Gai-Jin by James Clavell
Hoag! If she continued her canter she would catch up with him. A trot would avoid him, and even easier to turn and go home. “Good morning, Monsieur le docteur, how are you?”
“Oh, hello, you’re looking well.”
“I’m not,” she said, “I’m piqued. But thank you anyway.” A slight hesitation and she added casually, “A woman never feels well during that time of the month.”
Startled, he jerked his reins and his mare bridled, neighed and shook her head, frightening Angelique’s mount. In moments both were in tight control again. “Sorry,” he said gruffly, “I’d … I’d expected the opposite.” The suddenness and her nonchalance was so unsettling that he almost said, Are you sure? Must be getting old, he thought, irritated with himself for not seeing the obvious—obvious now that he looked at her. “Well, at least you know.”
“I’m terribly disappointed, for Malcolm’s sake, but somehow it doesn’t seem to—to skewer me anymore. Of course I cried my heart out but now …” Her guilelessness made him want to reach out and comfort her.
“With all the rest, that’s understandable, Angelique. Better that way. I told you before, so long as you can cry, none of it will damage you. May I ask when you started?”
There were more bugles from the bluff. “What’s going on? I saw Settry and other officers rush off.”
“The bugles are just recalling officers, routine, nothing to worry about.” Hoag looked around to make sure no one was near. “Thanks for telling me,” he laughed nervously, “if a little abruptly. Can we talk as we ride?”
“Certainly,” she said, knowing full well why she had told him. It was seeing Gornt today and Hoag convenient. And because she wanted the fight to begin. “It began Sunday.”
“I don’t know whether to say you’re lucky or unlucky.”
“It’s neither,” she said. “It was the will of God, I accept that. I’m sorry for Malcolm, not for me. For me, it’s the will of God. What do you do now, inform her?”
“Yes, but first I have to give you a letter.”
It was her turn to be startled. “You had a letter all this time but didn’t give it to me?”
“She asked me to give it to you if you were not bearing Malcolm’s child.”
“Oh.” She thought about that, feeling slightly sick. “And if I were, what then?”
“That’s a hypothetical question now, isn’t it?” he said gently, her sudden pallor worrisome. This young lady’s not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot.
“I want to know.”
“I was asked to give you this letter if your period began, Angelique. Would you like to go back now? I’ll bring it to your suite.”
“Thank you, but I’ll … I’ll wait while you collect it, I’ll wait outside Struan’s.” She spurred ahead, finished this circuit, oblivious of the others—every one of them watching her. On a whim she wheeled to take the path for a short gallop to clear her head of fear. Spurs and knees and hands and the pony was smoothly flat out.
Ahead were two church spires and the perimeter fence, the Yoshiwara nestling outside but inside its own walls, the bridge and guard house. For a moment her mind took her back in time and it was as if she were galloping towards them panic-stricken, the bloody Tokaidō behind her, hat gone, clothes torn, frightened nearly to death. The vision evaporated as she reined in—how long ago that all seemed. A different kind of fear remained. She had cast the die.
Tess’s letter read:
I’m sure you will agree there is no need for pleasantries that are meaningless between us.
I’m glad that you are not bearing my son’s child. That makes the future simpler and less messy. I do not accept or acknowledge the “marriage” or that you have any legal claims whatsoever against him—to the contrary.
By the time you read this the Noble House will have begun a new era, or be teetering on bankruptcy. If the first, it will be due in part to yr sending me that person.
Because of that, as a finder’s fee, I will pay capital into the Bank of England, in trust, necessary to provide you with an income of two thousand guineas a year—if, in turn, you provide me within thirty days from today’s date (when your period has been established), with an affidavit on the following conditions:
First, that you repudiate and relinquish forever any and all claims you or any representatives might dream up against my son’s nonexistent estate—you realize that, as a minor and never accredited legally as tai-pan, he had no estate to leave.
