Gai-Jin (170 page)

“The 11th would—would be the first day but it’s not possible to tell then, have to wait at least two weeks after that and even then, safer to wait the month and see if she … if she does or doesn’t menstruate. The date may be off, it’s difficult to tell sometimes, in her case because the poor girl has gone through a tremendous amount of stress—Tess asked me to wait until I could be sure.” He exhaled. “There, now you know everything.”

“Tess asked you to wait until you’ve examined her?”

“Well, yes, until I’m sure.”

“Then it’s one letter if she is, the other if she isn’t?”

“Yes … I told you. Yes.”

“Who else have you told?” Jamie’s eyes burned into him.

“No one.”

“Who?”

“Go to hell!” Hoag shouted, then spat out, “Gornt!”

“Jesus Christ, why him?”

“I don’t know, he seemed to know, jumped to the same conclusion as I suppose everyone will. I agree it’s fairly obvious now I’m back—I told Tess that but she said nothing, just looked at me with those eyes of hers. It’s easy for you, Jamie,” he said, seething. “It’s easy for you and the Gornts of the world, you’re strong and used to business and isn’t business lying most of the time? Well, doctors aren’t.” Disgusted with his inability to keep secrets, Hoag blew the breath out of his mouth. “Can’t change after all this time. Tess said to tell Sir William why I was back, Albert and you, and no one else.”

“Don’t worry, you’re right, there won’t be a man in Yokohama who won’t realize why you’re here, for Christ’s sake. Poor bloody Angelique! Who else have you mail for, from Tess?”

“I … Sir William.”

“Who else? Who else, for Christ’s sweet sake?”

“Heavenly Skye.”

Pretending a tranquility he did not feel, Hoag handed Angelique the envelope that was sealed with the chop of the Noble House. Her stomach had been churning ever since Jamie had told her who had arrived with
Prancing Cloud
, however much she had tried to be detached. Even Vargas’s almost immediate news that the woman was Senhor McFay’s fiancée and not Tess Struan had not settled her. Nor had Hoag’s rambling story about Malcolm’s funeral, which had confused her even more. The writing on the envelope was copperplate: “Angelique Richaud, By Hand.”

“Why don’t you read it while I’m here,” he was saying, concerned at her sudden flush.

“You mean in case I faint?” she asked sharply, sitting up in the tall chair beside the fire, Malcolm’s chair that she had taken from his suite before vacating it for Albert MacStruan.

Hoag said kindly, “I mean you may want to talk. I’m a friend, as well as a doctor.” He had rushed upstairs directly from Jamie, glad to leave the inquisition, had greeted and hugged her and brushed aside her immediate, What happened in Hong Kong, saying, “Just a second, let me look at you.” He had scrutinized her as a doctor, then as a friend. In both cases what he saw had pleased him. “Just a suggestion.”

“The letter’s not addressed correctly. It should be Mrs. Angelique Struan, or Mrs. Malcolm Struan.” Awkwardly, she returned it.

“Tess said you would do that.” It was said gently.

“If she’s so wise why didn’t she address it properly?”

“It’s difficult for her as it is difficult for you. She’s a mother who’s lost a son. Be patient, Angelique.”

“Patient? Me? When I’m under siege for marrying and loving a fine man who … You’re on her side. Struan’s pays you.”

“True, but my side is what I think best, that’s not saleable, even to you.” Hoag sat amiably in his chair. The room was warm and feminine and filled with tension. He saw the vein in her neck pulsing hard, fingers twitching ever so slightly. “I helped you, and Malcolm, but only because I thought it best. For your private knowledge I resigned while I was in Hong Kong. This is my last task for the Noble House.”

She was startled. “Why did you do that?”

Again the same strange smile. “I’m going back to India, I’m going to try to find that which I lost. Soon as I can.”

“Ah! Arjumand.” That made her feel better and she leaned over and touched him. “Sorry. Sorry I said what I said, it was wrong. Sorry. It’s just-sorry.”

“Think nothing of it. Don’t forget I’m a doctor, I do really understand the stress you’re under. I was prepared for worse.” He broke the seal and opened the letter. “She told me to do this.” Inside was another envelope. This was addressed simply: Angelique. “A compromise, eh? A suggested compromise.”

“Yours?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what it says?”

“No. God’s truth. Do you want me to leave?”

Her gaze locked on to the letter. In a moment she shook her head so he went to the window to give her space, moved the curtains aside and watched the night, his own heart pounding.

She hesitated, then opened it. No greeting. No name.

Angelique’s mind was hacking between happiness and terror, victory and defeat. Had she won or had she failed? Tess Struan promised nothing, but had she waved an olive branch? Legal brief? Courts? Witness box? Ashen now, she remembered Skye’s words about how easy it would be for the opposition to paint her as a penniless Jezebel, daughter of a felon and other horrid twisted truths. “Impasse” and “resolution”? Didn’t that mean she had won, at least a partial victory?

Edward! Tonight or tomorrow Edward will tell me! And Mr. Skye, he’s clever, he’ll know. Oh, God, I hope he’ll know.

She looked up and saw Hoag watching her. “Oh! Sorry, I’d forgotten …” Numbly she twisted the material of a sleeve, her foot tapping restlessly. “Oh, did you want a drink, I can ring for Ah Soh, I … sorry … I don’t seem to …” The words were difficult to form and he heard the change and wondered if this was the beginning of the breakdown he had forecast. Signs were there, fingers and toes working unnoticed, face white, eyes wide, pupils changed.

“What did she say?” he asked easily.

“I … well, nothing except to—to wait until …” The words drifted away and her gaze went to the distance.

“Until?” he asked, to bring her back, hiding his concern.

