by Lark, Sarah
Chapter 29
Cat felt a little ill when Mrs. Hansen gave her and Mary the message that they should seek out Mrs. Beit after they had finished their usual morning work. Normally, the lady of the house would shrilly summon the girls herself when she needed something—it wasn’t a good sign that she had used a proxy. Cat quickly slipped into the attic room she shared with Mary to put on a clean apron and readjust her bonnet. When she entered the parlor, Mary was already leaving. The girl was in tears.
“Whatever shall I do now?” Mary whimpered. But before Cat could ask her what had happened, Mrs. Beit had opened the door.
“Cat, you’re late. Come in now, I need to talk to you.”
Sarah Beit was wearing a silk gown with a high neckline and looked neat and tidy as usual, but somehow she still made a disheveled impression. It was something about her posture. Cat thought that her eyes looked a little red, too, but it was unlikely that Mrs. Beit and Mary had been crying about the same thing.
“Cat, I don’t want to beat around the bush,” she said. “Now that Miss Jane is married, we intend to reduce the household staff. I hope you understand. At the moment, we have so many personnel that you’re practically tripping over each other’s feet.”
Cat’s brow creased. She hadn’t noticed any such thing. Jane’s departure didn’t change very much about their duties in the household. In contrast to her sisters, the young woman hadn’t changed her clothes three times a day, and had mostly left her room tidy. She certainly hadn’t needed a maid of her own. Most of the servants’ work consisted of cleaning, lighting fires for heating, and polishing the furniture. The house was simply very large and filled with things that, from Cat’s point of view, served only as dust collectors. The girls polished silver bowls and candelabras for hours, dusted, cleaned carpets, and ironed doilies for tables and sideboards. There was also a lot of work in the kitchen. The Beits loved multicourse meals, and the table always had to be properly set. A simple meal of bread and cheese or meat was out of the question. What was more, it had already been six months since Jane had moved out. So why had it only now occurred to Mrs. Beit that her staff had too little to do?
“In any case, my husband and I have come to the conclusion that we’ll be able to make do with just Mr. and Mrs. Hansen and the cook,” Mrs. Beit continued. “You and Mary are no longer needed. That’s why I have to let you go today, sorry as I am.”
She sniffed. It actually seemed to be affecting her. Cat was amazed.
“Now, about your pay . . . Today is the twelfth of March, and I think it’s right and fair if I pay you a third of the monthly fee.”
“But a third would be the tenth of March,” Cat said. The words had slipped out before she could think about it. Recently she had been making an effort to learn basic math.
Mrs. Beit glared at her. Her sentimental state hadn’t lasted long. “If you’re fresh to me, missy, then you can leave without any pay at all! I’m in no way obligated to you, of all people.”
Cat returned her gaze as calmly as she could. The rumors about her had never been a point of contention with her employers. But if Mrs. Beit wanted to start now, Cat would defend herself. Her time with the Maori certainly didn’t give the Beits the right to withhold her pay.
“Don’t think I don’t know how you are constantly ‘borrowing’ books from my husband’s library,” she said, and Cat gasped. So this wasn’t about her past. But maybe it was worse. “At least, that’s what Mrs. Hansen calls it,” Mrs. Beit said. “She shows a ridiculous amount of patience with you. But who knows if you really brought back every book! Perhaps a few ended up with the pawnbroker?”
There wasn’t a pawnbroker in Nelson. Before Cat could say so, Mrs. Beit renewed her attack. “What do you think, girl? Will I find any valuable books if I search your room? What would the police have to say about that? Certainly not that I owe you money!”
Cat lowered her eyes. She actually did have one book in her room. And she doubted that Mrs. Hansen would stand by her if their employer formally accused her of being a thief.
“Then we’ve reached an agreement,” Mrs. Beit said icily. “You can leave now. I have allowed Mary to stay here until tomorrow, but in your case . . . I don’t ever want to see you again. Bring back the book and go.”
