Gai-Jin (138 page)

“Oh, yes, love.” Now that she had room her panic had gone. She adjusted her hat. The feather had been broken. “Look at that!”

“Here let me help you,” Tyrer said importantly, waving others away. “You, go on, move, you’ve frightened her to death. Are you all right, Angelique? Malcolm?”

“Of course,” Malcolm said. Now that she was safe and he had his sticks, his happiness returned and he shouted, “Thanks for welcoming us! Drinks on the Noble House, the Club bar’s open and stays open until further orders!”

There was a general rush in that direction. Soon only Malcolm, Angelique, McFay and Phillip Tyrer remained. And the sour presence of Michaelmas Tweet: “Mr. Struan, the ceremony is completely not legal and I must warn y—”

“You may be right, Reverend, but I’m advised to the contrary, sir,” Struan said firmly, having already devised a plan for Tweet, another for Father Leo and another for Sir William. “Nonetheless I believe there is a happy solution. Perhaps you would come to my office at noon tomorrow? The House of the Lord will be satisfied, sir, you may rest assured!” Then he whispered to Jamie, “Divert him,” and to the others, “Head for the office, fast as you can.”

They had to run the gauntlet of a few stragglers and then Angelique whispered, “Phillip, hurry!” She ran on ahead with him to avoid Father Leo who was approaching from down the street as fast as his bulk and his cassock would allow. Once in the foyer, with most of the staff lined up there, Vargas in front, Chen smiling glassily, she laughed nervously. “I didn’t want to have to talk to him!”

“Why not?” Phillip was beaming. “You’re married and that’s that—at least Sir William’s been spitting blood since he heard, cursing the Navy, Ketterer, Marlowe—so I imagine you are married, but all I want to say is congrats and may I kiss the bride?” He did not wait and kissed her like a brother. She hugged him and breathed another sigh of relief.

Struan came through the door with McFay. “Lock it,” he ordered. Helped by Vargas, McFay obeyed, politely but firmly shoving the few more persistent traders out and slamming the bolt home as Father Leo strode up, tried the handle, then hammered on the door as though it were a cathedral portal.

But no one paid any attention, all fleeing into the office like a group of mischievous children, where they collapsed into the chairs. All except Malcolm.

“Champagne, Chen. Thank you, Vargas, see you later,” he said over congratulations, and added to Chen, in Cantonese, “Open the wine, little mealymouth.”

Jamie McFay shut the door and sank into the last chair.

“Ayeeyah,” Malcolm said, bubbling like the wine. “I didn’t think it would be like this. Phillip, thanks again for the good wishes, you too, Jamie. Are you all right, Angel?”

“Yes, Mr. Struan, wonderful, thank you.”

Tyrer said, “It’s all marvelous news, Malcolm, and by the way could you see Sir William as soon as possible.”

The way he said it, so tentatively, so matter-of-fact, when they all knew he had been bellowed at, made a sudden silence which broke apart as they all laughed hysterically.

“Tomorrow afternoon, happily,” Malcolm said.

Their glasses were soon full and even more quickly empty and again filled, conversation loud and not listened to. The door eased open. Vargas signalled McFay, then whispered to him.

Jamie nodded. “I’ll be there in a moment. Tai-pan, can you excuse me? And there’s a message for Ang—for Mrs. Struan: Mr. Seratard wants to add his congratulations personally at the Legation, soon as possible and the … the priest would like to see you both a moment.”

“Jamie, first finish your drink. Vargas, send word to Seratard we’ll put him on top of the list, but first tell Father Leo to be here tomorrow at 5:00
P.M.
, here, in my office.” Vargas vanished. Malcolm saw the shadow on Angelique’s face. “I’ll see him, Angel, you don’t have to, and by Sunday everything will be calm, I promise. Everything’s in control. Soon as it’s dark, we’ll slip back aboard the cutter.”

“Cutter? Why, Malcolm, what on earth for?”

“Another surprise, we’re dining aboard
Prancing Cloud
and staying the night, then tomorrow there are more surprises, lots and lots, there’s a
honeymoon to plan. We’ll leave in an hour and there’s no need for you to change, I had Ah Soh pack some clothes for you and they’re already aboard.” To Jamie, “You have to leave? What’s up?”

“I’d made a date with Gornt and forgot all about it in the excitement. He’s waiting in my anteroom. He asked Vargas to give you both his congratulations, and Norbert’s.”

“Thank him for me, but don’t go for a second.”

“Thank him for me too, Jamie,” Angelique said.

