The Cloud Leopard's Daughter

by Deborah Challinor

  Kitty hoped her expression was revealing less than she suspected it might be. Having flattened all the currants she could find in her biscuit she fiddled with her teacup instead, turning it round and round in its saucer.

  ‘Your mouth looks just like Samson’s bum, Ma,’ Amber remarked.

  Kitty sighed. Yes, she was jealous of Friday, but not because she’d feared that Rian might have slept with her, so long ago – before she had met him. And she was hardly in a position to take the moral high ground, after Daniel. No, what she resented was Friday’s apparent ability to so casually dominate Rian. She’d never seen another woman do that, ever, and it angered her. When being so rude to Rian, had Friday not even considered how she, Kitty, might feel? The awkward position in which being insulted, while needing the woman’s help, placed her?

  She sighed again. The fact is, Rian had been weak. He hadn’t stood up for himself and it had annoyed the hell out of her.

  Enya poured herself another cup of tea. ‘How exactly was Friday rude to Rian?’

  Gleefully, Amber replied, ‘She told him to hop off and do something manly while we women sort out the wedding.’

  ‘Oh, honestly, Kitty, is that all?’ Enya exclaimed, setting down the teapot quite a lot harder than was necessary. ‘That’s nothing for Friday.’

  ‘It was the way she said it. And she did swear quite a bit.’ Kitty felt heat crawl up her face as Enya gazed at her, but refused to look away. ‘She made Rian look an idiot. And me.’

  ‘Why you?’

  ‘Because . . .’ Oh God. ‘Because he didn’t react. He just sat there and took it, like a . . . like a henpecked husband. Like a fool.’

  ‘You’re the fool, Kitty Farrell. Has it not occurred to you that he ignored it because he wants Amber to have a nice, albeit swiftly arranged, wedding? Which she won’t if you spoil things by refusing to get along with Friday and Aria. Honestly, love, what’s the matter with you?’

  Kitty stared down at her teacup once again. What was the matter? Was she anxious about Amber and Tahi? Well, yes. Bao? Definitely. Distressed about Fu’s ill health? Yes, that too. Was she approaching the change of life? Possibly. She’d heard that tended to make some women contrary and moody. But if so, what a time to start. ‘I don’t know, I really don’t.’

  ‘For God’s sake, they’re just women like you and me. Look, would it help you to know that Friday came here as a convict? So did her best friends Harrie and Sarah. They were emancipated years ago, but by God they worked for it. Not Aria, though. She comes from some sort of Maori nobility but is estranged from her family, apparently.’

  Nosiness getting the better of her, Kitty asked, ‘What were they transported for?’

  ‘All for stealing, I believe. I’ve heard said Sarah’s an absolute artist. If you want something pinched, talk to her.’

  ‘Still?’ Kitty was shocked.

  Enya held out a hand and waggled it. Maybe yes, maybe no. ‘So you’ve actually got something in common with Friday, haven’t you?’

  ‘I have not. What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you and Rian spend a fair bit of time flouting the law, so get off your high horse. Amber, dear, there’s a ladder out in the yard. Would you mind fetching it? Your mother might need some help.’

  Amber giggled, and even Kitty felt herself smile. ‘God, I’m sorry. I really am.’ She made a monumental effort and pushed the business of Friday Woolfe’s behaviour, and Rian’s response to it, to the back of her mind. ‘Shall we get back to this wedding dress?’

  ‘I don’t have to have a black one,’ Amber said, conciliatory now. ‘What colour do you think would be nice, Ma?’

  ‘White would be lovely, but we’d never get it washed on the ship.’ Kitty looked at Enya. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘You don’t have to take the dress with you after the wedding. You could leave it with me; I’ll have it laundered if necessary, and you can pick it up next time you’re in Sydney. Do you want a white gown?’ Enya asked Amber.

  ‘White satin would be nice,’ Amber replied. ‘With lace. I might as well go overboard. I won’t be getting married again.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ Kitty said.

  Enya stood. ‘I’ve got some lovely silk satin, though it’s very slightly off-white, and some gorgeous Honiton lace. I’ll fetch them.’ She shot off through a door and returned just as quickly carrying several bolts of cloth, which she laid on the table. The satin was heavy, the palest of creams, with the lustre of pearls. The lace, a dense pattern of flowers and leaves, had been appliquéd to a continuous length of net measuring two feet wide, and the colour matched the satin perfectly.

