by Lark, Sarah
Gwyneira chewed on her lip. “We would only have to ensure a steady flow of money—and later, Jack, when he takes over the farm. We couldn’t afford bad times anymore.”
“But based on what you’ve told me, Jack seems to be growing into quite an able farmer,” Helen observed. “How is his relationship with Kura? Would she have anything against his taking over the farm?”
Gwyneira shook her head. “She doesn’t care about Jack. Just as she doesn’t care about anything that can’t be transcribed in music notes.”
“Well, all right! Then I wouldn’t brood too long over what could, would, or should happen if the farming doesn’t go well at some point in the distant future. You can’t always assume the worst. There’s not even any guarantee that Kura will remain dependent on an allowance from you. She could very well work her way up to being an internationally renowned opera star and find herself swimming in money. Or she might make something of her looks and marry a prince. I can’t imagine that this girl will burden your pockets her whole life. She’s too pretty and too self-assured for that.”
Gwyneira lay awake for a long time that night mulling over Helen’s suggestion. Perhaps her categorical refusal to consider Kura’s plans up to that point had been wrong. In the cold light of day, there was nothing to keep Kura on Kiward Station—if Tonga was unsuccessful with his plans, she could sell the farm as soon as she was an adult. Though Gwyneira had never seriously considered it as a viable option, Helen had cast things in a drastically different light for her. Her guardianship of Kura would end soon, and then Kiward Station would be delivered up to the young woman for weal or woe.
By the time the gray dawn had begun to edge out the darkness, Gwyneira had almost reached a decision. She still had to speak to James about it, but when she laid out Helen’s arguments to him, she was certain that he would come to the same conclusion.
Kura-maro-tini Warden had never been closer to the fulfillment of her wishes than on that radiantly beautiful fall day—on which William Martyn came to dinner at Nugget Manor.
5
Ruben O’Keefe had been thoroughly bored that first evening with Gwyneira and Kura—and he did not intend to repeat that anytime soon. The two of them would not be staying at Nugget Manor much longer; the house was too isolated for long-term guests, especially for someone who had never sat on a horse. Helen had rooms in her hotel ready for her friend and her friend’s granddaughter, and Gwyneira wanted to move there soon.
The first few days of her visits, however, were always dedicated to her shared interests with Elaine and Fleurette. Gwyneira and Fleurette discussed the inner workings of Kiward Station and Haldon down to the very last detail. Elaine was dying to show the progress she had made in riding, and to have her grandmother ride Banshee so she could hear what Gwyneira thought of her beloved horse. Elaine talked practically nonstop of riding the stallion that her grandmother had brought—that is, when she was not talking about her new dog.
While Kura rarely uttered a word, Elaine tended to prattle, and Ruben was already dreading another dinner with the two teenagers. But then he came upon William in the store, hard at work registering the new shipment, and he concocted a brilliant plan to avoid a repetition of the previous evening.
His young bookkeeper and would-be son-in-law had conversed quite enthusiastically with Kura the day before. Moreover, he could be depended on to keep Elaine from chattering on endlessly about dogs and horses, as William did not care for either. In William’s presence, Elaine expressed herself only on subjects that were of interest to him. This drove Fleurette crazy, but Ruben found it rather practical. So practical that he issued the invitation as soon as William had completed the gargantuan task of registering all the new merchandise and stacking it on the shelves masterfully with hardly any help.
“William, I hope you’ll join us for dinner tonight. Elaine would be delighted, and you seemed to get along quite well with my niece yesterday.”
William Martyn appeared both surprised and happy. Of course he would come. Naturally, he had no other plans—he needed only to notify Helen and the twins that he would not be present for dinner. During his lunch break, William walked over to the hotel, where he found Elaine at the piano, with her puppy, Callie, at her side. The dog accompanied her piano performance with piercing howls, causing the twins to fall over laughing. The house servant and one of the bankers heartily enjoyed the show, and even the ever-strict Miss Carpenter managed a smile.