Second, that you agree to relinquish all claims to, and agree no longer to use, the “Mrs. Malcolm Struan” title or any version of it. (For face, yrs, I suggest you have regretfully decided to do this because, being Catholic, you accept you were not legally married according to yr faith and yr Church, not that I accept the ceremony was valid in any way.)
Third, that you will not set foot in Hong Kong again, other than to transship, nor seek to meet me, write to me or have any contact with me or my line in the future.
Fourth, that yr affidavit formally notarized by Sir William Aylesbury HM.’s Minister for Japan, be delivered to me here in Hong Kong, via Dr. Hoag as surety, by February 14th, a little over thirty days approximately from today (the date yr period has been established).
Last, that if you marry within the year the capital will be enlarged to increase the yearly stipend to three thousand guineas for the first ten years. On yr death the capital reverts to me or my heirs.
Within three weeks of reading this, please remove yourself from Struan premises. I have advised Mr. Albert MacStruan, by letter today, to that effect, and also that, from today, yr credit with Struan’s is ended and that any chits given, or purportedly given, by my son and authenticated by his chop only are not to be honored—excepting those that are personally signed and dated by him, thus completely bona fide.
If within three weeks, yr affidavit is signed and ready for Dr. Hoag, then Mr. MacStruan is authorized to give you at once credit to FIVE HUNDRED guineas on account of your guaranteed trust which will be erected within thirty days, the yearly amount to be paid quarterly.
Should you decline the above conditions (you have my solemn word they are not negotiable) or I do not see Dr. Hoag by said specified date, February 12th, the next day, Friday 13th, my solicitors will file court proceedings against you to the maximum I and they feel justified, the first of which is that with malice aforethought you caused the death of my son.
A piece of advice: Mr. Skye may twist and turn and scream duress, that these are threats against yr person. They are not. My solicitors advise me they are not, that this is a generous, legal way to remove a tiresome problem my son, for whatever ill-advised reasons, has caused.
Please ask Dr. Hoag to return as soon as possible with yr affidavit, or nonagreement. Tess Struan, 28th December, Year of our Lord, 1862, at Hong Kong.
Gornt looked up from the letter. “You don’t accept.”
“That’s exactly what Mr. Skye told me.” Some of Angelique’s fury dissipated on the spot. She sat in her tall chair, stiff and setfaced, Gornt opposite her, and they were in her boudoir. “I’m glad you agree. I’ll reply in kind to that—that woman this afternoon!”
“No, that would be wrong. I’m saying you don’t fight, that’s the worst you can do. You compromise.”
She became ashen again, more than angry. “You say accept these … this foulness?”
“I’m just saying you can compromise in due course,” he said, his mind working well and logically though his chest and throat felt tight. “I’m sure I can get you better terms.”
“Terms? Then you do say accept this in principle? Accept this? I thought you were a fighter and my friend but you’ll let her get away with dragging my face in the mud?”
“I know she said it’s nonnegotiable, but I don’t believe that. I can improve it. Her first offer, two or three thousand, already makes you comfortable, five and you’d be rich.”
“That doesn’t outweigh her vile manners, her evil threats, constant h
“I agree. On your behalf I’ll renegotiate.”
“Jésus. I want her humbled, smashed.”
“So do I, but now is not the time.”
“What?”
“The great Dirk Struan really did ill-use my mother’s family, the Tillmans—not as bad as Morgan, but bad enough.” His smile was cruel. “If I can crush Brock’s, why not Struan’s? It’s all the same to me. Revenge is a meal we can eat together leisurely, morsel by morsel.”
“We can?” A sudden warmth went into her loins, he looked so confident and handsome and strong. “How?”
“First, what did Skye say?”
“He said at once to fight and showed me papers he has prepared for filing in Hong Kong, London and Paris an—”
“Paris? Why Paris?”
She explained about “ward of the State.” “He says in Paris with ward of France as a fact we will win, the marriage will be declared legal according to French law, and then I can settle at my whim, not hers.”
