She had looked at him. "May I assure you, Mr. Gornt, equally, if you cross, or double-cross or triple-cross me, I will see you will be an extremely unhappy man, apart from being persona non grata in Asia and throughout the Empire--on my honor and my word as tai-pan of the Noble House..."
Gornt went cold, remembering the way Tess's words had surrounded him, the pride with which she had said tai-pan of the Noble House even when she added, "however temporary." All at once he realized that this woman really was tai-pan now, realized whoever held the title soon would not hold the power. Realized with a stab of fear that he would have to deal with her for a long time, that by destroying Brock's perhaps he had created a monster for his own destruction.
God in Heaven, she can blow me to pieces at her whim! How do I make her an ally, keep her ally? She's got to be my ally, whatever the cost.
Then laughter from Dmitri and Marlowe brought him back. His world came into balance again.
Candlelight, dining table, fine silver, fine friends. Secure in Yokohama, the chop already removed from the safe and hidden away, a letter already written, backdated and chopped that corroborated the loose evidence against the key Board member, another letter implying collusion of the chairman.
Without them the Board will collapse into our laps like a bent house of cards, has to, they won't resist their one and only chance of revenge on Tyler and Morgan Brock. And no need to fear Tess Struan. She's in my power as much as my future's in hers.
I've a lot to be pleased about. Here I am, twenty-seven, Morgan's head is almost in the basket, I'm tai-pan of Rothwell-Gornt's-to-be, head of a splendid table, servants waiting for orders. And she's there, beautiful, rich-to-be, and loving me however much she tries to hide it, my bride-to-be whatever the outcome--a child by Malcolm only makes the price higher to Tess, a sumptuous but bargain price she will gladly pay!
"Health and a long one," he toasted silently, raising his glass to Angelique and to himself and to them both together, sure his future was limitless.
His guests did not notice the private toast, too involved in chattering, vying for her attention. Comfortably he watched them. Mostly he watched her. Then he tapped the table.
"Angelique, gentlemen, your attention please. We have mulligatawny soup with sherry, baked fish with onions, olives and iced Pouilly Fuiss`e, sorbet and champagne, then the roast with potatoes and St-Emilion--the cook "found" a fine piece of Struan beef ... don't worry, Ma'am," he said with a laugh, "it was bought, not stolen. Then chicken pie and to end, a surprise to end all surprises."
"And what's that?" Marlowe asked.
"Wait and see." He glanced at Angelique.
She smiled her enigmatic smile, the smile that excited him so much, like the Mona Lisa he had seen in the Louvre on a trip to Paris-- never to be forgotten.
"I think we must trust our host, Captain," she said softly. "Don't you agree?"
Sunday, 11th January
Sunday, 11th January: In the night Angelique awoke in a cold sweat, back in time, back in the French Legation, the mama-san's little bottles on the side table, one already empty, the other ready to uncork and swallow as soon as the cramps began.
Finding herself warm in bed in her own suite, the fire coals still glowing, her night light casting solid shadows, the terror left and her pulse slowed and she waited for the indications. Nothing. No cramp or stomachache. Waiting. Still nothing.
Thank God, she thought, I must have dreamed they had begun. She relaxed in the down mattress, watching the fire, not quite awake, good pictures in the coals, happy pictures of the roofs of Paris in the sunset, melding into the summerscape of her dream house in Provence, her baby son contentedly sleeping in her arms. "Jesus, Marie, please don't let it begin.
Please."
Yesterday afternoon Babcott had arrived, "Happened to be passing, and wanted to see how you were."
"No need to tell fibs," she said sharply.
"Dr. Hoag said the same thing this morning. The very same words."
"Steady on, dear Angelique, I really did happen to pass by and I really did want to see you. To reassure you."
"Oh?"' "Yes, old Hoag said you were a little touchy.
Rightly so," he nodded, smiling, "and to tell you what you didn't give him a moment to say, that it's quite possible for your monthly to be delayed, to have slight period cramps that go away to return properly in a day or so. Or even never to return."
"Why is it you doctors are so wise but know nothing, not really, not even about such a simple matter as having a baby or not having a baby, a process which has been with us a few years," she had fumed, exasperated and weary of all the sidelong glances of the last few days and the sudden silences as she walked by. "Kindly leave me be, both of you, I will inform you when I need to see you if ever. Leave me alone!"
He had gone away, chastised, but she did not care. Since last Sunday's flaming row with Father Leo she had kept to herself as much as possible.
"I hate that man," she muttered, "hate him for upsetting me so much. He's vile, he's no man of God!"
During Confession he had said, "Perhaps you should ask forgiveness for this sham marriage you took part in, my child, oh I know you were cajoled, tricked.
Even so it's a sin."
"I wasn't cajoled, Father, and it's not a sin or a sham," she had said. "It's perfectly legal according to law."
"Heretic law? It's false. You blind yourself. Of course it is not lawful and not valid in the sight of God."
"It is in the sight of English law," she said seething. "It is in the sight of God, it is!"
"Ah, my poor child, it's not and you know it's not. The Church does not recognize a heretic marriage, let alone by a simple sea captain. You're not married in the sight of God."
"I am, Malcolm's Church recognizes my marriage, his law does, my husband's law does. I'm married legally."
"How foolish you are. Don't blind yourself.
You're Catholic, the True Church does not recognize such a marriage. Repent, my child."
"I'm married and that's the end of it!" She had got up.
"Wait! It's not the end, my child, to give you absolution you must admit your sins, to come before Him blameless! How can I give you absolution?"' "Their God is the same as our God, my God," she had said, tears of rage and frustration blinding her, "I can worship him in their Church as well as here."
"You risk damnation and Eternal Torment.
Excommunication, the sacraments withdrawn from you. Beware, your mind has been taken by the heretics, pray for forgiveness..."
She had fled.
Andr`e and Seratard were in the congregation. Later Andr`e had asked what the trouble was and she had told him. He said, "Thousands of Catholics are happily married under Protestant dogma, and visa versa, whatever Church hierarchies claim."
"Andr`e, am I married or am I not?"' "You are, according to British law, and British naval law, until a British court says you are not."
"But not according to the Church?"' "To their Church, yes, subject to the above, to ours, no. You already know the answer to that, no."
"I hate that man."
"He's a priest. Not all of them are good, we both know that too. Listen, Angelique, about your, your time, please, as soon as you know, one way or another, please tell me privately so we can begin to plan. Henri expects any day to have the French Ambassador's approval that you are a Ward of the State. Don't worry, I promised we will guard you and your interests and we will," he said and left her to brood.
Not married according to the Church? Then to hell with the Church of Rome, she had thought, sick with apprehension. Beware! Never admit that openly, never. You are French, French people understand about Catholic Rome, its corruption and heresy and about misguided popes. Every night in her prayers she asked, implored the Blessed Mother for guidance and succor.