‘I’m afraid I haven’t seen her,’ said Anna.
‘She will be nineteen this August,’ the woman went on. ‘She’s my cousin’s cousin; I’ve never met her before, but by all accounts she is very well kept, and moderately pretty. Elizabeth Mackay is her name. You haven’t seen her?’
‘I’m very sorry, ma’am.’
‘What was the name of your ship—the Fortunate Wind?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Where did you board?’
‘Port Jackson.’
‘Yes,’ said the woman. ‘That was it. The Fortunate Wind, coming from Sydney.’
‘I’m sorry to say that there were no young ladies aboard the Fortunate Wind, ma’am,’ said Anna, squinting a little. ‘There was a Mrs. Paterson, travelling with her husband, and a Mrs. Mader, and a Mrs. Yewers, and a Mrs. Cooke—but they’re all on the wiser side of forty, I would say. There was no one who might have passed for nineteen.’
‘Oh dear,’ said the woman, biting her lip. ‘Dear, dear, dear.’
‘Is there a problem, ma’am?’
‘Oh,’ the woman said, reaching out to press Anna’s hand, ‘what a lamb you are, to ask. You see, I run a boarding house for girls here in Dunedin. I received a letter from Miss Mackay some weeks ago, introducing herself, paying her board in advance, and promising that she would be arriving today! Here.’ The woman produced a crumpled letter. ‘You can see: she makes no mistake about the date.’
Anna did not take the letter. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I’m sure there’s no mistake.’
‘Oh, I do apologise,’ said the woman. ‘You can’t read.’
Anna blushed. ‘Not very well.’
‘Never mind, never mind,’ the woman said, tucking the letter back into her sleeve. ‘Oh, but I am excessively distressed about my poor Miss Mackay. I am terribly distressed! What could be the meaning of it—when she promised to be arriving on this day—on this sailing—and yet—as you attest—she never boarded at all! You’re quite sure about it? You’re quite sure there were no young women aboard?’
‘I’m sure there’s a simple explanation,’ Anna said. ‘Perhaps she took ill at the last minute. Or perhaps she sent a letter with apologies, and it was misdirected.’
‘You are so good to comfort me,’ said the woman, pressing her hand again. ‘And you are right: I ought to be sensible, and not permit myself these flights of fancy. I’ll only get worried, if I think of her coming to any kind of harm.’
‘I’m sure that it will all come out right,’ Anna said.
‘Sweet child,’ said the woman, patting her. ‘I am so glad to make the acquaintance of such a sweet, pretty girl. Mrs. Wells is my name: Mrs. Lydia Wells.’
‘Miss Anna Wetherell,’ said Anna, dropping a curtsey.
‘But hark at me, worrying about one girl travelling alone, when I am talking to another,’ said Mrs. Wells, smiling now. ‘How is it that you have come to be travelling without a chaperone, Miss Wetherell? You are affianced to a digger here, perhaps!’
‘I’m not affianced,’ said Anna.
‘Perhaps you are answering a summons of some kind! Your father—or some other relative—who is here already, and has sent for you—’
Anna shook her head. ‘I’ve just come to start over.’
‘Well, you have chosen the perfect place in which to do just that,’ said Mrs. Wells. ‘Everyone starts anew in this country; there is simply no other way to do it! Are you quite alone?’
‘Quite alone.’
‘That is very brave of you, Miss Wetherell—it is excessively brave! I am cheered to know that you were not wanting for female company on your crossing, but now I should like to know at once whether you have secured lodging, here in Dunedin. There are a great many disreputable hotels in this city. Someone as pretty as you has a great need of good advice from a good quarter.’
‘I thank you for your kind concern,’ Anna said. ‘I meant to stop in at Mrs. Penniston’s; that is where I am bound this afternoon.’
The other woman looked aghast. ‘Mrs. Penniston’s!’
‘The place was recommended to me,’ said Anna, frowning. ‘Can you not also recommend it?’
‘Alas—I cannot,’ said Mrs. Wells. ‘If you had mentioned any lodging house in the city but Mrs. Penniston’s! She is a very low woman, Miss Wetherell. A very low woman. You must keep your distance from the likes of her.’
‘Oh,’ said Anna, taken aback.
‘Tell me again why you have come to Dunedin,’ said Mrs. Wells, speaking warmly now.
‘I came because of the rushes,’ Anna said. ‘Everyone says there’s more gold in a camp than there is in the ground. I thought I’d be a camp follower.’
‘Do you mean to find employment—as a barmaid, perhaps?’
‘I can tend bar,’ Anna said. ‘I’ve done hotel work. I’ve a steady hand, and I’m honest.’
‘Have you a reference?’
‘A good one, ma’am. From the Empire Hotel in Union-street, in Sydney.’
‘Excellent,’ said Mrs. Wells. She looked Anna up and down, smiling.
‘If you cannot endorse Mrs. Penniston’s,’ Anna began, but Mrs. Wells interrupted her.
‘Oh!’ she cried, ‘I have the perfect solution—to solve both our dilemmas—yours and mine! It has just come to me! My Miss Mackay has paid for a week’s lodging, and she is not here to occupy the room she paid for in advance. You must take it. You must come and be my Miss Mackay, until we find you some employment, and set you on your feet.’
‘That is very kind, Mrs. Wells,’ said Anna, stepping back, ‘but I couldn’t possibly accept such a handsome … I couldn’t impose upon your charity.’
‘Oh, hush your protestations,’ said Mrs. Wells, taking Anna’s elbow. ‘When we are the very best of friends, Miss Wetherell, we shall look back upon this day and call it serendipity—that we chanced upon one another in this way. I am a great believer in serendipity! And a great many other things. But what am I doing, chattering away? You must be famished—and aching for a hot bath. Come along. I shall take wonderful care of you, and once you are rested, I shall find you some work.’
‘I don’t mean to beg,’ Anna said. ‘I’m not going begging.’
‘You haven’t begged for anything at all,’ said Lydia Wells. ‘What a sweet child you are. Here—porter!’
A snub-nosed boy ran forward.
‘Have Miss Wetherell’s trunk delivered to number 35, Cumberland-street,’ said Mrs. Wells.
The snub-nosed boy grinned at this; he turned to Anna, looked her up and down, and then pulled his forelock with exaggerated courtesy. Lydia Wells did not comment upon this piece of impudence, but she fixed the porter with a very severe look as she handed him a sixpence from her purse. Then she put her arm around Anna’s shoulders, and, smiling, led her away.
EXALTED IN ARIES
In which the defendant waxes philosophical; Mr. Moody gains the upper hand; Lauderback gives a recitation; and the Carvers are caught in a lie.
The afternoon sessions began promptly at one o’clock.
‘Mr. Staines,’ said the justice, after the boy had been sworn in. ‘You have been indicted for three charges: firstly, the falsification of the January 1866 quarterly report. How do you plead?’
‘Guilty, sir.’
‘Secondly, the embezzlement of ore lawfully submitted by your employee Mr. John Long Quee against the goldmine Aurora, since discovered in the dwelling belonging to the late Mr. Crosbie Wells, of the Arahura Valley. How do you plead?’