“Has he mentioned fees, Angelique?”
She flushed. “That has nothing to do with his advice.”
“Nonsense,” he said harshly. “Our only safety is to face the truth and understand the games being played. That little bastard, ’scuse me, but I use the term advisedly—he is by the way, I found that out in Hong Kong—that little bastard is only thinking of his future, not yours, imagining himself in various courts defending this poor but beautiful French widow, swaying various juries—and losing everything for you.”
“I don’t see … Why?”
“Malcolm has no estate.”
“But … but, Mr. Skye says according to French law th—”
“Wake up, Angelique!” His voice was even harsher. It was vital to get her out of this stupid, useless rage.
The moment he had come into her boudoir and had seen her tight-lipped, seething, a letter shaking in her hand, he had realized that this was the letter Hoag had told him about, that therefore there was no child and now Plan A could be hurtled into place. His joy had crested.
Pretending to know nothing, he had begun cheery greetings but these were spurned, the letter shoved at him, her fury making her even more attractive—the passion good for both of them, he had thought contentedly. But now it must be channeled and refined, like his. “Skye’s full of wind! Wake up!”
“I am awake, he is not, and don’t think for a mom—”
“Stop it! Use your head, for God’s sake! It’s you who’re at risk, not him!” For an instant he wondered again what Tess’s second letter, the other letter, contained that, now, no one would ever know—Hoag had said part of the agreement with Tess was that, prior to delivering this one, he would burn the other unopened. Would Hoag really do that, or would he have read it before burning it though he had sworn a holy oath to abide exactly by her wishes? Wish I knew, but then that’s only icing on the cake.
“Angelique, dear Angelique …” He tossed the letter on the table as though it were dirty, believing it to be wonderful, got up and sat beside her and took her hand. “Paris and French law and all the rest are only for Skye’s benefit, not yours. Even if he won, I’d wager ten thousand to one against, their ruling would have no bearing on Tess Struan and Hong Kong…. Listen to me,” he said louder as she started to override him. “We’ve not much time and you have to be sensible. While you borrow or pauper yourself or sell yourself to pay his costs, let alone the fees he needs, you’ll lose this one chance. He hasn’t got but a few dollars. How’s he going to get to Hong Kong, let alone Paris or London? That’s a pipe dream.” Sullenly she pulled her hand away. He laughed. “You’re like a spoiled brat and I love you for it.”
“You …” She stopped. “You do?”
“Love you or think you’re a spoiled brat?”
With a different voice she said, “Both.”
“Both,” he said in a different voice, and took her hand again and grinned when she tried to pull it away. This time he did not allow it. With equal, gentle firmness he pulled her closer and kissed her deeply. Her fight was immediate, soon to lessen, soon to enjoy. Both of them. When he released her he ducked at once, correctly anticipating her nails, which slashed at him. “Whoa, there,” he said as though to a spirited horse, delighted he had the measure of her. “Whoa, there, Nelly!”
She laughed in spite of her anger. “You’re a devil.”
“Yes, but I’ll make a fine husband, Ma’am.”
Her smiled faded. The anger vanished. She got up and went to the window and stared out at the bay and the ships there. Lots of activity around the warships. He watched and waited, hoping that he had judged correctly. When she was ready, she said, “You say compromise, Edward. How?”
“I’d take the next, fastest boat to Hong Kong,” he said. “I’ll see her at once and make changes you and I agree on—and I think are possible. I’m sure I can up the stipend. Five instead of two or three thousand would be acceptable, yes?”
“She says those disgusting terms won’t be changed.”
“I will change them, some of them.”
“Which?”
“We can discuss those today and tomorrow. I’m confident about the money.”
“Mon Dieu, the money’s not everything, and why so quickly? There’s till the 14th of next month.”
“I must be first with the news, to catch her off balance. That makes my bargaining position better. For you,” he added.
She turned and looked at him. “Also for you too.”
