For a moment Sir William did not know what to think. On the one hand they had not lost her, on the other the irritant that she already was, and the thorn she was bound to become when Tess Struan's wrath fell on her and all of them, would still be in his jurisdiction. "You really should go, Ma'am, I would have thought it very important to be at the funeral."
"I want to go but..." Her voice broke and a fresh sob racked her. "Dr. Hoag is, is going in my place, I really don't feel up to... it's best..."
"But Jamie, you'll be going too?"
"No sir. There are things I've been ordered to do here by Mrs. Tess Struan."
"Bless my soul." Halfheartedly Sir William tried to dissuade her, then sighed.
"Well, if Dr. Hoag says so, that's the end of that, he is the Struan doctor." He got up. Openly relieved, they thanked him and began to leave. "A moment, Dr. Hoag, a word if you please." He hid his pleasure seeing Jamie and Skye blanch and said pointedly as they hung back, "G'day Jamie, Mr. Skye.
Phillip, no need for you to stay."
The door closed. Hoag was like a rabbit before a cobra.
"Now, Doctor, quietly tell me the truth, how is she?"
"She's very well, on the surface, Sir William," Hoag said, at once. "It's a surface cure. What's underneath no one knows.
It could last days, weeks, a year or more--then the nightmare will return. What will happen then..."
He shrugged.
"You'll be seeing Tess Struan?"
"Yes, as soon as I arrive." Hoag waited shakily, dreading the questioning, knowing he would fail.
Thoughtfully Sir William got up and poured a whisky and gave it to him. The liquor vanished. "You won't be coming back here for a time, if ever. I need to know, in confidence, what medically are the chances of her carrying Malcolm's child?"
Hoag blinked, the liquor and the unexpected gentleness calming him and putting him off balance, not expecting this line of questioning. He said with great sincerity, "Of course that's up to God, sir.
But Malcolm was healthy and so is she, both fine people, unfortunately both star-crossed-- so sad. I'd say the chances are very good for this was no idle fancy, their lovemaking must have been very passionate, as near a true love as I have ever seen."
Sir William frowned. "Good. When you see Tess Struan... I think our Mrs.Struan will need all the help she can get.
Eh?"
"You may rest assured I'll intercede for her."
Sir William nodded and reached into his drawer. The envelope was sealed and addressed Personal, Confidential and Private, by hand, to Sir Stanshope, Governor of Hong Kong, from Sir William Aylesbury, Minister to the Japans. "I have an official commission for you, a secret one. I want you to deliver this personally to the Governor, as soon as you arrive."
He scrawled on the bottom "Delivered by hand by Dr. Hoag" and had decided to use him the moment he had heard Jamie would not be on the mail ship, there being no one aboard Prancing Cloud he could trust. "It must be given over personally, to no one else, no one is to know you are a Queen's courier. Clear?"
"Yes sir, of course, Sir William,"
Hoag said, proudly.
He knew that now Hoag was putty and he could extract anything he wanted from him. Who began the escapade, what was in their minds at sea and why they did what they did, what really happened at Kanagawa. He smiled to himself, enjoying his position and for his own reasons let the matter rest.
"Have a safe voyage, and I look forward to seeing you in Hong Kong."
"Thank you sir."
Hoag fled, ecstatic to have escaped with his honor intact. Jamie and Skye were waiting anxiously on the High Street. "Nothing, honestly," he said excitedly, "he just wanted to ask medical questions, private ones."
"You're sure?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die. Hurry up, time for a quick one before church. I still feel washed out." They went off happily, not noticing Sir William watching from his window.
I wonder how happy those rotters would be if they could read my letter to the Governor, he thought scowling. They're not off the hook yet, none of us are. As if one coffin mattered when the whole world's falling apart, Russia teetering towards war again, Prussia licking her chops over the intestines of central Europe, the French with their militant, overblown pride, our Indian Empire and Asian colonies at risk because of misguided fools in Parliament, and us awaiting imminent Japanese liquidation.
On the surface the letter was innocuous.
Decoded it read: Urgently request all fleet and army reinforcements possible as I expect the Settlement to be attacked any day by Bakufu samurai legions and may have to abandon our base here.
The Catholic church was candle-lit, the altar glinting, the congregation sparse and Father Leo was bringing the singsong litany of Mass to a close, his deep baritone voice melodious amidst the familiar perfume of incense that drifted over them --the service shorter than usual as a few had to catch the mail ship.
Angelique knelt at prayer in the front pew, Seratard beside her, Andr`e some rows behind, Vervene at the back with the rest of the Legation staff, a few traders, Eurasian Portuguese, and some officers and men from the French ships who had shore leave. The main body of French sailors had other services, earlier or later. Thankfully for all ships companies, there were no priests with the fleet--to have one aboard always considered bad luck, on any ship of any flag.
Father Leo bowed to the altar, prayed and then blessed the congregation. Angelique took a deep breath, leisurely finished her prayer, waiting for Seratard to move.
She had already been confessed. In the little box she had said, "Forgive me Father for I have sinned."
"What sins have you committed this week, my child?"' She had heard the barely disguised impatience to learn every thought and deed that had happened, this being the first time she had been to Confession since the troubles began. "I forgot to ask the Blessed Mother for forgiveness in my prayers one night," she said with perfect calm, continuing her pact, and the plan and words she had devised, "and had many bad thoughts and dreams, and was afraid, and forgot I was in God's hands with never a need to fear."
"Yes, and what else?"' A little smile settled, hearing the impatience.
"I sinned in that though my marriage is legal in the sight of my husband's people and his law and his Church there was no time for us to make it conform to the True Church."
"But... but that, that, senhora, that is not, not of itself a sin, you were not responsible for that, he was taken from us. What, what other sins did you commit?"' She kept her nostrils closed as much as she could to the stench of garlic and stale wine and unwashed clothes, using a pomaded kerchief. "I sinned in that I could not persuade Sir William to allow me to bury my husband as he wished and therefore I wished."
"That... that in itself is not a sin, child. What else?"' "I sinned in that I could not persuade my husband to become Catholic before we married."
"Nor is that a sin, senhora. What else?"' Now he was beginning to sound exasperated. As she expected. How odd I'm no longer petrified of him and can hear the nuances he seeks to hide.
Is this another gift of God?
"Have you, did you commit sins of the flesh?"' Her eyes narrowed, the smile froze and she despised him even more, at the same time forgiving him some of it because of his magnanimity in blessing the other coffin. "I have been a correct wife in accordance with the teachings of the Church."