The Larnachs Read Online Free PDF Page B

said.
    ‘I’m certain it would mine, Conny, and I would do my very best to ensure yours.’
    ‘I’m mostly happy as I am. I don’t view marriage as either a necessity or a prize.’
    ‘The prize would be mine, of course,’ he said, so triumphantly that I had to laugh.
    There is a healthy frankness in William that I admire, and I brought a similar realism to my decision when he went on to offer marriage. Opportunity and greater social freedom were the things I most desired, and by marrying him I have moved fromthe limitations of spinsterhood in the family home. William loves me and he encourages in me the inclination to be involved in the wider world that was lacking in both Eliza and Mary. I have grown up in a family accustomed to public and political life, and have no doubt I can support and influence William in a good deal more than just domestic matters. Also I will make acquaintances of my own in Dunedin, as well as often having my sisters to visit, I hope, and friends such as Doris and Cecilia. I have no fear of the social rank and involvement expected of me as Mrs Larnach.
    I can best encourage William at present by consoling him for Kate’s unexpected death and efficiently managing affairs here. It is not how we expected our time together at The Camp to begin, but I am sure better days lie ahead. I have position, opportunity, a home that is the marvel of many and, most importantly, a husband who loves me.
    When William talked last night of Father, and of Wellington days before the wedding, I reminded him of the form of his proposal, its lack of ceremony, and he smiled, came to my chair, took my hand and kissed it. ‘I do so now,’ he said cheerfully, as he went down on one knee. And so we acted out a small charade of romanticism. ‘I plight my troth,’ he said with a music hall flourish, and took out his fob watch to mark the time. There is something quite special in such play and laughter between husband and wife.

Two
    K ate was the best of us. Father recognised that. Kate was most like Mother in her wish for people to be happy, and in her unselfish willingness to achieve that. I remember that, when The Camp was being built, Mother had her own ideas about the furnishings, but even there she cheerfully gave way before Father’s organising zeal. He seemed to be able to be everywhere, do everything, with a boisterous enthusiasm that carried all of us along.
    Gladys came back from school to be with Father for a time. So much younger than the rest of us, she’s always been his pet. Her presence is a consolation for him, and she and Conny get on well together, but Kate was an adult who had shared more of Father’s life, and remembered our mother well, whom she so much resembled in spirit. Father’s used to decisive action: at times he’s almost dictatorial, but his generous love for us has never beenin dispute. Well, not by me. Donny says with humour, and perhaps some bitterness, that I’m the favourite son, but Kate was the one in the family who understood Father best, loved him unreservedly and was most loved in return. When Kate died it was like a second death of our mother for him.
    He’s in a terrible place. ‘Slaughtered’ is the word he uses. Before the wedding it was financial and political worries that triggered an uncharacteristic despondency, but after the marriage he was almost exultant. I wonder if he thought Conny would refuse him? They bought the house in Molesworth Street after the honeymoon and as a couple were much in Wellington society, despite Father’s work on the commission. It was a pleasure to visit them. He was tolerant again of people he’d begun to complain about as petty or uninspired. Conny says he even allowed her to update his clothes somewhat, and smiled when she ribbed him about it in front of others. I remember Mother saying that as a young man he was something of a dandy, wearing colourful velvet jackets and high starched collars and carrying a silver-topped cane.