by Lark, Sarah
Though the special saddle didn’t work any miracles, Timothy’s determination eventually triumphed over his body’s pain and stiffness. Six weeks after his first attempt to get on his horse, he proudly directed Fellow out of the yard. Though he was still in pain—going faster than a walking pace was out of the question—he was upright and somewhat secure.
The feeling of crossing town high on his steed more than compensated for all the exertion. Though there were not many people out and about that afternoon, everyone who knew Timothy beamed at him and cheered him on. Mrs. Tanner and Mrs. Carey said some hasty prayers, and Berta Leroy scolded him for being “short on sense,” but her eyes were sparkling.
“Someone should probably go tell the princess that her knight is here,” she said. “’Cause he still can’t dismount.”
Timothy had to admit that was indeed the case. He could not wear his leg splints on the horse, so he needed Roly’s help to mount and dismount, and to attach and remove the splints.
The news of his adventure had traveled faster than Fellow could take him, and Elaine was already outside when Timothy turned his horse toward the pub.
She looked up at him, stunned. Though he could not bend down to kiss her, she took his hands and pressed up against his leg and good hip.
“You’re hopeless,” she chided. “Where do you get these ideas?”
Timothy laughed. “Don’t you remember? The day you can’t ride anymore is the day you die. May I invite my most sanguine and beautiful lady for a ride with me?”
Elaine put his hand to her cheek and then pressed a shy kiss into it.
“I’ll go fetch Banshee,” she said with a smile. “But you are not to try and seduce me if I go with you without a chaperone.”
Timothy looked at her with feigned shock. “You’re not taking a chaperone? Why, that’s indecent. Come, let’s ask Florence Weber. She’ll surely ride along.”
Elaine laughed lightheartedly. She didn’t bother to saddle Banshee, and instead simply swung from the mounting block in front of Madame Clarisse’s inn onto her horse’s bare back. The people on the street applauded good-naturedly.
Elaine waved to them as she directed Banshee down Main Street. A year ago, she would have been afraid of riding from the church to town with Timothy Lambert. Now, however, she enjoyed having Banshee walking tranquilly beside Fellow—and seeing Timothy look as radiant as he had been at the race. As they left town, she held her hand out to him and smiled. It was like in a fairy tale. A princess and her knight.
“I didn’t realize you had such a flair for the romantic,” she teased him. “Next time we’ll ride along the river and have a picnic.”
Timothy made a face. “I’m afraid I’d have to eat in the saddle,” he replied. Only then did Elaine realize what she had said, and she reddened.
“I’ll think of something,” she promised when she parted from him at the Lamberts’ house, “for next Sunday.”
Sunday was her only day off from the pub, and she had no other obligations. She had handed the position of church organist over to Kura, and that Sunday was the first time she was not angry about it. Let Kura play the organ—Elaine would rather be doing something with the man she loved.
She suddenly felt wonderfully free and impetuous. She directed Banshee to stop next to Fellow, and Elaine kissed Timothy, long and tenderly, like they had practiced on Christmas.
Timothy was pleased about Elaine’s new confidence, but he sighed with relief when she declined his invitation to come in for tea afterward. That way, she did not have to see how difficult it was for him to get out of the saddle. Dismounting remained a somewhat debasing process. Timothy planned to have mastered it soon, however. Jay Hankins was already working on a ramp that would enable him to mount and dismount more easily.
Though Elaine thought that it was premature of Timothy to be riding, she knew his reason for doing so made sense. They needed to find some way of seeing each other outside of the Lambert house, as Nellie’s aura was crushing.
For their Sunday outing, they ended up renting a light two-wheeled gig. Although it was not an ideal vehicle—having little in the way of cushioning—it was low to the ground, so Timothy would be able to get in and out without much help. Besides, they would be able to sit next to each other comfortably, as there was no separation between the box and the passenger space like in most other carriages.
Timothy smiled conspiratorially when she pulled up in the little vehicle.
