‘D’ye want to?’
‘Well, yes. I do feel attracted to him, I can’t deny it. I think he’s a special person, he’s different, and I feel so sad for him.’
Oh, aye, thought Myrna, the man’s special all right. So special, here he is seeking the company of a woman he barely knows not four weeks after his wife has been put in the ground. She made a mental note to ask around her ever-widening circle of contacts about Peter Montgomery; she did not want Tamar involved with someone who may not be suitable. Then she sighed. No doubt she could interfere as much as she pleased but, knowing Tamar, there would be little she could do if the girl decided to form an attachment.
‘Just be careful, lassie,’ she said. ‘Will ye go by yeself? It doesnae bother ye being seen wi’out a chaperone?’
‘No, it doesn’t. I am a working woman, I’ll be eighteen soon, and I walk to and from work by myself every day so why shouldn’t I have lunch with a gentleman at a reputable establishment? It will all be in public view,’ Tamar said stubbornly.
‘Aye, it will at that,’ Myrna agreed reluctantly, a faint worm of apprehension squirming in her stomach. She had mothered girls for most of her adult life and she was having a hard time trying not to mother this one.
On the following Friday Tamar went to work in her one good outfit, a two-piece skirt and bodice in bronze sateen. It was without a train as the muddy streets of Auckland made clothes with exaggerated hems impractical, and had no bustle as they had recently gone out of fashion. The skirt had once had room for padding at the back, but Tamar had altered the length so she could wear it unpadded. Her salary had not extended to new clothes and she was making do with what she had.
Mr Ellis, used to seeing her wearing a practical mid-grey ensemble, told her she looked charming and asked what the occasion was. When Tamar told him she was meeting a gentleman for lunch, he raised his eyebrows but gave her an extra half hour.
At exactly midday Peter Montgomery arrived with a small posy of flowers, which he presented with exaggerated gallantry to Tamar.
They walked to the rather grand Thames Hotel on the corner of Customhouse and Queen Streets, Tamar’s hand resting proudly on Peter’s arm. When they reached the hotel they were shown to a table for two in the fashionable dining room. Peter pulled Tamar’s chair out for her when they sat down and, to her relief, ordered for them both. This was her first meal in such a genteel establishment and the combination of this and being alone with Peter Montgomery made her feel odd and more than a little nervous.
Peter selected the pressed tongue, followed by pigeon pie and vegetables in aspic, with a light trifle for pudding. He also ordered a bottle of burgundy and a brandy for himself while they waited. Tamar opted for a glass of lemonade. She could think of very little to say and did not want to mention Peter’s bereavement, so she sat in silence. From across the table he watched her, absently swirling his brandy around the bottom of the heavy glass.
Finally, to Tamar’s acute embarrassment, he said exactly what she had been thinking. ‘Miss Deane, I expect you’re wondering what I’m doing inviting a young lady to lunch so soon after my wife’s death.’
Tamar nodded, forcing herself to look him in the eye.
‘When I came into your shop to pay for the things for the baby, I was extremely upset and terribly rude and I apologise again. It was unforgivable.’
Out of politeness Tamar began to voice her denial, but Peter held his hand up. ‘I know I was. You were shocked, I could see that, and you were only trying to be sensitive of my feelings. You are a very compassionate young lady.’
‘Thank you, Mr Montgomery.’
‘Do I gather from your charming accent that you’re from Cornwall?’
When Tamar nodded, Peter took another sip of his drink. ‘I am an Englishman and have not been in New Zealand long myself, and I do not have many friends. I have acquaintances at the Northern Club where I stay when I’m in Auckland, but no one with whom I can share my grief. Afterwards I thought back on your kind words and felt appalled at the way I had treated the one person who had shown me kindness and sympathy. My wife was similarly a kind woman and I sorely miss her. We were so looking forward to the birth of our child. It was to be the first of many. Of course, there won’t be any at all now,’ he added bitterly. ‘But you reminded me of my dear wife, and I could not let myself pass up the opportunity to ask if I may enjoy your acquaintance under slightly happier circumstances. I am not yet over my grief, it has only been a matter of weeks, but I thought that while I’m in town on business you may allow me to spend a little time in your company.’