There was no more mention of pay, not even the reduced amount. Cat cursed her own big mouth. If only she could have stayed quiet and let the unfair accusations roll off her, as she’d learned to do with the Beits, she wouldn’t have to leave empty-handed. But the termination had come as such a surprise. It was quite a disaster, especially for Cat. Mary might not know where she was going to find another job, but at least she would be able to go back to her parents. Cat, on the contrary, was out on the street. With her past being common knowledge in Nelson, no one would hire her. The young woman racked her brain as she crossed the Beits’ parlor. Christopher couldn’t help her; he had been in Canterbury with Jane for six months now, and hopefully was happy on his farm. Perhaps Wakefield would be interested in her translating skills . . . She could always go to the magistrate. But then, on her way to the stairs, she saw a copy of the Nelson Examiner lying on a side table.
NEW ZEALAND COMPANY GOES BANKRUPT
The headline explained everything, including the tears in Mrs. Beit’s eyes. The Beits’ aristocratic lifestyle would soon come to an end. But she doubted that the few pennies Mrs. Beit would save by stealing from her or Mary would do them much good.
After quickly skimming the article, Cat walked up the stairs with a heavy feeling in her stomach. Wakefield would be busy with the dissolution of the company and certainly had other worries at the moment than hiring a new interpreter. Only Frederick Tuckett remained, who Christopher had said was a reasonable man, and who was now being considered as a government representative in Nelson. When he arrived, perhaps he would be able to help. But at the moment, he was still on the North Island.
Cat thought briefly about returning to the Maori. Not to the Ngati Toa, that was impossible, but perhaps the Ngai Tahu? They were known to be quite peaceful, and they were making land deals in the plains farther south with the pakeha. Perhaps Cat could offer to translate for them. Sighing, the young woman packed her few possessions into a bundle. Of course she wasn’t allowed to keep her maid’s uniform, and the only appropriate clothing she had to wear in Nelson were the things she’d bought with Christopher from Mrs. Partridge. As she put on the dress and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders, she felt almost a little comforted. She still remembered how Chris had looked at her when he had seen her dressed as a pakeha girl for the first time. They’d talked and even laughed a little as they’d walked through the dark streets of Nelson together. Was he talking and laughing with Jane now?
Cat pushed the thought aside. With her bundle in her hands, she walked down the stairs. She had almost no savings. She’d spent most of her meager earnings on candles so she could read late into the night. Some of it had been invested in an English-German dictionary and a few notebooks and pencils with which she had practiced writing.
She’d heard that someone was doing the first book translation into Maori: the Bible. Perhaps there were future possibilities for her in that direction. But for now, all she had were a few pennies. It wasn’t even enough to pay for a night in a guesthouse, let alone transportation to where she thought the closest Ngai Tahu marae must be.
“Cat, wait! You don’t really want to leave without saying goodbye, do you?”
Cat turned around and saw Margaret Hansen. “No—no, of course not, excuse me. I’m just so upset.”
The housekeeper smiled and towed her quickly into the kitchen. “Well, you should have seen Mary, the poor child. She’s in shock. She’s upstairs tidying the rooms now, hoping Mrs. Beit might reconsider.” Mrs. Hansen rolled her eyes.
“She won’t. I read the newspaper,” Cat said, and took a sip of the hot chocolate that the cook had poured for her. “The Beits are running out of money.”
Mrs. Hansen frow
ned. “We don’t want to speak disrespectfully of our employers, but you’ve always been a clever girl.” She sighed. “It could be that Mr. Beit and his family will soon be returning to Australia. At least, they were talking about it yesterday. But what will you do now, Cat? Mary will surely find employment somewhere. But you?”
Cat took another sip of her cocoa and shared her thoughts about the Ngai Tahu. Of course both the cook and Mrs. Hansen were startled by her plan to return to the “savages.”
“Well, perhaps it’s actually for the best,” Mrs. Hansen said hesitantly. “The people here are very agitated since the governor practically apologized to the Maori.”
