by Lark, Sarah
“We’re going to do this together, Doortje. Maybe I should have done it a long time ago, but I didn’t want to cause Patrick this hurt. We’re about to break his heart. There’s no other way. But don’t make me do it alone.”
Doortje looked at her, and in her eyes she saw again the toughness of her upbringing. “Hearts don’t break that easily,” she said gruffly, and Lizzie sighed but did not respond.
The two women found Juliet at the breakfast table. Nandi was puttering about the stove, making pancakes and looking devastated. But then she saw Doortje. She let out a cry and dropped the pan. Hot grease splashed across the room and onto Juliet’s dressing gown.
“Baas! Mevrouw Drury!”
Nandi stammered the words in Afrikaans and fell crying to the ground. Doortje helped her up and embraced her like a sister.
“Didn’t Lizzie forbid you saying baas?” she murmured, embarrassed.
Lizzie smiled. Then she turned to Juliet, who had begun cursing Nandi for ruining her dressing gown. Lizzie raised her hand curtly. Her gesture was as commanding as her expression.
“You will not speak to her that way, Juliet,” she said calmly. “In fact, we’ve had enough, Doortje and I and Nandi. And Kevin—I think I’m speaking for him as well. Perhaps Patrick won’t admit it right away, but I think nothing better could happen to him than for you to get lost. So, let’s keep this short. How much?”
Doortje looked on, stunned, and Juliet sized up her mother-in-law with an irritated smile.
“Why should I go? I’m Patrick’s wife, have you two forgotten that already? And May’s mother. I have every right in the world to be here.”
Lizzie nodded. “How much?”
Juliet brushed her hair back. “How much what?” she asked sanctimoniously.
“Money, Juliet,” Lizzie replied. “You do know something about that. Granted, until now, you’ve been paid to come instead of to go. But now we’re doing things differently. So, how much?”
“You think I can be bought, Lizzie?” Juliet leaned back.
Lizzie groaned. “We did want to make this short. I really have other things to do. But fine, let’s speak in complete sentences. How much money do you want to disappear today?”
“Whither?” asked Juliet.
Lizzie rubbed her forehead. “To America. Or Europe. The Fiji Islands. But away from New Zealand. Immediately.”
Juliet snorted. “I don’t think it’ll be possible to go that quickly. Or do you just mean to buy me a ship too?”
“If I have to. But I’m warning you: it wouldn’t be seaworthy. So, how much?”
Juliet crossed her arms and contemplated her approach to the negotiations. She had to set the price very high.
Finally, she smiled. “Ten thousand pounds.”
Lizzie’s countenance did not change. “All right, then. Go pack. You should be out of the house by midday. You can take the chaise with the covering so you don’t get wet if it rains again.”
Juliet’s jaw dropped. “You mean to—you’re going to pay ten thousand pounds? But how?”
“Drive the chaise to Dunedin and lodge the horse in the rental stables. After that, take the train to Christchurch and get a room at the White Hart. Within three days, tomorrow if at all possible, an attorney will call on you. You’ll sign your consent to divorce Patrick as well as give up all rights to your daughter.”
“There was no talk of May until now,” Juliet objected. “If I’m giving up my rights to her, then I want—five thousand pounds more.”
There was only contempt left in Lizzie’s face. “Interesting to hear what she’s worth to you. So, you will give up expressly in writing all rights to your daughter. In exchange, the attorney will hand you fifteen thousand pounds in cash. And then you’ll be gone on the next ship.”
Juliet smiled. “And if I don’t go?”
Lizzie’s face became hard. “There are men in this country,” she said, “who would get rid of you for far less than fifteen thousand pounds. Don’t make it come to that.” She turned away. “Come, Doortje, we’ll go up to the Maori village and then to the cliff. Nandi can help Juliet pack. We’ll take the little ones with us. Maybe we can still stop the men from this madness about climbing down. Even though, of course, I’d love to get my shawl back. It’s a nice shawl, and one shouldn’t waste money.” She smiled conspiratorially at Doortje.
Doortje thought of the gold she and Lizzie had panned for that morning. Undoubtedly, one could buy a great many shawls with it.
