Noble House

"Would you care for coffee?"
"Thank you . . . but oh please let me get it for you too." Before he could stop her she had gone to the coffee tray. He watched her pour delicately. She offered him the first cup with a little bow. "Please." Riko Gresserhoff—Riko Anjin—was barely five feet, perfectly proportioned with short hair and lovely smile and she weighed about ninety pounds. Her blouse and skirt were auburn silk, well cut and French. "Thank you for the expense money Miss Claudia gave me."
"It's nothing. We owe your, your husband's estate about 8,000 pounds. I'll have a cashier's check for you tomorrow."
"Thank you."
"You have me at a disadvantage, Mrs. Gresserhoff. You kn—"
"Please call me Riko, tai-pan."
"Very well, Riko-^o/t. You know me but I know nothing about you."
"Yes. My husband said I was to tell you whatever you wanted to know. He told me that, that once I had made sure you were the tai-pan, then I was to give you an envelope I have brought from him to you. May I bring it later?" Again the little interrogative smile. "Please?"
"I'll come back with you now and collect it."
"Oh no, that would be too much trouble. Perhaps I can bring it to you after luncheon. Please."
"How big is it? The envelope?"
Her tiny hands measured the air. "It is an ordinary envelope but not so thick. You could put it easily into your pocket." Again the smile.
"Perhaps you'd like to … I tell you what," he said, charmed by her presence. "In a minute or two I'll send you back by car. You can fetch the envelope and come right back." Then he added, knowing it would ruin the seating arrangements but not caring, "Would you join us for lunch at the races?"
"Oh but . . . but I would have to change and … oh thank you but no, it would be too much trouble for you. Perhaps I could deliver the letter later, or tomorrow? My husband said I was only to put it into your hands."
"No need to change, Riko-san. You look lovely. Oh! Do you have a hat?"
Perplexed she stared at him. "Please?"
"Yes, it's, er, yes, it's our custom that ladies wear hats and gloves to the races. Silly custom but do you? Have a hat?"
"Oh yes. Every lady has a hat. Of course."
A wave of relief went through him. "Good, then that's settled."
"Oh! Then if you say so." She got up. "Shall I go now?"
"No, if you've time, please sit down. How long were you married?"
"Four years. Hans . . ." She hesitated. Then she said firmly, "Hans told me to tell you, but you alone, if ever he was to die and I was to come as I have come, to tell you that our marriage was of convenience."
"What?"
She reddened a little as she continued. "Please excuse me but I was to tell you. It was a convenience to both of us. I obtained a Swiss citizenship and passport and he obtained someone to care for him when he came to Switzerland. I… I did not wish to marry but he asked me many times and he … and he stressed that it would protect me when he died."
Dunross was startled. "He knew he was going to die?"
"I think so. He said the marriage contract was for five years only but that we should have no children. He took me to an advocate in
Zurich who drew up a contract for five years." She opened her purse, her fingers trembling but not her voice, and pulled out an envelope. "Hans told me to give you these. They're copies of the contract, my, my birth and marriage certificate, his will and birth certificate." She took out a tissue and pressed it against her nose. "Please excuse me." Carefully she untied the string around the envelope and took out a letter.
Dunross accepted it. He recognized AMG's handwriting. "Tai-pan: This will confirm my wife, Riko Gresserhoff—Riko Anjin—is who she says she is. I love her with all my heart. She merits and merited far better than me. If she needs help . . . please please please." It was signed Hans Gresserhoff.
"I do not merit better, tai-pan," she said with a sad, small confident voice. "My husband was good to me, very good. And I'm sorry he is dead."
Dunross watched her. "Was he ill? Did he know he was going to die from an illness?"
"I don't know. He never told me. One of his asks before I … before I married him was that I would not question him or question where he went, why, or when he was to return. I was just to accept him as he was." A small shiver went through her. "It was very hard living thus."
"Why did you agree to live like that? Why? Surely it wasn't necessary?"
Again Riko hesitated. "I was born in Japan in 1939 and went as an infant with my parents to Berne—my father was a minor official in the Japanese Embassy there. In 1943 he went back to Japan but left us in Geneva. Our family is—our family comes from Nagasaki. In 1945 my father was lost and all our family was lost. There was nothing to go back to and my mother wanted to stay in Switzerland, so we went to live in Zurich with a good man who died four years ago. He … they paid for my education and kept me and we had a happy family. For many years I knew they were not married though they pretended and I pretended. When he died there was no money, or just a little money. Hans Gresserhoff was an acquaintance of this man, my, my stepfather. His name was Simeon Tzerak. He was a displaced person, tai-pan, a stateless person from Hungary who had taken up residence in Switzerland. Before the war he was an accountant, he said, in Budapest. My mother arranged my marriage to Hans Gresserhoff." Now she looked up from the carpet at him. "It was … it was a good marriage, tai-pan, at least I tried very hard to be whatever my husband wanted and my mother wanted My giri, my duty was to obey my mother, neh?"
"Yes," he said kindly, understanding duty and giri, that most Japanese of words, most important of words that sums up a heritage and a way of life. "You have performed your giri perfectly, I'm sure. What does your mother say is your giri now?"
"My mother is dead, tai-pan. When my stepfather died she did not wish to live. The moment I was married she went up the mountain and skied into a crevasse."
"Terrible."
"Oh no, tai-pan, very good. She died as she wished to die, at a time and place of her choosing. Her man was dead, I was safe, what more was there for her to do?"
"Nothing," he told her, hearing the softness of her voice, the sincerity, and the calm. The Japanese word wa came to his mind: harmony. That's what this girl has, he thought. Harmony. Perhaps that's what's so beautiful about her. Ayeeyah that I could acquire such wa!
One of his phones sounded. "Yes, Claudia?"
"It's Alexi Travkin, tai-pan. Sorry, he said it was important."
"Thank you." To the girl he said, "Excuse me a moment. Yes, Alexi?"
"Sorry to interrupt, tai-pan, but Johnny Moore's sick and he won't be able to ride." Johnny Moore was their chief jockey.
Dunross's voice sharpened. "He seemed all right this morning."
"He's running 103-degree temperature, the doctor said it might be food poisoning."
"You mean he's been tampered with, Alexi?"
"I don't know, tai-pan. I only know he's no good for us today."
Dunross hesitated. He knew he was better than the rest of his jockeys though the extra weight Noble Star would have to carry would load the deck against the horse. Should I or shouldn't I? "Alexi, schedule Tom Wong. We'll decide before the race."
"Yes. Thank you."
Dunross replaced the phone. "Anjin's a curious name," he said. "It means pilot, just pilot, or navigator, doesn't it?"
"The legend in my family is that one of our forebears was an Englishman who became a samurai and advisor to the Shogun Yoshi Toranaga, oh very many years ago, long long ago. We have many stories but they say first he had a fief in Hemi, near Yokohama, then went with his family to Nagasaki as inspector general of all foreigners." Again the smile and the shrug and the tip of her tongue moistened her lips. "It is just legend, tai-pan. He is supposed to have married a highborn lady called Riko." Her chuckle filled the room. "You know Japanese! A gai-jin, a foreigner, marrying a highborn lady—how could that be possible? But anyway, it is a pleasing story and an explanation of a name, neh?" She got up and he got up. "I should go now. Yes?" No, he wanted to say.