Tamar (42 page)

‘Tamar,’ said Andrew gently but persistently, ‘I asked you whether it’s in the past. I need an answer.’

‘Of course it’s in the past! I’ve seen the child’s father perhaps three times since he was born. We have no relationship to speak of.’ Then something occurred to her. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t marry you because there was someone else?’

Andrew nodded.

That bloody John, she thought. She leaned forward and placed her head on Andrew’s solid shoulder. ‘No, Andrew, there isn’t anyone else. You’ve been my only companion since I met you.’ She could feel his deep sigh of relief. ‘I’m sorry if you thought otherwise.’

‘No, no I didn’t,’ he lied.

‘I was very young then, and unhappy.’

‘Tamar, it’s your business, not mine. I won’t mention it again if you don’t want me to. You
were
young, in a strange country and married to a very unpleasant man.’

Tamar sat up. ‘No, please don’t make excuses. I know what I did, but I’ve come to terms with it. I’m not a silly young girl any more.’

‘You’re not exactly old, though, are you?’ Andrew said, looking fondly at her beautiful, clear, unlined face. ‘You’re only twenty-four. I’m thirty-five. How will you feel when you have to push me around in my bathchair?’

‘Oh, don’t be silly!’

‘Just one question, though, if you don’t mind.’

She raised her eyebrows.

‘The father of your child comes from Hawke’s Bay. Is that going to have an impact on us?’

She didn’t have to think hard about her answer. ‘None at all. Although I would like to see my son. If I can.’

The wedding was planned for the following January. Tamar told the girls she would be selling the house and winding down the business by Christmas. Bronwyn and Letitia were leaving anyway, Sven would go with Eliza and work in the bar of Bronwyn’s restaurant, Vivienne was going to try to get work in another house, and Jessica was considering buying a small commercial business, a bakery or fruit shop. Minette left a week after Tamar’s
announcement, taking her regular customers with her to set up on her own. Tamar wished her well and gave her a generous bonus to help her on her way.

The house and most of its contents were sold in October via a property agent to a wealthy Englishman who was coming out in the New Year. The purchaser undoubtedly had no idea of his new home’s past history, but he’d got it for a bargain so Tamar decided that was his problem, and the land agent, who’d earned himself a healthy commission, agreed. Tamar suggested she put the proceeds from the sale into Andrew’s business but he declined, saying she should hold on to the money, along with her savings and the amount she had been bequeathed by Myrna. ‘You might want to do something with it yourself one day,’ he’d said.

‘But it’s a small fortune,’ Tamar had replied. ‘And I
don’t
need it. You might as well make use of it. I realise farmers haven’t been doing well over the last few years.’

But he’d waved her offer away, insisting it was her money.

They were married in a civil ceremony in Albert Park on 21 January 1887, with just a few friends present, then crossed the harbour to Devonport on the paddle steamer
Victoria
for a wedding breakfast at the Esplanade Hotel. Andrew’s sister declined to attend, which did not bode well for them all living happily together when Andrew took his new bride home.

Tamar wanted a wedding completely unlike her first. She wore a gown of bronze and black striped silk with long, tight sleeves, a high Chinese collar, and a fitting bodice embellished with black piping. The skirt was split at the front and caught at each side with a black silk rose, revealing an underskirt of pale ecru brocade with black piping stitched in a complex pattern around the hem. From behind, the dress was a mass of fine pleats from the waist down, forming a short train. In her hair Tamar wore a silk rose to match her dress. Underneath her gown her corset was done up so snugly
she almost fainted getting into the landau for the ride to Queen’s Wharf. When the wedding party arrived at the Esplanade Hotel, she and Riria, heavily pregnant, retired to the ladies’ room so she could let her corset out.

When Tamar could breathe properly again, Riria asked to see her wedding ring. Tamar removed her black lace glove, slid the heavy ring off her finger and passed it over. A wide gold band, it had a raised pattern of intricate Celtic knotwork around its circumference.

‘Andrew had it made for me. I think it’s beautiful,’ she said as Riria examined it.

‘Yes, the pattern is similar to some Maori motifs.’ She looked searchingly at Tamar. ‘And you think you will be happy with Andrew?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘What is different this time?’

