Gai-Jin (158 page)

“Angelique,
please
don’t cr—”

“That he wanted and you forbade. It’s your fault, Sir William, I thought you were our friend, if you were our friend and you’d been…been reasonable we wouldn’t have had all this trouble, of course it wasn’t nice to do anything underhanded, even though I think you were quite wrong and …”

“Mrs. Struan, I on—”

“Of course that wasn’t nice, none of us wanted to do that, but at least we did it in good faith, before God, at least these friends, real friends helped to do properly what my husband and I … it wasn’t much to ask …”

For a moment she was going to flee the room but wisely did not, realizing that that would solve nothing and leave the others at his mercy so she stayed where she was, dissolving into ever more heartbreaking sobs, knowing she had not lied and had said nothing more than the truth: it
was
his fault!

In seconds they were all around her, trying to calm her, all feeling terrible, except Skye who was awed by the brilliance of her timing, and Sir William who was privately amused though, for face, pretending to be equally upset. He watched and waited, still disgusted with all of them for whatever machinations they had jointly conceived. What had possessed them and who was the real culprit? Surely not Jamie? Bloody stupid to do what they did. Ridiculous. Stupid to risk their lives like that.

People are no damned good. Even Angelique. Ah, but what a lady, and what a treasure and what an actress—where in the name of God does she get it all from? Like most girls of her age, her education is minimal, in her case convent, which is a bloody sight worse. Is Heavenly coaching her for the trial of the century? Or am I just a cynical old fool? Either way, I really will be sad to lose her.

His mantelpiece clock chimed quarter to the hour. Time for church, he thought, time to stop—he was reading the lesson and had not yet had time to skim through it.

“There there, Mrs. Struan,” he said, as a good though stern father would. “No need for tears, we’ve all had enough of them recently. I must confess I still totally disapprove of the escapade, very poor show, but under the emotional circumstances I think we’ll let it rest there, for the moment.” Again he pretended not to hear their audible relief, or to notice the subsidence of her sobs. “Now it’s time for church, and then the mail ship and our wishes for a bon voyage and a long life will go with you. Truly we will be very sorry and very sad to see you leave our shores.”

“I—I’m not leaving yet, Sir William.”

“Eh?” Sir William and Tyrer were flabbergasted.

Between sobs, her head bowed, she said, “Dr. Hoag has advised me not to travel for at least a week.”

Hoag said quickly, “That’s right, medically not a good idea, Sir William, not a good idea at all, no, not at all.” This morning Skye, supported by Jamie, had insisted that it was best she did not go for a time. “A medical certificate is what she needs, Doctor, one you can attest to with Tess Struan. With all this emotion, surely she shouldn’t travel or have any confrontations until she’s stronger?” Hoag had readily agreed, and said to Sir William, “As you can see she’s easily upset, and I’ve given her a certificate, not that it’s necessary.”

For a moment Sir William did not know what to think. On the one hand they had not lost her, on the other the irritant that she already was, and the thorn she was bound to become when Tess Struan’s wrath fell on her and all of them, would still be in his jurisdiction. “You really should go, Ma’am. I would have thought it very important to be at the funeral.”

“I want to go but …” Her voice broke and a fresh sob racked her. “Dr. Hoag is—is going in my place, I really don’t feel up to … it’s best …”

“But Jamie, you’ll be going too?”

“No, sir. There are things I’ve been ordered to do here by Mrs. Tess Struan.”

“Bless my soul.” Halfheartedly Sir William tried to dissuade her, then sighed. “Well, if Dr. Hoag says so, that’s the end of that, he is the Struan doctor.” He got up. Openly relieved, they thanked him and began to leave. “A moment, Dr. Hoag, a word if you please.” He hid his pleasure seeing Jamie and Skye blanch and said pointedly as they hung back, “G’day Jamie, Mr. Skye. Phillip, no need for you to stay.”

The door closed. Hoag was like a rabbit before a cobra.

“Now, Doctor, quietly tell me the truth, how is she?”

“She’s very well, on the surface, Sir William,” Hoag said at once. “It’s a surface cure. What’s underneath no one knows. It could last days, weeks, a year or more—then the nightmare will return. What will happen then …” He shrugged.

