Tamar (13 page)

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 mesmerising 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.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

January 1880

B
y 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, snatched 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.

‘No, I am
not
bloody well pregnant!’ hissed Tamar. ‘Don’t judge everyone else’s behaviour by your own!’

There was a horrible silence. Tamar looked at the older woman’s anguished face and immediately regretted her words. She leaned forward wearily and put her face in her hands. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘I didn’t mean that. It’s just that I don’t want to lose him and I really wanted you to be happy for me. You’re the closest thing I have to a mam now, and it matters to me what you think. Please forgive me. I don’t want to fall out with you.’

Myrna looked at Tamar’s bent head. She flicked her cigarette butt through the open window and leaned forward. ‘I dinnae want that either, lassie. If ye’re sure about this Peter Montgomery, then ye have ma blessing and I wish ye both the verra best.’

Her unease was still strong, but she had not been able to discover anything about Peter, except that he was a farmer and a businessman who stayed at the Northern Club when he was in
Auckland and liked his drink, which was not particularly out of the ordinary. But because she did not want to upset Tamar, she pushed her doubts to the back of her mind and made herself sound enthusiastic. ‘Have ye a date in mind?’