“We’ve thought about the wedding present we want you to give us. It was Tess’s idea.” He handed a sheet of paper to Struan.
“What is it?”
“Just a solemn contract to forget the past and be friends. To be signed by the Brocks and the Struans.”
“I’ve already made the only bargain I’ll make with those two,” Struan said, giving it back without reading it.
“Gorth’s willing, and he said his father would be.”
“I’ll bet Gorth is, by God. But Tyler will na sign any such paper.”
“If he’s willing, will you sign it?”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Our children will belong to both of you an—”
“I’ve considered the children carefully, Culum,” Struan interrupted. “And a lot of other things. I doubt very much if your children will have an uncle and a grandfather on their mother’s side by the time they’re old enough to understand what those are.”
Culum stalked to the door.
“Wait, Culum!”
“Will you please give us the present we ask for, beg for?”
“I canna. They’ll never honor that. Gorth and Brock are after your hide and—”
Culum slammed the door in his face.
Struan drank another brandy, then hurled the glass into the fireplace.
That night Struan lay awake in the four-poster beside May-may. The windows were open to the moon and to the breeze that carried a bracing salt tang. Outside the vast net which enclosed the bed a few mosquitoes relentlessly sought an entrance to the food within. Unlike most of the Europeans, Struan had always used a mosquito net. Jin-qua had advised it as good for health, years upon years ago.
Struan was brooding about the malarial night gases, afraid that he and May-may were breathing them now.
And he was concerned about Sarah. When he had seen her a few hours ago, she had told him she was determined to leave by the first boat.
“You’re na strong enough,” he had said. “Nor is Lochlin.”
“Even so, we’re leaving. Will you make the arrangements or shall I? You’ve a copy of Robb’s will?”
“Aye.”
“I’ve just read it. Why should you be trustee for his share of the company, not me?”
“It’s na a woman’s job, Sarah! But you need na worry. You’ll get every penny.”
“My lawyers will see to that, Tai-Pan.”
He had controlled his anger with an effort. “This is typhoon season. It’s a bad time to sail home. Wait till fall. You’ll both be stronger then.”
“We leave at once.”
“Have it your own way.”
He had gone to see Zergeyev. The Russian’s wound was inflamed but not gangrenous. So there was hope. Next he had returned to his office and had written a dispatch for Longstaff, telling him that he had heard the pirate Wu Kwok would be at Quemoy on Midsummer Night, that frigates should lie in wait for him, that he knew these waters well and would be glad to lead the expedition if the admiral wished. He had sent the dispatch to Horatio. And, just before he left for home, the army doctors had come to see him. They told him there was no doubt any more. The fever of Happy Valley was malaria . . .
He twisted fitfully in the bed.
“You like to play backgammon?” May-may asked, as tired as he was, and as restless.
“No, thank you, lass. Can you na sleep either?”
“No. Never mind,” she replied. She was worried about the Tai-Pan. He had been strange this day. And she was worried about Mary Sinclair. This afternoon Mary had arrived early, before Struan had returned. Mary had told her about the baby, and about her secret life in Macao. Even about Horatio. And Glessing. “I’m sorry,” Mary had said in tears. They were speaking Mandarin, which they both preferred to Cantonese. “I had to tell someone. There’s no one I can ask for help. No one.”
“There, Ma-ree, my dear,” May-may had said. “Don’t cry. First we’ll have some tea and then we’ll decide what to do.”
So they had had tea, and May-may had been astonished at the barbarians and the way they looked at life and sex. “What help do you need?”
“Help to—to get rid of the child. My God, it’s already beginning to show.”
“But why didn’t you ask me weeks ago?”
“I hadn’t the courage. If I hadn’t forced the issue with Horatio, I’d still not have the courage. But now . . . what can I do?”
“How long is it in your womb?”
“Almost three months, less a week.”
“That’s not good, Ma-ree. It may be very dangerous after two months.” May-may had considered the practicability of Mary’s problem, and the dangers that it entailed. “I will send Ah Sam to Tai Ping Shan. I’ve heard there’s a herbalist who may be able to help you. You understand it may be very dangerous?”
“Yes. If you can help me, I’ll do anything. Anything.”
“You’re my friend. Friends must help each other. But you must never, never tell anyone.”
“I promise, before God.”
“When I’ve got the herbs, I’ll send Ah Sam to your servant, Ah Tat. Can you trust her?”
“Yes.”
“When’s your birthday, Ma-ree?”
“Why?”
“The astrologer will have to find an auspicious day to take the medicine, of course.”
Mary had told her the day and the hour.
“Where will you take the medicine? You can’t at the hotel—or here. It may take days for you to recover.”
“Macao. I’ll go to Macao. To my—my private house. It’ll be safe there. Yes, I’ll be safe there.”
“These medicines do not always work, my dear. And they are never easy.”
“I’m not afraid. It will work. It must work,” Mary had said.
May-may shifted in the bed.
“What’s amiss?” Struan asked.
“Nothing. Just the baby moving.”
Struan put his hand on the slight roundness of her belly. “We’d better get a doctor to look at you.”
“Nay, thank you, Tai-Pan, never mind. None of those barbarian devils, thank you. In this I will be as always, Chinese.”
May-may lay back smoothly, content with her child, sad for Mary. “Mar-ee did na look well, did she?” she said tentatively.
“No. And that lass has something on her mind. Did she tell you what it was?”
May-may did not want to lie, but she was reluctant to tell Struan that which might not really concern him. “I think she’s just worried about her brother.”
“What about him?”
“She said she wants to marry the man Glessing.”
“Oh, I see.” Struan had known that Mary had mainly come to see May-may and not to see him. He had hardly spoken to her other than to thank her for taking the children to Macao. “I suppose Horatio does na approve and she wants me to talk to him? Is that what she came about?”
“Nay. Her brother approves,” May-may said.
“That’s surprising.”
“Why? This Glessing is bad man?”
“Nay, lassie. It’s just that Mary and Horatio have been very close for years. He’ll find it very lonely without her here.” Struan wondered what May-may would say if she knew about Mary’s secret house in Macao. “She’s probably poorly because she’s worried over him.”