Heartbreak in Hobart Town

By Annabel Vaughan

Note to Readers: Please read forward at beginning of book for an outline on the history on which this story is based.

In the unforgiving landscape of Van Diemens Land, Millie finds herself burdened with the consequences of a childhood whim. At the tender age of 11, she was transported to the harsh and unfamiliar place, where hope dwindles with each passing day.

As the years pass, Millie endures cruel treatment and hardships, surrounded by a society that shows little mercy to those who have fallen from grace. Her spirit remains unyielding, but her heart yearns for kindness and compassion.

John, a man with a good heart and a strong sense of justice, crosses paths with Millie unexpectedly. Drawn to her vulnerability and resilience, he sees beyond the circumstances that have brought her to the desolate land. His acts of kindness and unwavering belief in her goodness gradually began to chip away at the walls Millie has built around herself.

However, Millie refuses to become a burden to John. She can't bear the thought of jeopardizing his reputation in the budding new community. Despite the growing affection between them, she refuses to allow John to become entangled in her web.

John is captivated by the strength that lies beneath Millie's waif-like exterior and is willing to do whatever it takes to protect her and keep her safe.

Amidst the struggles of their own hearts, a jealous rival emerges from the shadows. This adversary, fuelled by envy and spite, is determined to destroy any chance of happiness for Millie, and as events spiral out of control, she again finds her life hanging by a thread. Will John again prove to be her savior?

Will Millie finally allow herself to be loved?

A combination of factual history set against the backdrop of a harsh period in time in Van Diemens Land, Australia, and a story of love that conquers adversity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lipstick Publishing
• Release date: Sep 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223375036

Annabel Vaughan

Annabel Vaughan is the author of Australian Historical Romance. Her books, commencing with The Cascades, will centre on the convict past and early settlement days of Australia. Extensive travel, research of heritage listed locations, will contribute to much of these books being factual but characters will be fictional with no ties to any person now deceased who lived in this era. 

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Copyright © 2023 by Annabel Vaughan

The right of Annabel Vaughan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed, or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon, or similar organizations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

Foreword

WRITTEN IN AUSTRALIAN ENGLISH.

I have not stuck faithfully to the speech and language of the day for two reasons:

It would take a great deal of time to research and make it authentic to the time.

Many readers would be distracted from the flow of the story by an unfamiliar language.

This book is a work of fiction. Any character resemblance to persons, living or dead, except where factually, historically documented, is purely coincidental.

Most place names, excluding Ashgrove House in New Norfolk are factual.

The ship—'Henry,’ sailing dates, and number of female convicts aboard are factual, however, the commander and surgeon’s names are fictional therefore interactions with Millie, a fictional character are also fictional.

The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously with the exception of some Governors and Politicians of the time whose history is well documented.

The convict clothing at the Cascades is accurate in content but colour at this time is in dispute. Some research shows the dresses were white with brown jackets, other research shows both jacket and dress were brown. Yet other research shows they were grey or blue. In this story, I have chosen to refer to both as being brown as it appears to be the colour which is most likely at the time the story is set. What was agreed to by all was that black was the colour worn while under punishment.

The ruins of The Cascades are now World Heritage listed and self-guided or guided tours by knowledgeable volunteers are available. The remains are in the shadow of Mount Wellington, which is responsible for the shaded, damp conditions. Although most buildings were demolished before work was halted, and only two of the yards remain, there are markings showing where buildings originally stood. An engraved board names the hundreds of women and children, many babies, who perished in The Factory and is a timely reminder of the harsh conditions and terrible suffering of those imprisoned on our shores.

As mentioned in this story, children as young as 8 were transported to the ‘new colony’ for nothing more than stealing food because they were hungry and many women were transported for the same reason.

The Jam Factory in Hunter Street is fictional for the purpose of the storyline. It is based loosely on the location of the original IXL factory but please note, IXL was not in existence until 1891.

Street names and government buildings are correct for the time, however business and café names are not, they are a figment of the author’s imagination for the sake of the story.

The marriage service is a reproduction of an Anglican Service of the day and I have left it as authentic as possible.

Thank you

Thank you to staff of Libraries Tasmania who offered their expertise and guidance in researching Tasmania’s history, especially those in Launceston who went above and beyond with their assistance.

Thank you to the ladies of various historical societies I was welcomed into for sharing not only the individual areas’ histories, but also personal stories, and for generously gifting me numerous pages of photocopied information.

Thank you to the descendants of convicts who I had the privilege of speaking with and for telling me about your family members’ stories of hardship and struggle. Many of these people will be fictionalised in this and many stories to come.

