Renee Lou Dallow ( Hybiscus Bloom. )

By Renee Dallow

A tale of Love, Opera And Epilepsy

CHAPTER ONE

Edith stared down at the rippling swell of the ocean. The swirling mist rose upward and burst into her face with a vengeance. Fresh and inviting. The feel of it against her skin, tempting her down, into the depths. She leaned further over the bough trying to make peace with the waves, but drew herself back, as the ship rocked back and forth in the froth of the rising tide. For a moment a sense of freedom permeated her soul and she was a wild gypsy let loose in a world of limitless possibilities. She was alone but the imaginary world she wanted so much to belong to was not hers for the taking. Memory would always interfere for it was more poignant, more inviting and yet more jaded, than anything she could ever imagine. As she continued to gaze out into the blue abyss, her memory turned to that day. That day the family had gathered to celebrate. That day, fourteen years ago, when the new house had finally become a home. That day on the thirteenth of January 1891, when baby Madoline Lillian, had arrived.

She remembered, it was late afternoon and the sun was setting behind the poinsettias, lining the river bank. Kangaroo Point Brisbane, was always a marvel, at this time of day. Especially in the summer. There were the red cliffs, which towered above the houses, as ferries criss- crossed from one side of the river to the other, shimmering in the sunlight. There were couples picnicking in the park as a chorus of cicadas sang to their hearts content. There was music emanating from the gleaming white Queenslander on the hill, as the Richardson family, rehearsed.

Edith sat at the pianoforte in the corner of the large living room, staring out at the birds congregating on the branches of the tree canopy which framed the window outside, whilst her father, William Albert stood in front of it, clearing his throat as he prepared to sing. Florence sat in one of the large arm-chairs, in front of the window, perusing the music for her harmonies. Millicent looked over her shoulder and pointed out where their voices were supposed to come in. Albert Vincent, generally referred to only as Vincent, entered the room in a suit and boater hat, looking very debonair. He threw his hat onto the hatstand near the door before seating himself on the sofa in the centre. A pile of music sheets were stacked on the coffee table and next to them a bottle of brandy on a tray with a set of brandy glasses. Vincent moved to pour himself a glass but was met with a look of disdain from his father. He stopped pouring, put down the glass and picked up a music sheet as William Albert motioned him to come forward. Just as Vincent got up from the sofa, there was an excited squeal from Rudolpho Alfonso, who had been waiting out on the front verandah, for his mother to come home with the new baby. Rudolpho ran down the front stairs followed by Florence and Millicent. Edith wanted to go too but was required to accompany her father and brother on piano. William Albert put his arm around Vincent’s shoulders and counted to three. They began the duet from, ‘ The Pearl Fishers’, with William singing baritone and his eldest son the tenor role.

Their voices blended beautifully as Mathilde, the children’s still youthful mother, at the age of thirty-eight, alighted the carriage, with baby Madoline in her arms. The eighth child and, hopefully, the last. Accompanied by the nurse and two of her sons, Charles and Harold, Mathilde was warmly greeted by her welcoming committee, the youngest, Rudolpho and Millicent. At ages five and eight they tugged at their mothers skirts trying to get a glimpse of the new baby whilst their sister, Florence, tried to restrain them.

Mathilde was filled with love as her children gathered around her. They walked through the front garden, up the stairs and onto the verandah, together. The music wafted through the open window to the sunroom just off the living room, where the wicker table had been set, for afternoon tea. Charles and Harold ushered their mother to the table and Florence poured tea from the tea pot at the centre of the table. The nurse took the baby as Mathilde hugged Millicent. Rudolpho tucked into a biscuit from the biscuit tin. Edith, unable to restrain herself any longer, rushed out of the sunroom and onto the verandah, took the baby from the nurse and cradled her, rocking her gently as she spoke in soft gushing tones.

Welcome little one. Florence come look. Isn’t she beautiful?

Of course she is. She’s one of us. We’re all beautiful are we not?

