His mind stopped churning with a jolt. "A wife witnessing her husband's signature isn't usually valid."
"Say I witnessed it the same day--before we were married."
Where the devil's she getting all this from? he was thinking frantically. Jamie? Heavenly? She's like one of Stevenson's new steam rollers.
"Even if, even if the paper was witnessed, it wouldn't bind the Noble House."
"Yes, but it would carry weight with Tess Struan--it would be an agreement with her son.
Doesn't it confirm you were working with my husband, clandestinely, to deliver her the greatest ambition of her life?"
"Perhaps, perhaps it would, Ma'am." He hesitated. "Jamie approves of the document?"
"He doesn't know about it. No one does except me," she told him, believing it. Why else would Malcolm hide it?
Thoughtfully, he poured some wine--he noticed she had not touched hers further. "I imagine," he said delicately, "such a favor would require one in return, Ma'am."
"I would like you to hurry by Prancing Cloud with all speed, as you planned, and see Tess Struan. And deliver a letter from me."
His eyes widened with disbelief. "That's all?"
"Not exactly. When you arrive Hong Kong-- the clipper will be there long before the mail ship--you must get to her before she hears the tragic news of my husband's death from anyone else. It is essential that you get to her first, telling her you bring her terrible news but also secret information, vital information that guarantees the ruin of Brocks forever, that will put them out of business forever quickly." She took a deep breath. "It will won't it?"
"Yes," he said softly, no longer a need to deny it.
"Next, tell her the Brocks had planned to murder Malcolm, using Norbert Greyforth.
Third that..."
"They what?"
"Isn't that true? Wasn't that part of Tyler Brock's plot? Or Morgan's? Certainly Jamie is of that opinion--he would swear to it.
Mr. Skye told me about the duel, the rest I forced from Jamie--why there was a duel. Wasn't Norbert just a pawn for murder?"
"Maybe," Gornt said, overwhelmed by her.
"Probably. Next?"
"Next." Her voice became quieter but oddly, clearer: "Please tell her it's because of me you're bringing her the evidence to destroy Brock's--you must keep stressing that."
"Because of you?"
"Because of me. Yes. Emphasize that. It's important to me, not much to ask, and you will get what you want anyway."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. You tell her you were going to forget this written contract you had with her son, believing it to be valueless now. But because I asked you, pleaded with you to see her in his stead, you decided to rush to Hong Kong to see her." She leaned closer.
"The information, must it be acted on quickly?"
"Yes," he said.
"Then emphasize that. But most of all, keep stressing it was I who persuaded you to go to her, my pleading persuaded you to see her to give her the evidence to destroy Malcolm's enemies and hers ... that I assured you she would honor the contract, or give you an equivalent. And she will. Tess Struan will, I guarantee."
"With your signature?"
"That's the first thing she will notice, so mention it in advance. Say Malcolm asked me to witness his signature, saying only it was a business contract between you two, which I did in front of you, without thought--on Monday, before the party. I didn't read it, nor ask about it. Last, say you have an urgent letter from me, and give it to her."
Angelique picked up her glass. "If she reads it in front of you, she probably won't, but if she does, I'd like to know what she says or does."
Now she took a second sip, leaned back, waiting, her eyes locked on his.
Her face still told him nothing. "What's in the letter?"
"You may read it, if you wish, before I seal it." She added lightly, without spite, "It will save you the bother of opening it."
His mind was pondering the conundrum of her.
"And the news of his death, your marriage and his death, how do I tell her that and all the rest?"
"I don't know, Edward. You will know how to do that."
He grunted, astounded by the gall, no not gall, more by the cunning. Obviously, her goal was to slide into Tess's favor out of the existing enmity, and to forestall any action, civil or criminal, that a mother such as Tess Struan, torn apart by the agony of her loss, might, will, unleash against her--the current betting five to one Tess Struan would, two to one she would win.
Never mind that, this strategy could squeeze Angelique into the winner's circle--could. With care, not quite as she had suggested it, much more subtly than that, he could do what she proposed without harming his own position and make his deal with Tess who would certainly give him everything he wanted--once the shock of her son's death had lessened and she could appreciate the enormity of what he had to offer.
Better for me to ease Angelique off the Tess Struan barb, much better. What should I ask in return? Her signature, of course but what else? What else do I want from her?
There are all kinds of gambit I co-- Angelique was reaching for the pen. Her face was grave as she signed her name as witness, dating it the day before yesterday. Silently she powdered it dry, blew the excess away, and placed it in front of him, her eyes still downcast.
"Whatever you decide, this is yours now, freely," she said, gambling on his well-advertised sense of honor. "As for the rest, if you help me, Edward," now she looked up at him, something inside of him stirred deliciously, "you would also have my gratitude, my undying gratitude, forever."
Inside the shoya's dwelling, Jamie sat cross-legged on the tatami, shoeless, Hiraga opposite him. At the head of the table was the shoya, and sak`e and tea.
For an hour or more Jamie had answered and asked questions, Hiraga translating, hesitating over the strange words, wanting further explanations to understand clearly. Jamie was tired, not because of the time spent here, a fascinating and a welcome relief from all his other troubles, but because there seemed to be no solution to them. He had been upset by Sir William's refusal to be swayed over the burial, though understanding perfectly --he would have done the same in his position. Poor Angelique, poor Malcolm, poor Noble House. Even poor bloody Tess.
Something has to give. It won't be Wee Willie. It has to be Angelique--there's nothing she or anyone can do. This time I think it will break her.
As simply as he could he had laid out his idea for a joint venture, the shoya and his contacts supplying the goods on consignment they agreed on, Jamie supplying the European know-how, a six months leeway for payment which would give time for the goods to be sold and the money either to come back, or to be reinvested in mass-produced goods that they, in return, would advise the joint venture to import. This led into a discussion of quantities, then into mass production methods that could make them all rich.
"Shoya ask: What cost your massu produk'shun machine?"
"It depends what the machines are to make,"
Jamie said.