Beneath the Kauri Tree (The Sea of Freedom Trilogy Book 2)

by Sarah Lark

  “What they’re up to doesn’t have to be done in a bed at night,” Lizzie said pointedly. “Who knows what those two would do if we forbade them. Probably they’d do it in public.”

  Lizzie was right. They could not lock up Matariki, let alone Colin. The best thing would be for them to marry soon, but that would again pose the question of her dowry, and there, all parents were in agreement: they would not finance a horse-trading business for Colin, whether he called it a racetrack, stud farm, or whatever else. Moreover, he no longer seemed in such a rush to get married.

  “We’re putting that off while Colin tries to raise money,” Matariki said when Kathleen asked her about a wedding. “As for my squatting here all day, Kathleen, I wanted to get a job, but Colin prefers I don’t.”

  Matariki flipped through a magazine. She did not seem entirely pleased with her life, but Colin disapproved of her attempts to gain employment. She would have gladly helped Kathleen and Claire in the shop, for which the two of them also would have wanted to pay her. At this suggestion, Colin had made quite a scene, which led to a heated argument.

  “You remind me a lot of your father, Colin,” Kathleen had hurled at him. “He also would have liked to lock me up, although he was quite welcoming of my money. I should tell you the whole story sometime, Matariki. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  Matariki was no submissive Irish Catholic; she was more than self-confident. Before she finally resigned herself, she and Colin fought.

  “Just what will happen when we finally have the stud farm, Colin?” she spat out. “Will I not be permitted to show myself in the stables, let alone make any decisions?”

  Here, however, Colin could calm her, mostly by pointing out that women on other big farms managed on many occasions to gain respect. Matariki’s great model was Gwyneira Warden on Kiward Station, the breeder of Grainie, her mare.

  “Do you think Mrs. Warden worked as a saleswoman or barmaid before her wedding?” Colin said. “That would have been beneath her dignity, and you don’t need to do it either. As mistress of your own farm, you can act very differently.”

  Matariki let herself be assuaged by this argument, but her discontent grew with her boredom. Moreover, Colin had already twice rebuffed her in the evening.

  “I could go with you,” she said when he revealed that he needed to go to a reception with Jimmy Dunloe. “I can buy a dress from Kathleen, and then—”

  Colin smiled indulgently. “With what would you buy a dress, my little lamb? Do you think you still have an account? No, no, my dear, your parents are cutting you off. You said so yourself. Receptions like these are boring. Just sleep at my mother’s. It’s better for her pastor’s soul, anyway.”

  Matariki did not want to think about whether her parents really had cut off all support. A few days before, the Drurys had suggested she pay the entry fees for the university but declined to hand her money. Matariki was determined not to back down, even if it was hard, as it was in regard to this evening. Kathleen and Peter were going to the opening of Chloe and Heather’s first exhibition at their new gallery.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come along, Riki?” Kathleen inquired, concerned given how she was sulking. “Or are you doing something with Colin? Heather invited him, too, so why aren’t the two of you going together?”

  Matariki did not have an answer to any of her questions. She withdrew into the guest room with the newspaper. She did not feel well anyway and had not all day. Maybe she had eaten something bad. She paged listlessly through the Auckland Herald, wondering how it ended up in Kathleen’s living room. The news from the North Island did not really interest Matariki, even if she had lived there a long time. Nevertheless, she hoped for information about Te Whiti or other incarcerated leaders of the Parihaka movement. As expected, however, she found nothing. The chieftains were still incarcerated, the protests of the Maori against the government’s land grabs largely silenced. People expected Te Kooti and Te Whiti to be released soon, but their influence on their people was without a doubt broken.

