Fires of Change (The Fire Blossom Saga)

by Sarah Lark

  “Eru isn’t even Chris’s son!” Linda said. “He’s—”

  “Officially, he was born into marriage. Mrs. Fenroy had a birth certificate issued for him. And you, Miss Linda and Miss Carol, as far as I know, aren’t even related to Mr. Fenroy.” Mr. Whitaker shuffled his papers, looking slightly embarrassed.

  “We’re Catherine Rata’s daughters,” Carol shot back.

  The lawyer sighed. “Your surname is Brandmann. According to your birth certificates, you are the daughters of Ida Brandmann, né Lange, who was remarried to Karl Jensch. And that doesn’t help you, because your father or stepfather, whatever you prefer to call him, sold his share of Rata Station to Christopher Fenroy. Catherine Rata doesn’t appear in the documents at all. According to the deed of ownership, she owns only one piece of land between the local Maori village and Rata Station. It was signed over to her by Ida Brandmann many years ago, after her deceased husband, Ottfried, made a deal with the Maori for it. Apparently, he cheated them, and Mrs. Fenroy is arguing in retrospect that the Ngai Tahu would like to have the land back. Officially, Catherine Rata has no heirs.”

  “That witch!” Carol hissed. “Jane knows very well to whom Chris wanted to leave his land, and that half the farm was Cat’s. She knows that they were a couple.”

  The lawyer shrugged. “The term for it is ‘informal marriage.’ Everyone accepted Miss Catherine’s position. But unfortunately, it was never officially confirmed. Mr. Fenroy should have at least made a will. But like this . . . I’m sorry, ladies. A lawsuit would be pointless. You’ll have to leave the farm.”

  “A week’s notice?” Linda stared at the document in her hand in disbelief. The sisters were now standing outside the lawyer’s office. “Where are we supposed to go?”

  “Jane obviously doesn’t give a damn!” Carol exclaimed. “‘With this very short notice, Mrs. Fenroy isn’t doing you any favors, but her demand is completely legitimate in the eyes of the law,’” she said, quoting Mr. Whitaker’s letter. “Is he our lawyer or Jane’s?”

  “He can’t do anything about it,” Linda said. “You heard him. Jane has been planning this for years now. She even got a pakeha birth certificate made for Eru.”

  “I’d be very interested to hear what Te Haitara has to say about it.” Carol still sounded as though she were prepared to fight. “And what do you mean, she’s been planning this? It almost sounds as though you think she had something to do with the shipwreck.”

  Linda shook her head. “No, of course not. But she had obviously taken it into account that Chris might die before she did. And then she coldly calculated how to make Rata Station her own. Cat wouldn’t have stood a chance against her! And Karl and Ida would have had to just deal with the fact that she was a business partner.”

  “She must have been thrilled when she found out that the farm would belong to her alone. She probably didn’t even know that Karl sold his share.” Carol wiped her eyes. “I’ll speak to her and Te Haitara today. I can’t imagine that he’s supporting her decision.”

  “How could you do this?”

  Carol dispensed with any words of greeting when the sisters found Jane Fenroy-Beit at Rata Station, just as they were getting out of their boat. The new “owner” was leisurely inspecting the barns and shearing shed. Fitz was following her. He looked like an angry pit bull on a strong leash. He had probably tried to stop Jane, but capitulated when she’d shown the papers that legitimatized her claim.

  Jane was wearing a comfortable, frayed tea gown. She had not dressed formally for this occasion, and her hair was pinned up loosely. Had she known that the sisters had gone out? Or did she just want to demonstrate how easily she could lay claim to her inheritance?

  “I’m only taking what I have a right to,” she replied calmly. “There’s no reason for you to be so disagreeable, Carol.”

  “I shouldn’t be disagreeable?” Carol shouted. “When you’re cheating us of our inheritance? You haven’t been married to Chris for decades! And Te Eriatara isn’t his son—”

  “Just like you and Linda aren’t Chris’s daughters. But Eru is his heir by English law; he was born into marriage without a doubt. It’s immaterial who the father is. So you’ll just have to accept it. The lawyer probably already told you everything. You have a week to leave the farm. You, Carol, will almost be married by then, anyway. And Linda, perhaps you should take little Margaret to the Jensches on the North Island. Under the circumstances, the girl won’t want to stay with the Redwoods for much longer.”