Governor Robert FitzRoy’s official position on the events in Wairau had been announced at the end of February. FitzRoy had declared that the incident was incited by Wakefield and Thompson’s illegal bargaining and their aggressive visit to the tribe. Their deaths and the deaths of their men had been their own doing. The Maori were only marginally at fault. When he spoke to the chieftain about his regrets over Te Ronga’s death, the anger in Nelson had escalated. The settlers furiously accused the governor of treason and cowardice.
“In the market and on the streets, people are constantly ranting about the savages. They say they want revenge, and things like that,” the cook added. “Mrs. Hansen is right, Cat, you’ll have to be very careful when you go into town.”
Cat massaged her brow. “What’s the fastest way to get out of Nelson?” she asked unhappily. “Of course I could walk, but if someone who was heading south could give me a ride, it would be safer.”
Mrs. Hansen nodded. “You could ask Mrs. Robins,” she said, considering. “Yes, I know she’s an old gossipmonger, but if anyone comes here from out of town, they usually stay with her. And she owes you. By now she must regret having started all those rumors.”
Cat wasn’t sure about that, but it wasn’t bad advice. At least it was better than asking about passage on a ship in the harbor. No sailor would give her free passage to the southern end of the island; at the very least, he would demand a service in return that she wasn’t prepared to give! But some immigrant family or missionary headed south might help her. She shuddered when she thought of Reverend Morton, but now she was no longer helpless in the face of such abusive behavior. There was a knife hanging on Cat’s belt, and she had no qualms about using it. It might not protect her from a gang of lusty sailors, but it would keep a flabby man of God like Morton from pawing at her.
“Maybe someone would be glad to have your company,” Mrs. Hansen said optimistically. “The settlers are always nervous about crossing Maori land. It might be comforting for them to bring someone who speaks the language.”
“And you must bring plenty of provisions!” the cook added kindly, and immediately began packing things for her. Then, sniffing away a few tears, she embraced Cat before the young woman stepped out into the street.
“Go with God, my dear! Perhaps you will change your mind about returning to the natives. Perhaps you’ll find another town, another city, different people.”
Cat nodded politely. She knew that there were no other towns on the South Island, but she didn’t want to rob the woman of her hopes.
“People are the same everywhere,” she said before she finally turned to go.
Cat hurried through the streets with her head down and hoped that no one would notice her. In hindsight, she regretted not having taken one of the bonnets from her uniform. Many of the women and girls in Nelson wore similar ones in the street, and she would have been much less noticeable if she could hide the long blonde braid that trailed down her back. Nelson called itself a town, but it was no more than a large village. Every new face attracted attention, especially when it belonged to a young woman on her own. Everywhere in New Zealand, there were more men than women. Cat felt eyes following her. The men staring at her were probably sailors, whalers, or seal hunters passing through. They didn’t know anything about her reputation and took her for a normal citizen, so she didn’t have to worry about them attacking her. But any village women who spied her would begin to gossip immediately, or even form a mob. After Cat’s experiences in the Maori village and the cook’s warning, she was prepared for the worst.
Fortunately, in the area around the magistrate building where Mrs. Robins’s guesthouse was located, there were very few shops and just a small marketplace, which stood nearly empty in the midday sun. Cat was beginning to think she might slip into the widow’s house unnoticed, but then three young men approached her. All at once she recognized Jamie, the Beits’ houseboy. He swayed drunkenly, and Cat realized he must have been fired this morning too. He’d recognized her as well, and the look in his eyes wasn’t friendly. Cat looked around quickly for a way to escape, but she was in a cul-de-sac, and the threesome were already blocking her path.
“Who do we have here?” Jamie said with a grin. “Boys, allow me to introduce you to the man-eater. I told you we had the creature in the house. She’s the one who was philandering with the savages.”