  Then, however, a name Matariki had heard before caught her eye: Amey Daldy. It took a moment for her to remember how she knew the name. Amey Daldy worked for women’s suffrage—for the pakeha and the Maori. The girls in Parihaka had often talked about suffrage, debating the controversy. Among the tribes, women had largely equal rights. They could freely choose their husbands, own land, and acquire the status of a tohunga. Men and women alike belonged to the villages’ councils of elders, and a woman was occasionally elected chieftain, particularly on the largely peaceful South Island. Arona had told the girls that female chieftains had appeared at the famous meeting in Waitangi. On the treaty signed there, however, no women’s names were found: the pakeha had sent away the female tribal leaders.

  The girls in Parihaka were not in agreement about whether Maori women had to fight it out in Parliament for this long-held prerogative or whether they could force the pakeha to accept them without needing further legislation. The invasion of Parihaka had proved the latter question, in any case, academic: the Maori could not force the pakeha to do anything, and the rights of women were the last thing for which the men of the tribes were prepared to reach for arms. Matariki’s own experiences with Kahu Heke confirmed this sad observation: the fundamental attitude of the Maori people was a pragmatic one. Whatever roles the Maori needed women to fill, be it as priests, healers, or even warriors and chieftains, they were allowed to take up that profession. Yet that did not mean men would condescend to cook, clean the lodges, or raise the children. If the pakeha were of the opinion that women should not own land or have a voice in Parliament, then tribal warriors would happily accept real estate and the status of representative. After all, no one had scruples about taking away the rights of chieftains’ wives and covering chieftains’ daughters with restrictive tapu.

  In this regard, Matariki had the highest respect for women like Amey Daldy, and she read what the Auckland Herald wrote about her with interest. Daldy’s Ladies’ Seminary wanted to open itself to Maori women. The journalist smugly noted that the ladies in question would have to learn English first. Matariki clenched her fists with rage. After all, many more Maori spoke the language of the pakeha than the other way around. Nevertheless, she was interested in Mrs. Daldy’s ladies’ seminary. What did the women learn there? Housekeeping and proper conduct? Or writing petitions, singing protest hymns, and fighting for rights?

  The article did not provide any information about this, but farther down the page, a notice caught Matariki’s eye:

  Seeking well-bred young lady of Maori ancestry as colleague in Daldy’s Ladies’ Seminary. Conditions: good knowledge of the Maori language as well as English, takes joy in teaching, knowledge of the conventions and customs of the tribes as well as their traditional crafts, music, and culture.

  For a moment, Matariki forgot Colin and their marriage plans. This employment seemed made for her. She could apply what she had learned in Parihaka—from hardening flax to peaceful resistance. Matariki briefly pictured herself at a podium beside women’s rights activists like Amey Daldy or her great predecessor, Mary Wollstonecraft. She would translate the words of the speakers for the women of her people and teach the children English without letting them forget their roots. Te Whiti would be proud of Matariki Drury. Then, she remembered Colin and the stud farm. No, under no circumstances could she leave him alone in that—plus, she missed him when she had to spend even one night without his embrace.

  Matariki pushed her daydream aside and instead considered which of the other girls from Parihaka might be interested in this position. The girls had been taken prisoner the day after Matariki’s escape with Colin, but Colin’s warning they would have to spend months in prison had not come true. The last residents of Parihaka had been incarcerated for a night before they were freed near their home tribes. Arona had even remained in Parihaka. The young priestess came from there and was now doing her best to hold together the shrunken, unsett
led, and depressed community until Te Whiti returned.

  Through Arona, Matariki had also resumed contact with her other friends who had mostly done as she had: whoever passed the high school exam began studying to become a doctor, teacher, or lawyer. Matariki knew from Koria that Kupe, too, had been freed and was studying in Wellington. She had written to him, but he had not answered. Koria revealed to her that her relationship with Colin had struck him hard:

  He was in love with you. We all knew that. And he had accepted that you could not return his love. He would have gotten over another Maori man at your side. But a pakeha! Don’t be angry, Matariki, but none of us find it easy to accept your relationship with an English officer. You love him, and I know there’s not much anyone can do about that. But an armed constable, Matariki? An enemy?