  Linda pursed her lips. So Jane had an additional motive for claiming Rata Station. She was trying to finally get rid of Mara. Then she could get Eru back under her thumb and turn him into a sheep baron. When Te Haitara’s tribal lands were combined with Rata Station, it would be the largest breeding business in the country, and all in the Fenroy name. No one on the South Island would be able to surpass Jane’s son and heir.

  “What does your real husband have to say about all this?” Linda asked, less provokingly than unhappily. “Te Haitara was Chris’s friend.”

  Jane shrugged. “You’re welcome to ask him,” she replied. “But please don’t distract me from my work now. I have to make a few lists, of the living and material inventory of Rata Station. I’m sure you understand. Not that anything might disappear.”

  Linda would have liked to give up and crawl under a bush to lick her wounds. But Carol dragged her toward the Maori village. “Who does that woman think she is?” she said, raging. “‘Not that anything might disappear’—as though we would be stealing something from her!”

  Linda sighed. “We’ll have to go through all the papers carefully. In any case, I have Brianna. Mrs. Warden wrote my name on the sales contract. Chris didn’t think it was very important, but Mrs. Warden told me she wouldn’t have come to New Zealand as a girl if she hadn’t been able to take her horse with her. And that was only possible if she was the sole owner of Igraine. Just like Cleo, her dog. You’ll have to look at Fancy’s papers, Carol. She’s certainly yours too.”

  “And Amy and the other puppies. At least that’s something. We could start a dog- and horse-breeding business.”

  “Without land?” Linda asked bitterly.

  “At Butler Station,” Carol replied. The sisters had reached the Maori village, and they began to look for Te Haitara. “You’ll come with me when I get married. Butler Station is huge; there’s plenty of space for you.”

  Linda didn’t answer. She had spotted the chieftain. He was deep in conversation with the tribal elder. As Carol and Linda approached, Makuto, the tohunga, remained seated. She sat at a slight remove, but not so far that she couldn’t listen to the conversation between the chieftain and the sisters.

  Linda nodded to the older woman respectfully. Makuto wore traditional garb. The sisters had never seen her in pakeha clothing, although other women in the tribe often wore it. Her woven skirt came to her knees, and her upper body was naked. She’d wrapped a blanket around her shoulders to ward off the evening chill.

  Te Haitara watched Carol and Linda sorrowfully as they approached. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  “Is that all? Do you have nothing else to say?” Linda said sharply in Maori. For the first time, she didn’t address him formally. “Can you do nothing? Jane is your wife. She can’t be married to two men.”

  “That’s what I told her,” Te Haitara said. “And the tohunga told her too. But Jane thinks it’s all pakeha business, just a matter of papers. She says it has no meaning for us.”

  “It has no meaning that Eru isn’t considered your son?” Linda demanded.

  The chieftain rubbed the tattoo that covered his wide face. “Anyone can see whose son Eru is,” he replied evasively.

  “Even if his name is Eric Fenroy? Ariki, after his birth Jane registered him in Christchurch as Chris’s child!”

  It was difficult to find the right word to say “registered.” There was nothing comparable in Maori.

  “She had it written down that Eru was C
hris’s son,” Carol said helpfully when Te Haitara looked at Linda blankly.

  “Had it written down,” the chieftain repeated. “I don’t really understand.”

  His injured expression said more than any words could. Te Haitara knew very well what kind of game Jane was playing with him and Chris.

  “Chris’s legacy is not intended for Eru, ariki,” Linda said. “You have to see that.”

  The chieftain touched his tattoo again. “Eru is not inheriting immediately,” he said. “Jane is. And I can’t stop her from claiming it. Not even if I go to Christchurch and say she’s married to me.”

  “Pakeha judges don’t recognize Maori marriages, do they?” Linda asked.

