Song of the Spirits (49 page)

Heather, who had kept to herself until then, nodded dutifully. “We have to start on French soon, Jack, if you want to pass the entrance exams in Christchurch.”

“Psh,” Jack grumbled. “We’d only be gone two weeks at most, isn’t that so, Mr. Burton?”

“You were supposed to have started French six months ago,” Gwyneira retorted. She understood Jack’s dislike of the language. Her French governess had driven her mad when she was a girl. Fortunately, the woman had had a dog allergy that the younger Gwyneira had used to her advantage. Unfortunately, she had once told Jack that story—so the boy knew she would not insist on making him learn the language.

And then he received an unexpected vote of support from his father.

“He’ll learn more on the trail to Blenheim than Miss Witherspoon can teach him in six months,” James growled.

Heather wanted to protest, but his dismissive hand gesture quieted her.

“The coasts, the forests, the whales, you have to see those things. They make you ask questions, and then you go find the answers in books. You, my dear Miss Witherspoon, could use that time to seek out some of that knowledge yourself and teach it to the Maori children. That is, they would be surely enjoy reading something other than the Bible and
Sara Crewe
for once. If nothing else, they would learn a thing or two about whales.”

“Oh yes, I can go! It’ll be wonderful, Mr. Burton! Mum, Dad, can I go down to the village and tell Maaka right away? We’re going to get to see whales!”

Gwyneira smiled as he ran off excitedly to surprise his friend with the news. No one doubted that Maaka would receive his parents’ permission. The Maori were born nomads and would be happy for the boys. “But you’re responsible for making sure they leave the critters where they are, Mr. Burton. I’ve gotten used to wetas in the playroom, but I have no intention of getting used to whales in the pond.”

Andy McAran and Poker Livingston would also accompany the sheep. An overjoyed Poker took advantage of the opportunity presented by this excursion. The quiet life with his female friend was already becoming dull to him. The preparations had to be made quickly, as Mr. Burton wanted to leave soon.

“You can keep one of your workers, Mrs. McKenzie,” he said, “and I’ll practice working with the dogs on the way.”

Gwyneira did not tell him that either Andy or Poker could have effortlessly handled the trail with just the two dogs—and James or herself with just one. But she did not want to dampen either his or the boys’ excitement.

Only one thing bothered Jack about the plan: what would Gloria do without him?

“If I’m not here, no one will hear her when she cries at night,” he said. “She hardly does anymore, but you can’t be sure.”

Gwyneira cast an accusatory glance at William. It should have been his job to reassure them that he would look after his own daughter. But William remained silent.

“I’ll put her in our room,” Gwyneira said to assuage her son.

“Perhaps Miss Witherspoon could take some responsibility for her future pupil,” James jeered.

Open war had broken out between the tutor and James after his comment about her useless lessons.

Heather did not dignify him with a glance.

“In any case, Gloria will be fine,” Gwyneira said. “Though she’ll miss you, of course, Jack. Maybe you can bring her back a picture of a whale and then show her in the yard how big one is.”

Jack was in high spirits when the riders finally set off. Gwyneira, however, was struggling with visibly low spirits. Her son had only just left, and she already missed him. The house did in fact seem to have lost some of its vitality. Jack’s cheerful chattering and his little dog who had always seemed to be in the way were greatly missed at dinner. The evening meals passed more formally than usual, now that the air between James and Heather had become perceptibly frosty, and William contributed little to conversation. One evening, James, sensing Gwyneira’s disheartened mood, went in search of a particularly good bottle of wine and suggested to his wife that they retire for the evening.

Gwyneira gave him her first smile of the day, but then something disrupted their plans. A young worker in the stables needed help caring for one of the horses that had fallen ill. Normally he would have alerted Andy, but in his absence, the worker preferred to turn directly
to the McKenzies rather than take a risk. James and Gwyneira left the table to go see what was wrong with the mare.

Heather took the opportunity to pinch a bottle out of the normally locked cabinet.

“Come along, William, let’s do what we can to have a pleasant evening,” she said enticingly as he was still deliberating over whether tagging along with the McKenzies might not be more conducive to familial peace. On the other hand, he was not exactly a specialist in equine illness—and he had already spent the entire day outside under the incessant rain. He’d had enough for one day.

He was surprised when Heather did not lead him toward her room as usual but headed directly for the rooms he had once shared with Kura.

“I’ve always wanted to sleep in this bed,” she declared blithely, placing the wine on the night table. “Do you remember when we selected it? I think that’s when I fell in love with you. We had the same taste, the same ideas; these are really
our
rooms, William. We should finally take possession of them together.”

