In the Land of the Long White Cloud

unpleasant.
    Gwyneira slipped out of her tea gown in low spirits. She was tired of always changing for dinner, and her corset pinched in the heat. But she could dispense with that for today, as she was slender enough to fit into the loose-hanging summer dress she had chosen without it. Without her fish-bone armor, she felt instantly better. She quickly fixed her hair and ran down the steps. Lucas and Gerald stood waiting in front of the fireplace, each with a glass of whiskey in his hand. The mood seemed peaceful, and Gwyneira smiled at both of them.
    “Is Fleur already in bed?” Lucas inquired. “I haven’t even said good night to her yet.”
    This was without a doubt the wrong thing to say. Gwyneira had to change the subject quickly.
    “She was half-dead from exhaustion. Your painting lesson in the garden was certainly stimulating, but also taxing in the heat. And she couldn’t sleep this afternoon because it was so hot. Oh, and there was the excitement over the puppies, of course.”
    Gwyneira bit her lip. She was making it worse. As expected, Gerald pounced at once.
    “So that dog’s had another litter, then?” he grumbled. “And once again without complications, right? If only her mistress could learn a thing or two from her. It always goes so quickly with the animals. In heat, mate, pregnant. What’s wrong with the two of you, my little princess? Are you never in heat, or—”
    “Father, it’s time to eat,” Lucas interrupted him in measured tones as always. “Please calm yourself and don’t insult Gwyneira. There’s nothing she can do about it.”
    “So, the problem lies with you, you…perfect gentleman!” Gerald spat the words out. “Have you completely forgotten the genteel upbringing your mother gave you, eh?”
    “Gerald, not in front of the help,” said Gwyneira with a side-glance at Kiri, who had just entered the room and was about to serve the first course. It was something light, a salad, and she knew that Gerald would eat little of it. She hoped that the evening would be over all the more quickly for that. She could withdraw as soon as dinner was over.
    But this time the otherwise affable and reliable Kiri provoked an incident. The girl had worked herself to the bone all day and now looked tired as she served her employers. Gwyneira wanted to talk to her about it but let it go. Intimate conversations with the help were among the things that always set Gerald off. So she did not say a word about Kiri’s inept serving. After all, everyone had had a bad day.
    Moana, who had become a rather skillful cook by this time, knew exactly what her employers wanted. She knew Gwyneira and Lucas’s preference for light summertime fare, but was also aware that Gerald insisted on at least one meat course. Lamb was served as the main course, and Kiri seemed even more exhausted and inattentive than earlier as she brought out the food. The aroma of the roast mixed with the heavy scent of the roses Lucas had cut in the garden earlier. Gwyneira found the combination obtrusive, almost nauseating, and it seemed that Kiri felt the same way. When she moved to place a slice of lamb in front of Gerald, she suddenly began to sway. Gwyneira leaped up in shock as the girl collapsed beside Gerald’s chair.
    Without stopping to consider whether it was appropriate to do so, she knelt beside Kiri, shaking the girl as Lucas attempted to clear the plate shards and to provisionally clean the meat juice off the carpet. Witi, who had seen the whole thing, helped his master and called Moana. The cook hurried out to cool Kiri’s forehead with a rag soaked in ice water.
    Gerald Warden observed the scene with a scowl. The incident further darkened his already bad mood. Damn it, Kiward Station was supposed to be a household worthy of the high nobility. Had anyone ever heard of a serving girl fainting in a London manor and then half the household, young master and mistress included, scurrying about her like domestics?
    It was evidently not a grave situation, as Kiri seemed to be coming to already. She looked around, horrified, at the mess she’d made.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Warden! It won’t happen again, I promise!” Fearfully, she turned toward the master of the house, who looked her over mercilessly. Witi was wiping at Gerald’s sauce-splattered suit.
    “That wasn’t your fault, Kiri,” Gwyneira said gently. “It can happen in weather such as this.”
    “It’s not the weather, miss. Is baby,” Moana