  Matariki had blushed when she read her friend’s letter—and hurried to assure her that Colin had long since resigned his service for the Crown. She did not feel entirely comfortable repeating his lie, but the other girls didn’t address her relationship with Colin further. Instead, they told her about their studies and about the hearings for the defenders of Parihaka. Others were in love and colorfully depicted their happiness. Matariki responded with reports of the harness races and made up stories about her vague plans to study. Only Kupe remained silent.

  Matariki could not think of any girl who was free to take the post in Auckland. Still, the contemplation had distracted her, and it had gotten late. Matariki extinguished the light and curled up under her covers. The next morning, she would see Colin and forget Amey Daldy.

  Kathleen and Reverend Burton had come home late and were still asleep when Matariki woke up early, well rested. She went shopping and surprised her hosts by making breakfast.

  Usually Kathleen would have been happy about this, but that day the Burtons spoke only in monosyllables.

  “Is something wrong, Kathleen?” asked Matariki after Kathleen failed to answer the second of her questions about the night before. “Are you mad about something? Or at me?”

  Kathleen shook her head. Matariki noticed that she looked like she had not slept much.

  Reverend Burton cleared his throat. “Kathleen, I think you ought to tell her. There’s no point in not saying anything. Heather will tell her straight. She was ready to burst with rage last night.”

  Matariki furrowed her brow and stopped drizzling honey on her roll. “Heather was angry with me?” she asked, confused.

  Kathleen shook her head, looking in anguish at the girl. “No, Riki, not at you, at Colin. You see, it wasn’t that he was going to some reception with Jimmy Dunloe. Or, well, it was to our reception, that is, Heather and Chloe’s. As Chloe’s companion,” Kathleen said.

  Honey dripped from Matariki’s roll as she stared at Colin’s mother in disbelief.

  “As her what?”

  “Matariki, it has nothing to do with us.” Colin Coltrane maintained his innocence even after Matariki struck him across his face with her wildcat paw. “Look, you know I have to court her father if we want credit.”

  “Jimmy Dunloe is Chloe’s stepfather,” Matariki corrected him, “and as far as I know, he doesn’t work as a panderer. It would be too early anyway. She hasn’t even been a widow six months. So, why?”

  “For that very reason, Matariki,” Colin said. “Because she was widowed such a short time ago. She needs a companion, rather a family member so to speak.”

  Matariki laughed mockingly. “You see yourself as a member of the Dunloe family? You’re not seriously trying to convince me of that? And if so, then why wasn’t I to know about it? You could have just told me you were chaperoning poor Chloe Boulder for business reasons. Not that I understand why she needs a companion. You recall that it’s her own gallery, Colin, don’t you? She organized this reception, and as hostess, she surely would have had plenty to do selling the pictures to visitors. Or did you help her with that too?”

  Colin looked at Matariki, who burned with anger. Good God, she was beautiful, and he loved her. Naturally, Chloe Boulder was beautiful too. Her cool attractiveness, her ladylikeness, her impeccable comportment, drew him in. Matariki, in her worn riding dress, not evenly properly laced in her corset and her hair once again loose, was such a strong contrast. Her skin was tanned by the sun, and Colin still recalled all too well her long, brown legs, framed by that piu-piu skirt while she skipped rope in Parihaka. If only it were possible . . .

  Colin pulled her into his arms and silenced her with a kiss. Matariki bit his tongue and pushed him away.

  “Colin, I want an explanation.” She spat the words. “What was that with Chloe?”

  Colin tasted blood and grew angry. Could Matariki not behave like a normal woman for once? Submissive, coddling? Until now, he had always believed he could tame her, but perhaps that was not possible. That would make his decision easier.

  “Matariki, I don’t have to explain myself to you. I told you it meant nothing. I did it for the stud farm. For us.”

  “Colin . . . ,” Matariki said, looking at him with incomprehension. She then spoke more calmly. “Colin, you kissed her. Don’t deny it. Heather told me so herself. And don’t claim now that Chloe seduced you. Heather said she was completely confused. And I doubt Jimmy Dunloe was guiding your hand in that, was he? So, what is all this, Colin? We’re engaged.”