Tamar sat on a velvet upholstered chair, slipped her new shoes off and rubbed her sore feet. God, I’m getting more like Myrna every day, she reflected wryly, and was struck by a sharp pang of regret and sadness at Myrna’s absence; she would have liked Andrew.

‘He respects me. I believe he wants to share his life with me, all of it. He wants us to be partners, and I think we will be. Yes,’ she added thoughtfully, almost to herself, ‘I think I’ve finally made the right choice.’

As it turned out, however, it became evident Andrew had not shared everything about himself with Tamar. The day after their wedding, Tamar packed up her things and arranged to have everything she would not need for the trip to Napier sent ahead by coach. She and Andrew stayed in Auckland for another two days then, after a tearful farewell on the wharf, they boarded the steamer to Napier.

The trip was pleasant and uneventful, except that Cabbage, whom Tamar could not leave behind, was sick all the way. The weather was fine and the brisk ocean breeze a welcome respite from the summer heat. The steamship docked at the Port of Napier on the hot, still morning of 3 February and the minute Tamar disembarked, she was assaulted by a revolting reek.

‘What’s that dreadful smell?’ she asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

‘Stagnant water, open drains and other rubbish. The drainage isn’t the best because a lot of the land’s so low-lying.’ He looked at her screwed-up face and laughed. ‘The borough council’s reclaiming the swampy areas, or forcing the owners to raise the land themselves, but money’s tight and it’s a big endeavour. Still, we should be able to come into town in a few years’ time and not feel sick.’

‘How far away is your home?’ Tamar asked, hoping it was situated well beyond the reaches of this appalling smell. It was worse than Auckland.

‘Don’t worry, it’s well out of town.’ Andrew shaded his eyes with his hand and looked about the busy docks. ‘I’m looking for Lachlan. I wired him to come and meet us with the wagon. There he is.
Lachie
!’ he bellowed, waving his hat madly.

Lachlan turned out to be a stocky, dark-haired man of medium height with a cheerful, ruggedly handsome face, a ready smile and a mild Scottish accent.

‘Andy!’ he cried as he jumped down from the wagon. ‘Good to see ye, mon. And this must be the new Mrs Murdoch!’ He took Tamar’s hand gently and bowed low. ‘I can see now why ye refused to give up, Andy,’ he added mysteriously.

‘Tamar,’ said Andrew formally. ‘I’d like you to meet my brother-in-law, Lachlan McRae. Lachlan, this is Tamar.’

Tamar smiled and said hello, warming immediately to this genial young man.

Andrew looked around and said, ‘No Jeannie?’

‘Aye, well, ye know what she’s like when she gets a bee in her bonnet.’

Andrew shrugged and bent to lift the luggage into the back of the wagon.

The trip to Kenmore, Andrew’s farm, took almost five hours. Lachlan drove, pointing out various landmarks as they went through the town. Finally leaving it behind, they followed a rough gravel road into the rolling countryside. The further they travelled from civilisation, the wilder the land became, especially on the hills. Some of it was in pasture but the greater amount was still untouched bush.

After several hours they stopped for lunch, prepared and packed by a begrudging Jeannie, and Tamar went for a short walk to relieve herself behind a tall stand of mature
karaka
, making sure she held her long skirts well out of the way while Cabbage stood guard. When she’d finished she sat for a minute on a fallen log, listening contentedly to the heavy, warm silence and contemplating the possibilities her new life might bring. Several yards away a rabbit stuck its head up above a bush and watched her curiously. She could not understand why Andrew hated rabbits — they were so appealing. As far as he was concerned, the only good rabbit was a dead one. Then Cabbage barked and it bounced away in fright, its white bottom flashing.

On the other side of the trees, out of Tamar’s earshot, Andrew was complaining about Jeannie.

‘I swear to you Lachie, I’ll not put up with any more of this nonsense. Our parents raised us to be tolerant, and tolerant she is not, not over this. I know running a brothel isn’t socially acceptable, but it’s just a business like any other. God, man, you know that — you patronised enough of them in your single days. It doesn’t mean Tamar’s immoral or a bad person.’

‘Ye don’t have to convince me, I can see she’s a fine woman. It’s our Jeannie you’ll have to get around.’

‘I won’t have her upsetting Tamar. She doesn’t deserve it.’