“Of course, Mrs. Struan.” McFay was trying to get used to the sound of the words, finding it difficult and artificial, the two words conjuring up Tess Struan, and nowadays every time he thought of her he became bilious. The moment he had heard about the marriage, the reason for Malcolm’s letter to the
Guardian
and last night’s announcement had become clear—even the timing of the duel dovetailed neatly.

Married! Oh my God!

The implications for Malcolm were immense. For himself it did not matter now that he had made his peace with Malcolm and with himself. He doubted if he would ever have a peace with Tess Struan. Though she was a fanatic Struan, at the same time she had inherited her father’s vindictiveness, his ruthless need for revenge. He had witnessed it falling on the Bosun in charge of the boat that had capsized, drowning the twins. She had had him charged with murder, demanding hanging. The coroner had found him guilty of negligence, causing manslaughter, and gave him the maximum ten years, hard labor, in the Hong Kong prison, which the man would never survive. Negligent? Not really, McFay and most had thought at the time, the storm sudden, as happens that season of the year, an unhappy accident. But she was Tess Struan of the Noble House. The Bosun’s real mistake, he thought sadly, was that he lived and the children died.

“Angelique,” Struan was saying. “Why don’t you freshen up, I’m going to do the same and we’ll leave within the hour—I’ve just a few things to settle with Jamie.” They kissed and she left. In Cantonese he told Chen he should arrange hot water for his wife and for him, “Then we go aboard
Prancing Cloud
. Is everything prepared?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good, and you three better be quiet as bats, and contented as pigs in shit like never before!” To Tyrer, he added pleasantly in English, “Phillip, you’ll excuse us, won’t you? Starting tomorrow, there’ll be major celebrations all over, wedding feast and so on with formal invitations. Please give Sir William my compliments, and please don’t mention we’ll be aboard
Prancing Cloud
tonight to anyone—even to Sir William. I don’t want any drunken rowdies circling us all night, we want to be private, all right?”

“Quite understand, again congratulations.” Tyrer was happy to leave.
He still had to see Hiraga to finish another, curt dispatch for
Tairō
Anjo before he could cross the bridge to Fujiko. After this morning’s council of war between Sir William and Seratard, aided by himself and André, where final details of the forthcoming bombardment and punitive Yedo campaign were agreed, André had whispered: “Fujiko’s panting to see you, it’s all arranged. She’s even insisting on serving you a Japanese feast, so arrive hungry and thirsty, but don’t forget to act tough.”

Now alone, some of Malcolm’s fatigue showed. “Jamie, pour me a glass, would you? Thanks. Everything’s organized?”

“For tonight, yes, and tomorrow, yes. Ah Tok and Ah Soh are aboard with the trunks, Chen will go with you and Mrs. Struan. As far as I know no one except them, Strongbow, me, and now Phillip know you’ll sleep aboard
Prancing Cloud.”

“Good. Phillip was a mistake, but never mind,” Malcolm said. “I got too exuberant but it should be all right. He shouldn’t blab. What does Gornt want?”

“Just to arrange final details.” McFay looked at him. “Shouldn’t your marriage make a difference now?”

“It could. But unless Norbert apologizes, it won’t.”

“Gornt wanted a private word, if you had a moment.”

“All right. Tell him that’s all it can be—and let me see him first, eh?”

Gornt’s friendliness filled the room. To Malcolm he seemed like a very old comrade. “Champagne?”

“Thank you, Tai-pan. May I congratulate you?”

“You may. Health!”

“And yours, suh.”

“Sorry, but we have to be quick, tomorrow there’ll be more time, what’s up?”

“I wanted to tell you, privately, Mr. Greyforth is going to accept your compromise tomorrow. No duel.”

Struan smiled. “That’s the best news I’ve had … no, the second best news I’ve had all day!”

“Yes.” Gornt’s face hardened. “If he means it.”

“Eh?”

“I think you should be ready for treachery. Sorry to be a cold towel on a great day but I wanted to warn you. I know he’ll change his mind.”

Malcolm watched him, then nodded, undisturbed. “With Norbert, and all the Brocks, we expect treachery for breakfast.” Their glasses touched. “Health—and wealth—and happiness!”

The room was warm for both of them, Malcolm noticing a curiousness about him that he could not divine. “You’re still planning on tomorrow, giving me the information I need?”

“Oh, yes.” Gornt got up. “And my contract?”

“It’s ready. My signature can be witnessed tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Until tomorrow, and again congratulations.”

