In the Land of the Long White Cloud

ahead of time.
    “Remember, Fleur, he can’t force you. Word may already have gotten out, in which case there might be a small scandal. But I assure you that Christchurch has gotten over other such affairs. Simply remain calm and make your stance clear.”
    Fleur, however, was not one for remaining calm.
    “I’m supposed to submit myself?” she fired back at Gerald. “I don’t need to consider it! I’ll drown myself before I marry that old man. I’m serious, Grandfather; I’ll throw myself in the lake!”
    Gwyneira had to smile. Where had Fleur even learned such dramatic language? Presumably from Helen’s books. Throwing herself in the pond near Kiward Station would hardly do her much harm. The water was flat, and thanks to her Maori friends, Fleur was an excellent swimmer.
    “Or I’ll take the veil!” Fleurette went on. There was not yet a convent in New Zealand, but that seemed to have escaped her at the moment. Up until then, Gwyneira had managed to see the humor in the situation. But then she heard Gerald’s voice and became alarmed. There was something foul…the old man must have drunk considerably more than Gwyneira thought. While she had been preparing Fleur? Or right at that moment, while Fleur was issuing her childish threats?
    “You absolutely will not take the veil, Fleurette! That is the last thing you will do. How do you even find pleasure rolling in the haywith your shitty little friend? Just wait, little one; others have been cracked before you. You need a man, Fleur, you…”
    Fleurette seemed to feel the threat now too. “Mother won’t allow me to marry yet anyway,” she said in a markedly quieter voice, a remark that just fueled Gerald’s rage.
    “Your mother will do what I want. I’m going to change your tune; you can count on that!” Just as she opened the door to escape, Gerald yanked the girl back. “You will all finally do what I want!”
    Gwyneira, who had been fearfully approaching the study, burst in when she heard that. She saw Fleurette being thrown into a chair, afraid and sobbing. Gerald moved to pounce on her, dropping a whiskey bottle that shattered on the floor. No great loss since the bottle was empty. It raced through Gwyneira’s mind that it had been three-quarters full before.
    “So the little mare is stubborn, is that it?” Gerald hissed at his granddaughter. “Still untouched by bit and bridle? Well, we’ll change that now. You’ll learn to submit to your rider.”
    Gwyneira tore him away from her. Her rage and fear for her daughter endowed her with incredible strength. She knew that light in Gerald’s eyes all too well; ever since Paul’s birth, it had pursued her in her darkest nightmares.
    “How dare you touch her!” she railed at him. “Leave her in peace this instant!”
    Gerald shook. “Get her out of my sight!” he said through his teeth. “She’s under house arrest. Until she’s considered her engagement to Beasley. I promised her to him. I won’t break my word!”

    Reginald Beasley had been waiting upstairs in his room, but the scene had naturally not escaped his attention. Deeply embarrassed, he stepped to his door and met Gwyneira and her daughter on the steps.
    “Miss Warden…Mrs. Warden…please, forgive me!”
    Unlike the night before, Reginald Beasley was sober now, and the look on Fleurette’s distraught young face and her mother’s eyes glowing with rage told him he had no chance.
    “I…I couldn’t have known that it would be such a…ahem, an imposition for you, to accept my proposal. You see, I am no longer young but I am not all that old, and I…I would cherish you…”
    Gwyneira glared icily at him. “Mr. Beasley, my daughter does not want to be cherished. She wants first to grow up. And then she will probably want a man her own age—or at least a man who makes his own proposal instead of sending some other old goat to force her into his bed. Have I made myself clear?”
    She had wanted to remain polite, but the look on Gerald’s face as he loomed over Fleurette in the chair had shaken her to the core. First, she had to get rid of this geriatric suitor. But that shouldn’t be difficult. Then she would have to think of what to do about Gerald. She had not even realized herself that she was living on a powder keg. But she would do whatever she must to protect Fleur.
    “Mrs. Warden, I…as I said, Miss Warden, I’m sorry. Under these circumstances, I would be entirely prepared to break off the