  ‘Oh, that’s beautiful!’ Kitty said.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Enya agreed, unfolding a piece of the lace. ‘You don’t often see Honiton in lengths like this now. It’s all machine-made lace these days, but this is made by hand. I’ve been saving it for something really special, and I can’t think of anything more special than Amber’s wedding dress.’

  ‘It’s lovely but it looks very expensive,’ Amber said. ‘So does the satin. Do you think Pa will mind paying so much?’

  Enya looked offended. ‘Your pa isn’t paying for this. This is my wedding gift to you!’

  Kitty opened her mouth to protest but Enya talked over the top of her. ‘Now, back to style. I’d suggest something fairly simple, if we’re going to show off the lace. Too many ruffles and bows and it will be overshadowed.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Amber said. ‘I’m not that fond of ruffles and bows. It isn’t really . . . me.’

  ‘What about something like this?’ Enya began to sketch, her pencil flying across a sheet of paper with practised ease. ‘There’s quite a lot of the lace, so we can use it as a border for a veil, too, if you’d like that.’

  The design was simple, but exquisite. The bodice was darted and close-fitting with a modest scooped neck trimmed with the lace, and the flared, three-quarter sleeves were pleated at the inner elbows and also bordered with lace. The waist was snug with a band of satin above a widely pleated hoop skirt, trimmed from halfway down with more of the Honiton. Completing the ensemble was the veil, about three feet in length.

  Amber’s eyes shone, then she laughed. ‘Tahi won’t recognise me.’

  ‘Do you like it?’ Enya asked.

  ‘It’s beautiful!’

  ‘Good.’ Enya sat back in her chair and blew out her cheeks. ‘Do we really only have a week to get it made?’

  Kitty felt awful. ‘Possibly. Probably. It depends on the church. I’m sorry, Enya, it’s such a lot to ask of you. Will your assistants be able to help?’

  ‘We’re overwhelmed with orders already.’ Enya brightened. ‘But I do know one or two very good sempstresses I can probably call on.’

  Amber said, ‘Didn’t Friday Woolfe say she might invite her friend to our meeting this afternoon, the one who makes nice dresses? With the funny name?’

  Enya grinned. ‘Harrie Downey? Speak of the devil, though actually you couldn’t meet a sweeter person. Harrie’s a good friend, and a very fine sempstress. Do you mind if I come to this meeting?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Kitty replied. ‘We’re seeing them at two o’clock, at Miss Woolfe’s brothel. We should probably go to the back door.’ She paused. ‘Or not. Actually, I don’t know if I care.’

  She and Enya stared at each other, then burst out laughing.

  ‘That’s better,’ Enya said. ‘I don’t like it when you’re upset.’

  Amber said, ‘That Sarah person’s coming as well. Apparently she’s a jeweller?’

  ‘Sarah Green. The whole crew. They’re as thick as thieves, those four.’

  *

  Friday Woolfe’s brothel was nowhere near as sordid as expected; in fact, the house was extremely elegant. They were shown in to what was clearly Friday’s office, or perhaps both Friday’s and Aria’s, as the room accommodated two desks. Harrie Downey and Sarah Green had already arrived. Kitty liked Mrs Downey immediately. A pretty, plump
woman, her eyes sparkled with health and good cheer, and she smiled almost constantly. Sarah Green, however, seemed more reticent – small, slender and the sort of person Kitty liked to think of as a ‘watcher’. Astute and wary, rather than crafty and cunning. Probably.

  Enya and Harrie greeted each other warmly as they all sat down in the somewhat crowded room.

  ‘Overcome your fit of pique, Mrs Farrell?’ Friday Woolfe asked pleasantly.

  ‘Which fit of pique would that be, Miss Woolfe?’ Kitty replied, ignoring a barbed look from Enya.

  ‘The one you were in this morning.’

  Kitty made a decision. ‘Yes, I have. And I apologise for my behaviour.’

  Putting her booted feet up on her desk, Friday said, ‘Actually, it’s me that should be saying sorry. So . . . sorry.’

  Aria, Harrie Downey and Sarah Green all looked at her in what appeared to be shock.

  ‘What?’ Friday said. ‘I was a bitch to the captain and there was no reason to be.’

  ‘That’s never bothered you before,’ Sarah Green remarked.

