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Rosalie’s bones ached with dread; her well-ordered life had turned upside down and her children’s future was under threat. She had spent every waking moment working toward a level of comfort she had never known in the draughty old stone cottage of her childhood. Huddled in the narrow confines of the ship that had brought them both from dreary England to sunny Port Jackson, she and James had shared dreams and planned their future. Poverty and a life always on the edge of ruin was not for them. It was the same promise most emigrants swore; that life would be better, fortunes and destinies changed. Such promises kept sanity intact on the long days spent tossed around on leaky old barques with grand names. Rosalie had the gut-wrenching sensation that her luck had run out and she was now perch