Song of the Spirits (87 page)

“How does that sound?” William looked—as though asking for praise—from Kura to Caleb, who was just ordering his third whiskey.

Caleb thought Kura’s husband was inspiring and his way of talking irresistible. But Caleb felt like he was being pulled into a whirlpool in which he would inevitably drown.

“
Whaikorero
, the art of beautiful speech,” Kura said. “You’re a master, no question. Is Heather Witherspoon really married to a wealthy railroad magnate and living in a mansion in Blenheim?”

“The spirits have willed it so,” William said dramatically. “So, should I send it? Then you can’t back out, Caleb. If Heather agrees—and she will, I trust—you’ll be playing in front of a hundred or maybe even two hundred people. Will you manage?”

No, thought Caleb, but he said yes.

At that, Kura ordered a round of whiskey. She wanted to drink with the men, too, that day. Perhaps her career would finally take off!

William looked at Caleb skeptically. The man was too nervous, too pale, not charismatic enough. They would have to replace him eventually. He would never last through a tour of Europe. Still, they would have to make do with him in the beginning. They needed a starting point, a rousing success.

William blew his wife a kiss as he stood up to grab the drinks. It would not be whiskey much longer. If everything went well, Kura would soon be drinking champagne. William was finally prepared to keep the promise he had made to Kura before their wedding. He would go to Europe. With her.

Heather Redcliff’s answer came almost as soon as they’d sent the letter. She expressed her joy that William had found Kura again and said that the prospect of smoothing the path to success for her former student appealed to her. After all, she had always believed in Kura and would be happy to tell that to the local press. Indeed, she had already mentioned it—at her last reception on the occasion of the opening of a new wing of the hospital. While Heather had long been engaged with the local charities, art lay closer to her heart. William had been quite astute to recognize that. All of Blenheim society was now waiting rather impatiently to meet Kura-maro-tini. And she, Heather Redcliff, would consider it an additional and special pleasure to see William again.

William smiled. He left out the last line as he read the letter to Kura. Their active future patroness had booked a concert hall at once. Located in the city’s best hotel, it comprised some one hundred fifty seats. A reception for invited guests would follow. And the evening before, Mr. and Mrs. Redcliff would take the liberty of introducing the artists to the city of Blenheim’s notables. Sunday, the second of September, would be suitable, would it not?

“There you have it, Kura. All you need to do now is sing,” William remarked.

The light in Kura’s eyes was otherworldly. William had not seen her so inwardly radiant since their wedding. Nor had she kissed him so happily and sincerely since then. William returned her kiss, relieved. He knew then that Kura forgave him everything. The lies and stalling techniques before the wedding, the unwanted pregnancy meant to bind her to Kiward Station—even his affair with Heather
Witherspoon. William and Kura would begin anew, and this time it would be just like in Kura’s dreams.

If only it were not for Caleb. He had not smiled but instead turned pale as William read Heather’s letter.

William did not like how Caleb had been behaving recently. He had become increasingly agitated, making so many mistakes on the piano that even Kura grew vexed at him. In fact, Caleb couldn’t even start to loosen up until he’d had his first or second whiskey and he was certain that William would not be hearing from his prospective patroness in Blenheim that day. But now Heather’s letter had come. This was serious. Caleb withdrew from the table, muttering his apologies as he exited the pub. He looked to be in even rougher shape when he returned.

“These hundred and fifty seats, there’s no way they’ll sell out, will they?” he asked, playing with an empty glass.

William wondered whether he should lie, but there would be no sense in that. Caleb had to rise to the occasion.

“Blenheim sees itself as an up-and-coming city, Caleb, but between us, it’s a backwater. A little bigger than Greymouth and more developed. But it’s no London. Blenheim isn’t exactly filled cheek by jowl with cultural offerings. If one of the city’s leading ladies presents a few artists, people will be falling over themselves to get tickets to the concert. We could probably have another show the very next day.”

“But—”

“Now be happy, Caleb,” Kura yelled. “And if you’re too scared to be happy, then think about what comes next. You’ll be a famous artist! You’ll be able to live like you want, Caleb. Think of the alternative.”

“Yes,” Caleb said weakly. “I’ll be able to live like I want.”

He did indeed seem to be thinking about it, but William could tell just how despondent Caleb was.

As the day of Timothy and Elaine’s engagement party neared, Elaine had the sense that she was in the eye of the storm. Nellie Lambert
had been a bundle of nerves for weeks, spending entire days planning the decorations and the order in which the various courses would be served—or would a buffet be better? She booked a band to play during the dancing, though she almost found it inappropriate since she thought, naturally, Timothy and Elaine could not open the dance. Timothy nonetheless trained tenaciously. Poor Roly ceased his role as a male nurse only to take up that of dance partner.