  Carol snorted. “Not unless both partners were single before. But Jane and Chris weren’t divorced yet. Of course they were divorced through the karakia toko; I know, ariki. But a marriage formed in the pakeha way has to be ended that way too. Without a divorce, which is also just a piece of paper, there can be no new marriage.”

  The chieftain ran a hand over his hair, which was bound in a warrior’s knot, and then put the hand to his nose. It was a ritual gesture. According to the Maori beliefs, the god Raupo lived in a chieftain’s hair, and his spirit had to be breathed in again after the chieftain touched his head.

  “Chris warned me about Jane,” he murmured. “Back then, I thought he just didn’t want to give her to me. I even got angry. But I just didn’t understand. I will never understand the pakeha, even though I’ve been with Jane for so long . . .” He looked away.

  The sisters waited.

  “In any case, I can’t help you,” the chieftain said after he’d pulled himself together. “According to our laws, I have no rights to Jane’s land. She can do whatever she wants with it.”

  As opposed to in England, where a woman’s property automatically belonged to her husband after marriage, a Maori woman could inherit and manage her own land. That cultural difference also created problems with the pakeha settlers. It sometimes happened that Maori men sold their wives’ or sisters’ land without permission. When the women complained, the pakeha buyers didn’t understand that they’d been party to a deception, and of course they refused to give the land back.

  “Jane follows every law that is to her advantage,” Linda said bitterly.

  Te Haitara shrugged. “At least I can offer you some sheep from our stock, as utu.”

  Utu was the Maori concept for a compensation payment with which it was possible to right a wrong.

  “Don’t bother, ariki,” Carol said angrily. “Who knows what would happen if you tried to give us the animals. Your sheep probably all belong to Jane too—of course, only on paper. We’ll manage somehow.”

  “You’re welcome to stay here,” the chieftain offered. “Chris and Cat, Karl and Ida, her children . . . We’ve had our powhiri, and you’ve learned and danced with our children. We’re part of the same tribe.”

  Linda shook her head. “We can’t stay here and play shepherd to Jane’s sheep,” she said bitterly. “And we’re not part of the tribe either. I used to believe that, but now everything is different. Te Ua Haumene said it loud and clear: you are Maori, and we are pakeha. The land can only belong to one of us. The only question is, who?”

  Makuto, the old priestess, had remained silent so far. Linda was important to her; she had initiated the young woman in many of the secrets of her people. She’d taught the girl everything about healing that Linda hadn’t been able to learn from Cat. Now she got up and faced the chieftain. She was majestic, even though she was significantly shorter than Te Haitara. In the light of the rising moon, her body cast ghostly shadows.

  “She’s right, ariki,” the priestess said softly. “They must leave. Poti’s daughter must find her own way in the world, and your Jane must go as well. When all is said and done, Linda will know who she is. Jane will never know that unless she allows herself to be shown. You must find out, ariki. Show Jane who she really is, before she destroys you as well.”

  Chapter 26

  “Perhaps you should have accepted Te Haitara’s offer,” Linda said as the sisters walked back to Rata Station, exhausted and discouraged. “A few sheep as utu, in case the Butlers insist on your dowry.”

  Carol shook her head. “No, Linda, Oliver will have to take me as I am. He loves me. He doesn’t care if I bring a few hundred sheep into the marriage or not.”

  Linda wondered if that also applied to Fitz. They’d never talked about marriage. But would Fitz really not care if she was a rich heiress or a pauper?

  Fitz was waiting for the sisters in the farmyard. He already seemed to be distant when they arrived. Linda wondered if he was just being tactful or if he was already preparing for a retreat. Jane had doubtlessly made it clear to him how much had changed in Carol’s and Linda’s lives that day.

  “Are you hungry?” Carol asked.

  The sisters walked into Cat’s old longhouse. Though they lived in the stone house, they felt close to Cat and Chis in the wooden structure. This kitchen was cozier than the other. And since they hadn’t changed anything there since Cat’s disappearance, it gave them the feeling that she and Chris could walk through the door at any moment.

  Linda shook her head. “Not really. But we should still eat something.” She tried to smile. “And we should leave as little for Jane as possible.”

