Song of the Spirits (27 page)

Ruben had no public feud with John Sideblossom. True, he did not find him very sympathetic and he continued to hold a grudge against him, but the tall, hard-drinking farmer had never had many friends. He had become famous in the livestock breeders association for hunting down James McKenzie, but he’d likewise been infamous. His behavior back then had routinely offended the gentlemen farmers in the group, but no one could argue that he hadn’t been successful. As for Fleurette, she and Ruben had already been a couple for a long time when John Sideblossom had come around to court her. He and Ruben had never been direct rivals. Ruben had heard the stories of how the courting played out. As far as he knew, a great deal of alcohol and even more braggadocio had played a role. And after twenty years, he was prepared to forgive. In addition, John had proved himself a good customer who was able to pay his bills. His mother was right about that. The man did not haggle, preferred quality to cheap junk, and was quick to decide when it came to large purchases.

He came quickly to the point once the men had gathered in the pub.

“I know that your wife is still angry with me, and that saddens me,” John Sideblossom declared. “But I don’t think the young ones should be made to suffer because of that. Not that we’re watching some great love story unfold here. That’s not my style. But to my way of seeing things, the match is a good one. My son is a gentleman and can offer your daughter a livelihood appropriate to her standing. Lionel Station is a very grand estate. And, unless my young wife surprises me”—his smile reminded Ruben of a shark—“Thomas is my only heir. So you don’t have to worry about anyone being after the dowry this time.”

“This time?” Ruben erupted.

“Come on, the rumors about that business with William Martyn are all over town. An ambitious young man like that—do you blame him for choosing Kiward Station over running a branch of a general store?”

Ruben felt his blood beginning to boil. “Mr. Sideblossom, I’m not
selling
my daughter to the highest bidder.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” John said comfortably. “‘The greatest of these is love.’ Says so in the Bible, no less. Just marry your daughter off without thinking about the finances.”

Ruben decided to take a different approach.

“Do you love my daughter?” he asked, turning inquisitively to the younger Sideblossom, who had not said a word so far. Whenever the old man spoke, his son had little to add. Ruben had noticed that already in the store.

As Thomas turned to him, Ruben found himself looking into inscrutable brown eyes.

“I would like to marry Elaine,” Thomas declared formally and gravely. “I would like her all for myself, to support her and care for her. Does that tell you what you want to know?”

Ruben nodded.

Only much later would he reflect on how Thomas’s “declaration of love” could just easily have justified the purchase of a pet.

T
he O’Keefes and the Sideblossoms agreed on a six-month engagement. The wedding was to take place at the end of September, during New Zealand’s spring, before the sheepshearing, which required Thomas and John’s presence. Fleurette insisted that Elaine visit Lionel Station at least once before the wedding, so that the girl could see what she was getting herself into. Fleurette wanted to accompany her daughter herself, but then her courage failed her. Everything within her bristled at the idea of spending even a single night under the same roof as John Sideblossom. Though she remained steadfastly opposed to the match, she could not come up with any good arguments against it. The men had met with each other and come to an agreement, and neither the elder nor junior Sideblossom had made a bad impression during the meeting.

“So the old man is a scoundrel, everyone knows that. But he’s no worse than Gerald Warden. It’s that whole generation. Seal hunters, whalers—my God, they didn’t make their fortunes in kid gloves. They were roughnecks! But they’ve settled down with the years, and the boy appears well-bred to me. Those fellows occasionally raise some softies. Just think of Lucas Warden.”

Fleurette had only fond memories of Lucas Warden, the man she had long thought to be her father. So finally she, too, declared herself ready to get to know Thomas. When she did, she could not find any objections to the young man. However, Elaine’s behavior toward him surprised her. When William had been around her, the girl had been practically glowing—whereas with Thomas, she fell silent. Fleur had grown accustomed to seeing her daughter chattering away cheerily
again as she rushed through the house with her skirts and hair blowing about her.

Fleurette finally asked Helen to accompany her granddaughter when she went to visit the Sideblossoms, and Leonard McDunn offered his services as a driver. Fleur thought both of them had good judgment, but they seemed to be of two minds when they returned.