The larger of the other two, who seemed to be considerably less drunk, eyed Cat lustfully. “I’d like to take a bite out of her myself!” He laughed. “How about it, darling? Would you like to feel what it’s like when I get my teeth into you? Grrrr!”
He grimaced, attempting to imitate the features of the Maori, and bared his teeth.
“It would be a pity to eat her,” the smaller one said with a nasty grin. His face looked as though he’d been beaten up. “I’ve heard that little Maori cats like to be pet.”
“Yes, Cat, that’s what she calls herself!” Jamie shouted excitedly. “Let’s find out if she’s in heat.”
The young men pressed closer. Cat wondered briefly if she had time to draw her knife, but with three assailants so close to her, it was hopeless. Her only chance was to run away.
All at once, Cat hitched up her skirts so she could run better and launched herself forward. Defying death, she shot through the gap between the swaying Jamie and his larger friend. Immediately she heard their footfalls behind her. At least they were wearing heavy boots, which seemed to slow them down. Cat was wearing comfortable, light shoes. After living with the Maori so long, she hadn’t been able to get used to the fashionable laced ankle boots Mrs. Hansen and Mary wore.
She reached the corner; perhaps she could escape into a narrow alleyway. Or would it be better to seek out a more populated area? Cat rounded another corner and turned down the next street. All at once she came face-to-face with a team of horses and a wagon blocking her path . . .
Chapter 30
Ida waited impatiently. Ottfried had only wanted to make one last purchase before they began their long, difficult journey back to Sankt Pauli Village on mostly unfinished roads. Actually, they should have already left that morning. They had loaded the wagon and prepared the provisions, but then Ottfried had commanded his wife to wait for him on a street behind Mrs. Robins’s guesthouse. Ida could imagine only too well what his last-minute purchase would look like. There was doubtlessly a pub nearby, and Ottfried would use money he’d skimmed from the settlers’ shopping budget for his own personal “barley supply.” That was what he liked to call the whiskey that he now drank openly in front of Ida.
“No one can deny whiskey to a man when he’s worked hard,” he’d said. “And besides, it’s made from barley and rye, like our bread. We could make it ourselves, if anything would grow.”
Ida didn’t even want to imagine what the village elders, especially her father, would say about a whiskey distillery in Sankt Pauli Village. But she repressed the urge to comment. She had long since discovered that whiskey made Ottfried more brutal in his “proof of love,” as he called it, but in the end it shortened the process. Ottfried fell asleep faster, and his sleep was deeper. Ida was able to ease herself out of his grip and breathe more freely. When he was extremely drunk, she took the risk of camping out on the floor. Once they had moved into their new house, it would be even easier. The house, which was almost
finished, had a small barn. Ida planned to make herself comfortable there when Ottfried was in his whiskey-induced slumber, and in the mornings would pretend that she’d gone out early to milk the cow. For that reason, she had high hopes that he’d “saved” enough money to lay in a decent supply of liquor.
The pub couldn’t be that far away. He’d probably met friends and let himself be talked into staying; he would certainly empty a glass or two. If she was unlucky, Ottfried would already be drunk when he returned, and that was definitely not to her advantage. After all, the journey home was over rough roads, and no one knew how reliable the horses were because they had only just been purchased. They still had to pick up the cows as well. Hopefully the animals were accustomed to following a wagon. If not, Ida or Ottfried would have to walk with the creatures.
Ida was beginning to worry now. So far, everything had gone so well, and shopping at Mrs. Partridge’s had been a genuine pleasure for her. Stina Krause had advised her skillfully. After all, she knew very well what was lacking in Schacht Valley. Ida had also enjoyed being able to chat with her friend again. Additionally, the Partridges had offered the settlers very good prices, and now there were true treasure troves of cloth and household goods stored under the canvas cover of Ida’s wagon. There were also two large baskets, the contents of which would entrance the settlers’ children; they contained a litter of kittens and four puppies. If only Ottfried would come back!
Ida took a breath of relief when she heard footsteps approaching from a side street. Then again, it sounded as though someone was running.