Tamar felt both flattered and terribly sorry for him; he obviously missed his wife very much and longed for female company. He was a handsome, vital-looking man but his face lacked the spirit and sense of life that had so moved her when he first came into the shop. His desperate loneliness was almost palpable.
She smiled. ‘I would be delighted to spend some time with you, Mr Montgomery. If we can arrange a suitable time, I’m sure we could walk through the park.’
‘Miss Deane, thank you,’ he replied. ‘You have no idea what this means to me. Would you think me too forward if I suggested this Sunday? I’m going home on Monday afternoon after my business is concluded and I would feel so much better if I could see you again before I leave.’
At that point, their entrée arrived. Peter asked for the burgundy to be delivered to their table and they ate in silence. Tamar took very small bites, terrified in case she spilled food or committed some other dreadful faux pas. The wine came and Peter poured himself a glass. Tamar did not particularly like red wine, but she accepted what Peter offered as she did not want to offend him or appear gauche. She forced herself not to pull a face after her first sip.
Peter began to talk about his house and the block of land he owned at Huia, southeast of the Waitakere Ranges. He had originally purchased the block two years earlier for the impressive stands of kauri covering its hills, and since then had harvested a considerable number of the huge and ancient trees and sent them to the local mills for processing. Once sold, he used the money to purchase and run cattle and sheep.
He had built his house some miles inland from the small settlement of Huia, and consequently neither he nor his wife had had much to do with the other settlers. He had plans, however, to purchase more land and build a grander house closer to the settlement to benefit his commercial endeavours as well as his social life. He came into Auckland regularly on business and would be continuing to do so for the foreseeable future.
Their main course arrived and, between bites of pigeon pie and sips from his second glass of burgundy, Peter asked Tamar about her life. She was surprised to find how easy it was to describe her family history, her desire to have her own dressmaking business and how she would like a family. When he asked how old she was she told him she was eighteen, although it would not in fact be her birthday for another month. Peter informed her he was twenty-nine years old and had been married for three years before his wife died.
By the time they were served their pudding, most of which Tamar had to leave because she had eaten too much, she felt she knew Peter a little better. His manner had relaxed, no doubt due to the wine he’d consumed with his lunch and the port he was finishing with now, and she found him charming, interesting and just as attractive as she had thought when they first met.
After lunch Peter escorted her back to work, lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, leaving with a promise to call the following Sunday afternoon, when they would stroll through the park. Through the glass of the shop window, Tamar watched him stride purposefully down the street until he turned a corner and she could no longer see him. She had been confused by his kiss, even if it had only been on the back of her hand. Surely it wasn’t appropriate behaviour for a man who had so recently lost his wife? She should have pulled her hand away, she reflected, and hoped Mr Ellis had not seen. But Peter Montgomery was so compelling, and the way he looked at her with his mesmerisin
g black eyes made her shiver. There was something about him — a lot, if she was honest — she was very attracted to, whether he was a widower of only four weeks or not. Still, it was only an infatuation, and the poor man, alone now without his small family, deserved some kindness and understanding. As a woman, it was her duty to provide it. Platonically of course, she told herself. Yes, she would offer him friendship and if, over the course of a year or two, their relationship developed into something more meaningful, well, she would think about that when it happened.
CHAPTER SEVEN
January 1880
By the end of the year Tamar had spent considerably more time with Peter Montgomery. He returned to Auckland on several occasions after their luncheon in September. They now used each other’s first names and strolled comfortably arm in arm when they walked out together. They went picnicking at Shelly Beach in Ponsonby and yachting from St Mary’s Bay, listened to a brass band in the Domain, and went by coach to visit the beautiful Ellerslie Gardens. They went to dinner at the nicer hotels and Peter took Tamar to her first opera at the Theatre Royal.
