held high, fully aware that she didn’t need to put herself through this – she and Charlie could scuttle back to Alicia Hall and live in luxury with Edith if she chose to.
‘A fate worse than death.’ She repeated Drummond’s words as she left the bank and walked out into the burning midday sun. Living a lie here alone was one thing, but to live it every day under the roof of a woman who believed her eldest son was alive and would one day return was another.
Back at home, Kitty’s head swam once more and she cursed her skin and bones, knowing she needed to show nothing but strength if the business was to survive. Sitting at her desk, she drew out the ledgers she had brought home with her in Andrew’s leather case and studied them again.
‘Good Lord.’ Kitty rested her head on the desk. ‘What have I begun?’
There was a knock on the door and Camira came in with a tray holding the pot of tea she had requested.
‘Thank you,’ she said, rising from her desk to take it from her.
‘Missus Kitty, you look like you dead too. Rest, you needum rest.’
‘It is merely the heat, and I . . .’
Camira watched in horror as her beloved mistress collapsed on the floor.
* * *
‘Madam, when was your last course?’
Kitty looked up into the intelligent dark eyes of Dr Suzuki. She frowned as she tried to remember, wondering why he wished to know this when it was obvious she was still suffering from exhaustion, plus the remnants of her recent bout of cholera.
‘Perhaps two months ago. I really do not know, Dr Suzuki.’
‘You have not bled since?’
Kitty shuddered at his lack of delicacy. Even though she knew he was the better physician, Dr Blick would never talk in such graphic terms. She thought quickly. ‘It was the middle of April,’ Kitty lied. ‘Now I remember.’
‘Really? Well now, that surprises me. I would say that your baby is around four months in gestation.’
‘I am pregnant? Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure.’
It can’t be true . . .
‘Apart from your condition, I can pronounce that you are in perfect health. May I offer my congratulations, madam, and hope your husband returns to you soon so you can share the happy news with him.’
‘Thank you,’ said Kitty numbly.
‘You have endured terrible loss, but what God takes away, he returns. Now, I can only prescribe as much rest as possible. You are far too thin and the baby is obviously large. Stay in bed for the next month and preserve the life that is growing inside you.’
Kitty watched in shocked silence as Dr Suzuki packed away his instruments.
‘Good day to you, Mrs Mercer. I am at your service, should you need me.’ He gave her a small bow and left her bedroom.
‘No, please . . .’ Kitty gasped as a small tear dribbled from her eye in protest. ‘I have so much to do.’
She looked up at the ceiling and saw a large spider making its way across it. And remembered how Drummond had appeared in her bedroom to save her all those years ago.
‘I am pregnant with your child . . .’ she breathed, then thanked the stars in the sky that at least his recent deception would allow everyone to believe it was her husband’s baby. From what she remembered, her last bleed had been in mid-February . . .
‘Oh Lord.’ Kitty bit her lip. ‘What a mess,’ she whispered.
Tentatively, she touched her stomach.
‘Forgive me,’ she begged this new life that was innocent of all sin. ‘For you will never be able to know the truth of who your father is.’