Sentence of Marriage (9 page)

Amy went off to her bedroom, determined not to cry even though she felt betrayed. She hunted through her chest of drawers for the previous winter’s good dress, and finally found it, rather creased, at the bottom of a drawer. She shook it vigorously to get some of the creases out, then quickly put it on.

To her dismay, she found that she had grown enough during the intervening months for the dusky pink woollen dress to become a little too short, as well as uncomfortably tight under the arms. But it was her only good winter dress, apart from the now-forbidden black one, so she had no choice but to wear it.

Susannah frowned when Amy came back into the kitchen. ‘That’s rather shabby.’

‘It’s the only one I’ve got,’ Amy said, still fighting back tears.

‘Oh. Well, it can’t be helped, then. You’ll have to get another one, though.’

‘I’m not sure how we’re all going to fit,’ Jack said, looking round at his expanded family, when John had brought the buggy around to the gate.

‘I’ll ride,’ Harry said just a little too eagerly, and he went off to fetch another horse. ‘Don’t wait for me to saddle up,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘I’ll catch you up—I’ll be faster than you, anyway.’

The church was small, holding around ninety people in its eight rows of pews when it was full; today the congregation was about fifty strong. It had been built fifteen years earlier, and Jack still occasionally referred to it as the ‘new’ church. Walls, floor and ceiling were all made of broad kauri planks the colour of dark honey, as were the pews, and with the morning sun coming through the high, narrow windows behind the altar (they were of clear glass; Ruatane did not run to stained glass windows) the church felt warm and cosy after the cold drive into town. That meant in summer the church could get unbearably hot, especially when the sermon was particularly long.

They arrived at church just as the first hymn was being sung, and took their pew as quickly as possible. Lizzie’s father did not approve of ‘pew-wandering’, as he called it, so Lizzie could not come and sit with them, but Amy saw her craning her neck to look. Amy noticed heads turning to stare at her father’s new bride, and the volume of the singing wavered briefly. No wonder people were looking, Amy thought. The only other person in the congregation who dressed anywhere near as stylishly as Susannah was Mrs Leveston, the wife of the Resident Magistrate; as Mrs Leveston was short, grey-haired and rather plump there was no real competition.

After the service most of the congregation seemed to feel obliged to rush over and speak to the Leiths outside the church. Susannah smiled graciously at them all, and clearly enjoyed the admiring looks given her clothes. Lizzie came over with her family and gave Susannah an appraising glance, then pulled Amy off to one side.

‘Well
,’ Lizzie said. ‘That’s a surprise, and no mistake! I could hardly believe it when Pa said Uncle Jack had come home with a wife—and I didn’t expect anything like her.’ She looked at Susannah again, and Amy realised that Lizzie was, for once, almost at a loss for words.

‘I didn’t expect it either,’ said Amy.

‘What’s she like?’ Lizzie asked, turning back to Amy with an eager expression.

‘She’s…’ Amy began, then found she was struggling. How could she sum up all Susannah meant in a few words? ‘She’s twenty-five, she’s from the city… she’s not used to us yet… she gets upset quite a lot.’

‘Why? What’s wrong with her?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Amy. ‘I… I don’t think she likes me very much.’

‘She doesn’t sound very nice. She’s got small eyes, anyway, and that pointy chin! And she’s skinny.’

‘She doesn’t eat much,’ Amy said, remembering the argument over the chops. ‘She doesn’t seem very happy at home.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Lizzie said. ‘She’s managed to get a husband, and she must have just about given up. Twenty-five! She looks even older than that.’ She cast a disparaging look at Susannah. ‘I’ll have to get Ma to come over and visit her soon.’

‘Why? So you can have a better look?’

‘Yes,’ Lizzie said simply.

Lizzie had to wait a few days before she could make her visit. Monday was washing day, and for the first time Amy decided there might be an advantage to Susannah’s presence: sharing the washing would be a definite improvement.

She had her doubts when Susannah started a stream of complaints. ‘Carry water from a barrel!’ she said, looking utterly disgusted, when Amy commented on how lucky they were that the rain barrel was full so that they did not have to go all the way to the well to fill the copper and the rinsing tubs. ‘We’ve had running water for three years at home.’

