A Gem of a Problem: Emma Berry Mysteries, #2

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to my friends

and critique partners

Helena Holton and Jacquie Garton-Smith

who have provided support,

encouragement, and positive feedback,

lighting a solitary journey.

Author’s Note

The Emma Berry mysteries are set in the 1870s on the Murray River, the third longest navigable river in the world, surpassed only by the Amazon and the Nile. Its great navigable length was responsible for the development of the riverboats, the side-wheel paddle steamers that opened up the Australian countryside along the river’s length to settlement and sheep farming, in much the way railways did in the wider countryside.

Indeed, it was the railways that eventually ended the glory days of the paddle steamers, though they continue to ply the waters in the 21st century, carrying tourists and holiday makers. Two generations of my father’s family produced working riverboat captains. But this story is strictly fiction.

A Gem of a Problem is the second title in this series.

Main Characters

At Wirramilla on the Murray River

Emma Haythorne – educated young woman, assists her grandmother with her herbal remedies

Edward & Rose Haythorne – her parents, pastoralists

Eleanor Haythorne - Edward’s mother, Emma’s grandmother

Lucy Wirra - housekeeper

Janey, Sal & Jacky Wirra - Lucy’s adult children

Nella Brackett - Lucy’s eldest child married to overseer Jeff Brackett, children: Jack, Elly, Billy

At Nettifield on the Murray River

George Macdonald - pastoralist

Margaret Macdonald - his terminally ill wife

Matty, Beatrice (Bea), Jim – their adult children

Tillie - Irish maid

Thomas Quilp - overseer, Bea’s betrothed

The paddle steamer Lisette

Daniel Berry - Captain, Emma’s brother-in-law

Crew - Mr. Shankton, Mr. Wilson, Fred Croaker, Shorty Mason, Blue Higgins, Willy Bowman, Ah Lo (Charley)

At Merrim on the Murray River

Mr. Fraser - Scottish station manager

Deirbhile (Deelie) – young Irish housekeeper

Brendan O’Neill - Irish station hand

Mort -elderly gardener

At Echuca

Nathaniel (Nat) Pickles senior clerk at Echuca Wharf office

Charity Pickles - his sister, manages Pickles Boarding House

Old Mr. Pickles - their father

Henrietta Pickles - owner of Primrose Tearoom

Janet Pickles - Henrietta & Nat’s daughter

Alex Thompson - retired jeweller

Clarice Thompson - his ward

George Knowles - boatbuilder at Dutch’s Slip

The shipping on the Murray is now assuming considerable proportions, and new steamers and barges are constructed every year. There are now 23 steamers and 25 barges Victorian owned, which make Echuca their port; and there are 16 steamers and 19 barges South Australian owned, whose port is Goolwa. The firm of Messrs. W. McCulloch and Co. are interested in a large number of these steamers, but there are many owned by the captains, or by merchants in Melbourne or Adelaide. The Argus, 19 January 1876, p 6.

Chapter 1

Major Barnaby Poses a Problem

Wednesday 8 September 1875

Emma wasn’t relishing the idea of meeting with Major Frederick Barnaby. What possible information could he have about the sinking of the PS Mary B and Sam’s death? Nothing she didn’t already know, surely. It wasn’t something she was likely to forget anytime soon.

This is very odd, her father said, when he found Emma in the stillroom with her grandmother. Said he was just passing by but wasn’t explicit about what he wants to discuss with you, just mumbled something about the riverboat business and Sam’s death. Would you like me to sit in with you?

Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary, Father, Emma replied, immediately on guard. If the Major had something to tell her about Sam, she wanted to hear it alone. Her marriage to Sam Berry had not been universally approved of among her family. She would decide later if it were information she could share. Thank you, all the same, but I will speak with you if it’s anything important, she added.

Concern was etched on Edward Haythorne’s face, but he nodded. Very well, if you are sure.

Emma understood her father’s disquiet. The Major had never graced Wirramilla with his presence before. They didn’t move in his social circle, although her grandmother was friendly with his wife. Eleanor Haythorne was known to almost everyone along the Murray for her herbal remedies, so there was nothing unusual in that.

