Chapter Text
Part One
November 6 th , 1883
My Dear Miss Eliza Scarlet,
I have arrived.
I thought it might please you to know my journey across the world failed to kill me, and so far the bizarre continent of Australia has failed to as well. The population here is as you can imagine: violent convicts, yes, but there are men of ambition (hello), men seeking fortune or refuge or salvation in the unknown, entrepreneurs, scientists, cultists – and of course the class of people which feeds and cleans up after these sorts. No society can exist without its oppressed. But there is a freedom here, a pervasive air of anonymity that seems to breathe a little bit of extra life into the servants and the pitiable poor. A grand range of possibilities awaits all of Australia’s citizens, as broad and endless as her desert wildernesses and golden, glowing coastlines.
The weather is incomprehensible. I’ve seen more sunlight in my first week here than in my entire life back home. I think I will turn so brown you may not recognize me when next we meet.
As you may well imagine, business prospects are overwhelming. Half the continent is made up of criminals, and the other half a wary and hardened group not eager to be victims. You can take one look at the people here and tell every last one is a survivor. These are our people, Eliza. There is also the minority of wealthy dignitaries and uniformed buffoons, their fainthearted wives and stuck-up progeny, who view this place as their own dusty, exotic kingdom. Their bank accounts are as hefty as their burden of nobility amongst us savages. I hope to be of great service to them.
I am full of anticipation. There is much to explore, much to familiarize myself with. Not least of which is the notion that I am burning in full summer sun while you are no doubt bundled up against the frigid beginnings of winter. The world is a comical place.
I hope you’re so busy with clients you can hardly spare me a thought. If you do have an idle half-hour, though, tell me of all your recent exploits. I want to know how you get on.
I’m sending a pressed banksia flower. In this form, it doesn’t look like much, but in full bloom they’re ridiculous. I swear to you upon my life, their nectar smells like fresh-baked bread.
The cost of sending a letter to England from here is highway robbery, so I must keep this to one page. It is my highest priority to establish myself here as a successful investigator, because otherwise I can’t afford the postage. I hope one day to send you a painting of a sunset over the bay. You’ve never seen such extravagant colors, I promise you.
Sincerely,
Patrick N.
13 th Jan. 1884
Dear Patrick,
I cannot tell you of my excitement upon receiving your letter, not only to know you made it safely to Australia, but to hear some of your experience, though you were just at the beginning. I imagine another two months at least will have passed before you get this. The distance is frustrating when I’m sure you have such stories to tell!
I can at least give you the satisfaction of more than one sheet, as business here is thriving, so the cost of delivery is no great issue. Shall I enclose a few stamps for you? I know you are not too proud for it.
I have few friends here who will delight in my work as you do, so please – impolite as it may be, let me dispense with the humdrum accounting of my daily life and proceed immediately to diverting you with the telling of a recent case: it began simply enough with a furious wife, intent on finding proof of her husband’s infidelity in order to gain a divorce. This husband was an MP. (My fee became substantial.)
As I investigated, I hobnobbed with the most brilliant political minds, and the most dull. Almost all of them were serial adulterers. No great surprise to you, I’m sure. But Patrick, in my efforts to track down the most recent object of my MP’s extramarital affections, I stumbled upon an extraordinary web of intrigue. I cannot do it justice in a letter – I’d have to write a book. But it turned out my MP was having an affair with a dancer – an Irish woman. And she had some very interesting connections to the Home Rule movement. She had no attraction to my MP, but had in fact targeted him as part of a larger ploy to gain inside information on Parliament’s discussions regarding Irish independence. Well, she’d actually targeted three MPs, to the delight of my bank account when their wives found out and thanked me to investigate further. One divorce is currently in proceedings, two wives have departed for the countryside “for an indefinite length of time,” and my sources in Parliament tell me all the right honorables have been soundly warned off from visiting the burlesque.
I wish you had been here to see it all unfold! You would have liked that dancer. I certainly did.
I thank you for the flower. I closed my eyes and inhaled with great concentration, but I believe the stink of a sailing vessel and the passage of so much time swept away its native scent. I am heartbroken.