‘Have you?’ Amy said, wide-eyed with awe. ‘That must be wonderful.’

‘Yes, it is—it
was
, I should say.’ Susannah looked downcast. She carried a bucket or two, wandering along morosely, while Amy scurried back and forth with the bulk of the water.

Running water! Amy tried to imagine what it would be like never to have to haul water again, but gave up the attempt. She mused on what other wonders Auckland might hold. It did not seem worth asking Susannah about the city; it would probably only annoy her, anyway. And she had somehow never had the chance to talk with her father about the things he had seen in Auckland; they hardly ever seemed to be alone together long enough to talk any more.

Susannah might be an extra pair of hands, but she did contribute an awful lot of washing, too. She laundered her own things, but took so long over each one that she did very little of the rest.

She looked with distaste at the state of the men’s work clothes. ‘Those are disgusting,’ she said, wrinkling her nose at a pair of trousers liberally spattered with mud and cow dung.

‘Men get dirty on farms,’ Amy said, picking up the offending trousers. ‘The clothes come clean, you just have to scrub them really well.’

‘Don’t take that superior attitude with me, child,’ Susannah said sharply.

‘I’m not—I was just trying to explain…’
Now I’m contradicting again, aren’t I?

But Susannah was distracted when she noticed Amy washing the pink dress. ‘I suppose I’d better organise a new dress for you, I can’t have you going about as though no one cares how you look.’

‘I’ll go in on Thursday and get some material—I can make one quite quickly.’

‘There is a dressmaker in this place, isn’t there?’

‘Yes, I think Mrs Nichol does dressmaking—she keeps the millinery shop and drapery. But I always make my own things.’

‘I was thinking of my own clothes,’ Susannah said. ‘I hope some country dressmaker is capable of making wearable gowns. I’m sure you can run something up for yourself.’

‘Do you think…’ Amy said hesitantly, then plucked up her courage. ‘I’d love to have a silk dress.’

‘Nonsense, child, you’re far too young for silk. You can have
mousseline de laine
or something like that. You’ll grow out of a dress in a year, anyway.’

Amy lowered her eyes to avoid looking at Susannah with what she knew must be a rebellious expression.

Tuesday’s ironing at least caused no complaints; Susannah was used to the drudgery of that task, and it seemed the city had no magic way to improve on it. On Wednesday morning Amy was cleaning the range while Susannah did some dusting, when Lizzie arrived with her mother and little Ernie.

‘Thought we should pop over and say hello,’ Edie said, beaming all over her good-natured face. She was puffing slightly from the exertion of the last hill. ‘I’ve brought you a sponge cake.’

‘How kind,’ Susannah said. ‘And you’ve brought the dear little boy with you, too.’ She patted Ernie on the head. ‘You will take tea with me, won’t you?’

‘I wouldn’t say no.’

‘Amy, make some tea and bring it through to the parlour.’ Susannah swept Edie out of the room, Ernie clutching his mother’s hand.

Lizzie looked after Susannah in disapproval. ‘I don’t think much of the way she talks to you. No “please” or “thank you”, just “Make some tea”. Talks as if you were a servant.’

‘I told you, Lizzie, I don’t think she likes me.’ Amy scrubbed her hands clean, then started making the tea.

‘Humph! She must be pretty silly, then—everyone likes you.’

‘How are you getting on with Frank?’ Amy asked, to change to a more pleasant subject.

Lizzie pulled a face. ‘Well, I haven’t seen him for a while, except at church, and I don’t get much chance to talk to him there.’

‘You haven’t taken any more pies down to him?’ Amy asked with an exaggerated expression of innocence.

‘I can’t get away with doing that too often, or even Ma would notice. I’m going to have to find some other excuse to see him.’

‘You’ll think of something,’ said Amy. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ She picked up a tray with tea and biscuits to carry out to the parlour.

‘I’ll help you with that—I want to get another look at
her
,’ Lizzie said, taking the plate of biscuits from the tray.

