Song of the Spirits (98 page)

Timothy ended up alone with a glass of whiskey at the edge of the festivities. He observed the lively goings-on from the winter garden of the Webers’ town house. Elaine danced giddily with her brother Stephen, who had shown up unannounced two days earlier to surprise his long-lost sister. Though she waved to Timothy occasionally, she was wholly absorbed in seeing her family again, and Timothy could not hold that against her. He liked the O’Keefes and enjoyed talking with them. But Ruben was deep in conversation with Greymouth’s justice of the peace just then, and Timothy did not want to disturb them. Maybe it was nonsense, and the men would have been happy to include him, but he hardly dared join any group anymore—too often he only provoked embarrassed looks at his crutches when he did so. The women were even worse than the men. Their pity came across as condescension, and they treated him like a sick child.

Timothy had tried to move past the bitter realization that, as far as the people who counted in Greymouth were concerned, the Lamberts’ heir had died that December twentieth in his mine. The miners might still venerate the shadow of him as they would a saint, and the better society might, in certain respects, grant him the status of a martyr, but no one had work for saints or martyrs.

Kura and William ended up joining him, both overheated from dancing and, in truth, in search of a quiet corner to exchange caresses. After Blenheim, the two of them were more in love than ever before. Not even Ruben O’Keefe, who could never entirely forgive William and who still treated Kura rather coolly, could resist their glow of marital bliss.

“What are you doing here?” Kura asked, tapping Timothy on the shoulder. “Sitting around and moping?”

Timothy smiled at her. She was wearing a new dress—a silk affair in various shades of blue from the workshop of the superbly talented Mrs. O’Brien—and flowers in her hair like a South Seas beauty. Now that she had been recognized as an artist, she wanted to dress in a suitably sophisticated manner, and given her good taste, she knew precisely how to fully emphasize her looks.

“I’m sitting here trying not to envy Florence Biller too much.” Timothy tried to make it sound like a joke, but his voice sounded bitter. “Starting tomorrow, she’s going to take over the Biller Mine, probably not in one blow, but she’ll have an office there in no more than a month. Meanwhile, I have to watch strangers, investors, take over Lambert Mines and parade other engineers in front of me who have no advantages over me other than that they could beat me in a race.”

“Has your father found buyers then?” William inquired. “I haven’t heard anything yet.”

Timothy shrugged. “I’ll probably be the last to know. At the very least, I’ll know after Florence.”

Kura smiled. “You’re speaking up a little late,” she teased. “If you’d announced your interest in her position a little earlier, Caleb would doubtless have preferred you to his dear Florence.”

A
re you going to town? If so, I can take you.”

Matt Gawain, who had become close friends with Timothy by now, observed Timothy struggling onto Fellow while one of the Lamberts’ stableboys hitched an elegant coach horse to Nellie Lambert’s private chaise. It was a cold, wet spring morning, and Matt thought the covered coach would be greatly preferable to a ride through the rain.

Timothy, however, shook his head grimly. “I’m not riding for my own amusement but to build up my muscles. Did you know that the simple act of sitting on a horse exercises fifty-six muscles?”

Matt shrugged. “And how many does the horse use?” he asked.

Timothy didn’t answer but looked with astonishment at the fine vehicle Matt was just then climbing into.

“How did you earn the honor of being able to drive my mother’s own caroche? An excursion with Charlene? On an ordinary Wednesday?”

“You don’t really believe that your mother would lend me the coach for Charlene, do you? No, it’s for a meeting with an investor. I’m supposed to pick the gentleman up from the train station and drive him here before the Webers get their mitts on him. Old man Weber arranged the meeting somehow, but your father wants to handle the negotiations on his own. So far he’s even sober.” Matt took the reins, and Timothy began riding alongside the coach.

“Typical that he didn’t breathe a word to me about it. I’m fed up with the whole business and can’t leave soon enough. There’s a ship leaving for London next week. But once again without us.”

