A Land of Chance

By Fran Hinson

Henry Bellamy, his wife Emma and brother George are the founding members of a dynasty that spans five generations. ‘A Land of Chance’ is a family saga set against a backdrop of Australian history from 1855 to 1951.
At the age of five, Sarah Louise Bellamy emigrates from the English county of Essex with her parents and four sisters to become part of the fabric of early Melbourne. The growth of a dynasty and the rise in its fortunes is seen through her eyes. From early beginnings in merchandising and shipping, the family company expands to keep abreast of changing times with the advent of steam power for their ships, motor vehicles and early aviation. Ultimately, the company’s interests also include mining, agriculture and real estate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fran Hinson
• Release date: Jul 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476173993

Fran Hinson

Born in Sydney, Australia. Currently live in East Gippsland,rural Victoria. Published a non-fiction text book in 1985. Married to Martin.

Book preview

A LAND OF CHANCE

PART ONE OF THE BELLAMY DYNASTY SAGA

by

Fran Hinson

***

PUBLISHED BY CHARGAN AT SMASHWORDS

A Land of Chance

Copyright © 2012 Fran Hinson

ISBN: 978-1-4761739-9-3

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Fran Hinson has asserted her right under the Copyright Act 1976 to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction based on real people and events, brought to life by the author.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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***

Contents

Genealogy

Chapter One February 1951

Chapter Two 1855

Chapter Three Melbourne 1861

Chapter Four London 1867

Chapter Five Dedham to Liverpool

Chapter Six Melbourne 1869

Chapter Seven Melbourne 1869

Chapter Eight Melbourne 1874

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Genealogy

Henry Bellamy (Born 1817, died 1894) married Emma Bellamy (Born 1820, died 1896)

They had five children:

Eva born 1842

Margaret born 1844

Jessie born 1846, died 1920

Mary born 1849

Sarah born 21/2/1850

Eva married James Reynolds in 1862 and had 3 children:

Henry Andrew born 1863

Caroline born 1864

Harry born 1870

Margaret did not marry nor have children.

Jessie married Cedric Parsons (born 1836) in 1873 and had 2 children:

Simon born 1870 (who married Georgina 8/12/1917)

Elisabeth born 1873

Mary married Peter McLean 18/5/1870 and had 3 children:

William born 1871

Benjamin born 1875

Henrietta born 1883

Sarah married Thomas McLean (born 1845) in 1869 and had 1 child, Angus James born 25/4/1870

Angus James married Isobel Braithwaite in 1893 and had 2 children:

Jason Henry born 1894 (who does not marry)

Georgina Mary born 1896

Georgina Mary married Simon Parsons 8/12/1917 and had 2 children:

Toby McLean Parsons born 1919 (who marries Jemma Hudspeth)

Katie McLean Parsons born 1920 (who marries Duncan Cameron in 1946)

George Bellamy born 1824, died 1874 (Brother of Henry Bellamy)

Chapter One

February 1951

On her eightieth birthday, Sarah had earnestly thanked God for the ten bonus years allotted to her beyond the normal three score years and ten. She had remained an incredibly beautiful and vibrant woman until the age of eighty years and had scarcely slowed the pace of her life, desperate to fill every minute of her time left on earth. When it dawned on her that she was not going to die in her eighty-first year, Sarah was shocked beyond belief and decided that she had better slow down and recognise the possibility of living longer. Yet she railed against the increasing afflictions that come with age and when the wrinkles in her cheeks deepened, she simply refused to look in a mirror unless it was absolutely necessary. At eighty she would have been appalled at the thought of living another twenty-one years, yet she had now passed her one hundredth year.

A circle of light shone down on the old woman’s face and shimmered on the thick silver hair that was piled high on her head and secured with a blue enamelled comb encrusted with tiny diamonds and seed pearls. The thin hands with their manicured nails lay at rest, almost translucent on the white sheet. Only the prominent blue veins and thick gold wedding band caught the eye.

