And our house is in turmoil, he thought disgustedly. Ah Tok is more difficult than ever, Ah Soh grumbling about the extra work and worry, the cooks complaining about his loss of appetite, the houseboys moaning that nothing pleases him, and all because this cowlike barbarian whore won't just do her duty. General opinion amongst the staff was that she must have one of those Rapacious Ravines Emperor Kung warned against: There are some the gods have lined with demons, their magnetic force so strong as to send men mad, and make them forget an immortal truth that one Yin is like another when the need is great, and worse, when at last one such Ravine opens to receive the Yang, this Heaven becomes Hell for there is never enough.
"Ayeeyah, Tai-pan," Chen said, aiding him to undress. "This person was only saying your banquet pleased everyone."
"Your Lord and Master knows exactly what you were saying." Malcolm struggled out of his shirt. His uncle, Gordon Chen, whom he treasured, had lectured him about the Emperor Kung's work, telling him this information, and other pieces of important knowledge about the Yang and Yin, was just between them and to be kept secret from his mother.
"You are an impertinent bugger,"
Malcolm said in English, his main defense with both Chen and Ah Tok. He could never seem to best them in Cantonese, but speaking English to them infuriated them. "And I know you were trying to be snide about the Mistress, but you'd better stop, by God."
The round face twisted. "Tai-pan," Chen said, in his best Cantonese, helping him into bed, "this person has only the interests of his Master before all else."
"Ayeeyah!" Malcolm scoffed. "Words from a forked tongue are as precious as mildew fish bones to a starving man." He noticed an envelope propped on the bureau. "What's that?"
Chen hurried to fetch it, happy that the subject had changed from him. "A foreign devil arrived tonight to see you. Our shroff Vargas saw him. The foreign devil said the letter was urgent so the shroff asked this person to put it here in case our Illustrious Master wanted it."
The writing was not familiar. "Which foreign devil?"
"I don't know, Tai-pan. Is there anything else?"
Malcolm shook his head, yawned and put the envelope on the side table and dismissed him. The medicine bottle beckoned. "I won't," he said firmly, started to turn down the oil flame, then changed his mind and opened the letter with sudden expectation, thinking it was from Heavenly, or even Father Leo.
Dear Mr. Struan: Perhaps I may introduce myself, Edward Gornt of Rothwell's, Shanghai, late of Virginia, presently here in Yokohama for training with Mr.Norbert Greyforth at the request of Sir Morgan Brock.
Mr. Greyforth has asked me to act as his second in the private, though pressing matter of the duel you challenged him to. Perhaps I could wait upon you tomorrow? Would the morning be convenient, say noon or thereabouts? I have the honor to be, Sir, your most obedient servant, Edward Gornt.
The signature was as neat as the copperplate writing.
Tuesday, 2nd December
Tuesday, 2nd December: "'Morning, Mr. Gornt. May I introduce Mr. McFay, chief of Struan's, Japan. Please make yourself comfortable--Jamie, you too. Coffee, tea, sherry, champagne?"
"Nothing thank you, Mr. Struan."
"Mr. McFay's one of my seconds.
Details are supposed to be arranged by seconds, I believe. Yes?"
"Yes, suh. I've met Mr. Syborodin but didn't discuss anything with him, according to Mr.Greyforth's wishes."
The two young men studied each other. From the first instant both had experienced the same strange sensation: an intense attraction to the other. Each was thinking, How odd you could instantly like some people, for no apparent reason, while disliking others, loathing some, dismissing many. Even so, both were sure that however fierce their initial affinity, it would make no difference. Soon--today, tomorrow, even in the next few minutes--something would as quickly revert them to normality, to the comfortable historic enmity that bound their firms together and would reach down the ages, dismissing the first affinity as a peculiar aberration.
Malcolm said, "What can I--we--do for you?"
Gornt's smile was genuine, his teeth white, like Malcolm's. He was of similar height but built lighter, his clothes less elegant, dark hair against the reddy-brown of Struan, brown eyes against the blue. "Mr. Greyforth wanted to confirm dates, weapons, et cetera."
Jamie said, "You know this is all against the law, Mr. Gornt, and the duel formally forbidden by Sir William?"
"Yes, Mr. McFay."
Jamie shifted uncomfortably, detesting his involvement more than ever, and further unsettled by the curious mood in the room. He could not read it.
Where there should have been ice and enmity, it seemed more a waiting moment, weirdly pleasant and preordained. "That being said, what did Norbert have in mind?"
"Today's Tuesday. Would a week from today be okay?"
"I'd prefer Wednesday, the 10th,"
Malcolm said at once. He had made a plan in the early hours. Sleep had eluded him. He had fought the dragon that was in the little bottle and had won, though the fight had taken its toll and this morning's measure had been a pathetic relief.
Prancing Cloud would arrive Sunday and was due to leave Wednesday evening. He would arrange secretly with her captain to sail the moment he could get aboard after the duel. Either he would have already smuggled Angelique aboard or would organize Jamie to escort her home in the next ship, to be decided at the last minute, the latest by Tuesday. It might be best to bring Jamie with Angelique, thus negating part of his mother's fury against Jamie by being obedient to one of her wishes and, hopefully, make her withdraw the termination order--he owed it to Jamie to try in every way to extricate him. If Angelique was aboard, perhaps he could find a way to persuade Captain Strongbow to forget his mother's orders.
It's a long shot, he thought, a very long shot but a faint heart never won a fair lady and it's the best I can do. Joss. "I'd prefer Wednesday."
"I imagine that will be all right, suh. As to the place, we suggest first light at No Man's Land twixt the village and Drunk Town, not the racecourse as that's too public with early morning riders and so on."
Malcolm laughed, not knowing why. "A good choice," he said before Jamie could answer. Much better for me, more secluded, closer to the sea, much easier to slip out to the clipper from the Drunk Town wharf than ours. "It's apparent you know a lot about Yokohama and you're here only a day."
"It was Mr. Greyforth's suggestion, but I did check out both early this morning. No Man's Land is better, safer."
"That's agreed. It will be difficult for me to walk my ten paces. I suggest we take our positions and on someone's order, yours if you wish, aim and fire."
"I will consult Mr. Greyforth."
"What else?"
Gornt hesitated, then glanced at Jamie.
"We can arrange details later, how our principals arrive, by what routes, which doctor we can trust who should be present, etc. Lastly, th--"
"You seem to be very well informed about duels, Mr. Gornt," Jamie said thinly.
"You've been involved in one?"
"Several, Mr. McFay. As a principal once, and twice as a second, while I was at the Richmond University." Again the smile, warm, kind and sincere. "We take matters of honor very seriously in the South, suh."
The pleasant unreality of the back and forth, and Jamie's belief that the tai-pan had been set up by Greyforth--notwithstanding Malcolm's stubbornness--broke his control. "Then you should know Norbert was in the wrong," he said angrily, "Norbert went out of his way to provoke the tai-pan, has done several times and there's no doubt he should apologize and then we could all stop this stupidity."