My palm is empty.
Like a seashell, it once held
Life. Now, all is gone
I loved everything I could see of London. Which wasn’t a very great deal. Mainly because of the impossible weather; even in full summer, the sunlight could barely penetrate the thick, yellow, sulfurous fog that cast a pall over everything. It made me shiver and cough.
But London itself was wonderful. The wide streets, the amazing array of shops, large and small, where I could shop until my aching feet forced me to stop. And even then, I found that many of the larger shops, which I quickly learned to call “department stores,” had a café attached where I could take coffee and dainty little sandwiches. Never tea. I tried it once and discovered to my horror that it was served the color of mahogany, and with milk added. Even the politeness of the waiters pleased me greatly, although it took me a long time to understand their strange accent. Eventually, I worked out that if I put a mental “H” in front of every word that began with a vowel and took an “H” away from where it should be I wouldn’t go far wrong. So, “I ‘ope that madam is h’enjoying ‘er lunch” became translated as “I hope madam is enjoying her lunch.” When the Cockney accent was too ripe to translate, I simply nodded and smiled. It seemed to work.
My wardrobe was crowded to overflowing with new clothes. Dresses with skirts so wide and stiff, I feared that a high wind would see me blown helplessly down the street, like a hoop bowled by a child at play. Hats, also, did Callum buy me. I had several that were almost the size of cartwheels and I peeked out from beneath them at the world, feeling almost as if I was hiding from my new life.
We made friends very quickly. At first, it was a delight to me that, just as in Scotland, nobody seemed to care that I was neither white nor European. Perhaps I should not have been so surprised by that. The streets of London were a mix of faces of all colors and nationalities. I soon understood that I was not being treated in any special way. I was just another foreigner who had had the sense to find refuge in the capital of England. And I was welcomed accordingly.
Truth to tell, Callum caused far more of a stir than I did. Soon after we docked, he found a Scottish tailor, and as soon as his order was ready he insisted on wearing the kilt whenever we went out. Our new male acquaintances smiled at his quirkiness indulgently. The ladies were fascinated. I was certain that if they thought they could get away with it, they would have patted his sporran, just as I had done so long ago in our own home in the Highlands.
We were seen, I guessed, as the perfect couple. The “pretty Japanese lady” and her handsome, rugged Scottish husband. Both with just a touch of mystery about them, an added allure. Both so obviously very much in love. Ah! How romantic! And how our new English friends adored to see us together.
And how very wrong they were.
I knew exactly what had gone wrong. I could pinpoint the exact moment it happened. The minute after Callum regained consciousness and discovered that he was on board a ship well clear of Edo harbor and heading out into the Pacific Ocean.
“Are you all right?” I asked. A stupid question, of course, but I was worried about him.
“I think so. I seem to have a bit of a headache.” He sat up too quickly and put his hand to his head. “Ouch! Where the hell are we?”
“On board the S.S. Louisa. First stop, the Dutch East Indies.” I tried to sound light-hearted, but even to me my voice sounded strained and anxious.
“What?” Callum stared at me and then around our cabin. That didn’t take long. Our accommodation was compact, and that was a charitable description. He put his hands on each side of his temples, peering through his fingers at me like a child playing peek-a-boo. “I don’t understand. We were in Edo. In the ryokan. Mountjoy interrupted our dinner with some nonsense about Akira and us needing to get out of Edo.” And then, very slowly, he asked, “Tara, what have you done?”
“Saved our lives,” I said briskly. “I’m sure Mountjoy was right. Akira was going to kidnap me and keep me prisoner as his concubine. Just the same as he did with Kazhua. You would have been disposed of.”
“You sound like something out of a trashy romance.” Callum’s voice was so cold, I jerked back from him. “Do you really believe all that rubbish?”
“Yes, I do,” I said firmly.
“So, you decided on behalf of both of us that we should run away. Did you arrange it all with Mountjoy in advance? I must say, I didn’t suspect anything at all. Well done the pair of you.”