  ‘True, but this was Captain Farrell.’

  Sarah said, ‘But you’ve always loathed him. No offence intended, Mrs Farrell.’

  ‘None taken.’

  ‘I know,’ Friday said, ‘but we do actually owe him. I shouldn’t have said it.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should apologise to him,’ Harrie suggested.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Smart-Britches, but there’s no need to go that far.’

  ‘Why not? It wouldn’t kill you.’

  ‘It would. I’ve got principles, you know.’

  Aria laughed, the sound surprisingly earthy and indecorous from such a patrician-looking woman.

  Sarah said, ‘No you haven’t.’

  Friday ignored her. ‘Anyway, I shot down to St James’s and had a chat to the reverend fellow, who’s got a slot on Saturday the fifth, at eleven o’clock. He can do the wedding ceremony then.’

  ‘Christ,’ Enya said. ‘That’s only six days away.’

  Kitty gazed at Friday in awe. ‘How did you manage that?’

  Friday rubbed her thumb and forefinger together in the universal gesture for money. ‘Always works. Have you submitted the marriage application yet?’

  ‘Rian’s doing that this afternoon.’ Kitty had no idea what Rian was doing, but she’d make damned sure the application was lodged before he got his supper.

  ‘And the dress?’ Friday asked.

  ‘I’ll definitely need help with that,’ Enya said. ‘Harrie, how busy are you at the moment?’

  ‘Not too busy to lend a hand. Do you have a design?’ Enya gave her the sketch.

  ‘Ooh, lovely. Are these single or double darts under the bust?’

  ‘Double. They give a smoother fit.’

  ‘And you’ve chosen the fabric?’ Harrie asked Amber.

  ‘Off-white silk satin, and Auntie Enya’s given me some lovely Honiton lace.’

  ‘Gorgeous! Look,’ Harrie said, passing the sketch to Sarah.

  Sarah had a look. ‘Can you make this in a week, Harrie? It looks like a lot of work.’

  Harrie raised her eyebrows at Enya, who replied, ‘I was thinking we could ask Nora Barrett to help.’

  ‘Yes, let’s,’ Harrie said. ‘I’m sure with three of us we can get it done. Will you be available for fittings?’ she asked Amber.

  Amber nodded. ‘We’re staying . . . where are we staying, Ma? On the Katipo or ashore?’

  ‘My house, of course,’ Enya said.

  Friday said, ‘Good, that’s settled. Now, rings. Sarah’s said she’ll make them for you at a good discount you really should take advantage of, ’cos she never offers discounts.’

  ‘That’s right, make me sound mean,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Well, you are.’

  ‘I’m a businesswoman.’

  ‘Aren’t we all?’

  ‘I can’t make them for nothing because I have to pay the wholesale price for the gold and the stones, but I can offer you a forty per cent discount because you’re Captain Farrell’s daughter. That’s the best I can do and there’ll be no profit in it for me, but that’s fine,’ Sarah said. ‘Do you have a betrothal ring?’

  Amber presented her bare hands. ‘And I don’t want one, either, thank you.’

  ‘Fair enough. What did you have in mind for your wedding ring?’

  ‘I hadn’t actually thought about it.’

  Sarah took a pencil from her reticule, turned the drawing of the wedding gown over and started to sketch on the back of it.

  ‘Sarah!’ Harrie protested.

  ‘What? It’s just a drawing of a frock.’

  ‘And you’re just doing a drawing of a ring. Scribble on something else.’

  ‘Shut up, you two,’ Aria said mildly.

  So far Aria had watched the proceedings in, Kitty thought, slightly amused, perhaps even bemused, silence, as though she thought all this fuss about a wedding was a waste of time.

  ‘Will your fiancé want a wedding ring?’ Sarah asked.

  Amber said, ‘I doubt it. He’s not that sort of man.’

  ‘What sort of man is he?’ Aria asked.

  ‘Well, he’s . . . I don’t know. He’s lovely.’

  ‘Name?’ Aria demanded.

  ‘Huatahi Atuahaere. He’s Nga Puhi.’

  ‘Same as you,’ Friday remarked to Aria.

  ‘Can we get back to the ring?’ Sarah said. ‘If you don’t mind? Now, plain gold, or gem-set?’

  Amber frowned. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know much, do you?’

  Kitty bristled, but she needn’t have.

