Mathinna considered this. “Where is he now?”

“Oh goodness, ye are full of questions. I don’t know. Now, come—we need to go downstairs. Lady Franklin is waiting.”

“Before I take ye in here, I should mention that the Franklins like to collect things,” Sarah told Mathinna as she knocked.

Mrs. Crain opened the door with a scowl. “You’ve kept the lady waiting.”

Stepping into the room holding her rush basket, Mathinna gazed around her. There was almost too much to take in. In a curio chest between two long windows, human skulls were lined up by size. On the wide mantel of the fireplace, under glass domes, a snake appeared coiled and ready to strike, spiders clung to branches, a colorful bird swooped in midflight. A wombat, wallaby, gray kangaroo, and pademelon peered out from a glass display case, so lifelike that they seemed merely captive.

A collection of waddies and spears lined one wall. Mathinna walked closer to get a better look. One of the spears, decorated with a distinctive pattern of ochre and red, was familiar.

“I was told it belonged to Towterer.”

Mathinna turned. Lady Franklin was seated in a brown velvet chair, her back erect and her hands in her lap. Her gray hair was parted in the middle and pulled back in a bun, and she wore a burgundy shawl around her shoulders. “Your father, yes?”

Mathinna nodded.

“Eventually I’ll donate it to a museum, along with most of these artifacts. No doubt they will help further our study of native life.” Lady Franklin beckoned her with a finger. “I’m pleased to see you, Mathinna. What have you got in that basket?”

Dutifully Mathinna stepped forward and set the basket in front of Lady Franklin. She peered into it. “My word,” she exclaimed. “What a strange-looking creature! What on earth is it?”

“A possum, ma’am.”

“Wouldn’t it be better off in the wild?”

“He has never lived in the wild. I’ve had him since he was born.”

“I see. Well . . . I suppose it can stay, as long as it’s healthy. Best keep it away from Montagu’s dog. What else is in there?”

Mathinna reached into the basket, under Waluka’s nest, and pulled out the now-tangled clump of tiny green shells, easing them into three separate strands. She handed one to Lady Franklin.

“Ah,” Lady Franklin murmured, holding up the necklace and turning it in the light. “I’ve seen these from a distance. Remarkable handiwork.”

“It is, madam.”

“Did you know, Mrs. Crain, that natives spend weeks, months even, finding and stringing the minuscule shells? These necklaces will be a worthy addition to my collection.”

Mathinna felt short of breath. She wanted to grab the necklace out of Lady Franklin’s hand. “They’re mine,” she blurted. “My mother made them.”

Mrs. Crain shook her head, clucking her tongue.

Lady Franklin leaned down, close enough that Mathinna could see a few dark hairs sprouting from her chin. “I’m sure your mother would be honored if she knew that the governor’s wife appreciates her trinkets.” She held out her palm.