Again Malcolm sensed more than saw a strange humor in him. “You’re looking forward to it as much as I am.”

Gornt’s eyes seemed to focus. “Yes. It will be another great day, an ending and a beginning.”

Upstairs, Angelique was in front of her mirror, seeing nothing, unconsciously tinkering with the signet ring on her finger. She was alone for the first time today, in the privacy of her own room with the door locked, and the moment she sat down, the clamor of truths and paradoxes had abruptly possessed her: everything happening so fast, married but never really expecting it, never that way, not aboard a ship, hoping and praying but not believing it possible, so many barricades between them; married but not in the sight of God, married to a man I set my cap at, actively pursued, and encouraged to pursue me; the man I adore but have cheated—the rape not my fault, the casting out necessary, the earrings the only way, the secrecy the only means to protect my life but still a cheat—this man, who loves me to oblivion, risking, all, I’ve stolen from, cheated, and go to my marriage bed soiled and yet …

Three times, coming back ashore, I began to tell him.

That’s not true, I began to tell him part, the part about the earrings, but each time his elation overpowered me and stopped me as he poured out truths about his mother and her letters—and Skye and Father Leo and the English priest, the Admiral and Sir William—how he had been blocked but in the end he had won
… “I won, my beloved wife. I won you and now no one can take you from me ….”

Embracing and rapturous tears in each other’s arms.

As God is my witness, I know he would have been destroyed had I begun, and once begun I know the rest would have poured out. And then he would have died, poor lovely man. For that’s what he is, truly, the most lovely man in my life. I know now I do love him, equally—no one could have tried so hard, casting so many barriers aside. I love him and yet …

What must I do?

She saw her face staring back at her. Not liking to see herself so unguarded, her eyes dropped. She saw her fingers twisting the ring, this way and that, the way André did with his signet ring. Malcolm’s ring was gold, heavy, with the engraved Struan crest: the Lion of Scotland entwined with the Dragon of China. Is that good with evil? she asked herself, and suddenly shivered.

To divert herself she brushed her hair vigorously but this did not help. Dark thoughts soared back, faster, ever faster, all of them—and
him
.

It all became like a foul vomit ready to pour out. She felt faint and pressed her hands against her temples. “Don’t … you must be strong … you must be strong, you’re alone, you must …” Her moaning stopped as another thought cleared the sick away.
“But you’re not alone,”
she said aloud. “There are two of you now, there’s Malcolm and he needs you … two of you—you and Malcolm, he needs you, Malcolm who is your husband …”

This image moved around her mind, filling it, and then she heard him calling from downstairs, so joyously, “Angel, hurry, it’s time to leave … hurry!”

Unhurried she went and knelt in front of the little statue of the Blessed Virgin and gave all of herself: “Mother of God, forgive this sinner. I have sinned grievously, I beg Thy forgiveness. I have sinned grievously, and live a lie, but I swear I will be the best wife I can be, for as long as I am permitted, for I love this man with all my heart as I love Thee…. ”

“How nice to see you, Raiko-chan,” Meikin said with a smile, kneeling opposite her. “It has been too long.” She was mama-san of the House of Wisteria and Koiko’s mistress and they were in Raiko’s most private sanctuary.

“Yes, thank you, you honor me,” Raiko said, delighted to see her old friend, though more than a little surprised that Meikin had responded with such alacrity to her invitation for a business discussion. “Please help yourself to some snacks, the eel is particularly delicate. Saké or gai-jin brandy?”

“First saké, please.” Meikin accepted it from an attentive maid. Business must be good, she thought, noting the expensive trappings of this isolated, secure dwelling within the walls of the Three Carp.

“Though times are hard, happily gai-jin have little idea of money values and, disgusting as they may be, reapings are high and the cost of hot water and clean towels and perfumes small.” The two women laughed, watched and waited.

Meikin sampled the sushi—delicious—and began eating hugely for such a small woman. Her travelling kimono was deliberately mediocre. Anyone seeing her would presume she was a minor merchant’s wife, not one of the richest mama-sans in Yedo, owner of the city’s most expensive Pleasure House in the greatest Yoshiwara in the land—recently entirely rebuilt and refurbished after last year’s fire—mama-san to ten of the most gifted geisha, twenty of the loveliest courtesans, as well as contract owner of Koiko the Lily. She looked around Raiko’s most inner sanctum, reserved for special occasions, admiring the unique silks and cushions and tatamis, chatting while she ate, wondering why the request for a meeting.