by Lark, Sarah
Juliet found a whole box of them in Kevin’s drawer. And behind it another—apparently, her lover bought protection in bulk. Juliet contemplated whether to tamper with both boxes, but decided one would do. Her period was two weeks past, so her fertile days were near at hand. Two or three nights should suffice.
Juliet reached for a hat pin. In two months at the latest, Kevin would be walking her down the aisle.
Chapter 4
Atamarie never dreamed she would envy Roberta’s college experience. It was not as if she were considering teaching children instead of building flying machines, but after two months alone in Christchurch, she was bored to death. Every day after classes, she sat in her room or wandered alone through the city, while Roberta was out with fellow students. Although she wasn’t nearly as outgoing as Atamarie, she had quickly made friends and seemed quite happy—except for her hopeless infatuation with Kevin Drury.
Atamarie, on the other hand, had no friends. Not even her landladies’ liberal attitude toward visitors could help her. The other engineering students stayed far away. At first, they’d eyed her with suspicion, then soon turned to slander. Favoritism was the only explanation they could imagine for her grades—Atamarie was the best in the class by a mile, and her professors were dazzled by her intellect and avidity. On top of that, the universities remained fundamentally Victorian: boys and girls were not allowed to fraternize without a chaperone. In fields with more girls, they made their own fun away from the boys, but as the College of Engineering was housed in its own building, Atamarie never even encountered other female students.
As a consequence, she remained cut off from all the fun to be had in lively Christchurch. Boat rides on the Avon, rowing regattas, and outings to the Canterbury Plains took place without her. Atamarie lived for her occasional weekends in Dunedin or visits to relatives and friends. Heather and Chloe sometimes came to Addington, a suburb of Christchurch, for horse races, and Roberta’s stepfather, Sean, was regularly in the city. Otherwise, Atamarie focused all her attention on her studies—which pushed her grades even higher and made her classmates even more resentful.
Atamarie filled her long, solitary evenings with reading, devouring engineering texts and Lilienthal’s and Mouillard’s work on the theory and construction of flying devices. She also read novels and newspapers, where she once again came across the country Reverend Burton had spoken of: South Africa, the republic—or colony?—at the Cape of Good Hope.
Atamarie learned that the Dutch had originally settled the area. The Dutch East India Company wanted an outpost for supplying its ships on the way to Java. Later, however, the settlers pushed farther into the country—and at some point, the East India Company went bankrupt, and the British took over the region largely with no fighting. This did not sit well with the Dutch settlers, who now called themselves Boers, but thus far they’d been allowed to oversee their own regions, Transvaal and Orange, and hadn’t caused much trouble. Atamarie thought it outrageous that the English allowed the Boers to go on treating the black natives like slaves. But then diamonds and gold were found.
New Zealanders knew the consequences of such a discovery from their own experience: thousands of impoverished Europeans set out for the goldfields, the population exploded, and the gold-mining towns became dens of iniquity. The Boers, mostly farmers and strictly religious, were furious. Soon, the new settlers began complaining of reprisals—and the British Crown seized willingly on the pretext, insisting on its right to rule the whole country. New Zealand’s premier, Richard Seddon, had taken up the subject with enthusiasm. Once war seemed inevitable, he gave a gripping speech before Parliament in which he proposed sending the empire a contingent of cavalry.
“New Zealand will fight for one flag, one queen, one language, and one country: Britain,” intoned Seddon.
Atamarie didn’t understand. England was the motherland, of course, but Atamarie viewed her country as almost entirely independent. Why should New Zealand get involved? Yet somehow, the public seemed thrilled at the prospect of defending the rights of an empire they hardly knew in a faraway country of which they had only just heard. Parliament pledged support with only five votes opposed, and the recruitment offices could hardly handle the deluge of volunteers. A few of Atamarie’s classmates flocked to the flag as well, but they were not accepted.
“Even the army knows better than to take those idiots,” Atamarie remarked to Reverend Burton during a visit to Dunedin.
It was spring, and the reverend was throwing his annual parish festival. He’d resisted calls from several parishioners to donate the proceeds to the war effort instead of the hungry.
