by Lark, Sarah
“Maternal instinct cannot be denied,” Kevin lectured in his doctor’s voice.
“Maybe among horses,” Lizzie snarled, “or cats, most of them, but that Juliet you chose might not care a fig for her baby. She’d take the money, but what would she do with it? There’s no question, Kevin. You have to marry her.”
“And if we give her money to leave the baby with us?” Michael asked reluctantly.
Lizzie shrugged. “She’s out for a husband, Michael. If we don’t give her one, she might simply end the pregnancy.”
Her son gasped.
“Don’t give me that look, Kevin. And don’t think her naive. If you leave her, she’ll probably do it. Another reason to marry her if you really think it such a sin.”
Kevin pressed his hands to his temples. “But I don’t want to. I don’t even want to get married at all. And now, a woman like her. It was supposed to be just for fun. If I have to marry Juliet, my life is over!”
Lizzie and Michael exchanged a look. They’d both lived lives so much harder than their spoiled son could imagine. Sure, Kevin might have to soldier on with a woman at his side who did not suit him perfectly, but he’d made his bed. Besides, Juliet was clearly not without her appeal. And Kevin’s social standing would remain intact. People would whisper a bit, but there were plenty of folks in Dunedin society with a darker past than Juliet LaBree’s.
“You just need to rein her in,” Michael said. “The woman is already in a position to ruin you. Don’t deny it, Kevin. Jimmy Dunloe told me you’re running up debts.”
“According to Claire and Kathleen, she’s spent a fortune in the Gold Mine alone,” Lizzie added. “You’ll need to curb that, Kevin, even if it’s difficult. Make it clear to her that a doctor isn’t a plantation owner.”
Word of Juliet’s family in Louisiana had finally gotten around. Actually, Kevin had been relieved to learn about it. At least she came from society of some sort.
“I’ll have to buy a house,” Kevin sighed. It was the first thing Juliet had asked for after she got over the shock of Kevin’s diagnosis.
“It’s already begun,” sighed Lizzie. “But fine, maybe we could help with that. As long as it’s modest. Don’t even think of a palace on upper Stuart. A cozy cottage would be more appropriate—in Caversham, for example.”
Kevin left his parents’ house and rode back to Dunedin in the pouring rain. He hunched over his horse, jacket pulled tight around him. He should have been making plans, but instead he sulked. He did not want to marry Juliet. The longer he thought about it, the more terrible such a union seemed. But why? He had never worried much about love. Whenever he’d imagined his marriage, it had been a pleasant relationship with a suitable woman. Society had firm expectations for a doctor’s wife: social engagements, perhaps help with her husband’s practice, or at least proper concern for his patients. Cultural interests were desirable, and Kevin did not want an idiot at his side. Mostly, he wanted his wife to be honest and warm—a modern young woman, perhaps educated. Really, he had always imagined he’d settle down with a girl like Atamarie or her friend.
Juliet LaBree only partially fit the bill, although he had to admit she was capable of conforming to it. Yet he doubted that was what she wanted. In the last few weeks, there had been fights about whether this or that event really required a new dress, whether his new carriage was extravagant enough for weekend outings, and so on. And now he was supposed to inform her that his parents might help with a cottage in Caversham, but they were not prepared to buy the town house where he rented space for his office and apartment. It was for sale at the moment, and Juliet had immediately brought it up when she learned of her pregnancy.
Kevin thought with dread of the fights that lay before him. They would be about the house, the furniture, servants . . . Kevin employed only a part-time cleaning woman, but Juliet would hardly want to cook and care for their baby herself. There had already been tears and screaming, Juliet accusing him of destroying her life by getting her pregnant. Based on this accusation, he knew, she would make more and more demands. There’d be no end. Then there was her flirtatious nature. Recently, he had begun to doubt her faithfulness. Would it be like that the rest of his life?