“I think she sings much better than my cousin,” Elaine was joking. “But fortunately, she hasn’t decided on pursuing opera yet.”
William did not know why this quip, harmless in and of itself, annoyed him, but he had already experienced a wave of mild anger when Ruben O’Keefe had casually described his niece’s behavior. How could Kura Warden be “morose”? However, he had quickly forgiven his boss, to whom he felt greatly indebted for such a wondrous invitation. Since seeing Kura the previous day, he had thought about nothing but when he would run into her again and what he would say to her then. She was without a doubt a very bright girl. Naturally, she would not have any inclination to discuss such petty things as…
At that moment, Elaine spied her beau, and her eyes brightened. She had been counting on seeing William in town and had made herself pretty for that reason. A green circlet held her hair out of her face, and she was wearing a green-and-brown checkered batiste dress, for which it was already almost a little too cold outside.
“Come and play something with me Mr. Martyn!” she called out in a high-pitched voice. “Or are you busy? I promise to keep Callie quiet while we play.”
Mary—or Laurie—took the hint right away, picking up the dog and disappearing with it into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Laurie—or Mary—pushed a second piano stool up next to Elaine’s.
William could play the piano a bit and had charmed Elaine not long ago by practicing a few easy pieces as a duet with her. But this time he put up a fight.
“Oh, not here in public! Maybe tonight. Your father invited me to dinner.”
“Really?” Elaine spun around on her stool with a grin. “How lovely! He nearly died of boredom last night with that awful cousin of mine. Such a bore, you wouldn’t believe it! Oh well, you’ll see soon enough. She’s quite pretty, of course, but otherwise… if I were in my grandmum’s place, I’d send her to London sooner rather than later.”
William had to fight back against his rising displeasure. “Quite pretty?” The girl he had seen the day before was a goddess! And what was Elaine talking about, sending her away? He couldn’t let that happen. He…
He called himself firmly back to order. What did this girl have to do with him? Kura Warden was absolutely nothing to him; he should not get involved. He forced himself to smile at Elaine. “It won’t be all that bad. By the way, you too look particularly pretty this morning.”
With that, he took his leave to look for Helen, while Elaine followed him with her eyes, disappointed. “You too look particularly pretty?” She had grown accustomed to receiving more finely polished compliments from him.
When Fleurette O’Keefe learned of Ruben’s invitation that afternoon, she was not enthusiastic. She had prepared only a small, informal dinner. Not even Helen had wanted to come out for it. With William as a guest, she would have to put more effort into her cooking and serving, on top of which, Fleurette did not exactly find him easy to please. She had not warmed up to the loquacious young Irishman. She never knew when William was speaking his mind and when he was merely humoring her or her husband. Besides, she still had not forgotten Lady Chesfield’s insinuations. An assassination attempt on the chief secretary for Ireland? If William had really been mixed up in that, he could be dangerous.
Additionally, the looks that every male in the vicinity without exception had directed at Kura thus far had not escaped her. She did not think it was a good idea to lead Elaine’s young suitor into temptation. But there was nothing to be done about it now. William had accepted, and Kura-maro-tini had
shown remarkable liveliness when Fleurette told Gwyneira and her granddaughter about it.
“I should wear my red dress!” the girl declared. “And I have to clean myself up a bit. Could you send me up a girl to help me get ready, Aunt Fleur? I have difficulty lacing my own corset.”
Kura was accustomed to having servants. Though Gwyneira had always tried to manage with a minimum of housemaids and kitchen maids, the manor house of Kiward Station was too big to keep clean herself, and her domestic talents were not especially pronounced. So several Maori girls worked under the aegis of their “butler” Maui, in addition to her head maids Moana and Ani. When Kura was little, they had looked after the child, and Ani, a skillful little thing, had later become a sort of lady’s maid who kept Kura’s clothes in order and did her hair.
Fleur looked at her niece as though she were not altogether right in the head.