Or freedom from Juliet Drury.
Chapter 4
The women in the village fell all over themselves with joy and surprise when Lizzie appeared with the children and Doortje. Matariki hugged her, laughing and crying.
“Kevin told me everything, Doortje. Do you remember how I went off with him the first time I saw Abraham? I knew at once. Kathleen, too, saw it at first glance, but she only knows about the paternity, not Colin’s death. She doesn’t need to either. And you have to believe me: I tried to make Kevin tell you. I almost did it myself—anything would have been better than what just happened. But he didn’t want to hurt you, Doortje, and he knew that he was doing it anyway. That damned Juliet—”
“Is history,” Lizzie said calmly. “You really should have told me, Riki. I didn’t know anything. But now, let’s all go up to the cliff and see if we can stop the men.”
Matariki looked uneasy. “They planned to climb down at first light.” She checked the position of the sun with a glance. “In fact, they should be back soon. Oh, look, there’s Haraki.”
Haraki, a wiry, ten-year-old boy, came bolting into the village square. “News,” he shouted, “I have news from the men. Kevin’s wahine did not fall from the cliff. But Kevin—”
Doortje did not understand a word of the boy’s speech, delivered in rapid Maori, but she couldn’t mistake Matariki’s and Lizzie’s faces.
“What’s going on? What happened?”
Haikina stepped in to translate. “Kevin fell. He was in a great hurry to get down and seems to have misjudged the end of the descent. I don’t know how seriously injured he is, but he won’t be coming back up the cliff by his own strength. They’ll have to rescue him somehow. We should make our way there with Hainga.”
Hainga, the wisewoman, was also the tribe’s healer.
“He’s not going to die, is he?” whispered Doortje. “He can’t, he can’t now.”
Matariki quickly asked Haraki more questions, which he answered at length. Doortje was desperate for a translation, but Matariki shook her head.
“The boy doesn’t know much more,” she explained quickly. “Just that Kevin was still moving—they could see that from above—and that he still seemed able to speak. Hemi is down there with him. The others are now attempting a rescue using a stretcher they luckily took with them.”
“He might fall again when they try to rescue him with the stretcher,” Doortje whispered.
“He won’t,” Matariki assured her sister-in-law. “Atamarie and Rawiri are up there, and they’re engineers. Atamarie will calculate every detail before she lets down a rope. Don’t you worry, Doortje. If he’s alive, they’ll bring him up.”
“He can’t be dead. Not him too. And it would be my fault—”
“I heard the same thing from Kevin yesterday,” Matariki responded, “and you’re not dead. So, don’t lose your courage just yet. Let’s go and see what really happened.”
The women hurried through the forest, but they did not need to go all the way to the cliff. Halfway there, the men were already coming toward them.
A chill ran through Doortje when she heard the voices and footfalls. That had gone faster than expected—there couldn’t have been enough time to rescue someone seriously wounded using an improvised stretcher. So, either the injury was not so bad, or—one didn’t need to be that careful while hauling a corpse up a cliff.
Lizzie and Matariki were nursing the same thoughts, but they calmed down when they were close enough to overh
ear scraps of conversation. Hemi and a few others were heatedly discussing where Doortje might be. They would hardly have been doing that if there had been another death. Doortje, however, only saw the stretcher. Something lay on it, covered in Lizzie’s shawl.
“Kevin!” Doortje rushed to the stretcher. “Kevin.”
She flung the shawl aside—and stared at the huge pile of cordage the men hadn’t taken the time to wind up. Uncomprehending, she looked around, but she did not see Kevin among the men.
“Doortje! Oh my God, Doortje!”
Kevin’s voice came from above—and Doortje only then noticed the two horses Michael was leading back from the cliff. Kevin was sitting in the saddle of one, looking rather battered. His face was covered in scratches. He carried one arm in a sling. Doortje ran to the horse and clutched Kevin’s leg.
“You’re alive, Kevin, you’re—”
“I wasn’t in any danger,” Kevin said, and the men around him broke into laughter.