Tell me more of your life, Patrick, I want to hear it all. You are the most determined optimist I have ever met but do not be afraid to tell me of your concerns and difficulties, too. I have had my fair share since you left. I miss your brazen refusal to ever be awkward, or anxious. It is something I always admired in you, and have tried, with varying success, to emulate. Give me a dose of whatever it is in your spirit that allows you to be so confident. I will pay extra for shipping.
Ivy asked me to pass along a greeting. She was very intrigued by the banksia bloom, and said a dead flower that smells like bread would probably be more appetizing than whatever I try to make in the kitchen. You must promise not to find that funny.
I miss you. Please take care of yourself, though I know you are more than capable of thriving no matter where you land.
Your Friend,
Eliza
P.S. Here’s a few stamps. You can thank an Irish dancer.
March 5 th , 1884
Dearest Eliza,
Thank you for your letter, and your well-wishes, and the stamps. You’ll be delighted to learn I have indeed found my feet here in Melbourne, and have managed to expand to a staff of three. There is no substitute for you, or for Clarence, but my team is competent and ambitious. One of my number includes a Chinaman. I need not tell you the local opinion of Chinese immigrants – the papers back home are surely selling hot at the prospect of yet another dirty race infringing on ‘English’ soil – but he has proven to be an invaluable partner, and nothing unites disparate people like a common enemy. Not that I would ever call the British Empire an “enemy.” I leave that to your no-doubt lovely, and understandably patriotic dancer friend.
Besides Fang, I have Demetrius, an ex-sailor who lost a hand in a grisly rigging accident, and is desperate to prove his worth. He also apparently lost his sense of humor in the accident, but we make do. And then there is Lavinia, a protégé of sorts, with fine instincts. You’d be impressed by her. She reminds me a great deal of you, if you were brunette, and knew how to cook.
None of my cases thus far have been nearly as interesting as your parliamentary drama, but they are paying the bills and getting me established. I have adequate lodgings, and am ready to scout out buildings for rent to set up shop. Things are moving apace.
But I didn’t like the air of melancholy in your letter, Eliza. How can I help? I detest the distance between us. It makes me feel completely useless to you when I sense you need a friend. Tell me anything. Tell me your deepest secrets, tell me what you had for breakfast. I’m 10,000 miles away. There is no safer repository for your troubles.
As for my own difficulties, yes, there have been a few. Loneliness strikes me at the oddest times. I feel the injustice of my circumstances, then remember I’m mostly to blame. Extremely annoying.
But I am grateful for this second chance. Everyone will need one at some point. As cats go, I think I’ve used up at least three of my nine lives. Oh, I have a cat. It followed me home one night and wouldn’t leave. His name is Muckie.
I’m sending along a spray of eucalyptus leaves. I am confident their fragrance will survive the journey to London.
Write to me often. Send me a novel, fifteen pages at least, since apparently you can afford the cost. (I’m not envious. Don’t think for one moment I am.)
I am, however, eternally proud of you and your success. You’re a bulldog, Eliza. I don’t often call women that if you can imagine but believe me, it’s the highest compliment. Nothing, no worry or heartache or sadness will keep you down.
You can see by my sending two entire uncrossed sheets that business is looking up. I’ve no need to beg for stamps. I will accept your congratulations in advance.
Your Devoted Friend,
Patrick N.
23 rd April, 1884
Dear Patrick,
The winds must have been favorable, because your letter arrived with uncommon speed. I hope mine may travel to you just as quickly.
I am so glad to hear you’re finding success. I want to hear more of these employees. How does such a motley bunch all get on together? Lavinia in particular sounds very interesting.
You asked me to write you a novel, well, perhaps I might. I am in fact under contract with a publisher to write a memoir of sorts. The public is hungry for stories of intrigue, of danger – mostly they want to read about people cheating on their spouses and getting caught out, but I will accept any interest that pays well. I’ve been trying to persuade my publisher to allow me to partner with a local scientist who is progressing the field of forensics. It would be fabulous, to my mind, to pair up our expertise to give readers a fuller idea of how we go about our investigations. Although I was warned that writing about forensic evidence may help future perpetrators avoid detection if they become aware of our methods. It’s a bit sticky.
I never figured you to be much fond of pets, but you do have a soft spot for the downtrodden. I hope Muckie is a good companion. Perhaps he could be a sort of mascot for your business? Cats are known for their insatiable curiosity, after all.
