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.
Monday and all the other days dragged, always eyes and unspoken questions so she went out less and less. To pass the time she read and slept and read and wrote letters and began a story about a French girl who was cast ashore in Yokohama. This stopped abruptly and she burned the pages as she started to relive Kanagawa and him and the nights and days with Malcolm and their one night on Prancing Cloud.
Prancing Cloud had left. She had been glad to see that harbinger of ill wind disappear into the distance.
Since her promenade when she had talked again with Gornt--learning nothing new--by mutual consent they had decided not to meet for a few days.
Twice she had invited Maureen Ross to tea, the second time deliberately receiving her in bed to encourage rumors that she had a fever. Their chats were gossipy, ordinary, about fashion, the problems in the Settlement, the life here, nothing serious. Later these visits would be fun when they could discuss more intimate matters and thoughts. Not now. But she liked Maureen who had brought welcome books and magazines and told about Jamie's new office, how he was working all hours, and, shyly, her hope that they would be married soon.
The only person she had enjoyed seeing was Phillip Tyrer. He had been sent by Sir William with best wishes for a quick recovery, bringing the latest London papers with him and presenting her with flowers he had purchased in the village. "By Orders of Her Majesty's Government," he had said in French with a flourish, his boyish grin and joie de vivre infectious.
For an hour or more he had chatted, mostly in French, relating the latest rumors. About his trip to Yedo, about Nakama-Hiraga who had vanished without a trace, creating a diplomatic problem for Sir William, and about his Captain, Abeh, "who's still waiting and seething at the North Gate."
"What's going to happen, Phillip?"' "Don't know. We hope the problem's going to go away. Pity of it is we had to describe Nakama, what he looks like now so there's not much chance for him escaping. Damn nuisance, 'cause he was a fine fellow and he helped me greatly.
I don't believe a word about him being an assassin. We didn't get a sausage of info out of the other fellow, Nakama's friend, whose family are shipbuilders in Choshu. I got him a look around one of our frigates. Nice enough fellow but fairly dumb. He knew nothing about Nakama or would say nothing. Sir William didn't want to give him to the Bakufu so he let him go. Damn nuisance, Angelique, Nakama aided me tremendously --not only with Japanese, and if it wasn't for him..."
Later they had soup together and at her probing he had admitted, first swearing her to secrecy, that he had a girl, a special girl in the Yoshiwara, "Oh she's so beautiful and nice, Angelique, I think I can swing the money for the contract without straining the old Exchequer, the liaison is so comfortable..." and she had been amused how young he seemed, envying him his simple love, and, compared to him, how adult and sophisticated she felt.