  ‘Actually, Mrs Green, I know a lot more than you seem to think I do,’ Amber declared. ‘It’s just that I don’t care much for jewellery and I really haven’t thought about a wedding ring. But I suppose I do need one and I appreciate your generous offer and I’m happy to be guided by your obvious expertise.’

  ‘Oh. Well, good.’

  ‘Ha!’ Friday laughed. ‘That’s put you in your place!’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Aria rose and left the room.

  Kitty watched her go. ‘Have we upset her?’

  ‘Doubt it,’ Friday said.

  ‘If you’d like gem-set,’ Sarah said, ‘birthstones are popular for brides.’

  ‘I don’t know my real date of birth.’

  ‘Or garnet or amethyst,’ Sarah went on without missing a beat. ‘Emerald or sapphire would look nice against your skin colour. Or aquamarine. I have three or four of those at the moment with very nice cuts.’

  Amber looked at Kitty, who said, ‘It’s your choice, love.’

  ‘Aquamarine, then.’

  Sarah drew a quick sketch, and showed it to Amber.

  ‘That’s pretty. Can you make it so it doesn’t stick up and catch on things?’

  ‘I can. I’ll get started this afternoon,’ Sarah said. ‘Do you do any sort of physical work?’

  ‘Of course I do. I’m a crewman on Pa’s ship.’

  ‘Are you?’ Friday exclaimed. ‘Fancy that!’

  ‘Better make it fifteen carat then,’ Sarah muttered. ‘More hard-wearing than eighteen carat.’

  ‘Do you have bridesmaids and flower girls?’ Harrie asked.

  Amber looked alarmed. ‘Er . . .’

  ‘Because if you don’t, I can supply dozens. Charlotte and Lewis’s little girls will be happy to step in, and Hannah and Walter Cobley’s two. And I have two other daughters who are eighteen and nineteen, and our friends Lucy and Matthew have older girls, too. And what about groomsmen?’

  Overcome by a sense that things were slipping – no, being torn – from her grasp, Kitty raised her hands. ‘Really, Mrs Downey –’

  ‘Harrie!’ Friday barked. ‘Shut up. It’s not your wedding, it’s Amber’s.’

  Looking only marginally embarrassed, Harrie said, ‘Quite right. I beg your pardon, Miss and Mrs Farrell. It’s just that I do love weddings, don’t you?’

  Amber
said, ‘Thank you, Mrs Downey, but Tahi’s grandfather will stand for him, and I’d like Delilah and Samson to attend me.’

  Friday made a face. ‘Who the fuck are Delilah and Samson?’

  That bad language again, but this time it didn’t bother Kitty nearly as much. ‘You are not having a pair of cats as bridesmaids.’

  ‘How sweet!’ Harrie exclaimed.

  Amber demanded, ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s absurd, they won’t be allowed in the church, and they’ll run away and get into trouble.’

  ‘Knapped, you mean?’ Friday said. ‘Bloody cats, they’re always doing that. Bloody kittens everywhere.’

  ‘Ma, this is my wedding!’

  ‘You’re not having Delilah and Samson!’

  ‘We’ll elope!’

  Already very close to the end of her tether, Kitty finally reached it. ‘All right then, dear, you do that.’

  Amber laughed. ‘I knew you’d say that.’

  ‘Is that what you really want?’ Kitty asked. Because perhaps it was.

  ‘Ma, I just want to marry Tahi, as soon as possible. I don’t want a lot of fuss. And then I want us to find Bao. If I could have my way she’d be my bridesmaid, but I can’t have that, can I?’

  ‘No. I’d love Bao to be your bridesmaid, too, but everything’s happening in the wrong order for that.’ Kitty thought for a moment, then said decisively, ‘Right. The church has been booked, the marriage application is being lodged today, the dress and ring are organised. So all we need to do now is find a venue for the wedding breakfast and buy Tahi a decent suit of clothes.’

  ‘You can use the private lounge at the Siren’s Arms for the breakfast,’ Friday offered, ‘which we can also cater. We have a very good cook and a decent wine cellar. Can’t help you with the groom’s wedding clothes, but.’

  God, was there no end to this woman’s generosity? It was . . . unnerving. ‘Thank you very much, Miss Woolfe.’

  ‘Friday,’ Friday corrected.

  ‘You will of course add the cost of that to the final account?’