merriness here and there.”
Elaine wondered whether Kura, too, practiced the art of
whaikorero
. Or had she read that sentence somewhere?
“A sometimes heartbreaking merriness,” William affirmed.
“Well, as long as the support for the law doesn’t succeed in changing the upper house’s mind,” Ruben opined, trying to get back to Leonard’s topic.
“Which reminds me…” Fleurette joined the discussion using the sweet, innocuous tone she always used when the spy within her awoke. “Leonard, have you ever heard anything about an attempt on the life of Mr. Morley of Blackburn? Ireland’s chief secretary?” She watched William out of the corner of her eye as she asked the question.
The young man almost choked on his piece of roast. Elaine didn’t miss his reaction either.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Martyn?” she asked with concern.
William waved the question off impatiently.
The constable shrugged. “Oh Fleur, there’s always something happening in that country. From what I understand, they’re always arresting would-be terrorists of one kind or another. I occasionally receive wanted posters when the boys get away. But we haven’t nabbed any of them here. They all go to America, and normally they come to their senses there. Childish antics—thank God without any serious consequences in the last few years.”
William exploded. “You see the fight for a free Ireland as a childish antic?” he asked furiously.
Elaine laid her hand on his arm. “Oh dear, that’s not what he meant. Mr. Martyn is a patriot, Mr. McDunn.”
William shook her off.
Leonard laughed. “Most Irish are. And they have our sympathy without question, Mr. Martyn. But that’s precisely why one can’t go around shooting people or blowing them up! Think of the bystanders who so often become casualties.”
William did not respond further. It occurred to him that he was well on his way toward behaving poorly.
“So you’re a freedom fighter, William?” Kura-maro-tini suddenly asked, her big eyes seeking his. William could not tell whether he melted under her gaze or grew by leaps and bounds.
“I wouldn’t necessarily put it that way,” he murmured, trying for a humble tone.
“But William did stand up for the Land League,” Elaine explained proudly, marking her possession by letting her hand drift over to his arm. Callie growled beneath the table. The puppy did not like it when someone touched her mistress, and the opposite was even worse. “For the tenants on his father’s farm.”
“Your father has a farm?” Gwyneira asked.
William nodded. “Yes, Mrs. McKenzie, he’s a sheep breeder. But I’m the younger son, so there is nothing for me to inherit. I have to set about making my own fortune.”
“Sheep. We have some of those ourselves,” Kura remarked, as though the animals were a burden.
Fleurette could not help but notice William’s rapt expression as Gwyneira went on to describe Kiward Station.
For Elaine, the evening dragged on just as the one before it had. She wasn’t usually bored when William was with her, but until that night he had always focused his attention entirely on her—making jokes, furtively brushing his leg against her under the table, or casually stroking her hand. That evening, he was fixated on Kura. Perhaps she should not have told him how much the girl got on her nerves; no doubt William now wanted to distract her. But he could at least have saved up a few kind words for his sweetheart!
Elaine comforted herself with the thought that she would be able to see him out after dinner. He would kiss her under the starry sky as he had many times before, and they would exchange a few intimate words. She would have to put Callie away first, however. The little dog always protested fervently whenever William got too close to her mistress.
If only Kura’s musical performance would end. As on the previous night, she played for the assembled family and guests, and William appeared to listen
Elaine wondered whether Kura, too, practiced the art of
whaikorero
. Or had she read that sentence somewhere?
“A sometimes heartbreaking merriness,” William affirmed.
“Well, as long as the support for the law doesn’t succeed in changing the upper house’s mind,” Ruben opined, trying to get back to Leonard’s topic.
“Which reminds me…” Fleurette joined the discussion using the sweet, innocuous tone she always used when the spy within her awoke. “Leonard, have you ever heard anything about an attempt on the life of Mr. Morley of Blackburn? Ireland’s chief secretary?” She watched William out of the corner of her eye as she asked the question.
The young man almost choked on his piece of roast. Elaine didn’t miss his reaction either.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Martyn?” she asked with concern.
William waved the question off impatiently.
The constable shrugged. “Oh Fleur, there’s always something happening in that country. From what I understand, they’re always arresting would-be terrorists of one kind or another. I occasionally receive wanted posters when the boys get away. But we haven’t nabbed any of them here. They all go to America, and normally they come to their senses there. Childish antics—thank God without any serious consequences in the last few years.”
William exploded. “You see the fight for a free Ireland as a childish antic?” he asked furiously.
Elaine laid her hand on his arm. “Oh dear, that’s not what he meant. Mr. Martyn is a patriot, Mr. McDunn.”
William shook her off.
Leonard laughed. “Most Irish are. And they have our sympathy without question, Mr. Martyn. But that’s precisely why one can’t go around shooting people or blowing them up! Think of the bystanders who so often become casualties.”
William did not respond further. It occurred to him that he was well on his way toward behaving poorly.
“So you’re a freedom fighter, William?” Kura-maro-tini suddenly asked, her big eyes seeking his. William could not tell whether he melted under her gaze or grew by leaps and bounds.
“I wouldn’t necessarily put it that way,” he murmured, trying for a humble tone.
“But William did stand up for the Land League,” Elaine explained proudly, marking her possession by letting her hand drift over to his arm. Callie growled beneath the table. The puppy did not like it when someone touched her mistress, and the opposite was even worse. “For the tenants on his father’s farm.”
“Your father has a farm?” Gwyneira asked.
William nodded. “Yes, Mrs. McKenzie, he’s a sheep breeder. But I’m the younger son, so there is nothing for me to inherit. I have to set about making my own fortune.”
“Sheep. We have some of those ourselves,” Kura remarked, as though the animals were a burden.
Fleurette could not help but notice William’s rapt expression as Gwyneira went on to describe Kiward Station.
For Elaine, the evening dragged on just as the one before it had. She wasn’t usually bored when William was with her, but until that night he had always focused his attention entirely on her—making jokes, furtively brushing his leg against her under the table, or casually stroking her hand. That evening, he was fixated on Kura. Perhaps she should not have told him how much the girl got on her nerves; no doubt William now wanted to distract her. But he could at least have saved up a few kind words for his sweetheart!
Elaine comforted herself with the thought that she would be able to see him out after dinner. He would kiss her under the starry sky as he had many times before, and they would exchange a few intimate words. She would have to put Callie away first, however. The little dog always protested fervently whenever William got too close to her mistress.
If only Kura’s musical performance would end. As on the previous night, she played for the assembled family and guests, and William appeared to listen
Similar Books
