From the safety of the boardwalk, she adjusted her fashionable green hat with its now bedraggled red feather and glanced up and down the bustling main street, looking for her brother’s familiar face among the strangers. Plenty gave her a curious glance but she could not find the person she sought. Punctuality had never been Will’s greatest virtue and from what she understood of the local geography, Pretty Sally, where he now lived, was some miles out of Maiden’s Creek. Perhaps he had simply misjudged the distance he needed to travel. Or had a problem at the Shenandoah Mine required his urgent attention?

Maybe he hadn’t received the letter she had sent from Melbourne? A missive addressed merely to Mr W J Penrose C/- Pretty Sally General Store did seem somewhat vague.

Eliza’s chest tightened with disappointment that Will wasn’t here to meet her. She had spent the uncomfortable coach trip imagining their reunion after all these years. So much to say … and, of course, sad news to impart. Will had always been close to their mother and her death would be a grief to him.

‘Are you expecting someone to meet you?’ Burrell asked.

‘I thought my brother …’ She cleared her throat and raised her voice to be heard over the cursing and shouting of the bullockies and the incessant thump from several batteries of gold stampers. It had been years since the cadence of the mines had marked the passing of her days, the rhythm of the stampers as familiar as her own heartbeat.

She squared her shoulders beneath her fashionable, but now ruined, coat and addressed the coachman.

‘Would you be so good as to direct me to the house of Charles Cowper?’

Burrell raised an eyebrow. ‘Charles Cowper? What would be your business with ’im?’

‘He’s my uncle.’

‘Your uncle?’ Burrell scratched his nose and frowned. His eyes widened as he made the connection. ‘Then you’ll be Will Penrose’s sister? Should’ve seen it when I took you on board at Shady Creek.’

A wave of relief washed over her. ‘Yes, I am. I thought he would be here to greet me. I sent him a message, but as he appears to be detained, I’ll go to my uncle’s house and wait for him there.’

Burrell’s gaze slid to the coach and he cleared his throat. ‘I’d best be seeing to me ’orses. Cowper’s ’ouse is up there.’ He indicated a neat white weatherboard house on the hill above the town. ‘You’ll be after some ’elp with your luggage?’

He signalled a couple of men who were leaning against the wall of the Empress Hotel and indicated Eliza’s heavy iron-bound trunk and leather portmanteau. ‘You two. Be so good as to carry this lady’s luggage up to Mr Cowper’s ’ouse.’