But Major Barnaby wouldn’t have travelled two hundred miles from his property on the Murrumbidgee in New South Wales just to speak with her. He must be in the area on other business and saw an opportunity while here. Perhaps he thought he could buy the Mary B cheaply because it was still awaiting repairs. It would fit with his reputation.

When Emma entered the drawing room, leaving the door open as propriety dictated, she found the Major pacing in front of the fireplace. He was a short man, running to corpulence. He compensated his lack of height by holding himself stiff and upright, hardly surprising in a military man.

I’m sure you would welcome some refreshments, Major, so I’ve had tea brought in for us, Emma said, as Lucy preceded her with the tea tray. Emma’s fox terrier Floss followed on Lucy’s heels drawn by the scent of chocolate cake. Please take a seat.

She indicated an armchair and sat herself gracefully on the sofa, swirling her skirt at her feet with a flick of the hand, the way she’d been taught during her year at Miss Eunice Marshall’s School for Young Ladies. She didn’t normally behave with such aplomb, but the cool look she had received from the man seemed to call for it. Lucy gave an odd cough which Emma suspected had started life as a laugh. She ignored it and waited quietly until the tea tray was ready.

Thank you, Lucy. I will deal with it now.

Yes, ma’am. Lucy left the room with a swirl of black skirt around her brown ankles. She had done that deliberately, Emma was sure. It was fortunate the woman hadn’t curtsied.

Do you take milk, Major? she asked as she poured.

He gave a grunt which Emma took as an affirmative. Floss, who had taken up a position on the floor beside her, responded with a ‘huh’ deep in her throat. Not a good sign.

I hope Lady Annabel and your daughters are all well, Major, she said politely as she handed him his cup. She knew his womenfolk were in London for the season, trawling for a husband for Julia. It had been a coup for the Major, a younger son of minor gentry, to marry into a titled family but Lady Annabel was the Earl’s seventh daughter. Even the well-off landed gentry had their limits. When are they due home?

Major Barnaby took the proffered teacup but gave her a hard look. I didn’t come all this way for social chit chat, madam, he said. I am here concerning a small packet I had entrusted to your husband. I want it returned.

A packet? Emma said, taken aback as much by his attitude as his statement.

Do not play games with me, madam. You were on board the boat when your husband took delivery.

Was I? Emma felt annoyance replacing confusion at his accusing tone. "That may well be so. I did reside on the Mary B after all, but I don’t know of this item. Please explain."

Don’t give me that. You witnessed the meeting.

Emma shook her head. She caught the Major’s eye across the tea table and her heart hammered at the hostility in his gaze. The air crackled between them. Emma found she was clutching her cup tightly with both hands and carefully returned it to the table for fear of breaking it. She sat back, forcing herself to relax. The silence lengthened.

I see, the Major said at last. You think you can play me with your arrogance, this quaint little tea-party. He leaned forward in his chair and put his own cup, none too gently, on the table. If you think you can blackmail me into paying for its return you had better think again, very carefully. It wouldn’t be only the Berrys who lose here. They are of no importance anyway, just trumped-up carriers. He snapped his fingers. The Haythornes now, they are another matter.

Emma felt her face flush. Her hands clenched in her lap.

I’m no more arrogant than yourself, Major, she retorted. As I have already said, very clearly, I know nothing of any packet and an accusation of blackmail just makes me wonder what underhand business you are engaged in. The Major’s face reddened at her words, but he hesitated, as if no longer sure of his footing. Emma took the opportunity to attack, always believing that the better part of defence. I don’t know how many ways I can say it, but I did not know Sam was carrying any item for you, or that he had any association with you whatsoever. My husband did not take me into his confidence about every little piece of cargo. Most men don’t usually discuss business details with their wives, do they? So why don’t you tell me what this is all about.

He stared at her. Hmph. The packet I entrusted to your husband is missing, he said. It went missing when your boat sank. Someone must have it and that someone is likely to be yourself, whatever you may say to the contrary.