Thank you to the guides of The Cascades for imparting their wealth of knowledge as they showed me over the remains.

There are so many others to thank who helped me document the history for use in this, and coming books—Church Leaders, Historical Home Guides, Port Arthur Staff and Guides who generously answered my questions and gave me access to their knowledge.

Historic sites, some not found on tourist maps but stumbled upon, brought to light the past of people who played an important part in Tasmania’s development that I’d had no idea existed and each provided information to weave a tale around in the future.

Many dollars were spent on research books and old maps which have been invaluable in writing this story.

And finally, to you, the reader, thank you for purchasing my book. I sincerely hope you enjoy this look into the past.

Sue aka Annabel.

Written by Annabel Vaughan

Pen name of USA Today Bestselling Author—

Susan Horsnell

Edited by Redline Editing

Proofread by Leanne Rogers

Proofread by JA Lafrance

Cover by KellieCoverDesigns— https://www.facebook.com/kellie.theresa.5

Published by Lipstick Publishing

ABN 573-575-99847

Chapter One

London, England

Early September 1824

Millie—Aged 11

Father, please. Harvey has been ill for so long, the toy soldier he wants so desperately will help to comfort him while he recovers.

I have repeatedly told you, Millicent, it's a baby's toy and a waste of money. Your brother will recover quite well without such an indulgence.

Without arguing further, since I knew it would be fruitless, I left our terrace house in Westminster and trudged along the street towards the centre of London, kicking at stones as I sulked. My father could be so mean and unfeeling. Sometimes I thought I hated him.

Father was a wealthy banker with more than enough money for a toy soldier, but it seemed the only thing he was willing to give freely to my nine-year-old brother and me was an education. He insisted a good education was the way to advance in the modern world.

As I walked, I kept my head down, not acknowledging people hurrying about their business. When I finally lifted my eyes, it was to find myself in front of the large display window of Keaton & Sons Toy Shop, and in the centre of that window was a group of brightly painted toy soldiers standing at attention.

It was a sign, or that's what I convinced myself. I pushed through the heavy door, setting a bell ringing. While the storekeeper was busy taking care of a customer, I crept to where the collection of soldiers was, snatched one up, tucked it beneath my coat, and rushed back to the door. Blood pumped and my heart thumped with fright as I pushed outside, head down, and ran straight into the chest of a member of the Bow Street Runners.

I looked up into the eyes of the man whose eyebrows were pinched together in a deep frown.

Why were you in such a hurry that you weren’t watching where you were going?

I…I’m sorry.

The man studied me closer, and when I glanced down, one leg of the soldier peeking out from beneath my coat was clearly visible.

The man reached over and pulled the toy from beneath my coat. Did you pay for this?

I remained silent, knowing I was in bucketloads of trouble since the authorities had pledged to become more serious about stealing and vowed to give harsher penalties no matter the thief's age.

Peter Finnegan, whose family lived in a terrace on the street behind ours, had been caught stealing a box of toys, and the magistrate had ordered he be transported to the penal settlement of Port Arthur in Van Diemen's Land, where he was to serve seven years. I'd heard his family had begged and pleaded for clemency since he was just nine years old, but the magistrate had stood firm in his resolve and refused to lessen the sentence. The boy had sailed from London a week later.

Surely I wouldn't be transported for stealing a single wooden soldier—would I?

I asked you a question. The man holding my arm was becoming angry.

I still didn't answer, too terrified to form the words.

He dragged me back into the store and over to a counter where the storekeeper had finished with her customer. She looked me up and down, a sneer on her face and lips pursed, after noticing the soldier in the runner's hand.

Ryan O’Malley, what do you have here? Another thief who has helped herself to my goods?

Mrs Plimpson, good day to you, ma'am. It appears clear from what you have said that this child did not make a purchase from you. If I understand correctly, you are stating the toy has been stolen? The runner held up the soldier.

Yes…it was indeed stolen and I am going to request you arrest the thief. It's time these waifs learnt there are consequences for taking something that does not belong to them.

I shall need to keep the toy as evidence, but I can assure you it will be returned after the magistrate deals with the girl.

Thank you, Ryan. Say hello to your mother for me when you next see her.

I will, ma’am.

Runner O'Malley dragged me from the store to where his large chestnut-coloured horse stood patiently waiting a few feet away. He didn't lift me onto the horse; instead, I was spun around to face him and questioned.

What is your name?

Millicent Staples.

Address?

147 Johnson Road, Westminster.

Father’s name?

Albert Staples.

The runner scribbled the information on a piece of parchment paper and snapped his fingers at a young boy nearby. The street urchin ran over.