They found Susannah was doing most of the talking, punctuated by an occasional expression of interest from Edie.

‘Yes, my father is rather well-known in our area,’ Susannah said as they entered. ‘He has his own building firm, and my brother works with him. He’s been quite successful, of course things have been quieter the last year or two.’

‘How interesting,’ Edie said dutifully.

‘My sister is married to a lawyer.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, here’s our tea. Run along, Amy, I’ll pour it.’ Lizzie gave Susannah a withering glance, which the latter unfortunately saw. ‘Is something wrong, dear—Elizabeth, isn’t it?’

Edie laughed. ‘Lizzie, you mean—she’d be in bad trouble before I’d use her whole name.’

‘Oh, Lizzie if you prefer—I always think names sound so much nicer used as they were meant to be. Anyway, what’s wrong, Lizzie dear? You look as though you’ve got stomach ache.’

‘Nothing’s wrong with
me
,’ Lizzie said haughtily. ‘I was just surprised at the way—’

‘Lizzie,’ Amy took her cousin’s arm, ‘come and help me in the kitchen.’

‘Yes, you can get on with that cleaning while I’m busy, dear,’ Susannah said to Amy. ‘Oh, your little boy is rubbing a biscuit into the rug.’ She looked disapprovingly at Edie.

Edie pulled Ernie onto her lap. ‘Don’t do that, sweetie.’

‘I’ll clean it up,’ said Amy. She fetched the dustpan and swept the crumbs from the rug before pulling Lizzie out of the parlour.

‘Is she much help to you?’ Lizzie asked.

‘A bit,’ said Amy. ‘She does a lot of the cooking, and we did the washing and ironing together. She’s not very keen on cleaning, though. She said they had a servant to do the “rough” work, whatever that is.’

‘You mustn’t let her boss you around.’

‘What can I do about it? Pa says she’s my mother now, so I’ve got to do what she says, don’t I?’

Lizzie looked at her with a troubled expression. ‘I don’t like to see anyone talking to you like that.’

‘I don’t mind—not really. It’s no more work than before, and I can get away from her quite a bit in the daytime. She often goes to bed pretty early, too. Pa sometimes does, too, since he came home. I suppose they’re still tired from that long trip.’

‘
You’re too easy-going. I’ll have to think of something.’

‘What are you talking about? Lizzie, don’t you go husband-hunting for me! Things aren’t as bad as all that!’

‘Who said anything about a husband? You’re too young for that to be much use yet, anyway. I just don’t like her manner.’

‘Forget it, Lizzie. It’s not your problem.’ But Amy knew Lizzie would not forget it, and she had a vaguely uneasy feeling when her aunt and cousins left for home.

‘She’s a pleasant enough woman,’ Susannah commented while they were making dinner. ‘Empty-headed, but quite agreeable. Her baby’s a grubby little creature, though—she looks rather old to have one that young, anyway. And that girl’s a sour-faced thing. I hope you don’t mix with her too much.’

‘She’s my friend,’ Amy said, stung into defending Lizzie. ‘And she’s not sour, she’s lovely.’

‘I see,’ Susannah said, looking at Amy through narrowed eyes.

*

October came in with blustery weather, as if spring was reluctant to show itself. It was much warmer, though, and the grass was growing luxuriantly, so the cows produced plenty of milk for Amy to make into butter and cheese.

She had never resented her tasks in the dairy, seeing them as part of her routine, but now she positively looked forward to her time there as a chance to be alone. She lingered, shaping the butter almost lovingly into perfectly-formed blocks, and when the work was done she lingered a little longer over a book.

At first Amy felt guilty over smuggling a book down to the dairy, but she knew Susannah disliked her company and would not miss her for an extra half hour. So she indulged herself by laughing at Mrs Bennet’s efforts to catch husbands for her daughters, or shivering with fear at Jane’s discovery of Rochester’s mad wife. When she closed the covers of
She Stoops to Conquer
, Amy wondered what it would be like to see a play on stage in a real theatre. Susannah had talked of going to the theatre in Auckland. Amy decided it must be like having a dream come to life.