“No.” I leaned forward in my urgency to convince him. Callum flinched away from me and I stiffened with anxiety. “I had no idea what Mountjoy was planning. Not until he walked in on us that evening.”
“So you just sat there and watched him drug me. And said nothing while he managed to get me out of the ryokan. And I suppose you thanked him very nicely when he showed you this sweet little cabin and wished us bon voyage?”
“It wasn’t like that,” I said helplessly.
“Really? What did happen, then?” I had no answer for him. Tears of frustration came to my eyes. I blinked them away fiercely, but not before Callum saw. “Don’t bother turning on the waterworks for me, Tara. I suppose you did what you thought was best.”
Callum’s voice was weary. I lunged toward him and wrapped my arms around him.
“That’s exactly what I did. You wouldn’t believe Mountjoy, but I know what Akira’s capable of. That’s why I went along with it.”
“You honestly thought it was a good idea that we should run away from that damned yakuza trash like a pair of frightened rats? I’ve never stepped down from danger in my entire life, Tara. And now you’ve managed to do what a whole army couldn’t manage. You’ve made a coward out of me. What my soldiers would have called a meater. Your great, big, brave husband. Nothing but a meater.”
“No!” I almost shouted. “It was nothing to do with you. It was all my fault. I lost Simon to Japan. I didn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
“So you say. Do you know, I’m beginning to think that you and Japan are a very unlucky combination.”
Callum turned away and faced the wall. For the rest of the journey, he was coldly polite. We shared the same narrow berth, but we slept in it and nothing more. Or rather, Callum slept. Night after night after night, I lay awake. Listening to him breathe, praying for a kind hand to linger on my body. But there was nothing. During the day, Callum spent his time on deck. I stayed in the cabin, listening and hoping for the sound of the wild geese that had followed me on my first voyage from Japan, with Simon. I knew perfectly well that the sound I had heard then was actually seagulls, but I had been very ill on that journey and I had been convinced that the birds were wild geese, sent by the gods to care for me and to remind me of Japan.
Perhaps we were too far out to sea, but there was no birdsong at all, neither gulls or geese to break the silence in our cabin.
I comforted myself with the thought that once we were back at the castle—home!—things would be different. But even that small relief was denied to me. Our ship landed in France at Le Havre to discharge its cargo. Callum offered me his arm to walk me down the gangplank, and my hopes soared. I was very reluctant to allow him to detach himself from me once we were on dry land, but he moved away from me briskly.
Once on the quayside, he lifted his head and sniffed the air like a terrier scenting a rabbit.
“France. England is a bare twenty miles or so away from here. Our captain tells me it would be a simple matter to get a boat from here to Portsmouth.”
He drummed his fingers against his thigh, staring out over the sea.
“Good. Then we will soon be back home,” I said firmly.
“All in good time. But to be honest with you, it may be a while before I can get back to Glen Kyle.”
Callum’s voice was regretful, but I knew instantly that he was not telling me the truth. He never said “to be honest with you.” He hated the phrase, insisting it meant that somebody was about to tell lies. I tensed, waiting for his deception.
“I have very pressing business in London. I should visit my accountant, and my solicitor.” I frowned, not understanding. “You would call Mr. Smythe an attorney, I think.”
Callum glanced at me and I nodded. My own attorney in Virginia had been as crooked as a bent twig. I glanced at Callum’s face and decided not to share that with him.
“Why now?” I demanded bluntly. “You never mentioned this before.”
Callum shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated gesture. “Didn’t I? I thought I had mentioned it before we left the Crimea.” He was lying to me. Lying did not come easily to my honorable husband, and he was very bad at it.
“No. I don’t believe you did say anything about it.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I might have been a mere acquaintance, the way he spoke. “Well, to be honest—” More lies! “—Smythe wrote to me several times before we left England. There is some legal dispute outstanding about land in Glen Kyle. Some nonsense about leases and such that has been on-going for years. I’m afraid my late uncle was as negligent about such things as I am. Anyway, whoever was involved in the deal in the first place has died and their estate has decided to go to court on the matter. It may well be that’s it’s all been settled while I was away, but it’s been nagging at me and I need to know the outcome. I fear that it may keep me in London for quite a long time. Do you want to come with me, or would you prefer to go straight back to Glen Kyle and I’ll join you later? When I’m free.”