Heavy drapes darkened the room against the outside heat yet it was not enough to deaden the familiar sound of tyres crunching on the gravel in the driveway. Sarah’s eyes opened and a smile appeared around the corners of her thin pink lips. Pushing the thin sheet aside, she reached for her walking stick and shuffled painfully towards the French window. Parting the curtains just a few inches gave her a view of the driveway. She recognised her great grandson’s gleaming Rolls Royce parked at the entrance from the main road and although the vision was blurred, she saw the tall figure standing beside the car and wondered why he had stopped.

Toby McLean Parsons stood at the entrance to the horseshoe shaped gravel driveway and stared at the stately sandstone house a short distance away. An imposing portico protected the central entrance, its severe lines softened by a large circular rose garden that lay directly in front. The roofline was broken by a series of turrets and chimneys while ornate wrought iron decorated the verandahs on either side of the portico. A giant wisteria had been trained as a standard up each central post before it was allowed to grow sideways along the base of the upstairs railings. This also softened the straight lines, especially when the delicate mauve flowers cascaded over the first floor roofline in spring. The whole effect was one of symmetry and it was pleasing to the eye.

By positioning himself correctly in the centre of the drive, he could expand or contract the Victorian mansion to fit the frame in his mind’s eye, much the way a photographer arranges a group portrait. Although he knew the house like the back of his hand, he studied it with an unemotional, abstract interest as he compared it to the buildings he designed. His steel and glass buildings were bold yet graceful, thrusting their way skywards until they appeared to be hanging, suspended in space. This building was solid and reassuring and as far from his idea of a perfect building as it was possible to be, yet he loved it. He was also about to own it.

The late February day was still uncomfortably hot and the jacket of his impeccably tailored suit was slung over the back of the car seat. Long thin fingers ran through his dark brown hair as deep blue eyes gazed at the mansion before him. He absently loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt but he remained uncomfortably warm. Toby was thirty-two years old and some said he was about to become the second richest man in Australia. To date he had generated none of this wealth. In fact, he could possibly claim the title of being the first ‘black sheep’ in five generations after choosing a career in architecture rather than assuming the role as rightful heir to the original Bellamy fortune.

Toby turned towards his car where it sat with engine idling and the door open. He put the Rolls Royce into gear and drove slowly down towards the shaded space under the portico. His great grandmother would be expecting him and he looked forward to spending a week with the old lady. At her insistence, he had long ago dropped the formality of addressing her as Grandmamma. Now the relationship was based on a firm friendship and they were just Sarah and Toby.

A man, some ten or so years younger than Toby appeared and opened the car door before he had time to switch off the engine.

Hello Jimmy.

Good afternoon sir. Leave it running and I’ll put it in the garage, he replied before reaching into the back for Toby’s suitcase. Jimmy O’Neill had worked at ‘Dedham’ since he was a lad and the two knew each other well.

Toby stepped from the running board and looked up at the engraved slab of stone that bore the words ‘Dedham – 1864’.

How are things going? Toby asked.

Fine, Jimmy answered. I’ll take your case up to your room after I put the car away. Mrs McLean has been waiting anxiously for you so I would go and see her directly if I were you. Even though she’s getting weaker by the day, she still finds it hard to be patient. You know what she’s like? he said with a grin.

Yes I know, Toby laughed.

The heavily panelled door stood ajar and as Toby mounted the steps, the housekeeper hurried to the door, smoothing the white apron that covered her pale blue cotton uniform.

Welcome home sir, she said warmly and opened the door fully.

Thank you Doris. How is she today?

Becoming frailer each week but she says she feels well enough. She has been talking about your visit for two full days now. You are staying the week aren’t you?

Toby stepped onto the marble flooring and again admired the double staircase rising on each side of the large entrance foyer.

Yes I am and I’ll go and say hello to her straight away.

I’ll bring you both some tea. Did you know that we moved Mrs McLean downstairs and converted her sitting room into a bedroom?