“You’ll be seeing Tess Struan?”

“Yes, as soon as I arrive.” Hoag waited shakily, dreading the questioning, knowing he would fail.

Thoughtfully Sir William got up and poured a whisky and gave it to him. The liquor vanished. “You won’t be coming back here for a time, if ever. I need to know, in confidence, what medically are the chances of her carrying Malcolm’s child?”

Hoag blinked, the liquor and the unexpected gentleness calming him and putting him off balance, not expecting this line of questioning. He said with great sincerity, “Of course that’s up to God, sir. But Malcolm was
healthy and so is she, both fine people, unfortunately both star-crossed—so sad. I’d say the chances are very good, for this was no idle fancy, their love-making must have been very passionate, as near a true love as I have ever seen.”

Sir William frowned. “Good. When you see Tess Struan … I think our Mrs. Struan will need all the help she can get. Eh?”

“You may rest assured I’ll intercede for her.”

Sir William nodded and reached into his drawer. The envelope was sealed and addressed Personal, Confidential and Private, by hand, to Sir Stanshope, Governor of Hong Kong, from Sir William Aylesbury, Minister to the Japans. “I have an official commission for you, a secret one. I want you to deliver this personally to the Governor, as soon as you arrive.”

He scrawled on the bottom “Delivered by hand by Dr. Hoag” and had decided to use him the moment he had heard Jamie would not be on the mail ship, there being no one aboard
Prancing Cloud
he could trust. “It must be given over personally, to no one else, no one is to know you are a Queen’s courier. Clear?”

“Yes, sir, of course, Sir William,” Hoag said proudly.

He knew that now Hoag was putty and he could extract anything he wanted from him. Who began the escapade, what was in their minds at sea and why they did what they did, what really happened at Kanagawa. He smiled to himself, enjoying his position and for his own reasons let the matter rest. “Have a safe voyage, and I look forward to seeing you in Hong Kong.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Hoag fled, ecstatic to have escaped with his honor intact. Jamie and Skye were waiting anxiously on the High Street. “Nothing, honestly,” he said excitedly, “he just wanted to ask medical questions, private ones.”

“You’re sure?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die. Hurry up, time for a quick one before church. I still feel washed out.” They went off happily, not noticing Sir William watching from his window.

I wonder how happy those rotters would be if they could read my letter to the Governor, he thought, scowling. They’re not off the hook yet, none of us are. As if one coffin mattered when the whole world’s falling apart, Russia teetering towards war again, Prussia licking her chops over the intestines of Central Europe, the French with their militant, overblown pride, our Indian Empire and Asian colonies at risk because of misguided fools in Parliament, and us awaiting imminent Japanese liquidation.

On the surface the letter was innocuous. Decoded it read:
Urgently request all fleet and army reinforcements possible as I expect the Settlement to be attacked any day by Bakufu samurai legions and may have to abandon our base here
.

* * *

The Catholic church was candle-lit, the altar glinting, the congregation sparse and Father Leo was bringing the singsong litany of Mass to a close, his deep baritone voice melodious amidst the familiar perfume of incense that drifted over them—the service shorter than usual as a few had to catch the mail ship.

Angelique knelt at prayer in the front pew, Seratard beside her, André some rows behind, Vervene at the back with the rest of the Legation staff, a few traders, Eurasian Portuguese, and some officers and men from the French ships who had shore leave. The main body of French sailors had other services, earlier or later. Thankfully for all ships companies, there were no priests with the fleet—to have one aboard always considered bad luck, on any ship of any flag.

Father Leo bowed to the altar, prayed and then blessed the congregation. Angelique took a deep breath, leisurely finished her prayer, waiting for Seratard to move.

She had already been confessed. In the little box she had said, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

“What sins have you committed this week, my child?”

She had heard the barely disguised impatience to learn every thought and deed that had happened, this being the first time she had been to Confession since the troubles began. “I forgot to ask the Blessed Mother for forgiveness in my prayers one night,” she said with perfect calm, continuing her pact, and the plan and words she had devised, “and had many bad thoughts and dreams, and was afraid, and forgot I was in God’s hands with never a need to fear.”

“Yes, and what else?”