His final words chilled me to the bone. When he was free? Had his tongue tripped him, without him even noticing? I thought very carefully before I spoke.
“Of course I want to stay with you,” I said. “Especially if you may be some time.”
“Do you?” Callum seemed mildly surprised. “Very well. I’ll speak to the captain and ask him about making arrangements for our journey.”
It didn’t matter greatly, I thought. We would only be in London for a few months at the most. Once we had cleared up Callum’s bit of business, we could begin to repair our shattered relationship. Once we were back home.
Almost a year later, we were still here. Firmly ensconced in a beautiful apartment on the oh-so-fashionable Eaton Square, in the center of London. I had learned to play the piano. After all, Callum was absent on his business so often, I had plenty of time to spare to myself. The music I made wasn’t the same as my samisen, but still it made me glad to be able to produce melodies that were pleasing to the ear. I learned to sing English songs as well, finding that my training as a geisha made it quite easy to pick up the different rhythms and tones of English verses.
Coincidentally, my ability to read English also improved greatly. Our maid brought us a copy of The Times newspaper each day. At first, I ignored it. The front page was covered entirely in densely printed advertisements. Although I glanced at them, they seemed so uninteresting I didn’t bother looking any further. Until one depressingly foggy, cold day when I was so bored I began to turn the pages of the newspaper and excitement gripped me.
Inside, the newspaper was full of real news. I worked my way through slowly, turning page after page as I searched for any mention of America. There was nothing—the only references to foreign countries were reserved for the British Empire. But my hopes had been raised, and after that I read every page of the newspaper every single day. Very occasionally, America was mentioned and my heart pounded with anticipation. After a while, I came to understand that it was likely that I was always going to be disappointed. Something as trivial as a kabuki theater performing in America would never be mentioned in an English newspaper. In spite of that, I continued my morning reading, feeling that any mention of activities in America somehow kept me connected to Kazhua’s world.
If Callum noticed my interest in current events, he never commented on it. But the new friends we had made in London did. They seemed both amazed and amused that I was so aware of what was going on in the world outside England.
“I daresay it’s because you’ve traveled so much. I just can’t work up any interest in the goings-on in foreign parts,” my neighbor at a ball commented languidly. “You really must have a chat to Lord Albermarle. He’s just got back from America, I believe. I’m sure you’d both have a lot to chat about.”
My breath hitched in my throat. Somebody who had actually been to America recently?
“That would be delightful,” I said. “Perhaps you could introduce me to him?”
Alas, Lord Albermarle was a disappointment. He was a vacuous young man who was interested in talking about only one thing—himself. He was deeply rude about his stay in America, laughing loudly as he complained he had barely understood a word anybody said all the time he had been there. My mention of the kabuki theater drew nothing but a blank stare. Still, the seed had been sown in my mind and after that I listened eagerly for any mention of somebody who was lately returned from America. I was deeply excited when I was introduced to the famous writer Charles Dickens. And even more deeply disappointed when he informed me loftily that he had only visited America once, more than fifteen years before, and he had hated both America and the Americans.
The encounter with the great man left me deeply dispirited. If Dickens could be so rude about America, no doubt the rest of London society would follow his lead. Yet still hope refused to die completely, and I continued to read The Times every day.
Callum complacently accepted the compliments that were showered on me by our friends. In public, he was everything a good husband should be. The ladies envied me; the men looked at Callum and envied him.
But in the privacy of our luxurious apartment, we slept in separate bedrooms. And it broke my heart.
“Callum, you’re not ready. Hurry up or we’ll be late.” I sounded like a nursemaid scolding a tardy child.
“Go without me.” Callum was standing at the window, looking out. He did not bother to turn around when he spoke. “I don’t fancy listening to that bloody caterwauling tonight. It gives me a headache.”