But she was swept up in what she had read. So the battle lines had been drawn. She knew the worst, or the best. Her enemy had made the first move and declared herself. Now she could join battle. On her own terms. The nausea slid away. In its place came fire. The thought that she had laid out
the foul and possible so icily was making her sting with rage—nothing on her side, no concern for her, no tiny concession for all the love and agony and pain over Malcolm’s death, nothing. Nothing. And worst of all
illegitimate
, when they were married properly according to British law
… I am assured!

Never fear, she seethed, that’s branded on my memory in molten steel, and she looked at Hoag again, quivering. “She said she wants to—to wait … to wait until we—you and I—we know if I’m carrying Malcolm’s child or not. She wants to make sure, that’s what she wants.”

“And then?”

“She doesn’t say. She—she wants to wait and me to wait. There’s a vague … I think she says perhaps there can be a peace, a resol—” The quivering stopped as a decision washed it away and her voice became sibilant, sizzling with venom. “I hope there will be a peace, because…because, by the Blessed Mother, I am Malcolm Struan’s widow, and no one, no court, not even Tess Goddamned Struan can take that away from me!”

He covered his nervousness, saying cautiously, “We all believe you are. But you’ve got to be calm and not worry. If you break, she wins, you lose, whatever the truth. No need …”

The door swung open. Ah Soh waddled in. “Missee-tai-tai?”

“Ayeeyah!”
Angelique flared. “Get out, why you no knock?”

Ah Soh planted her feet, secretly pleased that the foreign devil had lost her temper and so lost face. “Mess’ge, you wan’, heya? Mess’ge, Missee-tai-tai?”

“What message?”

Ah Soh shuffled up, offered the small envelope, sniffed and went away. Gornt’s writing. Angelique came down from the mountain of her fury.

Inside was a card, engraved e.g. The message said, “Warmest greetings. A most intriguing Hong Kong visit. May we meet tomorrow morning? yr most obedient servant, Edward Gornt.”

Abruptly she felt whole again. Strong, filled with determination and hope and fight. “You’re right, Doctor, but I won’t break, I swear I won’t, I won’t for Malcolm and I won’t for me, and for you and Jamie and Mr. Skye. You’re a dear friend and I’m all right now. No need to discuss that woman anymore.” She smiled at him and he knew the smile was both good and bad—more danger signals. “We’ll wait … we’ll wait and see what the future holds. Don’t worry, if I don’t feel well I’ll call at once.” She got up and kissed Hoag on both cheeks. “Thank you again, dear friend. Will you be dining at Count Zergeyev’s?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know. I’m a little tired,” he said, and left, hiding his foreboding.

Again she read the card. Edward’s circumspect, another good sign, she
thought. If the card was intercepted or read, it gave nothing away. “Intriguing” was a good word to choose, and “obedient servant” again chosen carefully. Like the words of
that woman
, God rot her.

What to do?

Dress for dinner. Gather your allies. Bind them to you. Put the plans you’ve contrived into place. And make Yokohama your impregnable bastion against
that woman
.

“Ignore the gai-jin soldiers trying to find you, Hiraga, and forget Akimoto,” Katsumata said, disgusted with the unexpected snag in his plan. “Three of us are enough. We attack tomorrow, burn the church and sink the ship. Takeda, you take the church.”

“Gladly, Sensei, but why not use Ori’s plan and burn Yokohama? Hiraga is right, forget the ship, he is right, so sorry,” Takeda said, inclined to his side—after all, Hiraga was the Choshu leader and wise to consider how to retreat. “He is correct that it would be difficult to get close to a ship in this sea and wind unobserved. Why not use Ori’s plan instead, burn the whole gai-jin nest?”

Hiraga said, “Ori’s plan needs time, and a south wind. I agree it’s a better plan. We should wait.”

“No,” Katsumata said harshly, rudely, “with courage we can do both, with courage! We can. Both! With shishi courage!”

Hiraga was still rocked by the unforeseen soldiers, his mind slow. That he believed he had killed the scavenger bothered him not a bit—the man was motionless in the dirt when, later, he had slunk for the well head, groped down it, then blindly through the meanness of the tunnel and freezing water.

“Impossible with only three of us,” he said, “and tomorrow night is too soon, whatever we decide. If the plan’s to burn the Settlement we need three days to place the flamers, and fuses. I advise against haste.”

He was wrapped in a quilt, naked but for a loincloth—maids were drying his clothes, sopping wet from the tunnel water. The little bungalow was cold, the wind whining around the shojis and it took much of his will to keep from shivering openly. It was hard to concentrate. He still could not understand why soldiers were searching for him. The moment he had arrived here, Katsumata had angrily asked Raiko to send spies into the Settlement to find out what had happened and the three of them made plans to escape the Three Carp in case searchers came into the Yoshiwara.

Now he was watching Katsumata pour more saké. Anger had tightened his already sharp features, making him seem even more dangerous: “Hiraga, my opinion is we attack tomorrow.”

“My opinion,” Hiraga said with equal firmness, “is we move when we have a chance of success and not before—always your advice—unless caught in the open and face death or capture. Takeda, what is your opinion?”

“First I’d like to know what would be your plan? You know the target like no one else. What would you do?”

Hiraga drank his hot tea, pulled the quilt closer again, pretending to think, thankful that Takeda was teetering towards his position. “If I had my normal access, Akimoto and I could have all the flamers into place in three days—I have four already prepared and hidden in my village house,” he said, embellishing the story. “We need about six, eight would be best: one in each of both the two-story buildings, they’re wood and tinder dry and almost burned up in the last earthquake; the gai-jin leader’s house; the house next door; three or four in Drunk Town; one in each church. In the confusion we can make an escape by our boat to Yedo.”