“Just a solemn contract to forget the past and be friends. To be signed by the Brocks and the Struans.”
“I’ve already made the only bargain I’ll make with those two,” Struan said, giving it back without reading it.
“Gorth’s willing, and he said his father would be.”
“I’ll bet Gorth is, by God. But Tyler will na sign any such paper.”
“If he’s willing, will you sign it?”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Our children will belong to both of you an—”
“I’ve considered the children carefully, Culum,” Struan interrupted. “And a lot of other things. I doubt very much if your children will have an uncle and a grandfather on their mother’s side by the time they’re old enough to understand what those are.”
Culum stalked to the door.
“Wait, Culum!”
“Will you please give us the present we ask for, beg for?”
“I canna. They’ll never honor that. Gorth and Brock are after your hide and—”
Culum slammed the door in his face.
Struan drank another brandy, then hurled the glass into the fireplace.
That night Struan lay awake in the four-poster beside May-may. The windows were open to the moon and to the breeze that carried a bracing salt tang. Outside the vast net which enclosed the bed a few mosquitoes relentlessly sought an entrance to the food within. Unlike most of the Europeans, Struan had always used a mosquito net. Jin-qua had advised it as good for health, years upon years ago.
Struan was brooding about the malarial night gases, afraid that he and May-may were breathing them now.
And he was concerned about Sarah. When he had seen her a few hours ago, she had told him she was determined to leave by the first boat.
“You’re na strong enough,” he had said. “Nor is Lochlin.”
“Even so, we’re leaving. Will you make the arrangements or shall I? You’ve a copy of Robb’s will?”
“Aye.”
“I’ve just read it. Why should you be trustee for his share of the company, not me?”
“It’s na a woman’s job, Sarah! But you need na worry. You’ll get every penny.”
“My lawyers will see to that, Tai-Pan.”
He had controlled his anger with an effort. “This is typhoon season. It’s a bad time to sail home. Wait till fall. You’ll both be stronger then.”
“We leave at once.”
“Have it your own way.”
He had gone to see Zergeyev. The Russian’s wound was inflamed but not gangrenous. So there was hope. Next he had returned to his office and had written a dispatch for Longstaff, telling him that he had heard the pirate Wu Kwok would be at Quemoy on Midsummer Night, that frigates should lie in wait for him, that he knew these waters well and would be glad to lead the expedition if the admiral wished. He had sent the dispatch to Horatio. And, just before he left for home, the army doctors had come to see him. They told him there was no doubt any more. The fever of Happy Valley was malaria . . .
He twisted fitfully in the bed.
“You like to play backgammon?” May-may asked, as tired as he was, and as restless.
“No, thank you, lass. Can you na sleep either?”
“No. Never mind,” she replied. She was worried about the Tai-Pan. He had been strange this day. And she was worried about Mary Sinclair. This afternoon Mary had arrived early, before Struan had returned. Mary had told her about the baby, and about her secret life in Macao. Even about Horatio. And Glessing. “I’m sorry,” Mary had said in tears. They were speaking Mandarin, which they both preferred to Cantonese. “I had to tell someone. There’s no one I can ask for help. No one.”
“There, Ma-ree, my dear,” May-may had said. “Don’t cry. First we’ll have some tea and then we’ll decide what to do.”
So they had had tea, and May-may had been astonished at the barbarians and the way they looked at life and sex. “What help do you need?”
“Help to—to get rid of the child. My God, it’s already beginning to show.”
“But why didn’t you ask me weeks ago?”
“I hadn’t the courage. If I hadn’t forced the issue with Horatio, I’d still not have the courage. But now . . . what can I do?”
“How long is it in your womb?”
“Almost three months, less a week.”
“That’s not good, Ma-ree. It may be very dangerous after two months.” May-may had considered the practicability of Mary’s problem, and the dangers that it entailed. “I will send Ah Sam to Tai Ping Shan. I’ve heard there’s a herbalist who may be able to help you. You understand it may be very dangerous?”
“Yes. If you can help me, I’ll do anything. Anything.”
“You’re my friend. Friends must help each other. But you must never, never tell anyone.”
“I promise, before God.”
