In the Land of the Long White Cloud

than to die. Or even better, that this being that held tight in her womb like an evil parasite should die.
    “Just come out,” she moaned. “Just come out and leave me in peace.”
    After nearly two full days of torture—and, toward the end, of almost maniacal hatred for everyone who had done this to her—Gwyneira gave birth to a son. She felt nothing but relief.
    “Such a beautiful little boy, miss!” Rongo beamed. “Like Matahorua said. Wait, I’ll wash him off, and then you can hold him. We’ll give him a little time before we cut the umbilical cord.”
    Gwyneira shook her head wildly. “No, cut it, Rongo. And take him away. I don’t want to hold him. I want to sleep…have to rest…”
    “But that you can do in minute. Look at baby first. Here, isn’t sweet?” Rongo had expertly cleaned the baby and laid it at Gwyneira’s breast. He was making his first suckling motions. Gwyneira pushed it away. Fine, it was healthy, it was complete with all its tiny fingers and toes, but she still didn’t like it.
    “Take it away, Rongo!” she demanded with authority.
    Rongo did not understand. “But where should I take it, miss? It need its mother!”
    Gwyneira shrugged. “Take it to Mr. Warden. He wanted an heir; now he has it. He should figure out what to do with it. Just leave me in peace. Will it take long, Rongo? Oh, God, no, it’s starting again…” Gwyneira moaned. “It can’t really take another three hours before the afterbirth comes out.”
    “Is now tired, miss. Is normal,” Kiri said in a conciliatory tone when an anxious Rongo came into the kitchen with the baby. Kiri and Moana were busy cleaning up after the dinner that Gerald had taken by himself. Little Marama slumbered in a small basket.
    “That isn’t normal!” Rongo contradicted her. “Matahorua has brought thousands of children into the world, but no mother has acted like Miss Warden.”
    “Oh, every mother is different,” maintained Kiri, thinking back to the morning when she had found Gwyneira lying on the floor in her room in a torn dress. There was a great deal to suggest that this child had been conceived that night. Gwyneira might have her reasons for not loving it.
    “And what I now do with it?” Rongo asked hesitantly. “I can’t take it to Mr. Warden. He can’t have children around him.”
    Kiri laughed. “Baby needs also milk, no whiskey. Start with that soon enough. No, no, Rongo, leave it just here.” Calmly she unbuttoned her servant’s dress, unveiled her plump breasts, and took the child from Rongo’s arms. “That now better.”
    The newborn began to suckle greedily at once. Kiri rocked him gently. When he finally fell asleep at her breast, she laid him next to Marama in her basket.
    “Tell miss, it well looked after.”
    Gwyneira did not even want to know. She was already asleep and did not ask about the baby in the morning either. Only when Witi brought in a bouquet of flowers and gestured at the card hanging from them did she show any reaction at all.
    “From Mr. Warden.”
    An expression of revulsion and hatred, but also of curiosity, crossed her face. She tore the card open.
    I thank you for Paul Gerald Terence
.
    Gwyneira screamed, flung the flowers across the room, and ripped the card into shreds.
    “Witi!” she ordered the shocked butler. “Or better, Rongo, words won’t fail you! Go immediately to Mr. Warden, and tell him the baby will only be named Paul Terence, or I’ll strangle it in the crib.”
    Witi did not understand, but Rongo looked horrified.
    “I’ll tell him,” she promised quietly.

    Three days later the Wardens’ heir was baptized Paul Terence Lucas. His mother stayed far from the celebration; she was indisposed. But her servants knew better. Gwyneira had yet to even look at the child.

7
    “W hen are you finally going to introduce Paul to me?” Helen asked impatiently. Naturally, Gwyneira was not able to ride immediately after giving birth, and even now, four weeks later, she came with Fleur in the coach. However, this was her third visit, and to all appearances she had recovered from the strain of the delivery. Helen only wondered why she did not bring the baby along. After Fleur’s birth Gwyneira had not been able to wait to show off her little daughter to her friend. Yet she hardly mentioned her son. And even now, when Helen inquired about him explicitly, Gwyneira only made a dismissive gesture with her hand.
    “Oh, soon. It’s tiresome, carrying him