The tightness in his throat was choking him. No way to ease into this, his brain was shouting at him, do it or you’ll never do it, do it now! Of course it’s not fair but you’ve not been fair to her at all, not fair for years, you’re rotten to have taken advantage of her all these years, my God, you’ve been engaged three and knew her two before that and you’re rotten … admit it and say it quickly. Now!
The flood commenced: “Three months ago I wrote you that I felt, it must have arrived after you left, I thought it wise we should break off our engagement and you should forget me and that I was terribly sorry but it was the best for you and I won’t go home and live there and work there, I won’t leave Asia until I have to, if I get sick or … I won’t leave, can’t, I love Asia, love my job and there’s no hope for a happy time for you, I’m not worth it and I admit I’ve taken advantage of you but we can’t marry, not possible and now that I’m going out on my own …” He stopped for breath then added throatily, “I don’t know what else to say, there’s nothing more to say except again to apologize … there it is.”
He had taken his hand away. His stomach was churning. Out came his handkerchief to mop his brow. “Sorry,” he said lamely, and got up and sat down, then toyed with the glass. “Sorry.”
Her hands lay in her lap. Her eyes were concentrated and open and had never left his face. “Dinna be sorry,” she said gently with the barest frown. “These things happen, laddie.”
His mouth dropped open. “Then you agree?”
She laughed. “Of course, to part of what you said, no’ to all, of course—you’re a man and I’m a woman and we see things differently.”
“Eh? How?”
“Well, first about jobs,” she said. “A woman’s job, her work, is to look after a man, to make a home, that’s what I’ve been trained for, home and family are the most important things in the world.” She saw Jamie about to interrupt so she added quickly, “My da’ thinks the Empire comes first but he’s a man. Men have jobs to go to, to work at to bring home the porridge, a little meat, and aye, some wusky. But there has to be a home to bring it to. Without a woman there’s no home. It’s very important for a man to have someone you can trust to share the burden while you work, or seek a job or start your own business. You can trust me. Of the two, trying to start your own business is best for you. Mr. Gornt wants to do the same.”
“He does?”
“Aye, sometime in the future, he says. Now he’s back here to take over Brock and Sons an—”
“He is?” Jamie blinked, diverted.
“Aye. He says he’s taking the job of this man who tried to kill you, Mr. Greyfifth.”
“Greyforth. Norbert Greyforth.” Jamie’s mind slammed back into gear: I must be losing my wits with you appearing like a ghost, I’d forgotten about Hoag and Malcolm and Hong Kong. “What happened in Hong Kong? About Malcolm Struan? Did Gornt say anything about Morgan Brock or Tyler Brock?”
“Patience, my bonny laddie, that comes later. Back to you and me since you brought the subject up as you did. We’ll make a grand team, the best, I promise. We’re engaged. I promise I will make the best wife ever, I promise.”
“But don’t you see, lassie, it won’t work,” he said, hating himself, but totally sure. “This place is rough, the life rough, there are few women here, you’ll have no friends, nothing to do.”
She laughed. “Jamie, Jamie, you hav’na heard a single word I’ve said. Now this is what w—”
A knock on the door stopped her. She called out, “Won’t be a second!” She got up, continuing in the same gentle but firm voice, “That’ll be Dr. Hoag, he was urgent to see you but I begged a couple of minutes first, I could’na’ wait to see you. Now I’ll leave you to him.” She collected her hat and gloves and coat and scarf. “Dinna concern yourself about me, I’ll be changed and ready in good time. I’ll knock on your door. Dinner’s at nine, dinna forget now.”
“Eh?” he asked blankly.
“This Russian Count, Zerevev, some name like that. We’ve accepted for dinner, Mr. MacStruan told me all about it.”
She swept out, thanked Hoag, and before Jamie could say anything, Hoag had closed the door and had rushed up to him and said breathlessly, the words tumbling out: “Hong Kong went like a dream, Jamie, Malcolm was buried with full honors, at sea like he and Angelique wanted!”
“He was what?”
Hoag chortled, “You could have knocked me down with a feather too, Tess arranged it off Shek-O, one of his favorite places in all the world, a few days before I arrived. Full honors, Jamie, all flags at half mast, ships dipping their flags, cannonade salutes, pipers, everything, the funeral of the tai-pan, though he never was. The papers covered everything, I’ve the cuttings, month’s mourning for Hong Kong, Governor ordered a special service in our church on the knoll in Happy Valley of Culum fame, Gordon Chen threw the biggest, most explosive procession and wake in Chinatown’s history—except for the one he gave Dirk—of course starting the usual bloody fires on the slopes and they say a few thousand squatter shacks went up in smoke, not only that, when I saw Tess … can I have a drink, I’m parched!”