“Seddon ought to go ahead and finance that adventure himself,” he replied. “New Zealand won’t see a single diamond in the end. Not that I’d want that blood money. But everyone’s gone crazy.”
He narrowed his eye at a few parishioners who were waving Union Jacks at the festival.
“New Zealanders are just happy that someone else is getting the gold miners,” Sean laughed. “But I refuse to accept generalities, Reverend. Not everyone is for it. You know Kupe voted against it in Parliament.”
Atamarie swelled with pride for her stepfather.
“And the women’s organizations are split,” Violet added. Roberta’s mother was head of the Dunedin chapter of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union, which had fought for women’s suffrage. “Many condemn the senseless shedding of blood. I, for one, would not send my son to die in some strange country. Of course, some are on fire to volunteer themselves and show women can prove ourselves in dangerous situations too.”
Reverend Burton arched his eyebrows. “As nurses, you mean? No one’s about to put a gun in their hands.”
“No, I don’t imagine so,” Violet laughed. She was petite and very feminine. No one could imagine her carrying a gun. “And as for England, the women there don’t even have the right to vote. Most universities are closed to them. We should be fighting for them, not for diamonds and gold!”
Atamarie applauded, but Roberta missed her mother’s fiery words. Once again, she had her eyes fixed on Kevin Drury. The doctor had just arrived with Juliet LaBree. The young woman wore a tantalizingly tight, dark-blue summer dress in the latest fashion. Apparently, she had become a customer of the Gold Mine Boutique.
“I’m afraid he’s going to marry her,” Roberta confided to Atamarie a few minutes later. “I go to pretty much every event with my parents and always try to say something to him. Really, I do. But he has eyes only for her.”
“Really?” Atamarie was less convinced. Juliet no longer followed at Kevin’s heels, fondling his arm. She flitted from one man to another and conversed excitedly—most of all with bachelors and widowers. Patrick alone did not draw her notice, though he still stumbled after her with love written on his face. Kevin no longer exerted himself to keep Juliet away from other men. In fact, he seemed quite open to new acquaintances. His banter with a female parishioner about the price of an ugly tea cozy handmade by one of the pillars of the community looked almost like flirting.
“Well, it seems to me to be petering out,” Atamarie said, steering Roberta toward Kevin.
“A tea cozy, dear uncle?” Atamarie teased. “Thinking of starting a household?”
Kevin turned to his niece, giving her as well as Roberta his irresistible smile.
“Just supporting the community,” he replied. “I have to buy something. If you two are collecting your trousseaux, I’d be happy to donate it.”
“No chance, Uncle Kevin, at least not yet. We’re studying, you know.”
Kevin nodded and let his gaze wander over the two friends. They were not girls anymore, and they had made themselves up properly tonight. His niece was cute, but Roberta was a true beauty.
“Right, you’re our future teacher,” he said to his niece’s companion. Didn’t you want to be a doctor once?”
Roberta turned red. She’d been infatuated with Kevin for years now, and early on, she had dreamed of
becoming a doctor like him.
“I can’t stand the sight of blood,” she admitted. “I’m trying to get better. Last week, it was my first attempt to lead a class alone, and a little girl got a bloody nose. I managed, but it was awful.”
“Well,” Kevin said, “if you really do take over the school in Caversham, my practice is only a few minutes away. Just send the little patients over to me.” He smiled at Roberta conspiratorially. “Or bring them yourself. Then at least I’ll have something pretty to look at as I work.”
Roberta looked as if she might faint for real. At the same moment, Juliet seemed to sense something amiss. Feigning calm, she strolled over.
“Come, Kevin, they’re starting the raffle. You have to draw a ticket for me. I don’t have any luck with such things.”
Kevin let himself be led in the direction of the raffle—and Atamarie pulled the almost-frozen Roberta over as well.
“Do you need a lucky charm too?” Kevin asked. “Excellent, then I’ll offer the three most beautiful ladies here three tickets each. With that, I’ll have done my part to contribute to parish upkeep. But I’m warning you: if you win that hideous tea cozy, no one will marry you.”