A little smile settled, hearing the impatience. “I sinned in that, though my marriage is legal in the sight of my husband’s people and his law and his Church, there was no time for us to make it conform to the True Church.”

“But … but that … that, senhora, that is not … not of itself a sin, you were not responsible for that, he was taken from us. What … what other sins did you commit?”

She kept her nostrils closed as much as she could to the stench of garlic and stale wine and unwashed clothes, using a pomaded kerchief. “I sinned in that I could not persuade Sir William to allow me to bury my husband as he wished and therefore I wished.”

“That … that in itself is not a sin, child. What else?”

“I sinned in that I could not persuade my husband to become Catholic before we married.”

“Nor is that a sin, senhora. What else?”

Now he was beginning to sound exasperated. As she expected. How odd I’m no longer petrified of him and can hear the nuances he seeks to hide. Is this another gift of God?

“Have you, did you commit sins of the flesh?”

Her eyes narrowed, the smile froze and she despised him even more, at the same time forgiving him some of it because of his magnanimity in blessing the other coffin. “I have been a correct wife in accordance with the teachings of the Church.”

“Yes, but, but did you cohabit with him, not being prop—”

“I was properly married according to my husband’s law and acted in accordance with the teachings of the True Church,” she said, adding with an even sharper edge, “and now I would like absolution, Father.” This was contrary to accepted practice and she waited, holding her breath, ready to sweep out if he probed further against accepted practice.

“As … as you are leaving today, it is necessary to ensure, senhora, to give absolution th—”

“I am not leaving by mail ship, Father. Not today.”

“Oh, not leaving?” She heard the elation and relief. “Then—then we can talk, my child, talk at length for the Glory of God. Oh, how wonderful are the ways of God.” He had given her absolution and a modest penance and she had left to join the service.

Having overcome that hurdle she enjoyed it. Her mind wandered but that was normal. Now she could relax and was pleased with herself. She had achieved what she had set out to achieve: Malcolm buried here, as she wished, Gornt launched, Hoag on his way, Tess neutralized—with the help of God.

God is on my side, I’m sure of it.
He
approves, I’m sure of it. Except for Malcolm, ah, Malcolm, my love, my love …

“May I escort you home, Angelique?” Seratard asked, interrupting her daydreams.

“Thank you, Monsieur,” she said formally, “but I am not very good company and would rather stroll quietly by myself.”

“There is a lot to discuss before you leave.”

“Oh, I thought you would know already I’m not leaving with the mail ship—Dr. Hoag forbade it, which saddens me.”

His smile broadened. “Magnificent! That is the best news I’ve heard in many a day. Would you care for dinner at the Legation tonight, just two or three of us—quietly?”

“Thank you but again, no. Perhaps the end of the week, if I feel better.”

“Thursday or Friday, whenever you wish.” Seratard kissed her hand, and she walked into the open air.

The wind had freshened again. She was glad for the veil that camouflaged her, no need to hide behind the front of her face. Those who passed greeted her sadly, Nettlesmith among them. “We will truly be sorry to see you go, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nettlesmith, but I’m not going by the mail ship, not today.” Again she saw the face light up the moment she said it and was amused. “Dr. Hoag has forbidden me to travel, which saddens me.”

“Oh! Of course it would. Not going, eh! Oh! Well, yes, I can see that … oh, will you excuse me, Ma’am?” He rushed for the Club. Within minutes the news would be around the Settlement and there would be no need to say it again. Down the praia she saw André. He was waiting for her. “Hello, André.”

“I’m glad you’re not going,” he said simply.

“Ah. News travels fast.”

“Good news. I need to talk privately.”

“About money?”

“About money. How you’ve changed, Angelique.”

“For the better, I hope. How are you, old friend?”

“Old.” André was feeling drab today, and tired. He had seen Hinodeh last night and there had been shadows between them. And violence. While she was massaging him he had lifted up and reached into the neck of her kimono to kiss her breast, loving her to distraction, but she had jerked away and closed her kimono against him. “You promise not to …” she had gasped, and his fury at himself for forgetting—any such trespass sent her into a pathetic, hangdog sorrow that would craze him further—turned into fury at her and he had snarled, “Stop looking like that,
stoppit! Baka!”