“A gig! If my mother only knew.” He smiled and tried to defend himself from Callie, who leaped up on him joyfully. Until recently, even that would have caused him to wobble, but he had become quite adept with his walking aids. “How fortunate that my mother no longer insists on my accompanying her to church.” Not going to church had been a source of frustration for him. Though he survived the week even without the reverend’s benediction, he hated to be shut out of regular activities just because Nellie considered him to be too weak to participate.
“Alas, because she was likewise going to church, I couldn’t persuade Florence Weber to ride with us.” Elaine giggled. “Though it is her Christian duty to keep an eye on the morality of her neighbor. But God will forgive her that sin, just as He no doubt turns a blind eye to the various doings of a certain Kura-maro-tini Martyn.”
Timothy would have liked to ask what Elaine thought Kura had on her tally sheet, but he restrained himself. If he pursued the matter, she would probably just withdraw back into her shell.
“We have our own penance to pay, for I have stolen,” he remarked in lieu of questioning her. “Here, take my bag, but carefully; some of my father’s best wine is in there.”
Elaine thought fleetingly of how she had once plundered her own father’s stores for her adventures with William. But she wanted to forget that now.
“I have some too, and I even bought mine. It wasn’t expensive though,” she admitted. “It’s probably awful.”
Timothy laughed. “If that’s the case, we’ll pray for the vintner’s soul.”
Banshee stood perfectly still as Timothy got into the little carriage’s seat. It worked quite well, and Elaine felt quite proud of her idea once he was sitting happily at her side.
“Where are you taking me?” Timothy asked as they set out. He tried to relax, but the thinly cushioned vehicle was only marginally more comfortable than Fellow’s saddle.
“To the river just beyond your mine. It’s not far, and the roads are tolerable. And I just happen to have found a gorgeous little spot there.”
In fact, she had spent the entire week looking for it, and the out-of-the-way spot set off a little ways from the main gravel road between the mine and the train line was truly ideal. Elaine reached it just a few minutes later and helped Timothy out.
“I could keep driving, but it would get bumpy. So I thought we’d better just come back to get Banshee and the carriage. Let’s walk to the river. It’s exactly eleven steps on the direct path through the trees.”
Her conscientiousness made Timothy laugh, but he could in fact now make between fifteen and twenty steps without too much difficulty. The going on his crutches was tough here, though, and he stumbled through the underbrush. However, the picnic spot itself was magical: a tiny beach on the riverbank with a sort of grassy clearing at the edge of the fern forest. Ferns as tall as trees hung their green fronds over the river. And whenever the gentle breeze rocked the giant plants, their strangely shaped shadows danced in the sunlight.
“How beautiful,” Timothy said.
Elaine nodded as she spread out a picnic blanket.
“Here, sit down while I fetch Banshee and the carriage. Not everyone who passes by on the road needs to see them.”
Though there were not likely to be many people on a Sunday, Elaine still wanted to play it safe. Kura might not think of such things, but Florence Weber might very well force Caleb to come to the river for a picnic. And Charlene absolutely raved about such outings with Matt.
Timothy blushed. �
��I don’t know if I could get back up if…”
“You can support yourself on that rock there. See, I thought of everything, Tim. And if you still need help, Banshee will pull you up. My grandfather told me how his horse once pulled him out of a mudhole. He simply held onto the tail, and the horse scrambled out. I practiced that with Banshee when I broke her in. Yes, I know, I’m like a child,” she smiled abashedly.
Timothy was not thinking about whether she had been absurd or not, but about her adventurous grandfather. A construction worker in Auckland might fall into mudholes under certain circumstances, but there was no way he had a horse to pull him out.
Timothy did not voice his thoughts aloud, though, and instead settled himself down on the blanket and felt better at once. He undid the leg splints and scratched Callie while Elaine skillfully drove the carriage into the clearing and unhitched her horse.
“Banshee is very upset with you for taking Fellow away,” Elaine remarked as she sat down, placing the picnic basket between them. “She feels lonesome all alone in Madame Clarisse’s stables.”
“They’ll be back together soon enough. When we marry, you’ll bring her along when you move in,” Timothy said.