Thank you for your concern for my well-being. I feel I can tell you anything, but it makes me dull to see my worries spelled out on paper. They seem so small when I write them out, and I wonder at their taking up so much space in my mind.
But I shall write them out anyway: The new detective inspector is after me. And I don’t want him. And it’s all very awkward. There. I have told you.
The greatest pain is that he has a daughter, who has become very precious to me. She’s a clever little creature, and it fascinates me to see her intellect expanding and maturing. She also is desperate for a mother, a feeling I understand too well. But I worry she – and her father – are creating a hope I cannot fulfill. It is making me feel obligated. I hate feeling obligated.
For once, I am aware of how much easier things would be if I had a husband. I could simply point to a wedding band and give my apologies. Not the best motivation for marriage, but I’ve heard of worse. I may just stop by a pawn shop and buy a ring and say it came from you. The implication would give me some breathing room. As you said, you’re 10,000 miles away. I can make you whoever I wish you to be. The inspector is of course familiar with you, but I can tell him you’ve become a millionaire or something.
I’m sorry you’re feeling lonely. I feel it, too, when a case is done and I’m sat at home with no Ivy, no William, no you . Our work really isn’t very conducive to making friends, is it? But ever onward.
Take care of yourself, and Muckie. I wish you continued success.
Sincerely,
Eliza
July 1 st , 1884
Dearest Eliza,
I can set your heart at ease, I hope, by informing you that Nash and Sons has been reborn! I couldn’t think of a better name, and if anyone does any serious digging into my past, the fine reputation of the business itself can only be an advantage. Most people here are comfortable with a little criminal history. I rather think they’d look upon me with greater suspicion if I had not ever spent any time in jail.
The office is an easy walk from my lodgings. I enjoy the startling sunsets every evening on my walk home after work. I’ve enclosed a painting an acquaintance of mine did a few weeks ago. It hardly does the real thing justice, but unless you were here to see it in person, nothing could truly replicate the fiery colors, the liquid clouds stretching so far across unpolluted skies and over sparkling golden waters. Autumn here is a joke. I can hardly tell any difference from summer. But the skies have become particularly fine, and I look forward to a continuing drop in temperature, however minor, as winter approaches.
I was very certain this would prove to be a land of opportunity when I first set off, but Eliza, Australia has exceeded all my expectations. This is virgin territory in so many respects, and it is so wild, barely restrained under the cloak of civility the local governance provides. I am reminded constantly of the simple, rugged way of life back home in Ireland, only it is set now in tropical surroundings. It feels strangely like home.
I wish you could come and see it all for yourself. You probably would not like the heat, but the people, the variety, the chaos, the potential – it would set your heart alight. I can speak so fondly of it all now because I am at last comfortable. I will not pretend at modesty. It was never my style anyway. Eliza, I have recovered all my wealth and more. In less than one year, I have successfully closed thirty investigations, several of them rather high-profile. I’ve never known such success. It feels like it all might be swept out from under me in the next instant, so I have been careful about expanding. But I have added five more to my staff. Fang and Lavinia have both come into their own.
You asked to know more about them. Well let me assure you there is no finer mind in all the continent than Lavinia’s. She is smarter than me, and I’ve met very few people I can say that about. I include you, of course, in that small number. Her talent for mixing in society leaves a little to be desired, but she has an incredible eye for detail, and is remarkably quick to connect the faintest of dots. Fang makes up for her lack of social ease. He knows when to make friends, and when to blend in to the scenery, to be forgotten and ignored. He is my top spy. He maintains a zest for life that even the vicious prejudices against him here have not been able to snuff out. I like to think we are real friends. We’ve saved each other’s lives a time or two.
Demetrius remains a tough nut to crack. I wonder if I should give up trying. He is quiet, but diligent and loyal to a fault. I don’t think he understands any of my jokes. He sends most of his wages back home, to somewhere in the Caucasus region. He says he has a mother and five younger siblings he wishes to help care for. I shiver at the thought of such responsibility, but he tells me his wages are higher with me than any work he’s done before. It is gratifying to know my success is leading to the success of others. Fang, in his work with me, has grown far more proficient in English, and Lavinia has confided she may have at last gained courage enough to tell her parents the true nature of her work. Which reminds me, I never told you she’s been lying to them the whole while, pretending she is merely my secretary and not a full-blown investigator in her own right. I think her parents hope to marry her off to me. Especially as I am once more a man of some means. You see, you are not the only one being chased, Eliza.