  Carol searched the cupboards and came up with some bread and cheese. “That means starting tomorrow, we should eat a sheep every day,” she joked. Then her face fell. “Oh, Lindy, we never should have let ourselves be talked into declaring Mamaca and Chris dead.”

  Linda shrugged. “It would have occurred to Jane sooner or later that she could do that herself,” she replied. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Instead, check Fancy’s papers and make sure she really belongs to you. It would be a big relief if we didn’t have to give her up. Wait, where are the dogs? I’m going to go check the barn.”

  As soon as Linda opened the barn door, the collies leaped up so enthusiastically that she felt as though she’d been gone for weeks instead of just one day.

  “How’d you get in here?” Linda asked, smiling through her tears.

  Fitz stepped out of the shadows. “I put them out of the way so that horrible witch wouldn’t get any ideas. She made a list of every horse, dog, cow, and chicken that was walking around. She probably knew the exact number of sheep by heart already, considering the envious way she always eyes the herd. So I brought Brianna and Shawny and the dogs to this wing of the barn. She hasn’t searched it yet.” Shawny was Carol’s horse.

  Linda leaned into Fitz’s embrace. “That was kind of you. And very smart. But Brianna belongs to me officially, and the dogs belong to Carol, we hope. Shawny isn’t worth much, so Jane won’t insist on keeping her.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Fitz said, and pulled Linda close. “She’s a greedy beast. My poor darling . . .”

  Linda nestled against him, grateful that he was looking out for her and the animals.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered against his chest, weeping while he kissed her hair. “There was always only Rata Station for me. I wanted to stay here until the end of my days. I was happy here.”

  Fitz leaned back and pushed her hair from her face. “Lindy, don’t cry,” he said gently. “You can be happy anywhere. If you can’t have the farm anymore, then you’ll do something else.”

  Linda gazed at him in confusion. “But I can’t do anything else . . .”

  “Nonsense!” Fitz made a dismissive gesture. “You can do anything you want. For example, you could come with me. Obviously, I’m not going to stay here and work for that witch. They found gold on the west coast, Lindy! We could stake a claim and get rich! And then we’ll return and buy the farm back. You will laugh again, my darling!” He gave her an irresistible smile.

  Linda furrowed her brow. “Are you serious?”

  Fitz put his arms around her again, stroked her back, and kissed her. “
Of course I’m serious. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

  Linda felt her fear and tension dissolve. With Fitz, everything seemed easy. He seemed so self-assured, invincible . . . even if he was talking nonsense. She certainly wasn’t about to go off chasing after gold. But perhaps Fitz could find employment at Butler Station. After all, he and Oliver were friends. Then Linda could still be with him.

  The sales contract for Fancy really was made out to Carol Brandmann, and of course that meant the puppies belonged to her as well. Most of the litter had already been sold, but three puppies were left, two male and one female. They had been carefully trained, and would bring several hundred pounds.

  “So I’m not coming to you as a total pauper,” Carol teased Oliver when he arrived at Rata Station the next day.

  It touched her that he’d set out as soon as he’d gotten the news. She had wondered if she should write him a letter, but of course Georgie had already heard everything and had spread the word. Now Carol sought comfort in her fiancé’s arms.

  “That is, we aren’t coming as total paupers,” she added. “Because of course I have to bring Linda. At least for now. Perhaps in the long run she’d prefer to go live with Mamida and Kapa on the North Island. The two of them are coming to our wedding, so we can discuss it then. Right now there’s so much to think about, I—”

  “I have something to discuss with you too,” Oliver said. He gently freed himself from her embrace and pushed her away from him. “You know I’m really sorry about this.”

  Carol nodded. “Of course you are, I know, I—”

  “No—no, you don’t understand.” Oliver sounded tortured. “Carol, after what happened with Rata Station, it turns out that you—you aren’t Chris Fenroy’s heir.”

  Carol frowned. “You already knew that,” she said. “I’m Ida Jensch’s daughter from her first marriage. That’s no secret.”

  “Of course not.” Oliver began to squirm. “It’s just that it always looked as though you were the heiress of Rata Station. So, the heir of Butler Station would marry the heiress of Rata Station—”