Tamar was enchanted. The Theatre Royal seated 1600 patrons and was lavishly decorated with an intricately painted curtain and tints of gold, salmon and lavender decorating the proscenium arch. The patrons were just as splendid in their glittering formal clothes, feathers and jewellery.
During one of Peter’s earlier visits he had taken Tamar to a seamstress to be fitted for a new gown. At the time she had been unsure whether she should accept such a gift from a man who was still in mourning, but Peter insisted his feelings would be irreparably hurt if she declined. At his suggestion she chose a length of fashionable Louis velveteen in a deep mauve that highlighted her auburn hair. It was made into a slim-fitting, tight-waisted evening dress that showed off her shapely figure and finished with ruched three-quarter sleeves draped with black lace. Together with the black evening gloves and violet evening slippers Peter also insisted on buying, she wore the gown for the first time to the Theatre Royal.
Just before Christmas, which Peter was unable to spend with Tamar because of business commitments, he presented her with a large amethyst in a heavy gold filigree setting on a gold chain and a pair of matching earrings. Shocked at the intimacy and expense of the gift, Tamar tried to decline. Oblivious to her arguments about his state of mourning, Peter begged her to accept, insisting his heart would be broken if she did not. She need not wear the jewellery, but to know she had accepted it would ease his loneliness. Unable to bear the haunting sadness in Peter’s eyes, Tamar accepted, but put the jewels in her dressing table. Perhaps, after a suitable length of time, she might feel more comfortable wearing them.
She missed Peter during the Christmas festivities but spent some of the holiday with Myrna. She felt odd celebrating Christmas at the height of the balmy New Zealand summer, although the vibrant red blossoms of the pohutukawa trees gave Auckland a festive air. But it was not the same without snow, or the bitter winter cold she was used to. Christmas without a big open fire felt strange and left her feeling somehow bereft, although she noticed almost everyone celebrated in the same manner in which they had at home. Christmas puddings abounded and wreaths of holly decorated many front doors. Where their owners had obtained the holly, Tamar had no idea, but it looked pretty, and gave her a brief pang of homesickness.
In the second week of January, Peter called for her and when they were sitting on a bench admiring the flowers in Albert Park, he produced a wide gold ring set with pearls and a sizable Ceylonese sapphire, and asked her to marry him.
Tamar was so startled she gasped and dropped her sunshade. She had been aware of Peter’s growing affection, and in her most fervent imaginings had allowed herself to consider a proposal from him one day, but certainly not at this early stage! She was even more shocked at her own excitement.
‘Peter, it’s a beautiful ring, and I’m so very flattered,’ she breathed. ‘But it’s less than five months since Anna died. Surely you must mourn for at least a year?’
‘I am in mourning,’ said Peter earnestly, placing the ring in its box on the bench between them and turning to face her. ‘I mourn every day. And it’s eating me away — I can’t live with the loneliness. Surely I’m not meant to die of a withered, broken heart at my age? Not when I’ve met you and I know I love you and we could be so happy together.’ He took hold of the black mourning band around his upper left arm and tore it off. ‘I wasn’t meant to live by myself. I loved Anna, but she’s gone. Why must I continue to suffer?’
Tamar was stunned by the emotion in his voice. ‘But it would only be another seven months. That’s not long if we are to spend our lives together.’
‘Seven months! Seven months is a lifetime,’ he said dramatically. ‘Please say yes, Tamar! If you reject me, I don’t know what I’ll do — I’ll have to go back to England at the very least. I won’t be able to stay here without you. I couldn’t watch you marry someone else.’
‘Oh, Peter,’ sighed Tamar. ‘I don’t want to marry anyone else. It’s just that this is so soon. It’s unseemly.’
Peter took his hat off and brushed an imaginary speck from the brim. ‘It’s now or never, Tamar,’ he said, looking up at her, a heavy lock of his dark hair falling over one eye. ‘I can’t wait. I love you too much, and I need you.’
Had Myrna been sharing their park bench, she might have jammed Peter’s hat back on his handsome head and told him to take his amateur theatrics somewhere else. Then she might have turned to Tamar and told her she was being manipulated by a man obviously used to having his own way, and to be very careful.
