Romance readers sometimes discuss which books to include in a “conversion kit” for non-romance readers. Australia-set historical romance Whispers Of Heaven by Candice Proctor would be my first recommendation.
1840. Jesmond “Jessie” Corbett’s joyful return to her native Tasmania from studies in England is accompanied by the expectation that she will settle down into marriage with her betrothed, the Corbetts’ wealthy neighbour and friend Harrison Tate. There is a shortage of gentry in the colony, and this is the life that has been planned for them since childhood, just as the duty of Jessie’s restive brother, Warrick, is to marry Harrison’s sister, the quiet, cool Philippa. While Warrick rebels, Jessie has always striven to please those she loves, and does her best to conform.
But something feels different, and the people around Jessie worry that indulging her unladylike scientific pursuits may have spoilt and changed her. While she does her best to reassure everyone, most of all Harrison and her mother, she traces her secret restlessness to a source nobody would ever suspect.
The wealth of the far-off British colony is built on the convict system, and convicts form the large labour force on the Corbett estate. Fiery Irishman Lucas Gallagher knows he cannot sustain the brutalizing degradations of convicthood for the rest of his life, and is consumed by plans for escape. When he is assigned as groom to the haughty Miss Corbett, he seizes the opportunity to explore the coastal areas beyond the estate. What he discovers, however, may cost him far more than the living death of convicthood.
There is not one simplistic character in Whispers Of Heaven, which is all the more remarkable since its cast is large. This is an entirely character-driven story which at times reminded me of The Thorn Birds – not in scope or content, but in the tone of the narrative and in the depth and intelligence of the characterisations. While Whispers Of Heaven is without a doubt a romance, I would say it could double as historical fiction; the substance and richness of its setting entirely eludes today's typical historical romance.
The Corbett family has re-created an English idyll of manicured lawns, rose bushes, and a castle-like manor in the wilds of Tasmania (according to the Author's Note, Proctor found inspiration at, among other historical Tasmanian estates, Clarendon House and Highfield (Stanley)). But perimeter walls of stone, strong window shutters, and convict lodgings that are carefully locked at night are reminders of the tenuousness of “civilized society” in the colony. The last surviving Aborigines may have been rounded up and transported off the island, but the legacy of violence and tragedy continues. Tasmania has claimed as much from the Corbetts as the Corbetts have claimed from it. For Jessie, a mere moment’s escape to seek a respite from the restraints that confine her on all sides leads to near-catastrophe.
I loved the vibrant character of Jessie. As she struggles with the realisation that to do what she has been taught is right and expected comes at the price of losing her true self, she never loses her decency or kindness to others. This is a heroine whose strength is displayed through fortitude and unselfishness through the worst of crises, and whose sense of love and loyalty go hand in hand without ever making her a doormat or an idiot.
If Lucas Gallagher had ignited the same emotions in me, Whispers Of Heaven would without a doubt have catapulted to the top of my favourite romances of all time. It certainly is the most well-written romance I have ever had the pleasure to read. But while I felt an aching compassion for the two starcrossed lovers, their love relationship sometimes engaged my intellect more than my heart, and the reason for that lies squarely with the character of Lucas.
As a convict unlikely to ever obtain a Ticket Of Leave, his movements and actions are severely circumscribed: like a slave, he has no choice but to do what he is told and to suppress his own will and inclinations if he wants to survive. The enforced passiveness set by his physical constraints, however, carried over to his personality. He is depicted as fierce, angry, and physically strong and agile, but in most ways that define their characters, Jessie is the one who acts whereas Lucas merely reacts. In this, his role is akin to that assigned to female protagonists in romances that perpetuate stereotypical gender roles. At the same time, he is obviously not meant to come across as ineffective: whether fighting, rescuing, or debating, he is capable, noble, and sharp. But despite this, and despite his painful backstory and his supposedly passionate nature, I found a certain flatness in him that might have been avoided by highlighting his conflicts as clearly and with as much complexity as Jessie’s. I would have liked to see him reflecting more deeply about his choices, his fears, and his dreams beyond the brooding about his degradation, humiliation, and hunger to regain freedom.
Otherwise, from the layered portrait of Harrison and the repressed figure of Mrs. Corbett, to the sympathetic enigmas represented by Philippa and the outcast Genevieve, every character in Whispers Of Heaven shines. Their sometimes tragic, always absorbing stories play out against equally vivid scenery, from the turbulent coastal seas patrolled by Navy ships and infiltrated by American whalers, to the gum trees and wattles, lorikeets and kookaburras that populate the beautiful inland.
Candice Proctor allows the story to reveal itself gradually, at a natural, unforced pace, yet the tempo never flags and the intrigue steadily grows along with the heightening suspense. I savoured every moment, easily dismissing the rare anachronism (croquet, cucumber sandwiches; eschewing the official name for Tasmania at this period, Van Diemen’s Land) and a few too many mentions of Jessie’s “golden” hair and Lucas’s muscled (and scarred) back. So unpredictable and seemingly impossible is Jessie and Lucas’s path to togetherness that I wondered almost to the last page how on earth Proctor was going to pull off a happy ending. But she did, brilliantly.
With its unflinching depiction of a brutal system and an unforgiving land, this is not a story for the faint of heart. Nonetheless, as a romance Whispers Of Heaven has few equals. I loved it and know I will re-read it many, many times.
Excerpt
(Ivy Books, The Ballantine Publishing Group, 2001, page 65-6):
“Her head tilted upward in that haughty way he hated. ‘British law is the envy of the world.’
He gave a harsh, ringing laugh. ‘Oh it is, is it? That’s why you’re so bloody generous about spreading your British law around, I suppose. Greed and selfishness have nothing to do with it, do they?’
She tied the loose ribbons of her hat with swift, angry motions. ‘Greed and selfishness?’
He leaned toward her. ‘That’s right. Greed and selfishness, all dressed up as moral superiority and sanctimonious hocus-pocus. What do you think? That God created the whole world, just for you? So you could bring British law and British liberty and the bloody British empire to everyone, like the great, God-appointed civilizers of the world?’
She stood very still, still enough that he could see her heartbeat fluttering the pulse point at the base of her pale neck, just above her white lace collar. ‘We have created the greatest empire the world has ever seen,’ she said, her voice so calm, so in control, so bloody English. ‘An empire that is shining and glorious and–’
He swiped one hand through the air in an angry gesture. ‘Glorious, is it? Glorious? Well, let me tell you, there will never be any glory – not true glory – attached to your mighty empire, not as long as you can maintain it only by oppressing those under your rule – be they African, or Indian, or Irish. And that’s why you’ll lose it someday. All of it.’
Her breath was coming so hard and fast, she was practically shaking with it, although her voice was still admirably even. ‘You’re a madman.’
He gave her his best, devil-damn-the-world smile. ‘Not a bit of it. I’m just Irish, remember?’
For a moment, she looked startled. Then she surprised him by laughing out loud. Not a polite society titter with no heart or soul in it, but a husky, earthy laugh that lit up her face in a natural, spontaneous way that seemed oddly at variance with her lacy trims and lilac ribbons and precious lady’s manners. He stared at her, at the unexpected fullness of her lower lip and the gentle curve of her cheek. A strange silence crackled between them, a silence filled with the moan of the evening wind and the gurgle of the free-flowing river, and a firm, steadily approaching tread that brought her head snapping around and jerked him to instant, quivering attention.”