  Colin stood up straight in front of Matariki. So, his damned sister knew. Heather had stuck to Chloe the whole evening. Only after one of the visitors roped her into a sales conversation about one of the pictures had he been able to lure Chloe away and try a first kiss. Chloe had not been opposed. Then, however, she had to go and tattle.

  Colin unloaded his rage at his sister on Matariki. “We are not engaged, Matariki. We share a bed. Go on and look at me like a dying doe, but it’s the truth. I would gladly marry you, Matariki, but your parents are undermining our relationship. Thus, you have to permit me to look elsewhere.”

  Matariki’s hand struck his face again, but this time her nails left behind deep red tracks on his right cheek. Before she could also scratch the left one, he seized her hand.

  “Enough of this,” he yelled at her.

  Matariki looked at Colin with tears in her eyes. Still, she kept an iron composure. “You said it, Colin,” she said firmly.

  That same day, she wrote to Amey Daldy.

  With Open Eyes

  Dunedin and Invercargill, South Island

  Auckland, North Island

  1883–1893

  Chapter 1

  “What does he have that I don’t?”

  Heather Coltrane had not wanted to ask the question, but now, on the day before Chloe meant to marry her brother, she could no longer contain herself.

  Chloe eyed her friend sympathetically.

  “He is,” she said, “a man.” She tried to reply in a ladylike way.

  “Yes, and?” asked Heather. “Can he love you more than I can? Does he understand you better? Can he offer you more? Do you have more in common with him?”

  “Of course not.”

  Chloe sighed. She did not know how to make Heather understand, at least not without hurting her more. She should not have let it go so far, anyway. Chloe and Heather’s relationship had always been intimate, but in the months since Terrence’s death, it had grown in intensity. Chloe and Heather had exchanged caresses, Chloe had snuggled against Heather when the sorrow threatened to overcome her, and, ultimately, it was Heather, and not Colin, who had helped her move past the loss. Chloe loved Heather deeply, but Heather could not love her like Terrence—or Colin. Heather was not a man.

  “Heather, I want to marry again. I want children.”

  “We could adopt children,” noted Heather. “As many as you like. The charitable institutions are overflowing with orphans. One word to Sean or Peter, and we’d have the apartment full.”

  Chloe continued packing her dresses. Colin had just come from Invercargill where he was overseeing the work on the stables and the new racetrack and red
ecorating the house. The next day, after their wedding, they would travel to their new home.

  Heather kissed the nape of her neck softly. “Chloe—”

  Chloe spun around. “Do you really think Peter, a pastor, would approve of that?”

  It sounded sharper than she had intended. She did not want to upset Heather—and there was nothing truly forbidden about their friendship, even if it was unusual for two women to kiss and touch each other in places on the body that one hardly looked at herself. Chloe had taken joy in Heather’s affection, but Chloe had never been able to quite feel like Heather, who seemed to burn under her own kisses. She missed the body of a man—firm everywhere.

  “I’d like my own children,” she said now in the hope of assuaging Heather. “You have to understand. And Colin, he’s good-looking. He’s polite.”

  “He left Matariki Drury when her parents did not want to finance his racetrack.”

  “One decision doesn’t necessarily have to do with the other,” Chloe said for the hundredth time.

  It was not just Heather who was anything but confident about Chloe’s relationship with Colin. Jimmy Dunloe, her mother, and even Kathleen and Peter had raised objections.

  “He’s my brother, but I don’t trust him. He was never what you call a good fellow.”

  “Dear God, Heather.” Chloe was clearly irritated. “I’ve been listening to this for months. I should wait longer, and I should be careful, and should this, and should that. Not that any of you can say we didn’t stick to the rules. We upheld the year of mourning. We hardly ever met in public. We had long conversations.” Most of which had ended in Colin’s arms, but Chloe would not reveal that to Heather. “We even once spent weeks apart.”

  “During which time he bought a farm in Invercargill with your money without even showing the property to you first.”