“Lord preserve us.” Atamarie laughed and unfolded her three losing tickets.
Juliet acted as if she were having trouble unfolding hers. Kevin helped her and hooted when her third turned out to be a winner.
“A tea cozy. Probably the one I was just looking at. Enjoy it, Juliet.”
Juliet just huffed, glaring at him.
Roberta was still holding her tickets, as if savoring the fact that Kevin had touched them.
“Come on, already,” said Atamarie. “Even if you win the tea cozy, you can just give it away.”
Roberta opened two losers, but then she had a winner—a tiny stuffed horse.
“A horse!” Kevin cheered. “Those are always useful. Though I prefer the living kind.”
“But I can’t take a live one with me to school,” Roberta said—and chided herself at once. She didn’t want Kevin to know she’d decided to carry the horse with her from now on. After all, it was almost like a present from him. She squeezed it between her fingers.
“Aw, I bet they’d do great in school. Horses are smart,” Kevin said, leaning toward her warmly.
Roberta glowed.
“See, progress,” Atamarie said after Kevin left the festival with his Juliet—or rather Juliet with her Kevin. The woman had looked indignant after her boyfriend spent so much time with the girls, and then immediately pushed to leave. “Things are cooling off with Juliet, for sure. She’s terribly boring anyway. What is he supposed to talk with her about?”
Juliet would never have believed it could be so difficult to get pregnant. More than four months had passed. It was February; summer was waning and so was Kevin’s interest in her. Before, he had taken her to lavish receptions; now, at most, he took her to foolish events like that parish festival where, moreover, he spent his time flirting with other women or talking with men about the distant war.
For her part, Juliet was also beginning to look around for alternatives. There were few suitable bachelors in Dunedin, but she’d identified two or three acceptable widowers. No one came close to Kevin in looks—not even his brother, Patrick, who scurried annoyingly after her.
She’d made up her mind to stay in Dunedin. She’d grown used to the city’s amenities—the wide streets, the upscale shopping, not least of all the Gold Mine Boutique—and it was time to settle down. A child was still the best path there.
Lasciviously, she peeled away the gold evening dress in which she had accompanied her lover to a concert that evening. A decent social event for a change. The Dunloes had been there and the Coltranes—with their pretty little daughter whom Kevin had eyed like a lovelorn lamb. Kevin didn’t realize it himself, yet, but that could change. Little Roberta would no doubt be the dream daughter-in-law for Kevin’s gruff mother. Juliet forced herself to smile and swing her hips. She had to watch out. She had been getting plump.
Kevin, who had already been lying on the bed, got up to help her out of her corset. He loved to free her from it, caressing her swelling flesh.
“Unbelievable,” he murmured as he opened her brassiere. “They seem to have gotten bigger.”
He kissed her breasts and sucked lightly on them, a tenderness she had always enjoyed before. But today it almost hurt. Her breasts were taut and seemed harder than usual.
Kevin’s mouth wandered over her body, kissing her stomach and hips. Finally, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Then he felt in his night-table drawer for a sheath.
“Do we even need it today?” he murmured.
They both knew that two or three days before and after menstruation were likely to be safe.
Juliet calculated with lightning speed. He was right. Surely, they did not need one tonight—in truth, her bleeding should already have started. She shook her head with a smile.
Kevin continued caressing Juliet. Usually, that was always enough to make her wet, but today something was off. Kevin, a patient, imaginative lover, began to occupy himself again with her breasts, drawing circles on her stomach—
Kevin stopped suddenly. He turned the gas lamp up higher. His face lost its soft, dreamy expression. In its place came the probing look of the doctor.
“Juliet, are you—are you pregnant?”
Chapter 5
“No, under no circumstances. I won’t marry her.”
Kevin had hoped his mother would be pleased, but Lizzie merely sat there with her face puckered, gripping her wineglass. Michael had opened a bottle of her beloved Bordeaux to help calm everyone down. Kevin was exceedingly agitated, so much so that, the day after his discovery, he had left the practice in his partner’s hands and ridden up to Lawrence. His parents had listened stoically to his revelation until Michael finally asked about marriage plans.