“He fell about thirty feet into a thornbush and broke or sprained the leg you’re currently hanging on,” Atamarie explained. “Otherwise he’d be screaming, you see, instead of making such stupid comments. These hedges really soften a blow.”
But Kevin and Doortje weren’t listening. Only with some effort could Michael prevent Kevin from dismounting to embrace Doortje. He bent over to her as much as possible, touching her hair and face in disbelief.
“I was so afraid for you,” he whispered, “when we saw the shawl down below. And it would have been my fault.”
“I shouldn’t have run away,” Doortje murmured. “And you wouldn’t have climbed down. Now, it was nearly my fault that—”
“Can you two discuss this later?” asked Matariki. “Perhaps in the village where it’s dry?” It was just beginning to rain again.
Lizzie gave Doortje her shawl. “Here, you have it again, but next time, lose it somewhere that’s easier to get to. Michael, we’ll take Kevin straight home.”
Kevin looked doubtfully from her to Doortje.
“Mother, maybe it would be better if we drove straight back to Dunedin. Or stayed with the Ngai Tahu until Hainga’s checked my leg. But I wouldn’t want Doortje and Juliet—”
Patrick stepped forward and cleared his throat. “So, what exactly happened between you and my wife?”
Doortje sought Kevin’s gaze. He looked at her pleadingly, and Doortje struggled with herself. Patrick, too, had been deceived. Did he not deserve to know? But then he might hate Kevin his whole life.
“Nothing,” said Doortje. “Nothing. We, we just had a fight. She was horribly mean to me.”
Patrick nodded seriously. “I’ll see to it that doesn’t happen again, Doortje. Believe me, I’m really going to do something. It can’t go on like this. She can’t—”
Doortje wanted to say something, but Lizzie shook her head almost imperceptibly. Patrick would learn soon enough that Juliet was gone.
It was evening when the family returned to Elizabeth Station. The women in the village had cooked for the members of the rescue expedition after their extensive cleansing rituals. After all, a tapu had been broken. The priests and priestesses of the tribe had to ask the gods for forgiveness and pacify them. Hainga was occupied with that for hours, leaving the care of Kevin’s injuries to Lizzie and Doortje, who proved astoundingly skillful.
“There aren’t any doctors among us,” she explained. “We women do everything ourselves—and it’s not true what the English say, that all our patients die.” She gave Kevin a stern look. He returned it lovingly.
“You are quite remarkable,” he said gently.
The sumptuous meal transitioned into a festival. Musicians played, whiskey and beer were passed, and every single expedition participant described his experience at the cliff. The tribe sat up late into the night, awaiting Matariki, but the stars did not yet appear.
Lizzie was exhausted when they finally got home. She and Doortje had taken turns carrying Abe all day. Kevin rode, but he was already doing so well that he could hold little May in the saddle in front of him. After the long day, even the sociable toddler was fussy. On the ride home, she finally fell asleep. Kevin carefully handed her down to Patrick when they arrived at Elizabeth Station.
“I’ll put her straight to bed. Although Nandi’s sure to be asleep.”
While Michael helped Kevin from the horse—since his foot had been bound, he could walk on crutches—Lizzie nervously followed her younger son into the house. He knocked cautiously on Nandi’s door.
“That’s strange,” he said when she didn’t answer. “She normally sleeps so lightly.”
Lizzie calmly opened the door to the room. She was surprised to find it empty except for Matariki’s and Atamarie’s things.
“I think she’s gone, Patrick. I’m so sorry.”
Patrick looked at her in horror. “She’s gone? She ran away? Nandi is—? Juliet.” Patrick handed his daughter to Lizzie and rushed to the other bedroom. “Juliet, you beast, what have you done? What did you do to her?”
Michael was just entering with Kevin, Doortje, and little Abe. In the village, Lizzie had told him about Juliet’s coerced departure. In broad outlines, anyway. She did not want to mention the money right away. Michael had not broached it either but had immediately thought of Nandi.
“But what about Nandi?” he had asked. “Is she taking her?”
Lizzie had furrowed her brow. “No, why should she? Nandi helped her pack. She wouldn’t want to go with that woman.”
