Song of the Spirits (39 page)

Kura was naturally all in favor of a trip to Christchurch, and Heather Witherspoon no less so. William headed off willingly, though he was quite a bit more interested in speaking with other livestock barons than in the music. Gwyneira gave the governess the time off against her will. She remained dissatisfied with Miss Witherspoon’s work with regard to Jack and the Maori children’s education. Yet Heather so rarely asked for leave that Gwyneira could hardly deny it.

“Maybe she’ll fall for a singer and decamp,” James said hopefully.

That, however, was not to be. Heather’s feelings had long since been spoken for. For, even if William had yet to show any interest—still dreaming as he was of once more conquering “Fort Kura”—there was a reason she sat with him nearly every evening. At some point, he would recognize the woman in her. At least she hoped that would be the case. In the books and magazines that she read, it always came about by accident. A woman only had to be soft, patient, and, above all, available until the right moment presented itself.

So Kura, William, and Heather traveled to Christchurch, and upon Roderick Barrister’s first glance into the audience, his gaze fell on Kura-maro-tini.

“I’ll be damned, have you seen the girl down there?” Roderick simply had to give voice to his awe.

Bored, Sabina peeked through a hole in curtain to where he indicated. “Which one? I see at least ten. And after the performance they’ll all be eating out of your hand. Do you want to do the Tamino first or the Don José?”

“We’ll start with the Mozart,” Roderick murmured without thinking. “But how can you see ten girls out there? Next to this one
the entire hall fades into nothingness! That hair and that face, there’s something wonderfully unusual about her. And the way she moves, she looks like a born dancer.”

You do have a weakness for dancers,” Sabina sighed. “Brigitte and Stephanie will soon be clawing each other’s eyes out over you again. Try to restrain yourself. Now go get your makeup put on. The ‘nothingness’ is waiting to be entertained!”

The company performed scenes from
The Magic Flute, Carmen
, and
Il Trovatore
. From the last, they sang the famous quartet from the final scene, which no one in the ensemble could perform very well. The troupe’s mezzo-soprano in particular—a young girl who was primarily a dancer and who had only studied a bit of singing on the side—made a horrendous Azucena. However, she could hardly be heard as the men were doing their best to sing loudly to make up for the fact that they could not sing well. Sabina had already declared that she planned to take the stage with her ears plugged the next time. Her Leonora could certainly not sound any worse.

In the entire complaisant Christchurch audience, only one listener noticed the weakness of the performance, and she was concentrating on the women’s voices. So that was opera? You needed do nothing more than sign on to an international ensemble? On the one hand, Kura was disappointed; on the other, she was seized by hope. This girl who was cawing Azucena, who had also squawked Carmen like a crow, was far less talented than Kura. And these sopranos! But Kura liked the tenor. Though he did not hit every note, she thought that might be due to his partners. In any event, he made Kura’s heart sing—she would have loved more than anything to join him when his duet from
Carmen
failed miserably, and she was confident that she would have performed Pamina better than that soprano. Besides, the man was handsome, exactly as she had pictured Manrico and Tamino and all the others. Although Kura knew the performance was third-rate,
she had never wanted anything as much as she wanted to stand on the stage here.

Heather Witherspoon could likewise have judged the quality of the singing, but she was too preoccupied with being in love. William sat between Kura and her—how easy it was to imagine that he belonged to her and that she would be escorting him to the reception George Greenwood had arranged for the performers and the most important guests afterward. Only William and Kura had been invited, of course. Nevertheless, for two hours, Heather enjoyed dreaming of an alternate world, and she could not have cared less whether the people up on the stage were singing in key or not.

William would very much have appreciated her company at the reception as well. As it was, he was hopelessly bored because, aside from the Greenwoods, there were hardly any worthwhile people present. The sheep barons of the plains were evidently not interested in song and dance, at least around sheepshearing time. The shearing companies had already arrived at the Richlands’, George was telling him.

“After that, I imagine they’ll head on to Kiward Station,” the merchant said. “Won’t you be needed there, Mr. Martyn?”

William could have blushed. Gwyneira had not said a word to him about when the shearing would be getting under way. Letting him come all the way to Christchurch was probably just another attempt to get him out of the way. By the time he got back, all the sheep would have been herded in and ready for shearing—and the workers would be running their mouths about the young master who preferred the opera to work.