At that everyone laughed as Florence took her seat next to Vincent and both talked of their upcoming recital together at Saint Mary’s church. This would be their debut as a duet and their father had trained them well.

Edith grudgingly returned the baby to the nurse and took her place next to her mother with her father on one side and her brother, Charles, on the other.

So Charles how was Adelaide? Edith asked

I’ll answer that one, his mother piped in, Charles was a wonderful guardian both at the hospital and at home.

Harold, not to be outdone by Charles, demanded … Me too mother?

Yes Harold you too. Completely useful in every way.

That was indeed Harold’s role in the family. At age fourteen it became clear that Harold would be an excellent manager, or con artist, whichever way one chose to look at it. From selling ant farms to the locals or tickets to family recitals and concerts, Harold knew the value of every penny. He was also the perfect foil for his brother Charles and vice versa.

Charles was the protector and the overseer of the family, always looking out for everyone. Just two years older than Harold, he was a force to be reckoned with. Anyone who had issues, with any member of the family, would have to deal with him first. They would state their business, Charles would present it to his father, and, Charles would deliver the answer. That was why these middle two had been chosen to stay back in Adelaide with their mother for the birth of their sister Madoline Lillian. Their father had only just, a few days before, left with the others for Brisbane to prepare the new house and organise a fitting welcome. The family had never owned a house before and soon, Deighton Place, Kangaroo Point, would be theirs. The excitement at the prospect of actually owning a house had finally dawned on William Albert that day and he couldn’t wait for Mathilde to set eyes on it. He and Vincent, the protege of the family, had been preparing the welcome song for quite some time. At only eighteen, Vincent was to sing in his first opera, The Maritana, at The Princess Theatre in Melbourne. Edith and Florence also had roles in the production. They all needed practice.

Rudolpho Alfonso was forever bringing things from outside into the house. There were bits of string, bark from the trees, sticks, stones, all manner of insects, alive or dead in little dishes, or sometimes crawling up the walls and over the floors. This attracted mice, snakes, frogs and whatever else was living in the surrounding bush. Millicent loved to sing and she was a joy to listen to. The problem was that during rehearsal she was always trying to sing along. At only eight she didn’t know the words or the melody and it was extremely distracting. Sometimes Rudolpho would wail through a tune too. William Albert would be more than relieved when Mathilde to arrived and take the children in hand. This then was the way it was before Madoline’s arrival. In only a few years time everything would change and the house would not be quite so full. This was probably just as well for the years ahead would prove quite a challenge with Madoline at the centre of just about everything. All would, in their own way, be drawn into her world of alternating magic and pain.

Edith’s early return from this, her second voyage to England, had not been planned. She had gone with her parents to England to support the very important presentation of her father’s new opera at The Albert Hall in London. Her mother, Mathilde, was in her early fifties and her father was at the ripe old age of sixty-five. Vincent, would sing the lead tenor role and she and Millicent The soprano roles. Florence had not been in favour with their father and so had not been asked.

The last time Edith Beatrice Richardson had voyaged, back in 1883, there had been another something unplanned. Her sister Millicent Hespera had been born on board. Miilli’s middle name had been taken from the name of the ship, The Hesperus, on which the whole family had sailed. Their destination at that time, being Plymouth port. Unlike the others, Milli’s middle name could not be used on its own for the stage. Edith, when performing generally was introduced as Beatrice, Florence as Matilda and of course Albert Vincent as Vincent. William Albert was Albert or Alberto. He was almost always referred to as William by his wife. Sometimes, by his two names together, if she was displeased with him. The Richardsons had remained in England, living in Eastbourne where, Rudolpho, the second youngest was born. But not for long. They had, five years later, returned first to Melbourne, then to Adelaide for a performance, where they had lived for a while, with the added bonus being the birth of Madoline.