Emma ignored the implication she was lying. "All the cargo the Mary B was carrying was salvaged and any damage was covered by insurance. All you need do is put in a claim to the insurers for your loss."

I will not be making any insurance claim.

That doesn’t make sense. Oh. Light dawned. It wasn’t on the cargo list, was it? You were smuggling something. You had Sam smuggling something for you.

Had Sam been that stupid? She didn’t believe he was dishonest, but he could have seen it as a lark to outwit the customs men. Larrikin had been her father’s word for him. The customs duties payable at the colonial borders were flouted every day, not always on purpose, as people crossed the Murray River between New South Wales and Victoria, moving stock and goods. A traveller could be fined, or even forfeit an item, for not paying duty on something carried unwittingly in their pocket.

Oh no. I gave your husband the fee for the customs duty, the Major said. If he decided to smuggle the packet across the border and pocket the duty that was his risk. It matters not. The item is still missing, and I want it returned.

Emma nodded. If this was a mess Sam had got them into, she was going to have to sort it out. Quietly, if possible. Perhaps Daniel already knew about it. Her brother-in-law hadn’t been on the boat when it sank, but he had dealt with the aftermath. Right now, he was captaining the PS Lisette, a McCulloch Company steamer, while the Mary B languished at the boat builder’s yard at Echuca, awaiting repairs. Best she discover what she could from the Major, though, just in case. Besides, she was curious. And suspicious.

If you expect us to locate this item, we need to know what it was, she said.

A small flat box, wrapped in oilskin.

And does it have any identifying marks?

A red wax seal with my initials stamped. That should be sufficient to identify it.

Possibly. And the contents?

You don’t need to know that. You just have to locate the packet.

But if by any chance the item and its wrapping have become separated?

He pounced, his words sharp as a whip. Have they?

I don’t know! Emma’s curiosity was now fully aroused. "The Mary B was under water for several weeks before it was salvaged, Major, she argued. The cargo was retrieved much earlier, but the packet could have been seriously compromised. The box could have swollen and cracked, the wrapping come undone, the contents spilled. Anything could have happened to it." Including being lost in the mud at the bottom of the river.

The Major leaned back in his chair, considering. I was sending a necklace to a jeweller in Echuca, he said at last.

Alarm bells rang for Emma. The customs duty for jewellery crossing the river border into Victoria was substantial.

For what purpose? she asked.

That is of no concern of yours.

I don’t believe there was a packet at all, Emma scoffed.

I would be very careful what I said if I were you, the Major warned.

I am being careful. That is the point. You expect me to find an item I know nothing about. An item you refuse to give details on. Little wonder I should be sceptical of the whole thing. Why the secrecy?

There was no secrecy on my part, madam, he shot back. The necklace belongs to my wife, Lady Annabel, of course. I was concerned some of her jewellery wasn't insured for its proper value, so while she was away in England, I decided to have this piece looked at and have it cleaned at the same time. I didn’t have time to make the journey to Echuca myself, so I arranged the delivery with your husband.

I’m having trouble understanding this, Major. Why wouldn’t you send the necklace to Sydney for valuing? Why pay to have it taken across the border? She could hear her grandmother’s adage that if it didn’t make sense it probably wasn’t true.

Why I choose to do something is no concern of yours. Your concern is to locate and return the item.

His words did nothing to dispel Emma’s disbelief in his explanation, but she put that aside for the moment.

"It may still be on the Mary B, of course, but if not... you must consider the possibility that it has been lost in the river."

In which case, I would have to sue you for its value, he blustered. If you choose not to keep your bookwork up to date that is not my problem. Personally, madam, I do not believe you have no knowledge of it.

Tch. I hardly think you could sue for something of which there is no record and only your word it even existed. Be that as it may, I would gladly hand it to you if I had it, Major, I can assure you. Please, we both want the same thing. Perhaps as it is such a small packet, it has gotten mixed up with someone else’s cargo in the confusion. A description of this piece of jewellery is essential to my mind.

The Major got to his feet and paced, hands in pockets, then stood facing out the window. Emma waited, wondering.

