In the Land of the Long White Cloud

explained. “Kiri having baby in winter. That why she feels bad today all day and can’t smell meat. I tell her, she not to serve, but…”
    “So sorry, miss,” Kiri moaned.
    Gwyneira thought with a silent sigh that they had just hit the lowest point of this botched evening. Did the unfortunate creature have to blurt out that news—of all things—in front of Gerald? However, there was nothing Kiri could do about feeling sick, and Gwyneira forced herself to smile reassuringly.
    “But that’s no reason to apologize, Kiri,” she said kindly. “On the contrary, it’s a reason to feel happy. But you must take it easy the next few weeks. For the moment, go home and lie down. Witi and Moana will clean up here.”
    Kiri curtsied at least three times before Gerald, then disappeared amid more apologies. Gwyneira hoped that would appease him, but his countenance did not change, and he made no move to reassure the girl.
    Moana attempted to rescue a portion of the main course, but Gerald shooed her away impatiently.
    “Leave it, girl! I’ve lost my appetite anyway. Get out of here, go to your friend…or get pregnant yourself. But just leave me in peace!”
    The old man stood up and went to his liquor cabinet. Another whiskey double. Gwyneira could sense what awaited Lucas and herself. The servants, however, must not have realized it.
    “You heard him, Moana…and you too, Witi. The master’s giving you the evening off. Don’t worry about the kitchen. I’ll fetch the dessert myself if we’d like it later. You can clean the carpet tomorrow. Enjoy your evening.”
    “In village they’re doing rain dance, miss,” explained Witi as though to justify his departure. “That useful.” As though to prove it, he opened the top half of the Dutch door that led to the terrace. Gwyneira hoped a breeze would blow through, but the hot air outside did not stir. Drumbeats and song could be heard from the direction of the Maori village.
    “There you go,” Gwyneira said amiably to her servant. “You will make yourself more useful in the village than here. Just go. Mr. Warden is not feeling well.”
    She breathed a sigh when the door closed behind the butler. Moana and Witi wouldn’t waste any time, except to perhaps tidy up the kitchen. They would gather up their things and be gone within minutes.
    “A sherry to calm your nerves, my love?” Lucas asked.
    Gwyneira nodded. She wished, not for the first time, to be able to drink just once with the same lack of restraint as men. But Gerald did not give her a moment to enjoy her sherry. He had gulped down his whiskey and now stared at both of them with bloodshot eyes.
    “So this Maori hussy is pregnant now too. And old O’Keefe has a son. Everyone around here is fertile; everywhere there’s bleating and screaming and yelping. Only you two can’t seem to make anything happen. Where’s the problem, Miss Prude or Mister Limp Dick? Who’s the problem?”
    Gwyneira looked into her glass, mortified. The best thing to do was simply not to listen. The drums could still be heard outside. Gwyneira tried to concentrate on those and to forget about Gerald. Lucas, on the other hand, tried calmly to placate him.
    “Father, we don’t know what the problem is. It must be God’s will. You know that not every marriage is blessed with many children. You and Mother only had one child, you know.”
    “Your mother…” Gerald reached for the bottle again. He no longer even made the effort to pour himself a glass, and instead raised the bottle directly to his lips. “Your wonderful mother thought only of you, boy, you…she gave me an earful every night; that would drive the lust right out of even the best cocksman.” Gerald cast a hateful glance at the portrait of his dead wife.
    Gwyneira looked on with growing fear. The old man had never let himself get this carried away. Until this moment, Lucas’s mother had always been mentioned with the highest regard. Gwyneira knew that Lucas had deified her memory. She looked for an excuse, but there was nothing she could do. Gerald would not have listened to her anyway. He turned once again to Lucas.
    “But I didn’t fail,” he said, slurring. “Because you’re male if nothing else…or at least look the part. But are you really, Lucas Warden?” Gerald stood up and approached Lucas in a threatening manner. Gwyneira saw the rage blazing in his eyes.
    “Father…”
    “Answer, limp dick! Do you know what I’m saying? Or are you a