In the Land of the Long White Cloud

the first few days after Lucas’s departure, they were brought together by their mutual concern over what might have happened to him or what he might have done to himself. Attempts to track him down proved fruitless, and after a great deal of contemplation, Gwyneira did not believe he had resorted to suicide. She had looked through Lucas’s things and established that a few simple articles of clothing were missing—to her astonishment, precisely those that her husband had liked the least. Lucas had packed work clothes, rain gear, underwear, and a very small amount of money. That fit with the old horse and the old saddle: he clearly did not want to take anything from Gerald; the separation should be a clean break. It hurt Gwyneira that he had left her without a word. As far as she could tell, he had not taken anything to remember her or their daughter by, with the exception of a pocketknife she had once given him as a gift. It appeared that she hadn’t meant anything to him; the transient friendship that had bound the couple had not even been worth a farewell letter to him.
    Gerald inquired about his son in Haldon—which naturally provided fodder for the gossip mill—as well as in Christchurch, with more discretion and the help of George Greenwood. Neither provided any answers; Lucas Warden had not been seen in either place.
    “God only knows where he could be,” Gwyneira said, airing her grief to Helen. “In Otago, in the gold diggers’ camps, on the West Coast, maybe even on the North Island. Gerald wants to haveinquiries made, but that’s hopeless. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be found.”
    Helen shrugged and put the inevitable teakettle on. “Maybe it’s for the best. It certainly wasn’t good for him to be so completely dependent on Gerald. Now he can prove himself—and Gerald will no longer pester you for not having a child. But why did he disappear so suddenly? Was there really no reason? No fight?”
    Gwyneira said no, reddening as she did so. She had told no one, not even her best friend, about her rape. If she kept it to herself, she hoped, the memory would eventually fade. Then it would be as though the evening had never happened, as though it had been an ugly nightmare. Gerald seemed to look at the incident the same way. He was exceptionally polite to Gwyneira, rarely looked at her, and took pains to not even touch her. They saw one another at mealtimes, so as not to give the servants reason to gossip, and managed at those times to make small talk. Gerald still drank as before, but now generally waited until after dinner when Gwyneira had already retired. Gwyneira took Helen’s favorite student, the now fifteen-year-old Rongo Rongo, for her personal lady’s maid, and insisted that the girl sleep in her room to always be at hand. She hoped to hold off any new assaults by Gerald, but her concern was unfounded. Gerald’s behavior remained irreproachable. In that sense, Gwyneira might have been able to forget that fateful summer night at some point. But there were, in fact, consequences. When she missed her period for the second time and Rongo Rongo smiled meaningfully when dressing her, stroking her stomach, Gwyneira was forced to admit that she was pregnant.

    “I don’t want to have it!” she said, sobbing after riding at full speed to Helen. She had not been able to wait for school to end to speak to her friend. Helen could tell by her horrified countenance that something terrible must have happened. She let the children go early, sent Fleur and Ruben to play outside, and took Gwyneira into her arms.
    “Did they find Lucas?” she asked quietly.
    Gwyneira looked at her as though she were crazy. “Lucas? What about Lucas…oh, it’s much worse, Helen; I’m pregnant! And I don’t want to have the baby!”
    “You’re a mess,” Helen murmured, leading her friend into the house. “Come now, I’ll make some tea, and then we’ll talk about it. Why in heaven’s name aren’t you happy about the baby? You’ve been trying for years to have one after all, and now…or are you afraid that the baby might come too late? Is it not Lucas’s?” Helen looked searchingly at Gwyneira. She had sometimes suspected that there was a secret behind Fleur’s birth—no woman could miss the way Gwyneira’s eyes lit up at the sight of James McKenzie. But she hadn’t seen the two of them together for a long time. And Gwyneira would never be so stupid as to take a lover right after