It’s an emerald necklace with a large drop and graduated stones set in gold on platinum, he said at last, still with his back to her.

Emma gave an involuntary gasp. The Montague emeralds? They were famous. Or infamous. A hereditary piece belonging to the Earl of Ellsworth’s family. Lady Annabel wore the emeralds to the Governor’s Ball each year. The event, and what the women wore, was reported in the newspapers in detail.

You can’t be serious – it’s a valuable family heirloom. Irreplaceable.

In which case, you had better find it, lady, said the Major, turning back to her, his eyes glittering. Before my wife returns from England. If not, someone will pay for it. And I can assure you, it will not be me.

Emma found herself lost for words at the audacity of the man. Good emeralds were worth more than diamonds. The Montague emeralds had to be worth, what? Six, eight thousand pounds?

She rallied. I don’t believe the Montague emeralds were in the packet. No one in their right mind would pay hundreds of pounds in custom duties to send a piece of jewellery for valuation. This is pure extortion from top to bottom.

Floss barked as if in agreement as Emma got to her feet and started for the door.

I’m going to call my father and expose this.

Go right ahead, challenged the Major. I’m sure he would be extremely interested to hear my side of the story. Seems to me there has been some nefarious goings-on. An arrangement I have recently discovered between a person in my employ and your husband to steal the emeralds. A clandestine meeting somewhere late at night. On the riverbank, perhaps. The necklace smuggled across the border and disposed of in Melbourne.

Shock at his words caused Emma to stop and turn to stare at him. A meeting, late at night, on the riverbank? A memory stirred. One night she had woken to find the Mary B stopped on the New South Wales side of the Murray somewhere near the junction with the Murrumbidgee.

She had looked out the window of the cabin she shared with Sam and seen two men on the bank by a fire, quickly doused. One of the men had been Sam. The other she had barely glimpsed. Sam had returned to the Mary B, and they had moved on.

When she asked him about it next day, he’d given some mumbled explanation about a fellow by a fire hailing them, wanting information about the nearest station where he might get work. ‘Just some tramp,’ he had said.

Emma thought it odd Sam would leave the Mary B to talk to a tramp when he could just as easily speak from the wheelhouse window. And why douse the fire? It had puzzled her at the time.

But now – had the other man been the Major? It was possible. The Barnaby property, Honey Hills, was only five miles up the Murrumbidgee from the junction. He could have seen her in the firelight that night, her face at the cabin window.

Major Barnaby nodded, a look of triumph on his red face. Yes, you know what I’m talking about, don’t you? So much for your husband not speaking to you on business matters. Not as honest as you pretend, are you? Emma was too stunned to speak. Of course, no one will believe I’d hand over thousands of pounds’ worth of jewellery on a riverbank in the middle of the night, so you can forget that little idea.

You can’t expect to get away with such a story. You know it isn’t true.

Such a trite phrase, Mrs. Berry. I can get away with whatever I please. Your husband is not around to claim otherwise, and I can always find someone to confess to being party to the theft. Oh, they may escape justice, but that is of no concern. Now you have several choices. You can stop lying and hand the necklace back now, locate and return it if it truly has been misplaced, which I very much doubt, or pay for it. The latter wouldn’t be too difficult, of course, if you have already disposed of it.

Only a fool would steal such a well-known piece of jewellery. It would be recognised, Emma managed to say, her hand going to her chest, her breathing tight.

Ah, but not if it was broken up into separate gems and sent overseas, the Major said, shaking a finger at her. Very clever. And the scandal. How would your father feel at having his daughter involved, hmm? We’ll see how respected the Haythorne name is then.

Emma’s stomach churned; the gloating look on the Major’s face showing he had got his message across.

Enough talk, he snapped, taking up his hat. I want the necklace returned or paid for. My wife returns in less than two months. If I don’t get satisfaction you know what to expect.

He marched past her and Emma heard the front door slam, heard his tread heavy on the verandah. A cold fear clutched at her heart. What had Sam gotten them into now?

Chapter 2

Out in the Cold

She needed