In many respects, Kevin took after his father. Both were charming, sometimes too easygoing, and both shied away from difficult choices. That did not mean that they were inconstant—on the contrary. Michael had carried a torch for his first love for decades, and Kevin had pursued his profession doggedly. Despite any other failings, he was an excellent doctor. Yet Michael had always needed Lizzie to confront his problems for him, and Kevin had had everything in life handed to him. If he married Juliet, he realized, he’d have to fight his own battles.
As Kevin passed through Caversham, his spirits lifted a little. It was a homey area, and he could easily imagine a practice here—plus, cute little Roberta would be that much closer when one of her students got a bloody nose. Kevin was about to smile, but then he tried to picture Juliet in one of these modest cottages, cooking or caring for a child. No, it was impossible.
An absurd thought shot through Kevin’s head when he passed a sad building decorated with the bright flags of Britain and New Zealand—Recruitment Office Dunedin. Despite the rain, three young men were waiting out front. Kevin called to them.
“Volunteering for the cape?”
The boys, whose simple clothing and plaid caps designated them as workers’ sons, grinned at him and saluted.
“Yes, sir!”
“If they’ll take us.”
Kevin considered the latest developments in the Boer War. New Zealand’s ships had arrived in Cape Town on November 23. The troops had acquitted themselves bravely despite heavy fighting. In the next few days, a troop transport was to weigh anchor from Lyttelton with a regiment assembled and financed by wealthy citizens of Christchurch. Dunedin, not wanting to be outshone, was recruiting its own volunteers.
Maybe it was a crazy idea to dodge domestic battles by fleeing to real war, but, at this moment, Kevin saw no other way. Juliet could pretend that she’d discovered the pregnancy only after he was already gone, so that Kevin would not count as a scoundrel for leaving her. And Juliet—well, society would doubtlessly forgive a soldier’s betrothed. What was more, then he could see whether she would wait for him or if perhaps she would ensnare another father.
Determined, he rode toward the recruitment office.
Chapter 6
Kevin’s enlistment in the Otago Mounted Rifles proved astoundingly easy. As soon as he gave his profession, the officer’s eyes lit up.
“We need doctors. I don’t suppose you can shoot too?”
Kevin arched his eyebrows. “I grew up on a sheep farm, sir. Everyone learns to shoot rabbits.”
“And ride?” the sergeant asked hopefully.
Kevin smiled and gestured to his long-legged gray hitched out front. “My horse is also here to enlist.”
There was nothing more to do but sign the papers.
The Mounted Rifles assembled in a camp near Waikouaiti and were given uniforms. In khaki for the first time, Kevin grinned to himself. At least his father couldn’t accuse him of becoming one of the redcoats they’d so hated in Ireland. They received some cursory basic training, at the end of which they elected their own officers—a common practice in volunteer regiments. Kevin, as a doctor, advanced at once to captain.
Things continued to move quickly—not even three weeks passed between Kevin’s enlistment and his ship’s departure. Still, it was enough time to make him feel as if he were walking on tenterhooks. He only once returned to his apartment briefly to gather a few personal items and to speak with his business partner, Christian Folks. Kevin had made Christian an offer. Christian could keep the whole practice, and when Kevin returned, he would start anew. In return, he’d asked for his friend’s silence.
“I’m going to write my family as soon as I’m at sea. But for now, I’d rather not discuss it. I just need some time to myself.”
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Christian laughed. “Do you really need to run to the ends of the earth to get away from Juliet? Man, and here I envied you because of her.”
Christian himself had married a childhood friend right after medical school.
“She has her charms,” Kevin said. “But, well, I don’t want to try to explain. Just keep quiet for three weeks, could you? No matter who asks. Just say I—for all I care, you can say I’m off wandering with the Maori.”
Christian made a face. “They migrate in summer, Kevin; it’s autumn now. And you know the tribes in this area don’t have to move around to find food.”
“Then make something up. I don’t care. As long as everyone leaves me in peace.”
Kevin had hugged his friend quickly and then left the practice with his spirits high. Adventure was calling.
When Lizzie and Michael Drury heard nothing from Kevin for weeks, they told themselves not to worry.
“He just needs to come to terms with it,” Michael told his wife.