Though Timothy was in pain due to Fellow’s fast pace, he slackened the reins when he saw that his horse was trying to keep time with the coach. Matt saw Timothy’s contorted face and slowed his bay’s step.

“Looking ahead, you should buy a horse with gentler movements,” he commented. “You’ll need to buy a new one in Europe anyway.”

Timothy shrugged. “Explain that to Lainie. She insists we take our horses. She’s like her grandmother Gwyneira in that way, she says. A new country, fine, but only with her horse and dog. I have no idea how I’m supposed to afford that.”

“It sounds like her family has money,” Matt said, letting his horse amble. He was in no hurry and was dry where he was sitting. Timothy, however, looked as freezing and uncomfortable.

“But will they spend that money to send the daughter they’ve finally found again overseas?” Timothy had his doubts. “Before we go, she still wants to go to Queenstown and the Canterbury Plains to say her good-byes to her whole family.”

“I don’t think that Lainie of yours wants to leave New Zealand at all,” Matt said. In fact, he was sure of it, but thought that maybe Timothy needed to hear it more gently.

Timothy sighed. “I know,” he muttered. “But what am I supposed to do? I don’t have any future in my profession here. And what else can I do? Ruben O’Keefe offered to have me go into business with him. They’re opening a new branch in Westport soon. That’s where they all are today, looking at space to lease. But I’m not a salesman, Matt. I have no gift for it, and, to be honest, not the least interest.”

“But Lainie…” Matt had heard about the offer through Charlene and was trying to raise a delicate issue cautiously.

Timothy waved it away. “Yes, yes, I know. Lainie’s helped out in her father’s store since she was little. She could manage the business while I build birdhouses—if I’m lucky.”

“Which reminds me of Florence and Caleb Biller,” Matt remarked.

Timothy nodded. “With the slight difference being that Caleb enjoys that sort of life. He actually prefers researching Maori culture to busying himself with rocks. And he’ll end up making money from it too. In fact, he is already. William and Kura have been rather
generously splitting the profits from their concerts with him. I, however…” Timothy shrugged. “Besides, I’m not the kind that would adjust easily to living off his wife’s inheritance or his father-in-law’s largesse.”

“What about something else? Outside of mining or being a salesman?” Matt goaded his horse as it was getting late.

“I’ve thought about rail construction,” Timothy said. In fact, he had been doing nothing but mulling over possible occupations for weeks. “Julian Redcliff in Blenheim dropped a few hints. But, I can’t delude myself, Matt. There aren’t even any fixed offices in the railroad business. When you’re inspecting sites, you travel around, sleeping in tents or whatever shelter you can find. It’s wet and cold. I wouldn’t make it.”

Timothy lowered his head, defeated. He had never said it out loud, nor would he ever complain about how much the first winter after the accident had afflicted him. But, as Dr. Leroy had brutally made clear to him, he would not get any better. Only worse.

“Wales isn’t exactly known for its warm, dry climate either,” noted Matt.

Timothy bit his lip. “It doesn’t have to be Wales or England. There are mines in Southern Europe too…”

Mines just waiting for someone who got around on crutches and didn’t speak the local language. Though neither one said it aloud, the men shared the same bitter thought.

They had reached town by this time, and Matt stopped his team in front of the train station. The train had already arrived, and Timothy saw a tall, somewhat older but slender and exquisitely dressed gentleman descend the steps. The investor, presumably.

“I guess I’ll invite the man to come with me,” sighed Matt. “And in doing so, likely usher in my own fall. I have no doubt he’ll put a university student in my place, and I’ll soon be back to swallowing coal dust as a foreman again.”

Matt had effectively been running the mine for the last few months. Although Marvin Lambert was in the office almost every day, he impeded decisions more than he made them.

“Will I see you at the pub later?” he asked.