“Then I’ll send our apologies and stay at home as well,” I said promptly, although I was disappointed. We were going to see Acis and Galatea at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. I loved the opera. It reminded me very much of the kabuki theater; the larger-than-life plots and extreme drama were so very similar. And kabuki actors often burst into song. Callum did not share my passion, I knew, although he had never been quite so rude about it before.
“No. Go without me. Tell Angela and Marcus I have a headache. And give them my apologies.” I thought that he was about to say more, but he did not. Instead, he looked at me in a curious way, his head on one side.
“I will, if you insist. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll go out for a walk, I think. It’s a nice evening.” He slouched across and surprised me by giving me a light kiss on my forehead. It was the most physical contact we had had in months. “Go on. Enjoy yourself.”
“I’ll do my best.” I smiled. “I believe we’re going for supper afterward, so I’ll be quite late back.”
“Fine.”
“Take care, then.” Still, I lingered, hoping for a glance. A sweet word. Anything.
“I will. Mata yoroshiku onegaishimasu, Tara-chan.”
“How very formal!” I smiled, absurdly pleased in spite of my words. At least he had spoken to me in Japanese, in what used to be our language of love. And he had called me Tara-chan!
I went out with a light heart.
I barely heard a note of the opera. When it was finished, I excused myself from supper. My companions exchanged indulgent looks and Angela patted me fondly on the cheek.
“Ah, but what it is to be so very much in love! Fly back to your man, my little lovebird, and make sure he is well.”
They watched me go with smiles. My own smile lasted until I was out of the theater and waiting for the porter to find a cab for me. I thought I was alone, and I was startled when a voice came out of the shadows.
“Spare a few pence, missus?”
The soft gaslight shone on a figure hunched against the wall. I made out a woman wrapped in a filthy shawl with a baby clutched to her body. My cab arrived at that moment, and I hesitated. Then she held out the baby to me. I saw the glint of copper curls through the dirt that covered the child and I signaled to my cab driver to wait.
I fumbled in my purse and gave the woman the first coin my fingers encountered.
“Gawd bless you, missus. That’ll get me and the young 'un a bed for a week.”
She clutched the baby to her chest as if she thought I might steal it from her. With the movement, I caught sight of the muddy green color of its eyes. I was immediately grateful that they were so unlike Kazhua’s emerald green eyes.
The cab driver helped me climb into the cab. I glanced back as we pulled away and saw the beggar had got to her feet and was walking away with a surprisingly brisk step, her baby carried almost casually on her hip. In spite of her poverty, I envied her. She had the one thing I longed for above all else. Her own child.
I sat back, lost in my thoughts. The evening traffic was fairly light. We had only one delay, when my cab stopped abruptly. Before I could tap on the roof to ask the cab driver what was the problem, he leaned down and bellowed at me cheerfully.
“Nuffing to worry about, missus. Some daft soul got taken loose in the ‘ead. Tried to do ‘erself in by jumping in front of a wagon. The bobbies ‘ave taken her off, all right and tight.”
Just as would have happened in the Floating World, a large crowd had gathered to watch the fun, and it was them rather than the poor lunatic causing the delay.
“Where will they take her?”
The unfortunate woman was being carried on her back, chest high, her ankles and wrists grasped firmly by four policemen. She was kicking and screaming loudly, and I thought perhaps she was drunk rather than insane. Either way, the crowd was loving the drama. They hooted and shouted at the policemen, one or two going so far as to pelt them with lumps of dirty straw from the street. I guessed the straw was less innocent than it looked when one of the policemen jerked back with blood streaming down his face. I suddenly felt sick. The whole thing was horrible. I felt deeply sorry for the woman, and for the policeman who had been injured for doing his job. Even the dirty, hungry-looking crowd made me guilty for all I had and they had not.
“Where will they take her?” I repeated. “Will she be well looked after?”