William boiled with rage, and Kura’s behavior did nothing to placate him. Instead of staying at his side like a good wife—which she normally did out of indifference toward the other guests—she
was flitting from one singer to the next. One dark-haired pretty boy in particular seemed to have caught her eye.

“Really? You sing, Miss…?” the man asked, with that covetous expression that every man’s face assumed whenever Kura was present.

“Warden… Oh, no, Martyn. Mrs. Martyn.” Kura’s marital status only seemed to occur to her at the last moment. The singer appeared disappointed. William could have beaten Kura.

He wondered whether he should continue to eavesdrop on their conversation but decided not to torment himself further. Instead, he headed to the bar. A whiskey would perk him up. And he could keep an eye on Kura just as well from there. It was not that William was jealous; he knew that every man fell for Kura at first sight. Why should it be otherwise for this singer? If he challenged every fellow who cast covetous looks at Kura to a fight, he would hardly have time to sleep. William trusted Kura: if she would not let him into her bed, she would not grant the honor to someone else. And as soon as she left this room, he would be at her side again, as long as the idea of shutting him out of their shared hotel room did not cross her mind.

For the moment, however, Kura was smiling at Roderick. She had a breathtaking smile.

“I wanted to be a singer. I’m a mezzo-soprano. But then love got in the way.”

“And robbed the world of a wonder like you? The muses should not have allowed such a thing to happen,” Roderick said. He did not for a moment believe that she had an extraordinary gift. She was just another of these women who far overestimated the few hours of piano classes they had taken, though several of them had shown themselves willing to share in his genius for a few hours at least. “In case you should reconsider,” he said indulgently, “we’re here for another week. You’re welcome to sing for me.”

Kura was beaming as she practically danced through the hotel’s corridors at William’s side.

“William, I always knew it! I knew I could sing opera, and the impresario thinks I should audition. Oh, William, I should! First thing
tomorrow! Maybe I don’t need to do all that tedious studying. Maybe we could just go to London, and I could audition, and then—”

“Sweetest, I would be more than happy to let you audition, but we must return to the farm tomorrow.” William had decided that rather spontaneously after his third whiskey. “I just learned that the shearing companies are on the march, and I’m needed there. I can’t leave all the shearing work to Gwyneira and James.”

“Oh, they’ve managed for twenty years without you,” Kura told him, not incorrectly. “Please, let me have just one day! Let me sing for this Mr. Barrister, and then—”

“We’ll see.” Kura had taken his hand, and William began to hope for a dreamy night in her arms. He kissed her when they entered the room, and felt his hopes confirmed when she kissed him back hungrily. He let his lips drift slowly down her throat, kissing the tops of her breasts that her evening dress revealed, and began to run his hands down her dress.

“My God, Kura, you’re so beautiful. People would pay any price to see you onstage whether you sing or not,” he whispered huskily. Kura let him undress her. Then she was standing naked before him, allowing him to caress and kiss her body, and finally she sank down on the bed with him, where his mouth explored the interior of her thighs and then teased her most intimate body parts. She moaned, letting out tiny cries, and quickly came to climax. She embraced him happily, stroked his hair, and began to tease him, finally moving to straddle him while caressing his chest with her hair.

“Wait,” William cried. “Wait, I need to take my pants off.” He felt that his member might soon burst through his trousers. He ripped them off and set himself free, wanting Kura on top of him, above him, to take him into her, to become one with her, as she had done so many times before. Kura withdrew firmly.

“Kura, you can’t,” William said, mustering all his willpower not to seize her long, unbound hair and pull her to him, not to grasp her shoulder and take her by force. It was too much. It was simply too much.

But Kura only looked at him, uncomprehending. “I already told you that I don’t want to have any more babies. Especially now that it’s
probably going to work out with my singing. I don’t want another baby!”

William tumbled out of bed. If he stayed there even a moment longer, he would take her against her will. No one could expect him to let her arouse him to just before the point of climax and then sleep beside her as though they were brother and sister. His erection was ebbing slowly, but he needed to leave. He would find the bathroom and give himself relief, and then see if there was another room available. Though it would be so embarrassing to ask for one at the front desk.

On the way to the bathroom, he ran into Heather Witherspoon. Normally that would have been awkward for him, half-dressed as he was, but she only smiled casually at him. She was far from formally dressed herself. William let his gaze wander over her. Her hair fell over her shoulders, and her feet were bare. And her face lit up when she saw him.