“When I’ve got the herbs, I’ll send Ah Sam to your servant, Ah Tat. Can you trust her?”
“Yes.”
“When’s your birthday, Ma-ree?”
“Why?”
“The astrologer will have to find an auspicious day to take the medicine, of course.”
Mary had told her the day and the hour.
“Where will you take the medicine? You can’t at the hotel—or here. It may take days for you to recover.”
“Macao. I’ll go to Macao. To my—my private house. It’ll be safe there. Yes, I’ll be safe there.”
“These medicines do not always work, my dear. And they are never easy.”
“I’m not afraid. It will work. It must work,” Mary had said.
May-may shifted in the bed.
“What’s amiss?” Struan asked.
“Nothing. Just the baby moving.”
Struan put his hand on the slight roundness of her belly. “We’d better get a doctor to look at you.”
“Nay, thank you, Tai-Pan, never mind. None of those barbarian devils, thank you. In this I will be as always, Chinese.”
May-may lay back smoothly, content with her child, sad for Mary. “Mar-ee did na look well, did she?” she said tentatively.
“No. And that lass has something on her mind. Did she tell you what it was?”
May-may did not want to lie, but she was reluctant to tell Struan that which might not really concern him. “I think she’s just worried about her brother.”
“What about him?”
“She said she wants to marry the man Glessing.”
“Oh, I see.” Struan had known that Mary had mainly come to see May-may and not to see him. He had hardly spoken to her other than to thank her for taking the children to Macao. “I suppose Horatio does na approve and she wants me to talk to him? Is that what she came about?”
“Nay. Her brother approves,” May-may said.
“That’s surprising.”
“Why? This Glessing is bad man?”
“Nay, lassie. It’s just that Mary and Horatio have been very close for years. He’ll find it very lonely without her here.” Struan wondered what May-may would say if she knew about Mary’s secret house in Macao. “She’s probably poorly because she’s worried over him.”
May-may said nothing and shook her head sadly at the troubles of man and woman. “How is it with the young lovers?” she asked, trying to find out what was truly bothering him.
“All right.” He had never told her what he and Brock had said to each other.
“Have you decide what to do about devil fever?”
“Na yet. I think you should go back to Macao.”
“Yes, please, Tai-Pan. But na before you decide about Hong Kong.”
“It’s dangerous here. I dinna want aught to happen to you.”
“Joss,” she said with a shrug. “Of course, our feng shui is very gracious bad.” She put her hand on his chest and smoothed him, then kissed him gently. “Once you said me there were three things you had to do before you would decide about a Tai-tai. Two I know. Wat was, the third?”
‘To pass over The Noble House into safe hands,” he said. Then he told her what Brock had said, and about his argument with Culum today.
She was silent a long time, thinking through the problem of the third thing. And because the solution was so easy, she hid it deep in her heart and said innocently, “I said I would help you with the first two, that I would think about the third. This third is too much to me. I canna help, much as I would like.”
“Aye,” Struan said. “I dinna ken what to do. At least,” he added, “there’s only one answer.”
“The killing answer is unwisdom,” she said firmly. “Very unwisdomly dangerous. The Brocks will be expect it. Everyone. And you risk vengeance of your terrible law wat stupidly demands eye for eye whoever has eye which is crazy mad. Why else be riches, heya? You must na do it, Tai-Pan. And I further counsel you give your son and new daughter the present they desire.”
“I canna do that, by God. That’d be like cutting Culum’s throat mysel’!”
“Even so, that is my counsel. And I further counsel a fantastical immediate marriage.”
“That’s out of the question,” he exploded. “That’d be in very bad taste, an insult to the memory of Robb, and ridiculous.”
“I agree very heartedly Tai-Pan,” May-may said. “But I seems to memory that following barbarian custom—which for once follows wise Chinese custom—the girl comes into the house of the husband. Na the opposite, heya? So the immediater the Brock girl gets from under the Gorth’s thumb, the sooner the Brocks lose controls over your son.”
“What?”
