Tamar (37 page)

Tamar wondered if the girls would decide to stay. She didn’t cherish the thought of rattling around in this big house all by
herself. But on the other hand, did she want to own and run a brothel? She had never pictured herself as a madam. ‘I’ll have to talk to them about what they want to do,’ she said out loud.

Mr Bonnington waited, but when it became clear Tamar was not going to add anything, he asked, ‘If there are no more questions, Miss Deane, I wonder if you could be so kind as to gather the other beneficiaries?’

‘Of course,’ replied Tamar absently. ‘John isn’t here, though. Does that matter?’

‘No, I will call in at Dr Adams’ surgery later today.’

Tamar yanked on the bell pull to summon Eliza, and asked her to call everyone to the parlour, including Sven.

Eliza replied, ‘Yes, Miss Tamar,’ and hurried off, an anxious look on her tear-blotched face.

Mr Bonnington looked around the parlour, somewhat surprised at the nervous glances he was getting; he was more used to optimistic anticipation, if not overt greed, when reading the will of a recently departed relative.

But then Myrna McTaggart had not been a relative, she had been their employer.

‘I have asked that you be gathered here this morning,’ he announced formally, ‘so that I may read the will of the late Miss Myrna McTaggart.’

He read the short document aloud, then looked up to gauge the response. No one said anything. One of the pretty blonde girls was crying and the manservant had his mouth hanging open. Mr Bonnington looked to Tamar for guidance.

From the sofa she said in a quiet voice, ‘Well, then? What are we all going to do? Keep the business going, or go our separate ways? You’ve all enough money now to do what you like, so it’s up to you.’

Letitia, Jessica, Vivienne and Bronwyn all looked at her. Polly was staring out the window, Cabbage curled in her lap.

Letitia said, ‘We talked about this last night, Tamar. We want to stay here and keep working.’

Mr Bonnington coughed politely. ‘I will be on my way now, Miss Deane, if there are no further questions. The future of this establishment is your concern, so I will leave you to discuss it. Should you wish to continue the business, I would be more than happy to remain your legal representative.’

‘Yes,’ replied Tamar. ‘Thank you. I will be in touch.’

Mr Bonnington waited for the maid to escort him to the front door, but as she seemed busy exchanging meaningful stares with the Swede, he saw himself out.

When he had gone, Bronwyn continued, ‘But we want you to be the madam, Tamar. You know how to run this business better than we do. Would you be happy to stay?’

Where on earth else would I go, thought Tamar. A vision of her own little dressmaking business appeared briefly in her mind, but it was a fleeting image, and a lonely one.

‘Yes,’ she replied with little hesitation, knowing she would never have said anything else. ‘We’ll carry on, if that’s what everyone wants. It won’t be the same without Myrna, but we’ll be all right.’

The girls smiled in relief.

‘And what about you two?’ asked Tamar, turning to face Eliza and Sven. ‘Will you stay on?’

They had been an unofficial couple for many months now but had made no moves in the direction of marriage. The hopeful look on Sven’s plain but normally impassive face, however, indicated that Myrna’s unexpected gift may have changed things.

In his halting but much improved English, he replied, ‘I believe yes, that I think we are to stay.’ He stood up and wiped his large hands on his trousers. His face began to turn red as he turned to
Tamar and announced, ‘Miss Tamar, I wish to ask of you to have the hand of Eliza Andrews in betrothal.’

‘Oh,’ said Tamar in surprise and embarrassment, blushing herself. ‘Why are you asking me?’

‘You now are the lady of the house,’ he said, his face flaming. Across from him Eliza raised her hands to her own face and giggled nervously. ‘It is your permission I am needing, I think,’ Sven continued. ‘We had not the money for a wedding before, now we have so I need the permission also.’

Tamar turned to Eliza. ‘Is this what you want?’ When Eliza nodded, Tamar said, ‘Well, yes, then. Of course!’

Later that afternoon Tamar went looking for Eliza. She found her in the kitchen, baking. ‘Can I talk to you for a minute, Eliza?’

Eliza looked up from the table she was working at, wiped her floury hands on her apron and raised her eyebrows. ‘Miss?’

God, I hate it when she calls me that, Tamar thought. ‘Well,’ she started, not quite sure what to say. ‘It’s about your engagement.’