Now Vincent was all of thirty. Milli, at twenty-one, would accompany with her wonderful coloratura-soprano voice. Edith was to have played pianoforte and performed two solo pieces, but the news of Madoline, had changed everything. Madoline, they were informed, had disappeared. Edith had chosen to return while the others would stay back in London. After all, Millicent, was considered the best singer in the family and their mother was definitely the better pianist. They could manage without her. Edith had decided. Besides, William Albert needed the support of his wife, in everything.

It was Mathilde’s accomplishments as a pianist, in fact, that had brought she and William Albert, together. Mathilde was just seventeen and William Albert thirty-two, when they had first met. It had been a marriage made in theatre heaven. They were even revered by their Catholic community who generally frowned upon theatre people. Opera singers were another matter entirely. Of course there was also the fact that William Albert had raised so much money for the church. He had done so through conducting various choirs and raising even more money for the ladies benevolent fund. Later Mathilde too would be much admired for her teaching of the piano. She had a natural ability with children under her tutelage as she did with her own brood. A very happy family by all accounts, and extremely well adjusted, considering their constant moving about. All this changed when Madoline Lillian was born.

The voyage would take thirty-eight days and, while her cabin was comfortable and the ship’s decks, extremely satisfactory for a stroll, the length of time at sea was a daunting prospect. Certainly she did not relish the thought of being at sea for such a long period without the companionship of at least one member of her family. Even if it had been Charles, the brother with whom, she had almost nothing in common. The brother who was such a stickler for rules and yet who was completely without them when it came to himself. What was it about Charles that seemed to bother her so? Perhaps it was his ability to take charge of any situation in a crisis whilst remaining emotionally detached? Could it be that disarming charm of his that drew others to him even when they disagreed with his ideas? In actual fact what really bothered her was that he had freedom and the courage to take it. In 1899 he had left for the Boer war and, having survived, had moved to Alberta Canada where he had married well and bought a beautiful house. He was settled. She was jealous.

Edith’s marriage to Herbert Robert Hampton in 1895 had lasted, despite his mother. The woman loathed Catholics who, in her opinion, never seemed to stop breeding. Herbert would not stand up to his mother on anything. Perhaps that was why Edith had been so devoted to her baby sister Madoline. She needed to be needed and Madoline needed her. The marriage was not exactly perfect. In fact it had been so full of dramas that she had hardly had time to relax at all, let alone make plans for the future. Being Catholic in Australia wasn’t terribly popular, especially with the Presbyterians, the denomination of Herbert’s very strait-laced mother. A real bone of contention with her mother in law and her husband too. Neither were opera singers, performers or gamblers. These latter denominations applied to Edith’s family. Of the eight children, the three eldest, were all musical prodigies but, despite all the squabbling and jealous outbursts between Edith and Florence as to who was the better singer, it would be Millicent Hespera, third from last, who would really be the all rounder.

Returning to her cabin, to dress for dinner, Edith felt so alone, so utterly without the will to socialise with others. Lost in her own world of memory she did not really care what outfit she wore. Unusual for a young woman who had always been so attentive to her attire, yet quite understandable, considering the burden she still carried. Moving to the small wardrobe in the corner of the cabin, Edith sorted through the outfits she had already unpacked, which, hung on the rail. She thought of her sister Florence, only one year her junior, and the most fashion conscious, of the two. She could hear her say …

No Edith! That one will never do! You don’t want to blend. You want to be noticed. Go on, don’t be afraid. In the words of the great Oscar Wilde, ‘Be yourself. Everyone else is taken.’

Be myself, thought Edith. Who is that? Hmmm who will I be this evening? Shall I be the whirling socialite, the colourful bohemian, the Opera diva, or shall I be sensible, reliable, dependable me?

She removed four different dresses from the wardrobe, throwing them on the bed and then pressing each of them in turn against herself, in front of the full length mirror, deciding on the grey satin with laced waistband and neckline.