“Of course. Go on, don’t stop,” Jamie said, and poured for both of them, his own glass long since empty. He noticed his fingers were shaking. Christ, why would Tess do that, a sea burial, and what the hell is Maureen doing accepting for dinner when we’ve got to talk? “Go on, for Christ’s sake!”
First Hoag drank. “My God, that’s good!” He took off his coat and sat down, took a deep breath and felt better. “My God, I’m pleased to see you. Where was I? Oh, yes! When I saw Tess the first time I was so upset for her. It was awful. I met her in Culum’s old office and she said, ‘Ronald, tell me the bad, all the details, tell it as it happened.’ She was standing by the huge desk, straight as a spar, pale, never so pale, Jamie—the painting of Dirk on the wall, staring at you with that green-eyed challenge, daring you to lie. I told her as best I could, of course she’d heard bits and pieces from Strongbow—you remember I’d told him to tell her I was on the mail ship and sorry I couldn’t come by Cloud because there was an operation I had to perform.
“She never wavered, she never wavered, Jamie, just listened as I told about the Tokaidō, engagement, marriage and death as best I could, as gently as I could, the duel, Norbert, you and Gornt. It all came out, don’t remember my exact words but I told it as it happened.” He stopped a moment, less nervous now. “You know how she is, always holding back, always hiding, the stiffest upper lip in Christendom. She just thanked me, told me she had the death certificate and inquest papers from Strongbow. Remarkable woman. Uncanny. That’s about all—oh yes, she thanked me for taking care of the coffin with the undertaker, which went perfectly, thank God.”
“Eh?”
Hoag’s eyes brightened. “Naturally I didn’t want the coffin opened up. I’d told Strongbow to send it directly to Blore. Christenson, Herberts, Herberts and Crink, do lots of business with them, and ordered them ‘for medical reasons’ to put our coffin directly into one of theirs, top quality, silver handles, and to screw it tight at once, no lying in state or opening it, I recommended against that due to decomposition etc. and had advised Tess by letter to that effect in the strongest terms. Glad to say it went perfectly from our point of view, and Malcolm’s.” Hoag refilled his glass. “Glad I went. Otherwise all’s well that ends well.”
“Did you tell her about the other, about our burial?”
“Christ, no, am I that stupid? You’re witless, Jamie.”
Jamie said, “I just asked to make sure,” not pleased to be reminded that Maureen had used the same word. I think I really am losing them. What the hell am I going to do with her? “Did Tess say anything about Angelique?”
“What she planned to do? No, though she asked dozens of questions. How is Angelique?”
“Fine—outwardly. Calm, stays to herself, occasionally comes to dinner. Tonight she’s going to Zergeyev’s, at Sir William’s request. Nothing like her
old sparkle”—there’s that word again, he thought miserably—“but, well, lovelier than ever. What did Tess ask?”
“Nothing much, only about the facts as I knew them, that yes, I believed they were in love, that Malcolm pursued her, not the other way around, that she was a lady about him, she accepted his proposal and agreed to be married on Pearl.”
“But nothing about what she plans to do?”
“No, that’s the strange part. I thought she’d fume about her, ask my advice, give me a clue but she didn’t, after all I’m their family doctor for years, employed by her, by Struan’s, and I know her better than anyone. She didn’t comment on anything, volunteer anything, the questions were just to cover details I’d forgotten to mention. Weird.”
“Yes,” Jamie said. “She’ll have a plan.”
“I agree. Of course the story was in the press from the gutter to the Peak in lurid details, ‘tai-pan dies on wedding night,’ that kind of headline though she had tried to bury it—sorry, no pun intended. I’ve all the cuttings for you, and this.” His eyes took on a different glow. He gave Jamie an envelope. Tess’s handwriting. Mr. J. McFay, Personal by Hand. “Before you ask, I don’t know what’s in it. She just said, Please give it to Mr. McFay as soon as you arrive.”
Jamie put it on the desk. “Why did you come back?”
“Before I forget, something else. Old Man Brock and his equally vile son, Sir Morgan, turned up at the funeral.”
“What, uninvited?”
“Created a furor! It happened like this. Tess arranged the funeral on China Cloud. Gun carriage to the clipper along the promenade. Forty guests invited aboard, Governor, all the nobs, Admiral Sir Vincent-Sindery, General Skaffer—the new Commander in chief of Asia, very pukka and Indian Army—all tai-pans and Gordon Chen. No press. Just as China Cloud swung into wind off Shek-O place, the service about to begin, Old Man Brock and Morgan arrived in his clipper, Hunting Witch. She stood off, a few chains away, dressed overall, his flag at half mast, him and Morgan on the quarterdeck dressed in funeral finery, top hats, ruffled shirts, and when the coffin went into the sea, the bastard fired a cannonade salute and opened champagne—everyone aboard said they heard the cork go. They drank a toast, threw the glasses and bottle into the sea, raising their toppers as they sailed off noisily.”