As Eliza’s long face grew suddenly wary, Tamar suddenly understood the English girl did not completely trust her. ‘No, there’s no problem,’ Tamar said quickly. ‘I wondered if you might want to have this.’ She slid the pearl and sapphire ring Peter had given her off her finger and held it out to Eliza, her palm flat. ‘It was my engagement ring,’ she added, unnecessarily.

Eliza stared at it.

‘Please don’t be insulted,’ Tamar continued. ‘It doesn’t really mean much to me any more. I’ll understand if you don’t want it, of course. I just thought I’d ask. It’s been paid for,’ she added, and allowed herself a small smile.

Eliza smiled back. ‘It’s lovely, Miss Tamar. And it were very nice of yer ter think of me. I’ll ’ave ter ask Sven though. I don’t
know ’ow ’e’ll feel about it.’ She took the ring and slipped it into her apron pocket.

‘Of course. You could sell it and use the money to buy something else. Whatever suits you.’

Eliza looked at Tamar thoughtfully. ‘Does it mean so little ter yer now? The ring and everythin’ it meant?’

Tamar gazed back, took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Yes. I have a new life now, Eliza. I need to look forwards, not backwards.’

Eliza nodded herself. ‘I ’ope me own marriage don’t turn out like yours did, Miss Tamar, if yer don’t mind me saying. But Sven’s a good man, so I don’t think it will.’

‘No, I don’t think it will either. I wish you the very best of luck.’

And she did.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

December 1882

M
yrna, gone now for six months, was sorely missed. But life, as it nearly always does, went on. The house reopened for business and continued to profit under Tamar’s management, Eliza and Sven were married in October, Letitia turned down a marriage proposal from a customer and summer arrived.

The only one not to have come to terms with Myrna’s death was Polly. Her moods worsened and in November Tamar was forced to insist she stop working; customers had complained Polly was falling asleep at the very point when she should have been most awake, which, everyone agreed, was bad for business.

When Tamar told her, Polly had merely shrugged and gone up to her room.

Talking to John Adams several days later, Tamar said, ‘I don’t know what’s wrong, it’s as if she’s completely given up. Before, when she was still enthusiastic about her work, it wasn’t too bad. She was moody, yes, and not that easy to get on with, but since Myrna went, she seems to have lost all hope.’

‘And she’s drinking over half a bottle of Decoction of Opium a day? Well, if that’s the case, I’d say she’s well and truly addicted. That’s not good at all, not in those amounts,’ said John, frowning.

‘I told her that months ago. I don’t think she cares.’

‘Addiction to opium-based preparations isn’t that unusual. You’d be surprised the people who get into trouble with it. It’s high time some sort of control was applied to its distribution, although I suspect I’m wasting my breath. While there are opium dens on every damned street corner, not much can be done to discourage people from using the drug.’

Tamar was fascinated. ‘Dens on every corner?’

‘No. I exaggerate. But they are around. There’s one on Upper Queen Street and it’s rumoured there’s another down by the wharves.’

‘Mmm, I wonder,’ muttered Tamar. ‘Polly’s disappeared several times at night, and not come back until early morning, according to Eliza. I wonder if that’s where she’s been going?’

‘Well, they say the cravings get worse until the poor victim is utterly consumed by his or her need. Perhaps her medicine isn’t enough any more and she’s advanced to the pure form of the drug. That can be fatal. Why don’t you ask her?’

Tamar hesitated, then said, ‘I don’t want to. If I do, and she says she’s not going to an opium den, then I might be told something I really don’t want to know.’

‘Such as?’

‘Such as she’s working the streets again.’

‘Oh, surely not? Not after working here?’ John was aghast.

‘Well, she’s been going somewhere. And if she
is
back on the streets, I’ll have to ask her to leave, and I don’t know if I can do that, John. She’s my friend. I really think she needs help.’

‘Yes, it’s a difficult situation. Do you want me to talk to her?’

‘You can try.’

‘Well, is she in now?’

‘In her room, I think. You know which one it is, don’t you?’

John nodded as he stood up. ‘Well, I’ll try. But if she tells me
something in confidence it will have to stay that way.’

‘As long as she’s safe, John. That’s all I’m worried about.’

