"Before she died Hana asked me to apologize again for her to you. To beg your forgiveness for her."
"You... do you... forgive, forgive?"
What a strange question, she thought, startled. "That Hana was like last year's cherry blossom scattered by the wind, no need to forgive or not to forgive. Just a petal of the Willow World. She existed but did not. You understand?"
In turmoil he nodded, not comprehending all the words, but understanding what she had done and why. He hated her and blessed her, was relieved and sad and suicidal and filled with hope. "Three men, three who before me. Who?"
"I do not know, so sorry, except they were Japanese. Truly," she told him, her eyes clean, the names buried in her most secret heart, waiting to use if necessary, for or against the Bakufu. "About these," she opened her hand. The pearls glowed in the oil light, enticingly.
"Let us agree that I give you one third of whatever I get from the sale, plus all medicines and whatever else is necessary. A third would be..." She stopped as friend in Drunk Town fell into place.
The medicine is for the woman who is to marry the tai-pan, she told herself excitedly. Wasn't it she who was supposed to have lost some jewelry yesterday that I thought nothing of. It must be her, the pearls confirm it... and if it's her, eeee, the abortion must be without his approval or knowledge or surely Jami-san would be the intermediary, not Furansu-san.
"A third would be fair," she said, and was going to add smugly, to the young gai-jin woman who is to marry the tai-pan, but seeing Furansu-san staring gloomily into his cup, decided there was no need yet to divulge she had deduced the "who."
Eeee, tonight has been most profitable, she thought gleefully. Knowledge of a secret abortion by such an important lady to bury, or to tell, could be extremely valuable, to the lady herself, before or after she marries, or to this tai-pan who is as rich as Adachi of Mito, before or after he marries, or even to one of his many enemies.
Next: through Hiraga I have this Taira firmly stuck to Fujiko's Jade Gate-- what is it about the girl that attracts Round Eyes to her? And last but not least, the solution to Furansu-san, my precious gai-jin spy, presented herself.
Raiko wanted to shout with joy but, carefully, she retained her most modest, sincere look.
"A third? Furansu-san?"
Bleakly he looked up at her, nodded his agreement.
"You have told the Lady there is a risk?"
"What risk? Raiko say medicine good most times."
"It is, most times. But if the drink does not succeed, we... let us not worry about that now.
Let us hope Buddha smiles on her and it is her karma to have an easy release, then to enjoy the good things in life." She looked at him steadily. "And you also. Neh?"
He stared back at her.
Thursday, 6th November: Dearest Colette: The weeks have rushed by, and tomorrow is my special day, Angelique wrote, aglow with expectation, I feel so good I can hardly believe it. I sleep marvelously, my cheeks are rosy, everyone compliments me and my figure is better than ever... No signs, nothing, she thought.
Nothing. Breasts a little tender but that's just imagination--and tomorrow all will be over.
She was sitting at the bureau in her suite facing the bay, the tip of her tongue between her lips, far too cautious to write anything that could possibly compromise her. What a lucky omen it's his day for my new beginning.
Tomorrow is St. Theodore's day, he's my new patron saint. You see, Colette, by marriage I become British (not English because Malcolm is Scots and part English) and St.
Theodore is one of their oh so few saints. He became British too (he was a Greek) twelve hundred years ago and rose to be Archbishop of Canterbury...
Her steel-tipped pen hesitated as that name brought phantoms from the mists but she would not acknowledge them and they sank back into the depths again... that means he was like the pope of the British Isles. He reformed the Church, cast out evildoers and heathen practices, was oh so holy and kind, particularly to women, lived to be an astonishing eighty-eight and altogether a wonderful man of the True Church. I'm celebrating by having a special fast day, then in three days a party!
Father Leo told me about him. Ugh! I really don't like him, stinky as he is (i have to use a pomander handkerchief in the confessional--he would make you faint, dear Colette). Last Sunday I had the vapors and will certainly miss this Sunday too. Do you remember how we used to do that when we were at school, though how we avoided a scolding I'll never know.
Thoughts of Colette and school and Paris distracted her for a moment and she stared out of the window at the ocean, slate grey and stormy with a sharp wind creating seahorses that ran ashore to woosh up the beach a hundred yards away, the other side of the promenade--merchantmen at anchor, bum boats loading or unloading, the only warship, the frigate Pearl, resplendent with her new mast and new paint steaming for her mooring, just back from Yedo.