Elaine sighed. “Wouldn’t you rather move into Madame Clarisse’s?” The prospect of sharing a house with Nellie Lambert scared her almost as much as the marriage itself.
Timothy laughed and took her face between his hands. “No, that would be a little unsuitable.” He kissed her. “But I could imagine a little house of our own. Perhaps closer to the mine—which will make it easier once I’m working again. Of course, my father refuses to hear a word about that at the moment. But let’s talk about more pleasant things. The cheap wine or the stolen wine first?”
They drank the cheap wine while they ate. Then Timothy insisted on opening the good wine. It did not quite suit the whiskey glasses Elaine had brought with her from the pub, but they both just found that funny. After they had practiced kissing a bit more, they lay down beside each other. Elaine propped herself up on her elbows and lightly caressed Timothy’s chest.
“You have very nice muscles.”
Timothy made a face. “I do lift weights every day.” He gestured at his leg splints with his hand.
Elaine observed the play of his muscles beneath his light silk shirt. But at the very moment he reached for her, wanting to pull her close, she suddenly saw Thomas’s strong arms in front of her again, the muscles she had sometimes helplessly struck against or which she had dug her fingernails into when she was overcome with pain. Thomas had only laughed.
Timothy recognized the flickering in her eyes—and then her old familiar retreat from his touch.
He sighed and, supporting himself on the stone, he sat up a bit.
“Lainie,” he said patiently, “I don’t know what horrible thing some man did to you, but nothing could be further from my intentions than hurting you. You know I love you. Besides, I’m quite helpless. If you don’t help put those things back on later, I can’t even get to my feet. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do anything to you. Can’t you at least put your trust in that, even if you think the worst of me?”
“That’s not what I think at all.” Elaine said, reddening. “It just happens. I know, I’m being stupid.” She burrowed her face into his shoulder.
Timothy stroked her arm. “You’re not being dumb. It’s just that something awful happened to you. Don’t deny it. There’s no other explanation. But you do love me, don’t you, Lainie?”
Elaine raised her head and looked him in the eye. “I love you very much. Believe me, I…”
Timothy smiled and pushed her gently onto her back. Then he kissed her face, her lips, her throat, and her neckline. He carefully opened her blouse and caressed the tops of her breasts. Elaine tensed up at first, but then she realized that he wasn’t hurting her but merely bathing her skin in breathy kisses while whispering endearments.
Elaine had to help him undo her corset, both of them laughing shyly. Then she lay there, her breath quickening as he traced the contours of her figure with his fingers. Timothy told her how beautiful and delicate she was, caressing and kissing her until there rose in her that languorous, warm feeling she had almost forgotten. As Elaine felt herself grow wet, she once more withdrew a little. Timothy realized that and left off touching her.
“We don’t need to keep going,” he whispered gingerly. “We… we can certainly wait until our wedding night.”
“No!” Elaine almost screamed the word. Lying once more in bed in a new nightgown waiting for a husband? Trembling at the thought of what he might do to her? Delivered up to him helplessly? Everything in her seized up at the mere thought.
“No, what?” Timothy asked lovingly and began once again to caress her softly.
“No wedding night,” Elaine exclaimed. “I mean, not one like that. It’s better that we get it out of the way.”
Timothy kissed her. “You make it sound like I’m pulling a tooth,” he joked gently. “Are you still a virgin, Lainie?”
He could not imagine she was, though she was more timid than any other girl he had ever loved. All the others had been nervous, but also curious. Elaine was only fearful.
She shook her head.
Timothy kissed her again and once more caressed and fondled her breasts, her stomach, and her hips before finally playing with the frizzy red hair between her legs. Elaine did not stir, nor did she completely tauten. Timothy pressed on, arousing her with tender touches and kisses. Only when she began to tremble with desire and her body no longer seemed tense did he slowly and carefully enter her. He remained still inside her for a moment before beginning to move very gently. When he could no longer hold himself back, he released himself in an eruption of passion. Then he sank down beside her.
