"Yes," he said. "I believe that when a man and woman marry, all the woman's property should become the man's. The way a dowry did in the old days. I know you've got a bit of money, and I'm telling you now that when we marry you're to sign it over to me. It's only fair you know what's in my mind While you're still single, and able to decide whether you want to do it."
It had never occurred to Meggie that she would retain her money; she had simply assumed when she married it would become Luke's, not hers. All save the most educated and sophisticated Australian women were reared to think themselves more or less the chattels of their men, and this was especially true of Meggie. Daddy had always ruled Fee and his children, and since his death Fee had deferred to Bob as his successor. The man owned the money, the house, his wife and his children. Meggie had never questioned his right to do so.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know signing any-thing was necessary, Luke. I thought that what was mine automatically became yours when we married."
"It used to be like that, but those stupid drongos in Canberra stopped it when they gave women the vote. I want everything to be fair and square between us, Meghann, so I'm telling you now how things are going to be." She laughed, "It's all right, Luke, I don't mind."
She took it like a good old-fashioned wife; Dot wouldn't have given in so readily. "How much have you got?" he asked.
"At the moment, fourteen thousand pounds. Every year I get two thousand more."
He whistled. "Fourteen thousand pounds! Phew! That's a lot of money, Meghann. Better to have me look after it for you. We can see the bank manager next week, and remind me to make sure everything coming in in the future gets put in my name, too. I'm not going to touch a penny of it, you know that. It's to buy our station later on. For the next few years we're both going to work hard, and save every penny we earn. All right?" She nodded. "Yes, Luke."
A simple oversight on Luke's part nearly scotched the wedding in midplan. He was not a Catholic. When Father Watty found out he threw up his hands in horror.
"Dear Lord, Luke, why didn't you tell me earlier? Indeed and to goodness, it will take all of our energies to have you converted and baptized before the wedding!"
Luke stared at Father Watty, astonished. "Who said anything about converting, Father? I'm quite happy as I am being nothing, but if it worries you, write me down as a Calathumpian or a Holy Roller or whatever you like. But write me down a Catholic you will not."
In vain they pleaded; Luke refused to entertain idea of conversion for a moment. "I've got nothing against Catholicism or Eire, and I think the Catholics in Ulster are hard done by. But I'm Orange, and I'm not a turncoat. If I was a Catholic and you wanted me to convert to Methodism, I'd react the same. It's being a turncoat I object to, not being a Catholic. So you'll have to do without me in the flock, Father, and that's that."
"Then you can't get married!"
"Why on earth not? If you don't want to marry us, I can't see why the Reverend up at the Church of England will object, or Harry Gough the J.P." Fee smiled sourly, remembering her contretemps with Paddy and a priest; she had won that encounter.
"But, Luke, I have to be married in church!" Meggie protested fearfully. "If I'm not, I'll be living in sin!"
"Well, as far as I'm concerned, living in sin is a lot better than turning my coat inside out," said Luke, who was sometimes a curious contradiction; much as he wanted Meggie's money, a blind streak of stubbornness in him wouldn't let him back down.
"Oh, stop all this silliness!" said Fee, not to Luke but to the priest. "Do what Paddy and I did and have an end to argument! Father Thomas can marry you in the presbytery if he doesn't want to soil his church!" Everyone stared at her, amazed, but it did the trick; Father Watkin gave in and agreed to marry them in the presbytery, though he refused to bless the ring.
Partial Church sanction left Meggie feeling she was sinning, but not badly enough to go to Hell, and ancient Annie the presbytery housekeeper did her best to make Father Watty's study as churchlike as possible, with great vases of flowers and many brass candlesticks. But it was an uncomfortable ceremony, the very displeased priest making everyone feel he only went through with it to save himself the embarrassment of a secular wedding elsewhere. No Nuptial Mass, no blessings.
However, it was done. Meggie was Mrs. Luke O'neill, on her way to North Queensland and a honeymoon somewhat delayed by the time it would take getting there. Luke refused to spend that Saturday night at the Imperial, for the branch-line train to Goondiwindi left only once a week, on Saturday night, to connect with the Goondiwindi-Brisbane mail train on Sunday. This would bring them to Bris on Monday in time to catch the Cairns express.
The Goondiwindi train was crowded. They had no privacy and sat up all night because it carried no sleeping cars. Hour after hour it trundled its erratic, grumpy way northeast, stopping interminably every time the engine driver felt like brewing a billy of tea for himself, or to let a mob of sheep wander along the rails, or to have a yarn with a drover. "I wonder why they pronounce Goondiwindi Gundiwindi if they don't want to spell it that way?" Meggie asked idly as they waited in the only place open in Goondiwindi on a Sunday, the awful institutional-green station waiting room with its hard black wooden benches. Poor Meggie, she was nervous and ill at ease.