No I didn’t but it’s a good idea.

Doris Finch turned towards the kitchen as Toby made his way through the formal lounge room towards his great grandmother’s favourite room.

Sarah stood with her back to the curtains and a smile flooded over her pale complexion when Toby appeared at the open door. The pale blue crocheted shawl around her shoulders gave back some colour to the faded blue eyes.

I thought you would be asleep, Toby said as he approached to kiss her forehead.

I’ll have plenty of time to sleep when I’m dead, she said gruffly but with a twinkle in her eye.

With an effort she tried hard to conceal, Sarah returned to sit on the edge of the bed.

Would you mind opening the curtain and the doors onto the verandah? We might get a breeze in now. Then come and sit where I can have a good look at you.

Doris is bringing us some tea, Toby said as warm air and light flooded into the room. I’m not too sure that the breeze is very cool but at least it’s a breeze. How have you been? he asked and pulled a chair close to the bed.

I’m well enough I suppose but I can feel myself getting weaker and I can’t have too much time left to me. I wanted to see you while I still have all my marbles.

Toby laughed at her matter of fact attitude.

I’m here for the whole week and completely at your disposal but I don’t think you are in any danger of losing your marbles at this late stage.

Doris entered and Toby cleared a small table so she could rest the tray she was carrying. After the housekeeper left he poured the tea into a mug for himself and a fine bone china cup. Sarah had consistently refused to drink from a mug.

Tell me about this young lady of yours. Is it serious and what’s her name?

Toby laughed at her usual direct manner.

Her name is Jemma Hudspeth and yes it’s serious but I’m only thirty-two so I have plenty of time yet.

Sarah shook her head.

Don’t wait too long if you love her, life’s too short, she said earnestly.

While they sipped tea, Toby updated Sarah on his long-distance relationship with an American girl before turning to a discussion about his current work on a new building development.

Let me help you back into bed, you look a bit worn out, Toby said and lifted the thin legs back under the sheet.

I’ll be alright after forty winks, Sarah replied.

When she was settled, Toby left the room quietly to collect a book before returning to read until she woke an hour later.

When Sarah opened her eyes she seemed refreshed and Toby put his book down.

You were going to tell me about the family’s early days and how this house came to be built. Can you remember that far back? Toby asked, anxious to turn the conversation way from further scrutiny of his relationship with Jemma.

Oh my yes. I can’t remember much about what happened last week but coming to Australia is as clear in my mind as if it was yesterday. I don’t feel at all old on the inside you know. It was so exciting for a young child. I was only about five you know, she said dreamily.

A number of faded, framed photographs were grouped carefully on the dressing-table but on the wall opposite Sarah’s bed, three large, ornately framed oil paintings hung side and side.

Sarah’s expression softened as she gazed at her father’s solemn face, his eyes appearing to look directly at her.

He was a very proud man, but kind. He was also a big man but not overweight – I suppose he just seemed big compared to mother. Very particular about his appearance, he was.

The old lady chuckled as she remembered her mother saying, Henry you spend more time in front of the mirror than I do.

Father why do you not wear a beard like most men, I would ask him.

Because my dear child, I do not feel properly dressed until I have shaved.

Sarah laughed again, And that was the end of the conversation. I always remember him on the day of my sister’s wedding – he looked so grand he almost outdid the bride.

There were five children weren’t there? Toby asked.

Sarah looked down from the painting, surprised at the sound of another voice, for she had almost forgotten his presence.

Yes there were five of us – all girls. Eva was first, then Margaret, Jessie, Mary and me. I was the youngest although people thought Mary and I were twins because there was just less than a year between us. Eva hated the thought of leaving England and all her friends; talk about tears! It’s testimony to my mother’s patience that we even managed to get her onto the ship. I think mother was apprehensive but she didn’t show this to us. She was worried about leaving her home and garden more than anything else. The rest of us were terribly excited and couldn’t wait. You see, father’s brother, my Uncle George had already emigrated to Australia and he used to write back such wonderful letters telling us all about the sunshine and warm weather.