“Bless your ‘eart, missus.” My driver sounded deeply surprised. “Don’t you worry yourself about ‘er. I daresay they’ll take ‘er to the Bridewell. If she’s sober and sensible in the morning, they’ll let ‘er go. If she’s still not right in the ‘ead, they’ll send ‘er off to Bedlam. She’ll be right enough there. Not like the old days. I remember me grandma telling me when I was a nipper that it used to be a Sunday treat to go and ‘ave a laugh at the lunatics in Bedlam.” He laughed loudly himself and—the crowd having begun to disperse—urged his horse on with a click of the tongue.
His explanation did nothing to soothe my worries. I thought for the rest of the journey about the poor woman who had been so desperate—for whatever reason—as to try and end her own life. Although I am normally the least superstitious of women, I could not lose the nagging fear that the encounter had been a bad omen.
I paid my friendly cab driver and went in, nodding a greeting at the hall porter. On the stairs to our apartment, I paused, smoothing my hair carefully and rehearsing what I was going to say to Callum. I changed my mind on the next step, and the next. Finally, I shrugged and decided I would see what kind of mood he was in before I said anything at all.
I knew my plans were dead as soon as my key turned in the lock and I pushed the door open. The apartment was dark. It had a sense of lack, of emptiness. Even though I knew Callum wasn’t there, I called his name. The curtains and carpets absorbed my voice and returned it in a frightened whisper, mocking me.
Immediately, I was worried. I turned the gaslights up in the sitting room and stared around. Perhaps he had decided to forget about his walk and had gone out with a friend? Was there a note for me? Nothing. I searched in the bedrooms as well, but there was nothing there either. I was about to go down again and ask the hall porter if Callum had left a message for me, but then I realized the man had seen me come in and had wished me “good evening.” If there were a message, he would surely have passed it to me then.
The gas mantles were flaring smokily and emitting an evil smell, as they always did for a few minutes when first lit. The gas had been switched off for a while, then. I wandered around the room, bewildered.
Callum had said he was going out for a walk. A walk that had lasted for more than three hours? Something must have happened to him. Fear rose with a sour taste in my throat. Not now! Not now, when we had surely been on the verge of being happy again. Could fate be so unkind? I had read in novels of heroines wringing their hands in distress and I had always smirked at such a pointless gesture. Now, I did it myself and found an odd comfort in the pressure of my hands, one against the other. Almost as if another person was trying to hold my hand.
I was weary, but I could not sleep. I decided I would wait for half an hour, and then go down and ask the porter to alert the police for me. If Callum had been in an accident and had been taken to a hospital, then they would know where he was. I sat back in a comfortable chair and fidgeted.
“You’re back early.” Callum’s voice sounded odd. Neither angry nor surprised. Just cold. I had fallen into a doze after all. I was furious with myself and took it out on him.
“Where have you been! I was worried to death about you!”
“Really?” Callum tugged off his jacket and threw it on a chair back. He was wearing a suit, not his kilt. And a very informal suit, at that. Something was wrong here. “You can’t have been that worried if you nodded off waiting for me. Why are you back so early anyway?”
“I didn’t want to eat without you.” And that was true enough. “I thought it would be nice if we could have some supper together. Callum, what have you been doing? You can’t have been walking about London all this time.”
“Can’t I? What do you know about it, wife of mine?” His voice was jeering. He had been drinking, I decided. He had fallen in with some cronies and they had been out to some drinking den together. I relaxed, and—because I felt foolish; what if I had contacted the police only to have my husband walk in safe and well!—I snapped at him.
“You’re drunk! Why on earth didn’t you leave a note for me? I tell you, I was worried sick about you.”
He walked over to me and put his hands on the arms of my chair. Held his face so close to mine, I could feel his breath on my cheek. I knew at once I was wrong. There was no alcohol on his breath.
“How sweet of you to worry about me,” he said quietly. The hair on the back of my neck prickled in instinctive premonition. I sat very still, very stiff. “But I assure you, you have no need to be concerned for my welfare.”
“Callum.” I spoke in a whisper. My voice could manage nothing else. “Where have you been? What have you been doing?”