Take this and give it to the girl's father at 147 Johnson Road, Westminster. Tell him she will be seen by the magistrate tomorrow at 9 am. The runner gave the boy a halfpenny, and he dashed off in the direction of my home.

I was lifted onto the horse, and Runner O'Malley mounted behind me, lifting the reins into his hands.

As the horse clip-clopped along the cobbled roads, the man spoke.

You will spend the night at the Stoke Newington lock-up, and in the morning, you will go before the magistrate at The Old Bailey. There are harsh penalties for stealing, but if your father is prepared to vouch for you, your punishment could be restriction to your home for the period of one year.

That didn't sound too bad, although Father would be furious. I was sure a paddling until I was unable to sit for a week would be forthcoming.

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I spent the night locked in a small cell with two ladies who were also to front the magistrate the following day for stealing. One of the women, out of sheer desperation because her children were starving, had stolen a loaf of bread from a bakery on Brick Lane. The other had taken a pair of earrings from her employer. Both were terrified of being transported to the colonies, something I didn't fear since I was only eleven years old. I was sure my father would agree to whatever supervision demands were made by the court.

After a breakfast consisting of a slice of toast and a glass of milk, one of the watchhouse guards brought me a small port containing some of my belongings. I pulled out my favourite blue dress, white boots, and blue bonnet that I usually wore to church on Sundays and changed from the day dress and boots I'd been wearing. One of the ladies brushed my hair and tied it back with a blue ribbon. Once ready, I stuffed the brush and clothes I'd removed into the port.

A stern-faced guard unlocked the metal cell door, called my name, and motioned me forward. I obeyed without question and was taken to appear before the magistrate at The Old Bailey.

I sat off to one side with a guard, smiled at my father in the front row, and received a dark scowl before he turned his eyes away.

Everyone was ordered to stand as the magistrate entered dressed in long robes and a white wig. He was a short man who waddled into the courtroom rather than walked. He flicked his robes backwards before sitting in his chair where he could look over the courtroom. The toy wooden soldier was placed in front of him.

A man with glasses looked down at a parchment paper and called, Millicent Staples.

I was led into what the guard told me was called a dock and told to sit, along with everyone else in the courtroom.

The same man turned to the judge and spoke again. Your Honour, Millicent Staples has been charged with the theft of a wooden toy soldier from Keaton & Sons Toy Shop. She is the daughter of Albert Staples, a wealthy banker from Westminster.

The judge nodded before asking me questions.

Millicent, tell me why you stole the toy.

I wanted one to comfort my brother who is ill. My father refused to give me the money to buy one because he said my brother wasn’t a baby and didn’t need such a toy.

So, you took the toy without offering payment, is that correct?

Yes, Sir.

You know that stealing is against the law?

Yes, Sir, but my brother is ill, and I was trying to help.

The judge glanced around the room. Is Mr Albert Staples present in the courtroom?

My father stood. Yes, your Honour.

Are you aware of any other instances in which your daughter has broken the law?

No, but I am not always kept informed of her movements, and her mother has admitted that she often disappears for hours without telling her where she is going or what she is doing. The child can be unruly and defiant.

Millicent, have you stolen before? The judge asked.

No, Sir, and this is my first crime of any kind.

Mr Staples, I shall place Millicent under a supervision order for one year from today’s date. You must monitor her at all times.

I'm sorry, Your Honour, but I find that unacceptable. It would be disruptive to my life as well as the lives of my wife and son. I find my daughter's thievery abhorrent, and her actions show a complete disrespect for my word. I shall leave her punishment to the court's discretion while requesting that myself and my family be absolved of any responsibility.

You have no objection to any sentence I administer?

None, Sir, the girl is no longer a welcome member of our family.

I couldn't believe what my father was saying. He had effectively publicly stated that he was disowning his daughter.

Very well, you may take a seat, the magistrate instructed my father before turning back to me. Millicent Staples, please stand.

I stood, and the guard with me stepped closer.

Millicent Staples, you have been charged with stealing a wooden toy soldier priced at a halfpenny. I find the charge to have been proven. You are guilty of thievery and are therefore sentenced to transportation. You will travel by ship to the island of Van Diemen's Land, where you shall be incarcerated in His Majesty's gaol in Hobart Town for seven years from your arrival in the colony.

Tears ran down my face; surely this couldn't be true. I turned to my father. Daddy, please. I promise I'll be good and will never disobey you again.

Father stood stoic; it was as if he didn't care what happened to me.

The magistrate banged a wooden hammer on the bench in front of him and told the guard to take me to a