“Also for me,” he said, these twists and turns and risks and gambles, a wrong word fatal, more thrilling than the best poker game he had ever been in, the stakes the highest. Her. Her and his future indivisible. And she holds most of the aces, he told himself, though she doesn’t know it: her immediate agreement to Tess’s demands, at his persuasion, would make Tess more keen than ever to be his ally, so vital to his future; her five thousand guineas would help to cement Rothwell-Gornt; and her venom would ensure Tess’s end.
“I love you and want to marry you,” he said. “Please.”
“It’s much too soon to answer that.”
“I don’t agree, you’re footloose and fancy free.”
“Because I’m not married and never was?” she snapped.
“Calm down, honey, think calmly! We’re adults, I have a right to ask, to say I love you and to want to marry you.”
She dropped her gaze and conceded, needing him, he alone could shield her from Tess. “Sorry, yes, sorry, the … the letter unsettled me. But, it’s too soon to answer you, really.”
“I don’t agree. I believe you love me, the promise could be private, not to be advertised, between us. I love you, we would make a grand team,” he said, meaning it. “The future’s vast for us once this”—he motioned at the letter—“once this no longer threatens you. We’ve much in common and a common goal, to destroy your enemy and mine, at leisure.”
“I don’t love you, I like you, immensely, perhaps I could, perhaps I would love you in time and I would try if … if I was to marry you—no, don’t move, let me finish.” Her fingers were toying with a pearl buckle that she had bought in the village and that reminded her as MacStruan would not honor her remaining chits it was, apart from her engagement ring and the jade ring, the only jewelry she still possessed. And André would be around this afternoon again. She put that worry away for later and concentrated. Curious that Edward should have the same idea that I have. We think alike in many ways. “For the moment let me answer that later. When’s the next ship for Hong Kong?”
“The best and fastest would be tomorrow night. Cooper-Tillman’s Atlanta Belle, direct to Hong Kong then San Francisco,” he said at once, arrivals and departures in the forefront of every trader’s mind. “She’ll be in Hong Kong before our clipper, Night Witch—
“You’d want to be on her, the Atlanta Belle?”
“Yes.”
“Then, Edward, let’s discuss what you think can be bettered with that woman in the morning, that gives me time to think. If we agree, then please go quickly to Hong Kong … and hurry back, quickly.”
“Good. But your answer to my proposal?”
“I will give you that when you return.”
“I must have it before I leave.”
“Why?”
“For my pleasure,” he said.
She saw the same strange smile and wondered what was behind it. “Why? Seriously?”
He got up and stood over her. “Because it’s vital to me. If you’ll marry me the sky’s the limit, you’ll adore Shanghai, it’s the greatest city in Asia, makes Hong Kong look like a backwater, you’ll be the toast of the town and live happily ever after. I promise. Now, please promise.”
“I promise to give you my answer when you return, there should be trust between us,” she said, and he remembered saying the same thing to Tess. “When you return.”
“Sorry, my dear Angelique, I need to know before I go.”
“Or you won’t negotiate for me, with Tess?”
He did not answer at once. “I’ll negotiate for you. And I’d like to marry you tomorrow, tonight—nothing to do with Tess, but that’s not possible.” He went closer and held her shoulders in his hands, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Jolie Mademoiselle, an answer please? By sunset tomorrow? I’ll have to board then. An answer before God.”
That afternoon the news about Katsumata and Meikin’s suicide reached Raiko in her private quarters. She fainted. When she had begun to recover, she sent a maid to ask Hiraga to find Akimoto and Takeda urgently, there were terrible facts to report. They came quickly.
Weeping unashamed and wringing her hands, she told them about Yoshi capturing Katsumata, about his death and that of Meikin, Koiko’s mama-san, but not that she had betrayed him. “This is the end … if Yoshi found out about Katsumata and Meikin, he knows about me, about you, we’re all betrayed. Who’s the traitor? It’s only a matter of time …” Again her terror soared. “You must all leave at once before Enforcers discover you…. You must leave…. ”