“First and foremost, he needs to make clear to that woman that a child does not entitle her to a Dunedin town house,” Lizzie said.
An agitated Roberta reported Kevin’s disappearance to Atamarie by letter. She did not dare approach Christian Folks to ask about it, and Patrick was off in the mountains, inspecting sheep brought back from the highlands. His job was to advise breeders and mediate sales.
I’m going mad with worry, Roberta complained. Something terrible must have happened.
But Atamarie couldn’t imagine what terrible thing could have befallen her uncle on the South Island of New Zealand. At least not anything that would explain disappearing without a trace. If he’d been injured or killed, they would have heard of it in Dunedin.
In any case, he’s not traveling with Miss LaBree, Roberta’s letter continued. I recently saw her, but she looked unwell.
And, here, Atamarie recognized the answer to the riddle. Kevin had left Juliet. The question was why he’d had to disappear to do so. Kevin, she wrote to assure Roberta, would reappear again. And if Roberta was lucky, Juliet would be the one who’d disappeared by then.
Juliet herself was furious at Kevin’s absence, but she couldn’t imagine her boyfriend actually abandoning his apartment and practice. After all, he had neither taken his things nor closed his account, and the bank still gave Juliet credit in his name. He probably just needed a little time to wrap his head around the new situation. Juliet merely hoped that he would not drag it out too long. She did not want to walk down the aisle with a big stomach.
When Kevin’s letter finally arrived, the young woman was dumbstruck. Blind with rage, she threw a few things into a suitcase, then made her way to the small house in Caversham that Patrick was renting. It lay a bit in the country and included extensive stables. Patrick owned a total of three horses—none as hot-blooded as Kevin’s, but two reliable horses that bore him securely on his long rides, and a young mare. This last one was whinnying in the stables when she arrived. Patrick was traveling with the others.
Juliet spotted the boy who took care of the horses during Patrick’s absences, a redheaded Irish lad. He fell for her right away.
Still, he was skeptical when she presented her request. “Aye, I know you’re a friend of Mr. Drury’s. You’re the, uh—”
“His brother’s fiancée,” Juliet said firmly. “But Mr. Kevin Drury is absent at the moment, and I need to speak urgently with his parents. I’d ask Patrick to take me, but now it seems he’s traveling too. So, please, harness this horse so you can transport me in the coach. I—well, the Drurys—will pay you for it.”
The boy bit his lip. “The journey’s pretty long. I’ll have to tell my mother I’m going. And the horse is still very young. I don’t know whether Mr. Drury would approve.”
“Patrick will be delighted to have been a help to me,” Juliet said majestically. “We can drive past your parents’ home. My goodness, don’t make such a to-do about it. You’re driving a horse from one of the Drurys’ stables to the other, and no one’s going to kidnap you or the nag on the way. Let’s get on with it.”
The boy, Randy, finally gave in, but the journey to Elizabeth Station proved torturously slow. Randy was exceedingly worried about overtaxing the mare, and so he had her walk for hours, even though the road was well paved and they could have gone at a good pace despite its raining again. Juliet’s nerves were shot. Did it ever stop raining in this country?
“They’re the tears of a Maori god,” Randy remarked when she complained about it. “The Maori say heaven and earth were originally a couple. The sky god was called Rangi and the earth goddess Papa. But then they had to part, and now Rangi cries about it almost every day.”
Juliet raised her eyes to the sky. “Get ahold of yourself, Rangi,” she murmured. “You’re not the only one to have a lover run out.”
The rain continued to beat on the insufficient covering of Patrick’s chaise. Juliet’s elegant but thin coat was already soaked through, and she cursed herself for not forcing the boy to use a larger carriage. He’d objected that the big carriage was for a team of two horses, but Juliet did not care.
She skimmed for the thousandth time the curt lines in which Kevin explained his disappearance. He did not even address the matter of their marriage. Instead, he spoke of patriotic duty. Complete nonsense. Never before had he shown particular sympathies for the English motherland. And besides, this country here . . . Juliet looked out unhappily into the rain-drenched landscape. They were just then passing the old goldfields.