Sarah’s gaze had moved along to the third oil painting and Toby shifted his chair so that he could also see the three portraits.

That’s Uncle George and he built this house. Anyway, he made it all sound so exciting and there was no real reason to stay in England. My mother had studied in Brussels and owned a school for young ladies in Dedham, which is a small town in Essex. My father, Henry was also a teacher and taught Hebrew and Greek at her school. When they married and had five daughters it was obvious that education would play an important part in our lives.

Sarah paused in her story to rummage in the top drawer of her bedside cabinet. Eventually, she handed five carefully painted miniatures to Toby. Each of the five daughters stared back at him.

Sarah was the daughter who most resembled her mother. Fair hair framed a finely boned face, the most startling feature of which was large, enquiring eyes, the colour of cornflowers. An episode of whooping cough nearly took her early life but the five- year old toddler in the miniature showed a gregarious outgoing personality, full of life and laughter. Eva had a haughty look about her but was still a pretty child.

Margaret looked to be quiet and quite serious with no hint of a smile. Jessie’s expression was distant, as though the whole act of having her portrait painted was a waste of time and she looked as though her thoughts were far away. Mary, on the other hand showed a vitality and humour and she was as dark as the others were fair.

Long dark curls framed a very interesting face.

It must have been a huge undertaking to bring a family of seven to the other side of the world, Toby said as he placed the miniatures back on the bedside table.

Sarah nodded. "It was. We left on the last day of February in 1855. I remember it because it was a week after my fifth birthday. Mother had been packing for weeks and I recall only being allowed to choose our most precious items. Everything else we had to give to the Abbott family down the road. They had lost everything in a house fire and I can still hear mother giving us a lecture on how fortunate we were to still have a choice as the Abbott family had been left with nothing.

Lots of letters had been passing back and forth between father and Uncle George and eventually it was all organised. Mother relaxed a bit after they received information from George that he had managed to find a small house for them in Melbourne and a teaching position at a private ladies’ college was ideal as it meant we children could enrol for our senior education. Father selected and booked a ship, which was to sail from Liverpool. It was a first class clipper barque of about 450 tons and carried 60 people and nearly one third of those were children so we were pretty pleased.

There were several pre-departure parties but I can remember it was a very sombre departure as friends and neighbours gathered outside our house. A cold wind and leaden skies mirrored mother and Eva’s moods but the rest of us were very excited.

The railway station at Colchester was a hive of activity and it took father some time to arrange for our luggage to be unloaded onto the train. The trip was slow due to all the swing bridges, banks and sharp curves, which were a feature of the Great Eastern line.

Eva had stopped crying by the time we arrived in London thank goodness because it was quite a job getting us all to Euston Station for the next part of the journey to Liverpool. I can’t remember a lot about the second train but I can remember we were all very tired when we eventually booked into the Five Bells. I remember the hotel well because I stayed there again many years later.

A silence of such long duration followed that Toby thought she had fallen asleep again but as Toby was about to pick up his book again, Sarah continued.

"I was amazed at the people and noise at the station in London but it was nothing compared to the turmoil dockside in Liverpool. We walked from the hotel and had to pick our way towards the gangplank and wait there for father who had hired a dray for our luggage. The cobblestones were filthy, wet and slippery and we nearly fell several times. Eventually we were settled into our cabin and then it seemed ages before the tide was suitable and the ship could pull away from the wharf. We all stood up on deck and waved as the ship’s band played and we moved out to the middle of the Mersey River. The noise was deafening and I can recall clapping my hands over my ears as the first gun salutes sounded. It was really rough for the first two days and many people were seasick but after that the weather improved and the meals were better organised. The band played again and there was dancing and singing on deck. A lady who had been to Australia before gave a series of lectures about what to expect. I can remember wondering why we were leaving our home if the houses weren’t as good and gardens didn’t grow well. She mentioned famine and floods and quite put the wind up poor mama. So much so that we stopped going to the lectures.