Tamar, eighteen years old, without a family and with her head filled with visions of this wonderful, generous, passionate man sailing out of her life, panicked.
‘Please, Peter, give me a day or two,’ she pleaded, her hand on his arm where the mourning band had been. She wanted to marry him, and could not contemplate the idea of losing him now he had declared his love. ‘I love you too, but we have to do the right thing. What will people say?’
‘Damn what people say, Tamar! We don’t need anyone else!’
In his words Tamar heard an echo of her mother and father’s romance. They had done what they wanted and married against everyone else’s wishes — and their marriage had been wonderful.
‘Can we meet on Friday?’ she asked. ‘That’s only two days away. Will you still be in town?’ When Peter nodded she quickly added, ‘Can I have until then to decide? I do want to marry you, but I want it to be perfect. I don’t want people whispering behind our backs. Please?’
Peter took a deep breath as if about to speak, and stood up; for one terrifying moment Tamar thought he was going to walk off. Instead he held out his hand to her and said, ‘All right then, Friday it is. I can wait until then. I want you to be happy, Tamar. I want that more than anything else. But will you wear my ring today? On the other hand if you like, until you say yes, but please accept it. It will give me hope.’
He opened the ring box, took out the sapphire and placed it gently on a finger of Tamar’s right hand. ‘Until Friday,’ he repeated.
‘So, have ye said yes?’ asked Myrna.
They were sitting in the Bellbird Tea and Coffee Palace on the corner of Victoria and Queen Streets. Myrna had come into town to visit a seamstress about costumes for her girls, and Tamar had joined her for lunch. Peter’s ring caught the sun and sparkled as she stirred her tea.
‘Not quite. I said I’d like time to think. But I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to say yes.’
Myrna sat back, looked at her young friend and lit a cigarette, much to the loudly voiced indignation of two matrons at the next table; it was acceptable for ladies to smoke tobacco in private, but indulging in public was still seen as rather ‘modern’.
Myrna glared at the more imperious of the pair, who was trying to stare her down. ‘If ye dinnae like it, sit somewhere else,’ she snapped. Deeply offended, the two woman rose amid the rustle of voluminous skirts, sn
atched up their purses and left the premises.
‘Are ye sure ye ken what ye’re doing?’ Myrna asked as she turned back to Tamar. ‘It’s a verra big thing, marriage. It’s no’ a decision to be taken lightly.’
‘I am sure,’ Tamar replied a little crossly. ‘I told you what my mam said about the feeling when a woman meets the man who’s really right for her. Well, that’s what I feel whenever I think of Peter and every time I’m with him. He’s exciting and interesting and he loves me. And I love him.’
‘Exciting, is he? Dinnae confuse lust wi’ love, lassie. Anyone can have the first, thank God because ma business depends on it, but the second is harder to find and a hell o’ a lot harder to hang on to.’
‘Lust has nothing to do with it!’ exclaimed Tamar indignantly. ‘He’s never even touched me except to hold my hand and kiss my cheek! And he does love me. He’s said so and he bought me that expensive gown and the lovely jewellery. And he’s so lonely. He said he needs a woman to share his life with and he wants it to be me. Why are you being so nasty, Myrna? What’s wrong?’
‘I’m sorry, Tamar,’ said Myrna, sighing. ‘I havnae even met the man and I’m judging him. It’s just so soon after his first poor wee wife.’
‘He’s lonely and doesn’t want to be by himself. What’s so wrong with that?’
‘Well, verra little, I suppose, providing ye feel happy about it yeself. Will ye be going to live wi’ him? Where did ye say he lives? Huia, is it?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s a long way, lassie. Several days’ travel at least. I dinnae even think there’s a decent road yet. That doesnae bother ye?’
‘No. His house is not too far from the town and he’s thinking of building closer. And I expect there will be little ones soon,’ said Tamar coyly.
‘What? Ye’re no’ pregnant, are ye?’ exclaimed Myrna loudly, causing heads to turn in their direction.
Tamar Page 10