“Aye wat! What for is your son sick crazy in the head? He needs to bed her fantastical bad.” Her voice rose as Struan sat up in the bed. “Now, dinna give me arguments, by God, but listen and then I will listen dutifully. That’s wat’s making him crazy sick—because the poor boy’s cold and weary and unbedded by night. That is fact. Why for you na say open, heya? I say open. He’s frantic hot. So he listen with tongue hanging up to all that Gorth crazy talk. Me, if I was him, I’d do likewise because brother has power over sister! But let son Culum have the girl, and then will your Culum spend hour after godrot hour listening to brother Gorth? By God, nay! He spends every minute in bed playing busums and exhausting himself and making babies and he detest interruptions from you, from Brock or from Gorth.” She looked at him sweetly. “Nay?”
“Aye,” he said. “I love you for your shrewdness.”
“You love me ’cause I drive you crazy mad but sleep you, sleep you till you busted.” She laughed, greatly satisfied with herself. “Next: start
them
building
their
house. Tomorrow. Put their minds on that and away from fan-quai Gorth. She is young, eh? So thought of own house will fantastical occupation her mind. This will anger the Brocks and they will begin to decide wat sort of home and so on, which will anger her and bring her closer to you wat gave her home. Gorth must absolute oppose quick marriage—thusly turn Culum against him, because he loses his—wat you call it?—his jack in the hole.”
“Ace in the hole.” He hugged her delightedly. “You’re fantastical! I should have thought of that mysel’. There’s another land sale next week. I’ll buy you a marine lot. Because you’re wise.”
“Huh!” she said crossly. “You think I protect my man for filthy Hong Kong land? A single miseration suburban lot? For taels of silver? For jades? Wat for you think this priceless T’Chung May-may is, heya? A dirty lump of dog-meat whore?”
She rattled on and on and reluctantly allowed him to gentle her, proud that he understood the value of land to a civilized person, and grateful that he had given her such face by pretending not to know how pleased she was.
The room was quiet now, except for the soft drone of the mosquitoes.
May-may curled up against Struan and turned her mind to the solution of the third thing. She decided to think about it in Mandarin and not in English because she did not know enough words with the correct shades of meaning. Like “nuance,” she thought. How would you say that in barbarian? Or “finesse”? The solution of the third thing required true Chinese nuance and perfect finesse.
The solution is so delightfully simple, she told herself gleefully. Assassinate Gorth. Have him assassinated in such a way that no one suspects that the assassins are anything other than robbers or pirates. If it’s done clandestinely in this fashion, one danger to my Tai-Pan is removed; Culum is protected from an obvious future hazard; and the father Brock can do nothing because he still is bound by the astounding and unbelievable finality the barbarians put into such a “holy” oath. So simple. But fraught with danger. I must be very careful. If my Tai-Pan ever found out, he would bring me before one of the barbarian judges—that revolting Mauss probably! My Tai-Pan would charge me—even me, his adored concubine. And I would be hanged. How ridiculous!
After all this time, and all my studying—learning their tongue and assiduously trying to comprehend them—certain barbarian attitudes are still absolutely beyond me. How ridiculous to have one law for all—for rich or for poor. What else is the point of working and sweating to become rich and powerful?
Now, what is the best way? she asked herself. I know so little about assassination. How to do it? Where? When?
May-may was awake the whole night. With the coming of dawn she had decided on the best procedure. Then she slept sweetly.
By Midsummer Day Happy Valley was in complete despair. The malaria had continued to spread but there was no pattern to the epidemic. Not everyone in the same house was infected. Not every house in the same area was touched.
Coolies would not come into Happy Valley until the sun was high, and they returned to Tai Ping Shan before dark. Struan and Brock and all the traders were at their wits’ end. There was nothing they could do—except move, and moving meant disaster. Staying could mean worse disaster. And though there were many who insisted it could not be the poisoned soil and polluted night air that brought malaria, only those who slept in the valley were afflicted. The God-fearing believed as Culum had believed, that the fever was the will of God, and they redoubled their petitions to the Almighty to protect them; the godless shrugged, though equally frightened, and said, “Joss.” The trickle of families back to the ships developed into a flood, and Queen’s Town became a ghost town.
But this despair did not grip Longstaff. He had returned from Canton last night in the flagship, flushed with success, and as he lived aboard her and had no intention of residing in Happy Valley, he knew he was out of reach of the poisonous night gases.