Michael had rolled his eyes in his characteristic manner. “Lizzie, Nandi’s still not used to being asked if she wants to go somewhere. Doortje dragged her here from South Africa. Then Patrick wooed her away. But Juliet’s kept her in holy terror ever since. To her, she’s not much more than a slave.”
Lizzie felt like crying. It had been a terrible mistake to leave Nandi with Juliet. But heavens, she could not think of everything. And now Nandi had disappeared with her mistress, and Patrick . . .
“Juliet is gone too,” he declared. “She’s—what’s gotten into her?”
Lizzie breathed deeply. “I sent her away, Patrick,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, but she could not stay here. She knew that herself. She—”
Patrick did not even seem to be listening. He had left Juliet’s room again and returned to Nandi’s. He tore open the wardrobe doors helplessly.
“She wouldn’t just leave me. And what about May? She, she loved her. Even if not, I thought that maybe—I thought we’d have time.”
Lizzie shook her head. She did not know how often she would have to repeat it. “Juliet didn’t love you,” she said patiently, “and she never much noticed May. She—”
Patrick glared at her. “Who’s talking about Juliet?” he asked icily. “Don’t bother, Mother. I’ve known all of that for a long time. But Nandi, I never thought that she would leave May alone.”
“Just May?” Michael asked. His face broke into a wide grin.
“Don’t you start now,” Lizzie scolded him. “This is more complicated than I thought. But maybe it’s better. We have to go to Dunedin tomorrow, Michael, to speak with Sean. I can’t push this through with a lawyer we don’t know. But it looks as if, aside from a divorce contract and a child, we’re also going to have to buy a slave.”
“Come on now.”
Night was falling again over Elizabeth Station, and if the Drurys wanted to wait with their Maori friends for the appearance of the Pleiades, it was time to set out. Atamarie and Matariki had already put on their festive clothing, and Doortje was again wearing one of the Parihaka dresses. She simply radiated happiness, and Kevin did likewise, even though he still looked rather battered after his adventure the day before. Lizzie and Michael were not yet back from Dunedin, but they would surely join the festival as soon as they made it home. Patrick had barricaded himself in his bedroom with May. Matariki and her daughter had been trying to talk him out of there for half an hour.
“Moping about isn’t
going to help anything,” Matariki insisted.
“And May definitely wants to see the kites,” Atamarie added.
She herself was in the best of spirits—in fact, she had only come back to the farm to change. She had been spending blissful nights with Rawiri in his tent, though she’d rejected his proposal that they use the festival to sleep together in the communal lodge and thus seal their marriage.
“I’m too much of a pakeha for that,” she’d told him. “I picture a wedding in a church, in a dress from the Gold Mine Boutique.”
She laughed when Rawiri gave her a blank look.
“After the wedding, you two could sleep a night in the communal lodge,” Matariki had suggested, “to pay homage to tradition. Perhaps in Parihaka.”
Atamarie nodded. “Sleeping would work. But I don’t need any witnesses to the rest. And for the moment, sleeping would be more like wasted time.”
She had winked at Rawiri and then immediately disappeared with him back to the tent. The two of them seemed perfectly happy—their kites would only be taking the gods messages of gratitude into the sky.
Patrick, however, now shook his head at all his sister’s and niece’s urgings.
“I’m not in a celebratory mood, Atamie. At least not in company. But you’re right that staying in here won’t do any good. May and I are going to wait for the stars at the waterfall. Alone.” To make it clear that the conversation was over, he got up, picked up May, and went to the door. “And if I do decide to send the gods a message, I don’t think they’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
She and Matariki followed him outside.
“Should I lend you a manu with a direct line to the celestial complaints office?” Atamarie offered. “I do have one here, a birdman. It’s richly decorated, a very fine messenger. Maybe it’ll touch some goddess’s heart, and she’ll bring Juliet back to you.”
Patrick spun on her angrily. “Who’s talking about Juliet? You, none of you know anything!”
The women ran after him down the trail. This path led to the pond, not to the waterfall, but Patrick did not seem to care.