Very fitting, she thought for a woman alone, mid ocean. Her only jewels being a slim line gold watch and a small golden brooch set with garnets and sapphires. She made sure her wedding ring fitted over her glove as she wanted it to be clearly visible at all times.

Once, when she had had a disagreement with Herbert, she had thrown it into the river at Kangaroo point, whilst out on an afternoon walk with Florence. Her sister had thought it quite thrilling that Edith had done something so radical. Lucky for Edith, there was no tide and she had only thrown it into the shallows. The ring was retrieved very quickly. Oh well that was all in the past. Now here she was, on a long voyage home, to find her sister and to resurrect her marriage. Maybe even find a way of endearing herself to Herbert’s mother.

Having decided on the dress and appropriate jewellery for the Captains table, Edith donned her cloak and stole, took her evening clutch purse from the dresser, and opened her cabin door, which, opened straight onto the deck. The air was fresh and her skin tingled with the sensation of it. She took a deep breath and decided that she would take a promenade around the deck in the soft melancholy glow of the evening. This ship, The Ophir, the newest in the fleet, had a promenade scaling the whole ship and electric lights to make a single woman feel safe. As she walked, Edith could feel the prying eyes, of others.

Where is her husband? She could hear them ask.

Imagine promenading alone. It’s simply not done!

If she were Florence she could have brushed it all off but she was Edith and it mattered.

She stared up into the sky at the pillars of steam pumping out of the ship’s funnels and stood still for a moment, reflecting on how it came about, that she had come to make this voyage on her own. It had taken two months to sail to England and it would take two months to sail back. The family had only been in London for a week when the telegraph call had come through to their hotel via an operator. Edith had gone to the post office to receive the wire.

Madoline, had fallen ill again just before Edith had set sail. She had recently been treated in hospital and was supposed to be recuperating at home. Return to school and a normal life would be the best thing for her, they had all been told. Better she be in her own home while her parents were away. Florence had assured Edith that she would be perfectly fine staying back to take care of her. How could Edith have known Madoline would have another fit and that Florence would take her back to the hospital, leaving her there, while she went off on Suffragette business? How could she know that Rudolpho would be left alone to care for their sister? She had had a strange foreboding that all was not well with Madoline. The telegraph she had received from Rudolpho, had confirmed her misgivings.

Rudolpho had gone to the children’s hospital on the day Madoline was to be discharged. The hospital had telephoned him to come and get her. When he had arrived, Madoline was not in her room. It wasn’t unusual for Madoline to go into hiding and he and the nurse went for a walk on the hospital grounds to look for her. When she could not be found, Rudolpho had searched the streets, the parks, even the churches, including Presbyterian. No sign of her. He’d found Florence at Leona’s house and together they’d tried to find Harold to help them with their search. They’d made calls to many of the places Harold stayed whilst travelling but, unfortunately, Harold could not be contacted.

Rudolpho had telegraphed London as a matter of urgency, hoping his parents, could return immediately knowing it would take two months at least for them to get back. He was well aware that they had only just arrived and had been there only a week.

Where could Madoline have gone? A fourteen year old girl all alone? Edith tapped her forehead in deep thought. She always tapped her forehead. For some reason it helped her fathom the truth. If anyone could find her sister. It would be Rudolpho. It was Rudolpho Alfonso who had been Madoline’s ally and confidante in all things. Edith smiled to herself as she remembered their shared love of saving every creature big and small from harm.

She remembered watching them chase butterflies as they picked wildflowers and braved running against the winds. They had always been almost inseparable. Surely she wouldn’t hide from him. Hopefully Madoline would be found before her ship docked In Rockhampton.

Why on earth had she trusted Florence?

Without hesitation Edith had volunteered to come back. She had managed to dissuade her mother from joining her on this voyage, assuring her that she would find Madoline. A woman’s place was supposed to be beside her husband wasn’t it? Just as she was supposed to be beside hers, Edith had reasoned. William Albert needed his wife to share in his moment of glory. She and Herbert had not been very convivial of late. That was putting it lightly. He had objected most profusely to the amount of time his wife spent focusing on her bohemian family, He objected to her singing in public too.