“She planned it!” Kevin yelled. “I don’t know how, but somehow she duped me. Even though she said she didn’t want a baby.”
“People don’t always get to choose.” Michael tried to soothe him.
Lizzie looked at her son in a cold rage. “Of course she planned it. I feared this from the beginning. But now she has you, Kevin. Obviously, you’re going to marry her.”
“What?” Kevin and Michael yelled at the same time.
“No, I’m not,” howled Kevin. “I won’t have that done to me.”
“No one can force him, Lizzie.” Michael shook his head.
“Oh no? So, he abandons her. And then what will she do? Alone with his baby?”
“I could pay for it,” mumbled Kevin.
“Arrangements can be made,” Michael said. “Think about Matariki.”
Matariki had been impregnated by Colin Coltrane at eighteen, but she had raised Atamarie alone. It hadn’t been easy, and she’d sometimes had to pretend to be a widow. But her parents had stood by her, and Lizzie and Michael had helped financially.
“Exactly! Matariki didn’t have to get married,” Kevin crowed. “What, you let your daughter do what she wants, but not your son?”
Lizzie rubbed her forehead and took a big gulp of wine. “That was different.”
“Oh yeah?” yelled Kevin. “Because she’s part Maori and they don’t care as much about those things? And what about you and her father?”
“You’re risking a slap, Kevin. I don’t care how old you are. And no, for your information, I did not want to marry Riki’s father. And what happened with her had nothing to do with being Maori. The difference is simply that Colin got Matariki pregnant, not the other way around.”
Kevin almost had to laugh. “That would have been a miracle.”
“And a catastrophe,” Lizzie said. “I’m sorry if I’m not being clear. But tell me, Michael, would you have trusted Colin Coltrane with our grandchild? We were so relieved when Matariki and Atamarie got away from him. And now, this Juliet has our Kevin’s baby in her womb.”
Michael sig
hed. “We could just line her pockets.”
Lizzie shook her head firmly. “How do you see that working? Are you going to buy her a house in Dunedin and make her financially secure but an outcast in society? Is my grandchild supposed to grow up a bastard?”
The blood shot to Michael’s face. Back when he was deported from Ireland, he’d left Kathleen in that very situation, and the money hadn’t saved her. In the end, she’d parlayed that money into a marriage: Kathleen financed Ian Coltrane’s emigration to New Zealand. In exchange, Ian gave Michael and Kathleen’s son Sean his last name. And then spent years letting poor Kathleen know that he thought her a whore.
“She could move to another city,” mused Kevin. “Say she was a widow.”
Lizzie nodded. “So, we’d lose track of her and your child. That’d suit you, wouldn’t it, Kevin? We buy your way out, and the poor little one has to make its own way. Heaven knows what Juliet would do with it.”
Michael poured her more wine. “Now, now, Lizzie,” he said. “The woman’s not a monster. Maybe she really didn’t want a baby, but once she has one—”
Lizzie breathed in sharply. In her mind’s eye, she could see a shack in London, a filthy hovel she’d shared with another prostitute, Hannah, a mother of two children.
“Oh yeah? She’ll make it somehow, right? And all women automatically sacrifice everything for their children? The things you men can convince yourselves of. It makes me sick.”
Lizzie hadn’t thought about Toby and Laura in a long time, but suddenly she remembered their little bodies next to her when they crawled into her cot at night, afraid and half-frozen. While Hannah giggled with her beau in her own bed. What was his name? Laurence? Lucius? Or had there been a Laurence and then a Lucius? Hannah had always talked of love. Just not when it came to Toby and Laura.
We’re hungry, Lizzie. Can you get us something to eat? Lizzie heard the children’s voices again, their crying. What had become of them after Lizzie was sent to Australia? When she had stolen bread, it was to feed the children, and Hannah had not even defended her. On the contrary, she had feigned a cozy family life with Lucius and the children.