Elaine heard his panting and stroked his back anxiously. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”
Timothy laughed. “No, Lainie, not today. Today I’m just happy. It was wonderful. But how was it for you?”
“It didn’t hurt at all,” Elaine said seriously. She sounded amazed, almost incredulous.
Timothy drew her to his shoulder and stroked her hair.
“Lainie, it’s not supposed to hurt. Only a little bit the first time, but after that it’s supposed to be beautiful, for you and for me, as though everything beautiful that you’ve ever experienced comes rushing over you at once, gradually mounting into fireworks.”
Elaine frowned. Fireworks? Well, she had felt a sort of tingling.
“Maybe we just need to practice more.”
Timothy laughed. “That we must. In all seriousness, there’s a sort of art to it. You just need to let yourself go, have a little more faith in me. You’re not to be afraid anymore.”
He held her in his arms and rocked her while his breathing returned to normal and the heavy beating of his heart slowed. Elaine now seemed completely relaxed and trusting. He contemplated trying to arouse her once more, but then decided to venture out onto even thinner ice.
“Won’t you tell me, Lainie?”
The body of the exhausted girl in his arms tightened.
“Tell you what?” she asked breathlessly.
Timothy continued stroking her. “What happened to you, Lainie? What scared you so awfully, what you drag around with you like a weight? I won’t tell anyone. Ever. But you have to tell someone eventually before it tears you to pieces.”
Elaine loosened herself from his grasp a little, she but didn’t completely pull away. Evidently what she had to say was so important that she could not say it casually while they lounged arm in arm in the sunshine. Timothy understood and propped himself up a little too. He had been expecting her to sit up across from him, but she leaned her head back on his shoulder again without looking at him. Her demeanor was no longer relaxed and trusting; instead, it expressed resignation.
Elaine took a deep breath.
“I’m not Lainie Keefer of Auckland. I’m Elaine O’Keefe of Queenstown, Otago. I was married
to Thomas Sideblossom of Lionel Station. And I shot my husband.”
Voices of the Spirits
GREYMOUTH, OTAGO, BLENHEIM, AND CHRISTCHURCH
1898
1
But it was self-defense, Lainie! No one would condemn you for that.” Timothy Lambert had listened calmly to Elaine’s entire story—without giving the smallest sign of repugnance or horror at her violent act. He had dried her tears and soothed her when she shook uncontrollably while describing her most awful experiences. Finally, she lay there, utterly exhausted, curled up against him, clinging to his arm with one hand. With the other, she held Callie. The little dog had come to her immediately, whimpering quietly, when Elaine had begun to tell her story.
“It wasn’t self-defense,” Elaine insisted. “Not in the true sense of the law. Thomas had only spoken to me that day; he hadn’t even touched me. When I shot him, he was more than two yards from me. That could be demonstrated, Tim. No judge would let me go with that.”
“But the man had threatened and hurt you repeatedly before. And you knew he would do it again. Is there no one who will confirm that for you? No one who knows the truth?”
Timothy pulled the blanket over his and Elaine’s bodies, as it was getting cool. In early spring, the midday sun did not provide warmth for long.
“Two Maori maids.” Elaine’s answer came quickly, suggesting she’d had this same conversation a thousand times in her head. “One of whom barely speaks English and works like a slave for Sideblossom because he caught her tribe rustling. Grand witnesses. If they would even dare to provide a testimony. And two stableboys could confirm that my husband had forbidden me to ride, which hardly amounts to a reason to shoot him.”
“But it was deprivation of freedom.” Timothy did not give up so easily. “The fellow practically locked you up. One can hardly fault you for breaking out, and in doing so… well, someone got hurt in the process.”
“I would have to prove that, which would be impossible without witnesses. And Zoé and John Sideblossom would hardly corroborate my story. Besides, it’s not like I was kidnapped. I was Thomas’s wife. It’s probably not even illegal for someone to lock up his wife.” Judging by Elaine’s grim countenance, she seemed to be reconsidering her marriage to Timothy.