“You can put your own clothes on, Kura! This isn’t a large house. We only have a handyman and a gardener who takes care of the stables too. I don’t think either of them would care to tie your corset.”
Kura did not dignify this with a response and instead moped her way upstairs. Fleurette shook her head and turned to Gwyneira.
“Just what kind of ideas does the child have? She is clearly holding out for something better than us common folk. I’ve caught on to that. But you don’t really allow her a lady’s maid of her own?”
Gwyneira shrugged in resignation. “She puts a lot of value on her appearance. And Miss Witherspoon supports her in that.”
Fleurette rolled her eyes. “I’d fire this Miss Witherspoon first thing.”
As Gwyneira readied herself for a dispute with her daughter like the one she had been having with James for years, she warmed up more and more to Helen’s suggestion. Some time in England could only do Kura good! If she was still too young for the conservatory, she could probably find a girls’ school. Gwyneira thought of Kura’s reaction to uniforms and a strict schedule. Would Kura not hate her for the rest of her life?
William arrived punctually, and his second look at Kura left him just as awestruck as the day before. What was more, this time the girl was not wearing a simple riding outfit but an elegantly tailored dress, red with colorful flourishes. The luscious colors suited her, making her skin look even more radiant and creating a pleasing contrast to her luxurious black hair. She was wearing her hair parted down the middle; Kura had braided a few strands on each side of her face and tied the braids together at the back of her head. The simple hairstyle emphasized her classically beautiful features: her high cheekbones, enticing eyes, and generally exotic mystique. William Martyn could have fallen on his knees before so much beauty.
The rules of decorum dictated, however, that he look after Elaine first, since she had been assigned to him as a dining partner. Because she would already be cooking for so many anyway, Fleurette had begged Helen and her longtime friend Leonard McDunn, the police constable, to join them, so that she would have some of her own friends there. As the stocky, mustached Leonard led Helen very attentively to the table, William hurried to do likewise with Elaine. George, who had lost all interest in his beautiful cousin, was to be Kura’s dinner partner. As he adjusted her chair, William realized with delight that George had set her directly across from him.
“Have you habituated yourself to Queenstown yet, Miss Warden?” he asked when decorum finally permitted general table conversation.
Kura smiled. “Please, call me Kura.” Her voice transformed even the simplest sentence into the melody of a song all her own. Even Leonard McDunn looked up from his appetizer when the girl responded. “And, to answer your question, I’m accustomed to the expanse of the plains. The landscape here is lovely, but its vibrations are completely different.”
Gwyneira frowned. Vibrations? Elaine and George each stifled a giggle.
William beamed. “Oh, I know what you mean. Every landscape has its own melody. Sometimes, in my dreams, I hear Connemara sing.”
Elaine cast a confused glance at him.
“So you’re from Ireland, young man?” Leonard asked, clearly trying to move the conversation back to a more general plane. “What’s going to come out of this Home Rule Bill that everyone is talking about? And what is the situation in the country? You appear to have the greatest rabble-rousers under control, of course. The last I heard of the Fenians, they were calling for an invasion of Canada to set up Ireland anew over there. A harebrained scheme, if you ask me.”
William nodded. “I agree with you there, sir. Ireland is Ireland. You cannot rebuild it somewhere else.”
“Ireland has a musical range all its own,” Kura said. “Its melodies are melancholy, but display a stirring merriness here and there.”
Elaine wondered whether Kura, too, practiced the art of whaikorero. Or had she read that sentence somewhere?
“A sometimes heartbreaking merriness,” William affirmed.
“Well, as long as the support for the law doesn’t succeed in changing the upper house’s mind,” Ruben opined, trying to get back to Leonard’s topic.
“Which reminds me…” Fleurette joined the discussion using the sweet, innocuous tone she always used when the spy within her awoke. “Leonard, have you ever heard anything about an attempt on the life of Mr. Morley of Blackburn? Ireland’s chief secretary?” She watched William out of the corner of her eye as she asked the question.
