Chapter 16
Mrs Macquarie’s Chair sat on its headland overlooking the harbour and Fort Denison, as it had for decades now. Mrs Macquarie was long gone. Her chair, as resolute as the rock it was carved in, a lasting legacy. That and the road behind, planned, according to the chair, by Mrs Macquarie. Why would a woman plan a road? What sort of woman could she have been? Brave, no doubt. Intelligent. Compassionate. Florentine wanted to be all these things. Most especially brave. She sat on the chair and tried to imagine how Elizabeth Macquarie had coped with all the things she’d faced being married to a governor and living so far from home.
Was it any different to her own mother, after all?
Florentine’s gaze fixed on the Martello tower that had been built on top of Pinchgut Island. It was n