“Gabriel’s Gully,” Randy said, pointing to a wasteland topped with meager grass, interrupted here and there by the sad remains of a settlement of wooden shacks. “For years, it was just mud. The gold miners dug around so much, they killed every root.”
“Did they at least get rich?” Juliet asked.
Of course, she already knew the answer. It was the same in all the goldfields on earth: for the few winners, there were thousands of ruined lives.
“Mr. Drury’s parents made enough for a farm, anyway,” said Randy. “We should be there soon now. Mr. Drury says they live just a few miles from Lawrence. We can ask in town.”
The few who had stayed after the gold rush lived in Lawrence. Now it was a regular rural town, a supply station for the surrounding farms. It did not have more to offer than a pub, a general goods store, and a café, and every resident knew where the Drurys’ farm lay. The few passersby stared curiously at the woman in the chaise. The exotic beauty would surely be the talk of the town the next day.
Randy asked the way and directed the young mare into the mountains on a road that was considerably steeper and curvier. The mare was now getting noticeably tired and moved at a painful crawl. Juliet was beginning to feel queasy. How was she supposed to get back to the city if the little horse could not manage?
The landscape here was enchantingly beautiful, with a light southern beech forest dotted with streams, little ponds, and cliffs. Despite the rain, the mountains were visible in the distance, their snow-capped peaks craggy and imposing. But Juliet was unimpressed. Shivering in this damp, gray hinterland, she suddenly yearned for the lights of Paris, New York . . . Perhaps getting pregnant had not been her finest idea.
“Here it is, the waterfall, like they said,” Randy finally called after what to Juliet had seemed an endless journey up snaking paths. “The house must be just up there.”
Indeed, the house quickly came into view above the waterfall and the small pond into which it emptied. A robust, homey-looking log cabin—but a disappointment for Juliet. She had expected something closer to the plantation manors of her homeland. The Drurys were considered wealthy, after all. Well, maybe this was just how people built here. Juliet was determined not to be disheartened. These people had to help her find a solution for herself and this accursed child.
Randy stopped the horse in front of the house, but made no move to help Juliet out of the chaise. Instead, he knocked on the door.
Those wit
hin had already noticed them. Michael Drury appeared in worn denim pants and a lumberjack’s shirt—cutting a far less distinguished figure than at the Dunloes’.
“Who’s this, then? Patrick?” Michael’s eyes fell on the little mare, which he recognized at once. “Goodness, it’s Lady. Wasn’t the way up here awfully far for you?”
Lizzie, who appeared behind him, saw the boy first, and turned pale.
“Has something happened to Patrick? What are you doing here?”
Randy smiled. “Nothing has happened to your son, Mrs. Drury. He’s still traveling. But the lady said it was urgent . . .”
Juliet clambered awkwardly out of the coach. Her fashionable dress allowed only short strides.
Lizzie approached her, seeming not at all ashamed of her wide, old-fashioned housedress. She, too, had seemed more imposing in Dunedin. It was hard for Juliet to imagine that this short, pudgy person with her hair carelessly tied up was a valued customer of the Gold Mine Boutique.
“Miss LaBree,” she now greeted her visitor. “Dear heavens, where’s Kevin? How could he send you here alone, and in this weather? But come in first. And you too. Randy, isn’t it?”
Randy said he’d go to the stables first. He had seemed a little ashamed when Michael noted that the trip was too much for the young mare. Hopefully, he would not be in any serious trouble with Patrick.
Michael took charge of the boy and the horse while Lizzie led Juliet inside. The interior of the house was no more impressive than the exterior. True, there were a few handsome pieces of imported furniture, but most of it was simple, rustic. Lizzie reached for Juliet’s coat, but the young woman pulled away.
“So, you seem not to know where Kevin is. Is this supposed to have escaped you?” Juliet threw Kevin’s letter on the table and unwrapped herself from the coat.
Lizzie picked it up and skimmed the few lines. Again, she grew pale, and struggled against a wave of panic that rose within her. War. Kevin was going to war. People would be shooting at him. Lizzie sank down into a chair.