She had gone to London to spite him, hoping that distance, would make him realise how important she was to him. Let him take care of the house and manage the children. They had a nanny didn’t they? But then, there was always his mother. Also Edith had to admit, she needed to prove her self worth to herself. In short, she hadn’t always made the best choices. She would find Madoline, fix her marriage and change all of their lives

Edith’s contemplation was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. She turned around to see a well dressed man in a top hat and tails smiling at her. He took off his hat and bowed his head.

George Earnest Hooper. At your service!

Edith smiled back at him. He was quite tall, not terribly distinctive, but quite charming, she decided.

Forgive me but I couldn’t help noticing you are all alone. I noticed, in fact, because everyone else seems to be noticing.

Edith looked over at fellow voyagers leaning over the railings or huddled in little groups on deck. They did indeed seem to be staring at her.

Allow me to escort you if I may? I gather you are on your way to the dining room?

George Hooper offered his arm and Edith accepted with no question. Together they strolled toward the dining Hall. George too was at the Captain’s table with a small group of friends.

Join us Mrs Hampton

Edith’s surprise at his familiarity was tantamount.

Just who are you really Mr Hooper?

I am a friend of course. There is room at our table Mrs Hampton if you’d like to join us.

Thank you Mr Hooper, but I have been prearranged. My father …

Mr William Albert Richardson

How did you know?

My mother is a fan from way back in Lyster’s day. ‘IL Travatore’. I believe your father sang the role of the Count in Melbourne.

He was entirely too familiar, Edith decided, and excused herself.

Yes, well, if you’ll excuse me. I must go to my end of the table.

Edith took her allocated seat at the Captain’s behest just as the first course was being served. Captain Littleton was talkative and charming. He made his guests feel very much at home. Edith allowed herself to relax and make polite conversation with those seated close by. All the while, fertivley glancing across, at Mr Hooper. Who was this man really? She understood how he would know of her father but how did he know of her married name? Perhaps he was a friend of Herbert’s or maybe one of her brothers?

That was it! He was a friend of Vincent’s. Now she remembered him. They had met at one of Vincent’s recitals in Melbourne. He was besotted with Florence. Everyone was besotted with Florence. Anyway, Edith was still married then and Herbert had made some excuse not to attend.

Vincent must have organised for Mr Hooper to be on the same ship. In fact this could have been her father’s idea. Perhaps he and Vincent had decided on this course of action together. What a scandal it would have been if a Richardson girl was compromised! She must find out more. Here she was thinking she was doing a brave and noble thing on behalf of the whole family all by herself in the belief that her family trusted her. She began to understand Florence a little better. Why should one always have a man to watch over her?

All of a sudden her face turned beetroot red with anger. At that very moment George Hooper looked over in her direction and registered that the penny must have dropped. He pretended not to notice and continued to enjoy his entree. Edith, still seething, excused herself, got up from her place at the table and left for the powder room. She had to calm herself. The Captain, a very good friend of her father’s, would be dismayed to see her in such a state. Not to mention other guests who, no doubt, were also aware of her family connections. It just would not do. Edith was rational, reliable, dependable and well brought up. It was not like her to lose her temper. She must find a way to avoid this George Hooper.

On her return, the Captain asked Edith to sing something from the family repertoire. She decided then and there on her course of action. She would move through the audience to the swinging doors at the other end of the dining hall and back out gracefully. It would take Mr George Hooper some time to make his excuses to his guests and come after her. By that time she would be well away, tucked up in her cabin and drifting off to sleep.

She chose, fittingly to sing ‘Little Yellow Bird’ as she graciously moved through the well dressed diners, delicately sipping her wine with one hand, and holding the end of her skirt with the other. Not terribly proper. Especially, not for Edith Ellen Beatrice Richardson.