But Angelique did not really see any of it, her eyes beguiled by the rosy future her mind was promising. Here, in her suite, it was warm and calm with no drafts, the windows well fitting, a fire blazing in the fireplace, with Malcolm Struan dozing comfortably in a tall red velvet chair, papers, letters and invoices in his lap and scattered about his feet. The connecting door was open. Her door to the corridor unlocked. This was their new custom. Safer, both had agreed, plenty of time in the future to be private.
Some days he would arrive early and conduct his business from her boudoir until noon when he would doze a few minutes until lunch; sometimes he would stay in his own suite and some days he would hobble downstairs to the offices below.
He would always say she was always welcome there but she knew that was only a politeness. Downstairs was masculine domain. She was delighted he was working--McFay had told her that since "the tai-pan has taken charge, everyone's more diligent, we've big plans hatching and our company's humming..."
And so was she. No fear for the morrow. On the contrary, she was looking forward to seeing Andr`e in the evening at the Legation. Together they had hatched an excuse and she would move back there tomorrow for three days while her rooms were repainted, and new curtains made for the windows and four-poster that she had chosen from silks in their warehouse: "But, Angel," Struan had said, "we're only here for a few more weeks, the expense really isn't--"' A laugh and a kiss had changed his mind. La, I begin to love him and adore the game of getting my own way.
She smiled and began to write again: Colette darling, I've more energy than I've ever had. Riding every day--no excursions which make the Settlement restricting--but lots of galloping around the racecourse with Phillip Tyrer, Settry (pallidar), who's the best rider I've ever seen, sometimes with French and English cavalry officers, and not forgetting poor Marlowe who is turning out to be the most dear man but not, I'm afraid a horseman. They all left three days ago to go to Yedo where Sir William and the Ministers are having THE MEETING with the native Cabinet and their king called SHOGUN.
Malcolm is getting better but oh so slowly, he still walks badly but is wonderful-- except on mail days (twice monthly) when he's furious with everything and everyone, even me.
It's only because there are always letters from his mother (i begin to hate her) who complains bitterly that he stays here and doesn't return to Hong Kong.
Three days ago was worse than usual. One of the Noble House clippers arrived, this time with another letter and a verbal summons delivered by the Captain who said: "I'd appreciate it, sir, if you could come aboard the moment we've unloaded the special cargo--our orders are to escort you and Dr. Hoag to Hong Kong rightly smartly..."
I've never heard such language, Colette! I thought poor Malcolm would have apoplexy. The Captain crumpled and fled.
Again I implored Malcolm to let us do what she wants but... he just growled, "we'll go when I decide to go, by God. Don't mention it again!" Yokohama is VERY tedious, and I'd really like to return to Hong Kong and civilization.
To pass the time I have been reading everything I can lay my hands on (newspapers, apart from fashion and Paris life are really quite interesting I was surprised to find, and they make me realize what a scatterbrain I am). But I must prepare for all the soirees I must give for my husband, to entertain his important guests--as well as their wives. So I intend to learn about trade, opium and tea and cotton and silkworms... But one has to be SO careful. The first time I tried to talk about an article relating to the awful state of the French silk industry (which is why Jappaner silkworms are so valuable) Malcolm said, "Don't you worry your pretty head about that, Angel..." I could get NOT one word in even sideways, in fact he was quite irritable when I said Struan's could start a silk factory in France....
Oh dearest Colette, I wish you were here, then I could pour my heart out to you--I miss you miss you miss you...
The steel nib, set into a bone handle, began blotching. Carefully she dried it and cleaned the tip, marvelling that it was so easy, the nib again as good as new. Up to a few years ago the quill pen was commonplace and she would have had to find the special quill knife and cut a new point, splitting it to last but a page or two, whereas these Mitchell pens, mass-produced in Birmingham, would last for days and came in many sizes to please your fancy and your writing.
Behind her, Struan stirred but did not awaken.
Asleep he has a tidy face, she thought.
Neat and strong...
The door opened and Ah Soh barged in.
"Missee, tiffin, you wan' here or downstai', heya?"
Struan had awoken at once. "Your mistress will eat here," he said brusquely in Cantonese, "I'll dine downstairs, in our main dining room, and tell the cook the food had better be exceptional."
"Yes, tai-pan." Ah Soh hurried off.
"What did you tell her, Malcolm?"
"Just that you'd lunch here--I'll be downstairs.
I've invited Dmitri, Jamie and Norbert." He looked at her silhouetted against the light. "You look splendid."