Song of the Spirits Read Free

their tenants starve by the thousands. Some gentlemen! But your miner could hardly be among them. They cling to their dirt.”
    “How do you know so much about Ireland?” Elaine asked, intrigued. The brothel’s proprietress fascinated her, but she rarely had the opportunity to speak at length with her.
    Daphne smiled. “Sweetheart, I am Irish. On paper at least. And when the immigrants get mopey around me, that is a great comfort to them. I’ve even been practicing my accent.” Daphne lapsed into an Irish drawl, and even Helen laughed. In reality, Daphne had been born somewhere near the docks in London, but she went by the name of an Irish immigrant. A certain Birdie O’Rourke had not survived the passage to New Zealand, and her passport had fallen into Daphne’s hands by way of an English sailor.
    “Come, Paddy, you can call me Birdie.”
    Elaine giggled. “That’s not how he talks though… William, our new guest.”
    “William?” Helen asked indignantly. “The young man has you calling him by his first name?”
    Elaine shook her head quickly to deter her grandmother from forming any resentment toward the new resident.
    “Of course not. I simply read it on his forms. His name is Martyn. William Martyn.”
    “Not exactly an Irish name,” Daphne remarked. “No Irish name, no Irish accent… assuming everything is aboveboard. If I were you, Mrs. O’Keefe, I would sound the boy out first thing!”
    Elaine fixed her with a rancorous look. “He’s an upstanding man, I know it! He even wants to buy his mining equipment from our shop.”
    The thought comforted her. When William came to the store, she would see him again, regardless what her grandmother thought about him.
    “That, of course, makes him a man of honor,” Daphne teased. “But come, Mrs. O’Keefe, let’s talk about something else. I’ve heard you’ll soon be receiving a visitor from Kiward Station. Is it Mrs. McKenzie?”
    Elaine listened to the conversation a little longer, but then went on her way. After all, her other grandmother and her cousin’s visit had already been discussed extensively in recent days. Not that Gwyneira’s fly-by-night visits were so sensational. She visited her children and grandchildren often and was, moreover, close friends with Helen O’Keefe. Whenever she stayed at Helen’s hotel, the women oftentalked all night long. The only thing that was unusual about this visit was that Gwyneira was to be accompanied by Elaine’s cousin Kura. That had never happened before, and it did seem… well, scandalous. Fleurette and Helen usually lowered their voices when discussing this subject, and they had not allowed the children to read Gwyneira’s letter. Kura did not seem to think much of traveling, at least not to visit her relatives in Queenstown.
    Though Elaine was only a year older than Kura, Elaine hardly knew her. The girls had never had much to say to each other during Elaine’s rare visits to Kiward Station. They were simply too different. When Elaine was there, she thought of nothing except riding and sheepherding. She was fascinated by the endless expanse of grassland and the hundreds upon hundreds of wool providers grazing on it. In addition to that, her mother, Fleurette, blossomed on the farm. She loved racing with Elaine toward the snowcapped mountains, which never seemed to get any closer even when they were going at a breakneck gallop.
    Kura, on the other hand, preferred to remain in the house or garden and only had eyes for her new piano, which had been sent from England to Christchurch with a goods shipment for the O’Keefes. Elaine thought her a complete idiot because of that, but then again, she had only been twelve years old the last time she visited. And envy had no doubt also played a role. Kura was the heiress of Kiward Station. All the horses, sheep, and dogs would someday belong to her—and she didn’t appreciate any of it!
    Elaine was now sixteen and Kura fifteen. The girls were sure to have