“Bastards! Bloody bastards!”
“Yes! Later they claimed ‘it were to honor the poor dead laddie!’ The Governor was standing next to Tess. He told me she did nothing, said nothing, just stayed like a poker, except he heard her breath hiss out and the violence in it shocked him, said it made his balls jump, you know the feeling…. Oh, I forgot to mention, Gornt was also on Brock’s quarterdeck.”
“Maureen said he was taking over Brock’s here.”
“Yes. Even so he’s a nice young man, I think. Even so. He told me he was ordered aboard Hunting Witch and … By Jove, I forgot to mention Maureen! Jamie, you’re a lucky man.”
“Thanks.”
“Very lucky.” Hoag stuck out his hand. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Jamie shook hands and pretended to be pleased, filled with gloom. “We thought … I thought she was Tess. Through the binoculars, the dark and being muffled up, easy to make the mistake.”
“Eh? Nonsense, she’s nothing like her at all!”
Aggravated Jamie said, “I know that but they’re about the same height, and it’s the way she stood, just like Tess, you know, stiff.”
Hoag frowned, then grunted. “Never occurred to me. Now that you mention it that’s true, but she’s nothing like Tess to look at, she must be at least ten to fifteen years younger and that red-brown hair of hers and sparkling personality.”
“Christ, give over! I know that! It was an easy mistake.”
“A lucky one.” Hoag felt queasy. “Wouldn’t have enjoyed the trip with Tess, my God, no! Your Maureen’s a smasher! She said she’d written that she was arriving.”
“Yes, at Hong Kong, not here. And no arrival date there.”
“Ah, obviously there was no time as Prancing Cloud was leaving imminently and she’d just arrived.” Hoag chuckled. “Best watch her or you’ll lose her. Gornt was quite taken.”
Jamie flushed, jealous in spite of himself. “Thanks for the tip. How’re Tess’s kids? Did you see them?”
“Oh, yes. They’re all healthy, though Duncan had another rotten cold. They’d all been to the funeral—I heard it was so sad, young Duncan trying to be brave, Emma and Rose crying, Tess veiled, heavily veiled—everyone knowing it was the end of an era, the end of Dirk’s direct line except Duncan, and he can’t inherit for years, the lad’s just ten. Doesn’t augur well for the Noble House. The hottest rumor in Hong Kong is that Brock’s have got the Noble House on the run.”
“No way!” Jamie tried to sound convincing. “The new tai-pan will come from Robb’s line, Robb Struan, Dirk’s stepbrother. One of his sons or grandsons will be tai-pan.”
“I suppose you’re right, but it won’t be the same. Bloody awful about Malcolm, he was Tess’s hope. All the time I was in Hong Kong, I was thinking about our burial, so unnecessary, eh? It’s best if we put that away forever. Malcolm was buried there, off Shek-O.”
“I wish he had been, as Sir William and we all wanted.” Last night Jamie had another nightmare about what the Bosun said he had seen, the corpse clawing for the surface, eyes wide open. He felt chilled again. “We did the best we could. Now,” he said, “why are you back?”
Hoag got up. “Tess asked if I’d, er, deliver mail to MacStruan, you and … and see Angelique and give her a letter.” He saw Jamie’s eyes. “I don’t know what’s in them.”
“Them?” Jamie said sharply. “You said a letter.”
Hoag reddened. “Oh, er, yes. Yes, well, a letter. I don’t know what’s in it. Well, I’d better be go—”
“Come on, for God’s sake!”
“Tess asked me to give her a … a letter, that’s all.”
“Come on, I know you!”
Hoag said irritably, “I think I’d better go and see her, she’ll want to know—”
“Sit down! What letters, for Christ’s sweet sake?”
“I don’t know ab—”
“Don’t give me that shit! What letters?”
Hoag hesitated, then blurted out, “If you’ll swear on your mother’s head I’ll … I’ll tell you.”
“Done!”
The Doctor sat down. “She, Tess, she just said, ‘Give that woman this letter, wait a week or so and then give her one of these two letters.’ She gave me three in all, I don’t know what’s in them, I swear to God I don’t.”
“A week? You mean until Preggers Day? One of two letters, eh? One if she’s preggers, one if she isn’t?”
“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 busine
ss 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.
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