Father insisted that we continue with our lessons during the voyage but there was so much to see and do on deck our education turned to geography and weather patterns much to our relief.

One thing I remember is watching the men shooting pistols at marks in the water. Roughly fashioned timber ducks and bottles served as targets and bets were wagered for the highest number of scores. Father even won the title of Best Sport.

Sometimes in the tropics when we were almost becalmed, we were able to swim in the sea, warm as milk. A sheet of canvas was rigged up on deck and even in the shade the air was still and fetid and the ship smelt dreadfully of oil and animals. Once we moved over the equator and into the southern hemisphere we travelled faster and we were able to stay on deck and watch the Cape Hens and flying fish. Before long though, the weather changed again and we had several severe hailstorms, sleet, rain and even snow. A large iceberg was clearly visible one day. It was nearly ten times larger than our ship and caused much excitement but everyone on board was anxious for the sight of land. I remember seeing my first black swans and father told us we were close to the coast of Australia. When we eventually entered the heads at Melbourne, there was a deafening cheer by the passengers and crew. It was all very exciting, especially for a small child. That’s the way it all started."

Sarah paused a while and Toby stood and walked to the open door to stretch his legs.

What changes you must have seen during the next 95 years. I suppose George was at the wharf to meet you?

Yes he was and then our adventures really started.

The old lady nodded slightly and closed her eyes. Toby watched in silence as Sarah fell asleep with a gentle smile on her face.

Chapter Two

1855

The seven members of the Bellamy family arrived in Australia on May 28th, 1855.

The pioneering Henty family had settled at Portland in November 1834 with John Batman and his party reaching Port Phillip Bay in May of the following year. In 1837 the settlement was given the name of Melbourne and Robert Huddle laid out the street grid.

The first land sale in June of the same year was the turning point in Melbourne’s development and the population jumped from a meagre 500 to 1,264 by the end of the year. By 1845 the township had been declared a city and elections had been held to govern the new municipality. Gaols had been built and Parishes created for north and south Melbourne. There were now hospitals, doctors and even schools and churches. The following year in 1846, Melbourne’s own newspaper, the Argus began. Despite almost annual flooding of the Yarra River and a few lean years, the township continued to grow. The Port Phillip district, separated from New South Wales in 1851 and with its boundary set at the Murray River, was renamed Victoria in honour of the English Queen. By the time the Bellamy family arrived in 1855 there were over 9,000 buildings and there was even gas street lighting.

Henry’s brother had already been in Melbourne for over a year and he drove his carriage to Port Melbourne to meet the ship. The family reunion was emotional and Henry was quite taken aback when George embraced him in a great bear hug.

How was the trip? George asked when he finally released his brother.

It was fair enough but we are all very pleased to feel dry land beneath our feet again, Henry replied, standing back to look at his sun-tanned younger brother.

You’ve filled out and developed a healthy colour, it suits you.

George then turned to greet the rest of the family while Henry set off to arrange the transport of luggage. While he was away, George settled the women into the carriage.

The heavy trunks were sent by rail from Sandrich to Melbourne but it was still a tight squeeze in the carriage and as recent heavy rain had made the road slippery and treacherous, it was a slow journey back to Melbourne.

The children had been remarkably quiet since disembarking and Sarah was the first to ask any questions.

Will we see any natives and convicts Uncle George?

Yes my dear child, George laughed, although the convicts are mostly in Sydney and Hobart. When the first settlers came from Hobart to Melbourne they were not allowed to bring any convict servants. Of course, some assigned servants came with settlers from New South Wales so there are some about. I believe they tried to land a shipload of superior convicts at Hobson’s Bay about 6 years ago but there was such an uproar from the free settlers here, they were not allowed to land and the ship was redirected to Sydney.

What about natives? Sarah persisted.

"Yes you will see some aborigines in town, though most