On that note, I’ve enclosed something else along with the painting. I hope it is of use to you.
I cannot describe my elation at the prospect of you becoming a published author! It’s a savvy idea, and I’m certain it will be the most entertaining thing to come out all year. I do agree the more academic details of forensic investigation would provide an intelligent ne’er-do-well a great advantage. But the danger of scientific knowledge is that it belongs to all. As science progresses, so will the wickedness of those who will use it for selfish ends. I’m not sure there’s any way to keep those scales tipped in our favor. But you will use your best judgment.
I still miss you, by the way. Life can never be so busy that I do not regret your absence from it. I hope you find people who can fill the void I and others have left. This inspector’s daughter seems like a good candidate, and my little gift may help you strengthen that friendship without any of that annoying awkwardness you wrote of. I can’t blame the inspector for showing an interest in you, but perhaps a stern word from your millionaire fiancé will warn him off.
Muckie gives his regards. Tell Ivy I said hello, and if she finds out about your little engagement farce, be clear about the fact it was entirely your idea.
Your Future Husband,
Patrick N.
2 nd October, 1884
Dear Patrick,
I should have known you would indulge my harebrained scheme. The ring is beautiful, and too much! I’m not sure if it was luck or your keen skills of observation at work, but it fits perfectly. I am not one to turn down a gift of any kind, even one so absurdly generous as this one. The sapphire is of a tasteful size, which I should have expected. Your eye for fashion remains unimpeachable.
The inspector has not inquired yet about the origin of the ring, and I have not volunteered details. But there is a welcome distance between us now. I feel so much more at ease in this new, strictly professional atmosphere. His daughter noticed the ring immediately and asked me ten million questions, which I vaguely answered, but I think she likes the mystery of it more than the actual details. I adore her.
I do congratulate you heartily on your material success. I never would have thought even a year ago I would be as well established as I am now, nor would I have thought, during that first visit to you in jail, that you would soon be across the world and risen to greater heights than ever. Well done, us!
The painting is beautiful. Indeed, the vivid oranges and purples seem far removed from our dreary, smoky skies. You are tempting me to travel. I might only make it as far as Spain but a change of environment would not be unwelcome. My complexion will suffer for it, but a dose of southern sunlight might do me some good, especially at this time of year.
I welcome your opinions on my publishing venture. I may even send a copy of the preprint to you, if the cost is not too great. I have attended several lectures lately on forensic testing, and I’ve enclosed some of the pamphlets and summarized my notes for you. I know you’ll find them interesting, and I’m not sure how well that far-flung island of yours stays abreast of the latest advancements. If any of my notes are of use to you in solving a case, I expect a 20% cut of your fee.
Your gang of misfits seems quite amiable on the page. I am sorry for the trials they are enduring, but I know you are a great friend to them. I’m glad you have all found each other. Though I do wonder what Lavinia would think of you sending an engagement ring to another woman. Unless I am mistaken in my inference?
I can confidently intuit, however, that Demetrius must have the patience of a saint, to put up with your constant overtures. I was at one time also on the receiving end of your dogged efforts to make me like you. I suppose it did work, in the end. Don’t take that as encouragement. You can’t charm everyone, impossible as that may seem.
I have to admit, I have often found myself holding my hand up to the light and admiring the glittering little sapphire on your ring. I am observing how its presence affects my interactions with people I meet during my investigations. The jury is still out on whether it’s more help than harm. At times, pretending I am a married woman invites greater trust and respect. At other times, greater suspicion. What husband would allow his wife to saunter about town solving murders ? It has been a fascinating study on human behavior.
I must ask you one favor before I close this letter. I am very grateful Fang has been there to save your life “a time or two.” But please, Patrick, don’t put yourself at unnecessary risk. Ours is a dangerous line of work, but don’t be reckless. I’m still counting on seeing your face again someday.
Sincerely,
Eliza
She never receives another letter from Australia.