Timothy almost had a panic attack when he saw the engagement notices in the various West Coast newspapers. He would have liked not to let Elaine out of his sight, and every stranger in town put fear in his heart. Timothy was now seriously planning their emigration. Although he could certainly have started working in the mine’s office for a few hours a day by then, his father continued to veto all of his attempts to do so.

Timothy no longer traced that back to his disability. Marvin Lambert was hiding something. The balance sheets were probably even worse than Matt had suggested. The mine was losing money, and the railroad would surely make little progress during this very wet winter. They couldn’t count on quick profits from Lambert’s investment—and Nellie was spending every penny to show off with this engagement party. If things continued in this manner, there would be nothing left to save. Timothy expected that the mine would have to be shut down while the most important renovation work was being done, which would mean further enormous losses. They would have to declare the losses to the bank, and Timothy’s father was not making any effort even to apply for the loan they so desperately needed. In addition to all that, there was the continual danger in which Elaine found herself.

Timothy had had enough. He wanted to leave—before the wedding if possible. Or right after a small, secret ceremony and a round with his friends at the pub. The passage to and organization of their new life in England or Wales would be simpler if they were already married.

Elaine, however, had only just begun to get excited about the engagement party. She could not help herself; she was looking forward
it—in part because Nellie Lambert was finally taking her seriously. The women still hadn’t completely warmed up to each other, and they were clashing about Elaine’s dress for the celebration. Nellie wanted to have Mr. Mortimer tailor it or, better yet, to order an outrageously expensive tulle-and-silk confection from Christchurch. Elaine, on the other hand, wanted to entrust Mrs. O’Brien and her new workshop with their first really big contract.

Here, too, there had been bad blood in recent weeks. The sewing machines had arrived, and William had instructed the women from the miners’ camp on how to use them, as he had promised. When it came time to decide who would manage the enterprise, however, the more-than-capable Mrs. Carey got into it with the no-less-capable Mrs. O’Brien. Roly’s mother was a skilled seamstress, and she had the necessary business savvy. Hence, she began right away with the production of simple children’s clothes that were so reasonably priced that it was not worth it for even the poorest miner’s wife to sew the clothes herself. Mrs. Carey, however, was in favor of finishing the seamstresses’ training first thing and then “giving a bit of soul,” as she put it, to the factory rooms—for which, against his will, Marvin Lambert had placed an old shed near his mine at their disposal.

“I’m not going to spend weeks sewing curtains for this shed,” Mrs. O’Brien complained to the pastor. “And we don’t need to paint the walls either, least of all in a ‘warm antique pink.’ If anything, whitewash ’em. I need money, reverend. I’ve got enough ‘soul.’”

Mrs. O’Brien got her way in the end. And though Mrs. Carey was insulted and spoke of her “ingratitude,” the women in the workshop looked on calmly. Business was going well. If things continued that way, they would be able to pay the church council back for the sewing machines in one or two years.

Mrs. O’Brien took Elaine’s measurements and was enthusiastic about the blue velvet the girl had selected for her engagement dress.

“It’s beautiful, and I can wear the dress again later,” Elaine explained, justifying her choice to Timothy. “Unlike those silly things from Christchurch.”

“At our wedding, for example,” noted Timothy. “Give elopement some thought, Lainie. I have a really bad feeling about this engagement.”

William Martyn also had a bad feeling when he saw Caleb Biller in church the Sunday before the engagement party. The young man looked even leaner and more nervous than usual, and he seemed to have become, if possible, even paler. Caleb was leading Florence Weber on his arm. While the girl looked exceptionally pleased with herself, Caleb looked utterly defeated. The Biller and Weber parents followed the couple proudly. William suspected bad news.

Kura observed Caleb’s entrance from her seat at the organ and could hardly wait until after church to hear what had happened. She was a little embarrassed about that, as she normally prided herself on being above such things. But the look on his face was so strained that she couldn’t help but be nervous. After all, Caleb had still been successfully evading Florence the Sunday before.

When the pastor finally dismissed his congregation, Kura joined Elaine, William, and Timothy. The three of them were chatting at the edge of the crowd while Timothy waited for Roly, who was flirting with little Mary Flaherty in the cemetery. Timothy looked to be in in no particular hurry. He had already taken his seat in the carriage, where he was laughing with Elaine—and beaming with pride. At their wedding rehearsal, Timothy had easily managed to cross the church on his own legs.

“Just a few more dance steps, Lainie, and we can have this wedding. Don’t take too long to think about it. A ship leaves for London on the fifteenth of September—a steamship. We could be in England in less than six weeks.”

Elaine did not respond. Her eyes were focused on Caleb and Florence.

“What’s going on there between the two of them?” she asked Kura. “I can’t help looking. They look awfully official.”

William followed Elaine’s and his wife’s eyes.

“No, it doesn’t look good. But he’s coming this way. If you’re not sure what to do, hold yourself back, Kura. If you make a scene, the town will write it off as jealousy.”