William did not especially care for that idea. For one thing, though he had very concrete memories of that bed, they had less to do with its selection than with the bliss that he had experienced with Kura there. To sleep in that same bed with Heather almost felt like a desecration. He sensed that his adultery would then be complete. Until that moment, he had used Kura’s refusal to sleep with him as an excuse for his relationship with Heather. But now—it did not feel right to him to intrude on Kura’s private rooms.

Heather merely laughed and uncorked the wine.

“Are there no glasses in here?” she asked, disbelieving. “Did the two of you never”—she giggled—“need a little encouragement?”

William could have answered that he had never had to loosen Kura’s inhibitions with wine. But instead, he obediently went to fetch glasses. What would be the use of angering Heather, after all?

He nevertheless made one attempt at retreat.

“Heather, we really shouldn’t do it here. If someone were to come—”

“Now, don’t be a coward,” Heather said, handing him a glass as she took a sip herself. The wine was exceptional. “And who’s going to come? Mr. and Mrs. McKenzie are in the stables, Jack is gone…”

“Gloria might start crying,” William said, even though they would not have heard anything in that part of the house.

“The baby is sleeping in their apartments. She said herself that she would take her in. So enough of this nonsense, William. Come to bed.”

Heather undressed, which she did not normally like to do while the light was still burning brightly. In her room, she lit nothing more than a candle when they made love, and that was only right to William, who still dreamed of Kura as he caressed Heather’s body. In here, however, she let the gas lamp burn. It seemed that she could not get enough of admiring these rooms that she had decorated herself.

William did not know what other objections he could raise. He took a deep gulp of the wine. Maybe it would help him forget the shadows Kura had left in the room.

The horse in the stables had colic, and Gwyneira and James spent quite a while getting it to take a purgative, massaging her stomach, and leading her around to get her bowels working again. After more than an hour, the worst had passed and Gwyneira was suddenly struck by the thought that no one in the house was looking after Gloria. Usually she could count on Jack, but she knew that neither William nor Heather Witherspoon would think to keep an eye on the child, and Moana and Kiri had already left for the evening before the McKenzies had been called to the stables.

Gwyneira left further care of the mare to James and the young worker and ran back to the house to check on Gloria. The girl was almost a year old and slept through the night most of the time, but she might be missing Jack and upset because of that. When Gwyneira arrived, she did, in fact, find Gloria awake but not crying; she was
merely murmuring contentedly, as though having a conversation with herself. Gwyneira laughed and picked her up.

“Well, and what are you telling your doll?” she asked sweetly, handing Gloria her toy. “Wild stories about whales eating our little Jack?” She rocked the baby, enjoying her warmth and scent. Gloria was a sweet and easy child. Gwyneira remembered that Kura had cried so much more, even though Marama had carried her everywhere, whereas Gloria spent, if anything, too much time on her own. Kura had always been demanding. And even as a baby unusually attractive. She had not passed that on to Gloria. Though the baby was sweet, she was not as adorable as her mother had been at that age. Gloria had porcelain-blue eyes, and it seemed rather certain that they would stay that color. Her still-scant hair did not seem able to decide, however, whether it wanted to be dark blonde or light brown. There was not the smallest hint of red in it, and it was not straight and strong, as Kura’s had already been when she was an infant, but curly and downy soft. There was nothing exotic about her features; instead, she showed a slight resemblance to Paul and Gerald Warden. Her resolute chin was most definitely a Warden inheritance. Otherwise, her features were rather softer than those of her grandfather, evidence of William’s features pushing through.

“You’re pretty enough for us,” Gwyneira teased her great-granddaughter, rocking her gently. “And now you’re coming with me. We’ll take your basket along, and you can sleep in your grandmum’s room tonight.”

As she carried the child out of the room and crossed the dark hall, she was unable to miss the light coming from Kura’s rooms.

Gwyneira frowned. William had apparently already come upstairs, since she had not seen anyone in the salon. But what was he doing in Kura’s rooms? Reviving old memories? His own bedroom was located at the other end of the hall.

Gwyneira chided herself for her nosiness and was about to continue on to her own quarters when she thought she heard moaning and giggling coming from the rooms. William? Suddenly she remembered
James’s mistrust of Heather Witherspoon. Until that moment, she had always thought his suspicion absurd, but now…

Gwyneira wanted to know. Whoever was enjoying herself in there was not allowed to do so. This was still her house.

Gwyneira put the basket down but kept Gloria in her arms. Then she yanked the door open. She heard the whispering and moaning much more clearly now. In the bedroom.

Gloria began to howl when her great-grandmother opened the bedroom door, and the light shone brightly in her eyes, but Gwyneira could not concern herself with the baby just then. Almost in disbelief, she stared at William and Heather in Kura’s bed.

Heather froze. William slid hastily out from under her and tried to cover his nakedness.

“Gwyneira, it’s not what you think.”

Gwyneira could have burst out laughing. She was tempted to make a snide remark, but her fury won the upper hand.