Unaware she was being discussed, Tamar tried to imagine her new home. She assumed it would not be too small as she and Andrew would be sharing it with Jeannie and Lachlan, and he had never implied there wouldn’t be enough room to raise a family, but neither did she expect it to be particularly large. Andrew obviously had
some
money, and had been more than generous with it, but she had seen no indication he was particularly wealthy. He dressed well, but so did most businessmen with a pound or two. She must think of a way to get him to take advantage of her nest egg, although she did not want to insult him. Perhaps they could become business partners, an arrangement that might make it easier for him. She smiled softly as it suddenly occurred to her she had learned to trust again.

As the afternoon grew hotter and they drew closer to Kenmore, Andrew pointed out three or four homesteads nestled in the hills. One was quite grand while the others were less splendid but nevertheless still substantial and impressive.

‘Our neighbours,’ he said. ‘If you can call them that. Some of the stations are so big you can ride for hours in several directions and not see another sign of life.’

Tamar quite liked the idea. ‘How many acres do you have?’

‘Oh, a few,’ he replied vaguely.

In another hour, after which Tamar was sure her nose was beginning to burn even though she’d kept her wide-brimmed straw hat on all day, Lachlan turned off the main road onto a narrower but well-maintained track. It stretched out in front of them through a stand of tall English trees, then disappeared around a bend. Tamar was relieved to be out of the relentless afternoon sun and under the cool shade. As they rounded the
bend, she was enchanted as a grand two-storeyed, balconied home surrounded by beautifully groomed lawns and gardens came into view.

‘Lord, that’s a lovely house,’ commented Tamar. ‘Whose is it?’

‘Actually, it’s ours,’ Andrew answered cautiously. ‘This is Kenmore.’

‘
This
is Kenmore? This great mansion? Andrew Murdoch, you …
bugger
!’ exclaimed Tamar angrily, then whacked her new husband on the arm. Lachlan wisely kept his mouth shut as he pulled the wagon up in front of the wide portico over the front door. ‘You lied to me! You said you didn’t have a lot of money!’

‘No,’ Andrew replied, ducking as she hit him again. ‘You assumed that. I never said it.’

‘You’ve bloody well tricked me!’ she swore indignantly. She felt foolish at having offered him what was probably an insignificant amount of money compared to what he obviously already had.

‘No, I haven’t. I didn’t think it was important. You never seemed particularly interested in money, so I thought there’d be no point mentioning mine. Does it matter?’ he asked, trying not to laugh.

‘Excuse me,’ said a cool voice from above. ‘Lachlan, Andrew, I’m glad to see you’re home safely.’

Tamar looked up to see a woman in her late twenties standing at the top of the steps, and hoped her swearing had not been overheard. Judging by the expression on the woman’s face, it had. Tamar and Andrew both stepped down from the wagon as the woman came down to meet them.

‘I’m Jeannie McRae,’ she said, her voice icy. ‘Obviously you’re Tamar.’

‘Yes. I’m very pleased to meet you, Jeannie,’ Tamar replied untruthfully. ‘I’m sorry, but your brother appears to have deceived me. You must excuse me.’ She swept up the steps and into the house, then came out again a second later with as much dignity as
she could muster. ‘Lachlan, could you show me to my bedroom, please? I need to lie down.’

‘Of course,’ he said, and led her into the house.

‘What does she mean, deceived her?’ Jeannie asked her brother, who was staring after his new wife.

‘I think she thought we weren’t terribly well-off.’ He turned to her. ‘Which puts an end to your gold-digger theory.’

‘I never said she was a gold-digger.’

‘No, but you implied it.’

‘Well, what do you expect? She’s a brothel-owner.’

‘She
was
a brothel-owner, Jeannie. And she didn’t start the business, she just managed it.
And
she has thousands of her own in the bank. What would she want with my money?’

‘Well, nothing, I suppose, if she has her own,’ Jeannie grudgingly admitted. ‘But she might be using you to gain respectability. Have you thought of
that
?’

Andrew sighed. ‘Jeannie, Tamar has more respect from social and business quarters in Auckland than I might ever have. She was a superb businesswoman and donated a lot of money to charity. Her house was truly grand. She moved in some quite lofty circles, and so did the woman who left her the business. Don’t be such a snob. This isn’t Balmoral and you’re not the Queen.’

‘Then all I can say, Andrew, is that she’s going to take a lot of getting used to.’