The young man almost choked on his piece of roast. Elaine didn’t miss his reaction either.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Martyn?” she asked with concern.
William waved the question off impatiently.
The constable shrugged. “Oh Fleur, there’s always something happening in that country. From what I understand, they’re always arresting would-be terrorists of one kind or another. I occasionally receive wanted posters when the boys get away. But we haven’t nabbed any of them here. They all go to America, and normally they come to their senses there. Childish antics—thank God without any serious consequences in the last few years.”
William exploded. “You see the fight for a free Ireland as a childish antic?” he asked furiously.
Elaine laid her hand on his arm. “Oh dear, that’s not what he meant. Mr. Martyn is a patriot, Mr. McDunn.”
William shook her off.
Leonard laughed. “Most Irish are. And they have our sympathy without question, Mr. Martyn. But that’s precisely why one can’t go around shooting people or blowing them up! Think of the bystanders who so often become casualties.”
William did not respond further. It occurred to him that he was well on his way toward behaving poorly.
“So you’re a freedom fighter, William?” Kura-maro-tini suddenly asked, her big eyes seeking his. William could not tell whether he melted under her gaze or grew by leaps and bounds.
“I wouldn’t necessarily put it that way,” he murmured, trying for a humble tone.
“But William did stand up for the Land League,” Elaine explained proudly, marking her possession by letting her hand drift over to his arm. Callie growled beneath the table. The puppy did not like it when someone touched her mistress, and the opposite was even worse. “For the tenants on his father’s farm.”
“Your father has a farm?” Gwyneira asked.
William nodded. “Yes, Mrs. McKenzie, he’s a sheep breeder. But I’m the younger son, so there is nothing for me to inherit. I have to set about making my own fortune.”
“Sheep. We have some of those ourselves,” Kura remarked, as though the animals were a burden.
Fleurette could not help but notice William’s rapt expression as Gwyneira went on to describe Kiward Station.
For Elaine, the evening dragged on just as the one before it had. She wasn’t usually bored when William was with her, but until that night he had always focused his attention entirely on her—making jokes, furtively brushing his leg against her under the table, or casually stroking her hand. That evening, he was fixated on Kura. Perhaps she should no
t have told him how much the girl got on her nerves; no doubt William now wanted to distract her. But he could at least have saved up a few kind words for his sweetheart!
Elaine comforted herself with the thought that she would be able to see him out after dinner. He would kiss her under the starry sky as he had many times before, and they would exchange a few intimate words. She would have to put Callie away first, however. The little dog always protested fervently whenever William got too close to her mistress.
If only Kura’s musical performance would end. As on the previous night, she played for the assembled family and guests, and William appeared to listen with genuine rapture. Kura played beautifully, without a doubt; Elaine had to grant her that. And that night, Kura was singing Irish songs—for William, it seemed. Elaine felt a pang of jealousy.
“Just sing along,” Helen said, noting Elaine’s growing frustration. “You know the songs too, after all.”
Elaine looked questioningly at Gwyneira, and she nodded.
“That would certainly sound very nice,” she said. Gwyneira would also have thought it sounded “nice” to let Callie howl along while Kura played the piano.
Elaine stood up bravely, got her bearings quickly, and then joined in on Kura’s recital of “Salley Gardens.” To Helen, it sounded very pleasing. Elaine’s clear soprano harmonized with Kura’s enticingly deep voice. And the girls looked very sweet together. The exotic, black-haired Kura and the petite, red-haired Elaine. The great poet Yeats had undoubtedly imagined just such a red-haired Irish girl when he had written the song’s lyrics. Helen said something to William, but he did not seem to hear her. He was too deeply entranced by the sight of the girls—or at least one of them.
Kura broke off after a few measures, however.
“I can’t sing when you can’t stay in tune,” she complained.
Elaine’s entire face flushed. “I…”
“It was an F-sharp, and you sang an F,” Kura continued mercilessly.