Helen was full of praise for the comfortable house, and its beautiful location and well-trained staff. She found Zoé charming and well-bred. “An exemplary beauty!” she crooned. “Poor Elaine retreated back into herself again when she found herself confronted with that radiant young woman.”

“Radiant?” Leonard asked. “I found her rather cold, though she does look like a gold-foil angel. Didn’t surprise me at all that Lainie was reminded of Kura. Only this time the girl’s not competition. She only has eyes for her husband, while young Sideblossom never looks at anyone but Lainie. As for the servants, those people may be well trained, but they’re afraid of their masters. Even of little Zoé! When she’s among the maids, that angel turns into a field marshal. Their housekeeper, Emere, is like a dark shadow, that one. I found her downright spooky.”

“You exaggerate,” Helen interrupted. “You just don’t spend enough time around the Maori.”

“There’s one thing I still haven’t gotten over! That flute music, and always at night. It was enough to give you the creeps.” Leonard shuddered. He was not normally the nervous type—more the sort of man who kept both feet firmly on the ground—and no one had ever noticed him having any dislike of the Maori before.

Helen laughed. “Oh yeah, the
putorino
. That is true. It does sound a bit eerie. Have you ever heard it, Fleur? It is a very strangely formed flute of hardwood that you can practically play in two voices. The Maori refer to its male and female voice.”

“Male and female?” Leonard asked. “To me it sounded more like a drowning cat underwater—or what I imagine the critter would sound like in that case.”

Fleurette had to giggle despite all her concerns. “It sounds like the
wairua
. I’ve never heard it before though. Have you, Helen?”

Helen nodded. “Matahorua could awaken it. It would send an ice-cold chill down your spine.” Matahorua had been the Maori witch doctor on O’Keefe Station whose advice on “feminine matters” Helen and Gwyneira had sought from time to time in their younger years.

“
Wairua
is the third voice of the
putorino
,” Fleurette explained to Leonard, who was looking on uncomprehending. “The spirit voice. It’s rarely heard. Apparently, it involves using a very particular technique to bring it out.”

“Or a particular talent,” Helen said. “In any event, this Emere is no doubt considered a
tohunga
among her people.”

“And that’s why she plays the flute after dark until the last night bird stops its twittering?” Leonard asked skeptically.

Fleurette laughed again. “Perhaps her people don’t dare visit her during the day,” she ventured. “From what I’ve heard, Sideblossom doesn’t have a very good rapport with the Maori. It’s quite possible that they only seek out their witch doctor in secret.”

“Which still does not answer the question of what a Maori
tohunga
is doing as the housekeeper of such a disagreeable
pakeha
,” grumbled Leonard.

Helen waved him away. “Don’t listen to him, Fleur. He’s only upset because the elder Sideblossom took twenty dollars from him at poker.”

Fleurette rolled her eyes. “Then you got off pretty well, Leonard,” she said conciliatorily. “He’s taken other people for all they were worth. Or did you think he’d made all the money for Lionel Station from whaling?”

Anyone would have found that proposition doubtful. The manor house was too fine for that, the furniture and interiors of the rooms too expensive. Though Zoé had grown up in similar surroundings, Elaine had been almost awed by the home’s splendor. While Zoé had handled the expensive porcelain and the crystal glasses with ease, Elaine had needed to concentrate as she reminded herself of her grandmother’s
long-ago lessons regarding how to use the various spoons, knives, and forks at dinner.

Elaine did not reveal her anxieties about these things. In answer to Fleurette’s question, Elaine declared that Lionel Station had been lovely. Though she had been greatly looking forward to exploring the farm, she had not managed to see much of it. But there would be plenty of time for that after the wedding. Thomas had been wonderful, very obliging and polite, and she was still in love with him. Moreover, it had always been a dream of hers to live on one of the grand farms—even as a child, she had been completely taken with Kiward Station. Preoccupied as she had been learning about the house, Elaine had not noticed the spooky housekeeper or the nightly flute playing. Perhaps, she thought, her room had been in a different wing of the house from her grandmother’s or Mr. McDunn’s. And the sound of the
putorino
did not carry far.