Timothy shook his head. “Probably not. I’ll be at dinner in town, but it’s a family dinner at one of the nicest hotels on the quay. Ruben O’Keefe is paying. They’re expecting some uncle out of Canterbury, so probably a sheep baron of some kind.” Timothy sounded indifferent. He couldn’t help but dread the prospect of more family arriving to try to keep Elaine on the South Island.

Matt waved at him. “Then enjoy yourself! And wish me luck. I’ll let you know tomorrow how it went.”

Timothy watched his friend go, casually jumping over a barrier to reach the platform more quickly. Matt spoke to the older gentleman politely and then took his bag with a smile. At least the young foreman would have the chance to convince Marvin’s new investor of his expertise during the tour of the mine. Timothy really did wish him luck. But he envied him even more.

Elaine looked lovely as she greeted Timothy in front of the hotel. She was wearing her dark-blue dress and stroking the horse that her father had ridden over and that now stood next to Banshee. It was a family reunion for the animals, too. It turned out that the black horse was Banshee’s foal that Elaine had left behind in Queenstown after she had gotten married. Timothy hoped she did not want to take him overseas now too.

Timothy had asked Roly drive him that evening. His ride that morning had been as much as he could handle. In order to work off his impotent rage, he had stretched it out more than two hours. Besides, he was wearing his evening clothes. This uncle of hers was some sort of important personality, and Elaine had hinted that there was something to celebrate. “They didn’t tell me what it was, but Uncle George telegraphed my father yesterday and he was very happy after that and spoke to the hotel about this dinner. There’ll be champagne!”

Although Elaine was clearly excited about the evening, Timothy’s enthusiasm was limited. He was beginning to fear meeting new people
rather than looking forward to it. Too often they seemed embarrassed just by the fact of being introducing to him. They desperately sought topics of conversation that didn’t touch on any taboo subjects and were visibly uncomfortable standing or walking around in Timothy’s presence. If things kept up like this, he would become a hermit.

Timothy put a determined smile on his face and took Elaine in his arms. She was joyful and frolicsome and greeted him at once with a detailed description of the new store in Westport. Apparently, the location was ideal, right in the middle of town. And the town itself was lively and attractive and at least as big as Greymouth. Elaine could obviously imagine living there and running the store, and Timothy was all but ready to resign himself to it. Selling housewares and clothes couldn’t be all that bad.

The two crossed the hotel foyer, Timothy forcing himself with some effort to remain polite when a porter scurried around him as though he would happily have carried him to a room for a tip. He could not let himself be so sensitive as to think of every walk in public as some kind of gauntlet. Nevertheless, Timothy was relieved to discover that the table for Ruben O’Keefe and his guests was not located in the hotel’s luxurious main dining room but in a no less elegantly decorated side room. Elaine’s father, her brother Stephen, and the heralded Uncle George were already standing with drinks in their hands at the window, which boasted a view of the quay and a choppy sea.

All three of the men were looking outside and only turned to Timothy and Elaine when they came closer. Timothy greeted Ruben and Stephen before looking with surprise into the inquisitive brown eyes of the man Matt had picked up from the train station that morning. Elaine greeted him before Timothy, however, and the man she called her uncle embraced her. The older gentleman hugged her firmly before she pulled away, laughing.

“So we finally have you back, Lainie,” he said. “My compliments, child. I never would have thought someone could hide from me on this island.”

Lainie smiled, embarrassed, and took the glass of champagne that her father offered her.

Timothy used the break to finally reach out his hand to “Uncle George,” who introduced himself with a firm handshake and self-assured gaze. “George Greenwood,” he said. He didn’t even seem to notice Timothy’s crutches and leg splints.

“Didn’t I see you at the train station this morning?” he asked before Timothy could even give his name. “You were there with that Mr. Gawain who showed me around the Lambert Mine.”

“And? Did you like it?” Timothy blurted out. He became aware of his faux pas at once. “Forgive me. I should introduce myself first. Timothy Lambert.”