Tamar followed him up the stairs, leaving him on the first floor while she went up to her own room. She opened a window facing out onto the harbour and let the salt-smelling breeze waft in. She loved the view and only drew her drapes at night, not wanting to shut out the sight of the ocean, even if it wasn’t the wild, hungry sea that had battered the coasts of her beloved Cornwall.

As she sat down on a sofa and picked up some sewing, there was a knock at the door. ‘Come in,’ she called, looking up as John entered. He’d been into this room many times before and Tamar could see no reason he should not continue to do so, propriety be damned. ‘That was quick.’

‘She told me to bugger off. I knocked and when she didn’t answer I opened the door and went in. She was on the bed. I thought she was asleep but then I heard her muttering. She’s not in a very good state.’

‘I know that,’ Tamar replied exasperatedly. ‘That’s why I’ve talked to you about it.’ For someone so intelligent, John could be very obtuse sometimes.

He continued. ‘So I shook her gently, and she rolled over, opened one eye, and said “It’s you.” When I asked if there was something wrong she said, “No. Bugger off,” closed her eyes again and put her hands over her ears. I notice she’s lost a lot of weight.’

‘So what do you think I should do?’

‘If she won’t talk to anyone then there’s not much you
can
do. Physically, she looks reasonably healthy although she’s probably run down. It’s her mind, I’d say. Something’s obviously not right.’

‘No,’ said Tamar, getting up and going to the window again. The breeze lifted her hair off her face, exposing the faint line of her scar. ‘I can’t lock her in her room, and I’m not going to evict her while she’s ill. I’d not ask her to leave anyway, this is her home. If
she’s not going to work she can have Eliza’s old room. I’ll have to get someone to replace her, I suppose.’

‘She’ll be a liability, Tamar, if she doesn’t recover her health.’

‘Yes, John, I know that. I was a liability once, remember? And Myrna took me in.’

‘That doesn’t mean you have to do the same.’

‘Doesn’t it? She looked after us, and she left me everything.’

‘Yes, and you’ve got this place running very smoothly and profitably, but is this what you really want, Tamar? Running a whorehouse? You could sell up — someone might buy it as a going concern, and if not, then I’m sure everyone has enough put away to manage quite comfortably. Even Sven and Eliza.’

They’d had this conversation several times since Myrna had died.

Tamar rolled her eyes. ‘You just don’t understand, do you? I
owe
this to Myrna. This is why she left it all to me. So the others would be taken care of.’

John blew out his cheeks in frustration. ‘Are you sure she didn’t leave it all to you because she wanted
you
to be taken care of? Didn’t she say in her will you could do whatever you wanted with the place? It was
you
she was worried about, Tamar, especially after what that bastard Montgomery did to you. The others can take care of themselves.’

‘So can I!’

‘Yes, but there are better ways to do it. You’re wealthy now, you can afford to do just about anything you like. And New Zealand is a growing country — the depression will be over soon and there’ll be plenty of things to invest your money in. You could even have your own business. A more socially acceptable one, I mean.’

‘Oh, I know
that
!’ she snapped, sitting back down with an angry rustle of taffeta. ‘But what’s money if I have no one to share it with? No one to talk to and no one to laugh with? If I sell this place and
everyone disappears in different directions, I’ll be alone, John. I
have
no one else.’

‘You have me.’

‘Not any more. I know how you feel about what I did, John. I’m not blind. Or stupid.’

He felt himself going red. He thought he’d successfully kept his feelings to himself, but obviously not.

‘But we’re still friends,’ he said. ‘Friends take care of each other.’

‘Yes, yes, it’s all very well you saying that now, but what about when you marry? And you will, John, I know. You need a wife, and you want one. It’s obvious.’

‘Is it?’ he asked, slightly taken back.

‘Yes. You’ll have your work and you’ll start your own family. Where will I fit in? You’re being unrealistic.’

She was right and he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound trite. They sat in silence, Tamar looking out the window and John staring at his boots.

Eventually Tamar cleared her throat and said, ‘I miss her terribly.’

‘I know. So do I.’ Then, as if Myrna had not even been mentioned, he said, ‘What if you marry again? You’re only, what? Twenty?’

‘I’m not living my life based on what ifs. I’ve already done that once and it didn’t work out.’