Fleurette herself couldn’t pinpoint what it was that she did not like about the upcoming wedding. Perhaps she was just letting her prejudices influence her feelings. For that reason, she restrained herself from expressing her unease. After all, no one had been interested in her vaguely skeptical feelings about William, either. She was therefore surprised to suddenly hear from someone who shared her concerns: Daphne O’Rourke.

The infamous “hotel owner” stopped her on Main Street two months before the wedding. Fleurette noticed that Daphne was behaving in an unusually inconspicuous way and that she was dressed in a relatively reserved dark-green velvet dress without any more flounces than were decent.

“I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds, Mrs. O’Keefe, but I would like to have a word with you.”

Astonished but open-minded, Fleurette turned to her. “Naturally, Miss O’Rourke. Why ever not?”

“There’s that,” Daphne grinned, gesturing with a motion of her hand toward several respectable ladies who were looking over at them curiously.

Fleurette smiled. “If that’s the only reason, we can go to my house and have tea. If
you
feel bothered, that is. Let them talk, for all I care.”

Daphne grinned even more widely. “You know what? Let’s really give them something to talk about and go to my residence. The pub is closed now, so we can sit in there.” She gestured to the entrance of her hotel.

Fleurette did not have to deliberate over the invitation for long. She had been in Daphne’s establishment before, had even spent her wedding night there with Ruben. So why should she hesitate? Giggling like schoolgirls, the two women repaired to the pub.

It had changed considerably since Fleurette had first arrived in Queenstown many years ago. The barroom was much more sumptuous than before. Nevertheless, it still contained all the same features as practically all bars in the Anglo-Saxon world: wooden tables and chairs, stools at the bar, timber-plank construction, and an arsenal of bottles lined up on shelves. But the stage on which the girls danced had been crafted with markedly more care than the simple wooden dais that had once stood there. Pictures and mirrors also hung on the walls. Though they were a bit frivolous, Fleurette found no cause to blush.

“Come, we’ll go to the kitchen,” Daphne said, leading Fleurette to an area behind the hotel’s front desk. In Daphne’s Hotel there was not just whiskey but also small meals to be had.

Daphne prepared tea while Fleurette sat comfortably at the kitchen table. It was a rather long table, and Fleur thought that Daphne probably fed her girls there.

“So, tell me, what is this about, Miss O’Rourke?” Fleur asked as her host set a lovely porcelain cup in front of her.

Daphne sighed. “I hope you don’t take it as an intrusion. But, damn it… oh, forgive me. Surely you have an uneasy feeling about this situation too.”

“About… the situation?” Fleurette asked cautiously.

“Your daughter’s engagement to that Sideblossom fellow. Do you really want to ship your daughter off to that hermitage on the far side of the Pukaki? Alone with those fellows?” Daphne poured the tea.

“What I want does not seem to matter,” Fleurette said. “Elaine is insisting. She’s in love. And Helen…”

“Is singing the praises of Lionel Station, I know.” Daphne blew on her cup. “That’s precisely why I wanted to speak with you, Mrs. O’Keefe. Helen, well… she is a lady. And what’s more, she’s… let’s put it this way, she’s perhaps an especially ladylike lady. There are things you can’t talk to her about.”

“Do you know something about Thomas Sideblossom, Miss O’Rourke?” Fleurette asked nervously.

“Not about the boy. But the old man is… well, I wouldn’t leave my daughter alone with him. They also say strange things about his marriage.”

Fleurette was about to object, but Daphne raised her hand to signal for her to wait.

“I know what you’re about to say. The old man has a bad reputation, but the younger one could be different. Helen made the same objection. And I don’t mean to say anything against the boy. It’s only that”—Daphne bit her lip—“you should probably tell Elaine before her wedding what she can expect.”

“I should do
what
?” Fleurette asked, blushing. She loved her Ruben dearly and was not ashamed of what they did in bed together. But to talk about that to Elaine?

“You should tell her what happens between men and women in bed,” Daphne specified.

“Well, I think she knows the most important things… We all figured it out for ourselves. I mean…” Fleurette did not know what to say.

Daphne sighed again. “Mrs. O’Keefe, I don’t know how I can express myself more clearly. But let’s just say that not everyone figures out the same thing, and it’s not always a pleasant discovery. Tell her what
normally
happens between a man and a woman.”