In the Land of the Long White Cloud

“You’ve already cheated on your husband.”
    Gwyneira took a step back. “I never shared a bed with you, James McKenzie,” she said. “You know that very well. I would never have brought you into the house. That…that would’ve…it was different.”
    “And what was it? Gwyneira! Please don’t tell me that you were only using me like an animal for breeding.”
    Gwyneira just wanted to bring this conversation to an end. She could no longer bear his imploring gaze.
    “I asked you, James,” she said softly. “You agreed. To all the conditions. It’s not about what I want. It’s about what’s right. I’m a Silkham, James. I can’t walk away from my obligations. Whether you understand or not. In any event it can’t be changed. From now on…”
    “Gwyneira? What’s going on? Weren’t you supposed to meet me fifteen minutes ago?”
    Gwyneira and James hurriedly separated as Lucas entered the stables. He rarely came around there of his own free will, but the day before Gwyneira had promised him that she would finally start sitting for an oil painting the next day. She only agreed because she felt sorry for him—Gerald had once again torn him apart, and Gwyneiraknew that she could end all this torture with a word. But she had not been able to bring herself to talk about her pregnancy before breaking the news to James. So she had thought of sitting for the painting to comfort Lucas. What’s more, she would have plenty of time and leisure to sit still on a stool in the months ahead.
    “I’m coming, Lucas. I had…a small problem, and Mr. McKenzie helped me fix it. Thank you very much, Mr. McKenzie.” Gwyneira managed to speak calmly and smile benignly at James, but hoped that she didn’t look too distraught. If only James had been able to keep his feelings under control. His desperate, wounded expression broke her heart.
    Fortunately, Lucas did not notice. He only saw the picture he would be sketching of Gwyneira.
    That evening Gwyneira told Lucas and Gerald that she was pregnant.

    Gerald was overjoyed. Lucas performed his duty as a gentleman, assuring Gwyneira that he was very happy and kissing her formally on the cheek. A few days later a costly pearl necklace arrived from Christchurch. Lucas presented it to Gwyneira as a token of gratitude and appreciation. Gerald rode to Haldon to celebrate that he would finally be a grandfather and paid for drinks for everyone in the pub for that night—with the exception of Howard O’Keefe, who was fortunately sober enough to clear the area as quickly as possible. When Helen learned from Howard that Gerald had made a public announcement about Gwyneira’s pregnancy, she was mortified.
    “You don’t think it’s embarrassing to me?” Gwyneira asked when she visited Helen two days later and learned that her friend had already heard the news. “But that’s just how he is. The exact opposite of Lucas. You wouldn’t think those two were even related.” She bit her lip almost as soon as she said it.
    Helen smiled. “As long as they’re both convinced of it.” she said equivocally.
    Gwyneira smiled. “Anyway, it’s finally here. You must tell me what I need to do in the next few months, so I don’t do anything wrong. And I’ll need to crochet some baby clothes. Do you think someone can learn to do that in nine months?”

11
    G wyneira’s pregnancy passed without incident. Even the infamous morning sickness of the first three months had been hardly noticeable. And so neither did she take seriously those warnings that her mother had been heaping on her practically since her marriage had been decided for heaven's sake to finally quit riding. Instead, Gwyneira took advantage of almost every pretty day to visit Helen or Mrs. Candler, thereby avoiding James. At first it was painful every time she looked at him, and they did their best not to see each other at all. When they did run into each other, they both looked away, embarrassed, trying not to see the pain and sorrow in the other’s eyes.
    So Gwyneira spent a great deal of time with Helen and little Ruben, learning to change him and sing lullabies while Helen knit baby clothes for Gwyneira.
    “Just no pink,” said Gwyneira, horrified when Helen started a bright onesie to use up leftover wool. “It’ll be a boy!”
    “Now how do you know that?” Helen replied. “A girl would be lovely too.”
    Gwyneira dreaded the possibility of not being able to provide the desired male offspring. She had