“I’ve been looking for a whore.”
He spoke so casually, I thought he was making a joke in bad taste. That he would wait for a heartbeat and then laugh at my shocked face.
“Don’t be silly.” My voice shook. “I suppose you’ve been out with the boys, have you?”
“Not at all. I have been all alone, I promise you. I have spent the entire evening combing the streets of Whitechapel for a whore. There were plenty to choose from, of course. But none of them was the very special one I was seeking.”
He broke off and smiled, raising his eyebrows in invitation for me speak. I cleared my throat, wondering if my husband had suddenly gone mad. Finally, I spoke in a quiet, conversational tone. I had read somewhere that it was essential to humor those who had lost their wits.
“And did you find her?”
“No. There was no need. Somehow it had slipped my mind that the very whore I was seeking was at home all the time, waiting for me. The finest whore in the whole of London.”
I forgot all about keeping him calm and slapped his face as hard as I could. It must have hurt, as he flinched back. I was bitterly pleased. Somewhere deep in my soul I understood he was just trying to hurt me, but it did nothing to dull the pain his words gave me.
“Get out,” I snarled. “Get back on the streets and find your whore. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you anyway near me.”
I kept my eyes wide open, defying the tears that lurked there ready to fall. One kind word, just one, would have been enough to quench my anger.
But the word did not come.
“Ah. The truth at long last. If I walked out tomorrow, went back to Scotland without you, you would be delighted, wouldn’t you?” Callum sat back. I thought he looked hurt, then I realized it was only a trick of the flickering gaslight and he was actually smiling. “I wonder why you waited so long to tell me? Did you worry that none of our delightful new friends would be so pleased to accept a woman alone? You’re wrong about that. I’ve seen the way the men look at you. The way they let their glance creep over you when they think I’m not looking. If I were out of the way, there would be a queue of them waiting to offer you carte blanche in return for services rendered. An apartment of your own? But of course! Jewels? Most certainly. Anything that would please the lovely little Japanese whore. And of course, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it? I remember you confessing to me that you had been about to take a generous offer from some man or other in Virginia in exchange for allowing you to keep the plantation. If I hadn’t been so besotted with you then, I would have seen the truth and walked away. I wish I had. Once a whore, always a whore.”
I was speechless. I had told Callum the story of the whole of my life before we had married. At the time, he had heard me out and then held me tightly in his arms. I remembered his gentle words.
“That is all in the past. I can’t say forget about it because it’s hardship that’s made you the person that you are. And I love you for it, not in spite of it. But from now on, we face the future together. No matter what.”
Now, he was staring at me, a sneer lifting his upper lip. That did it. My self-control snapped. I launched myself at him, scrabbling with my nails at his face. Callum caught my wrists and held them easily. But he forgot I could still move my head. I bit him on his wrist. He yelped and let go, so I took the opportunity to free myself and I kicked him as hard as I possibly could. I was aiming for his kintama, but he moved just as I kicked out and I hit the large muscle in his thigh instead. He shouted, obviously more in surprise than in pain, and moved away from me abruptly. The flicker of the gaslight cast odd shadows over his face, but still I could see the pain in his eyes. Pain that I understood was nothing at all to do with the injury I had dealt to his leg. My fury went down a notch. I was still angry, but suddenly I understood what this scene was really about.
I thrust my face so close to his that I was nearly touching it.
“If you knew you had the best there was here at home, Callum Niaish, why did you bother to go out and look for what wasn’t there?” He bared his teeth in a snarl of anger and tried to push me away. I was having none of it. I had kept my peace for too long. He had started this quarrel, but by all the gods, I was going to end it. “You’re lying. You’re lying to me, and to yourself. And we both know it.”
He stood and tried to walk away, but I was too quick for him. I darted round and planted myself in front of him. If he wanted to move me, then he would have to pick me up and put me to one side. He was easily strong enough to do that, I knew. I waited for a heartbeat, and when he hesitated, I decided that the time for honesty had arrived.
“Let me past, Tara.” He stared over my shoulder. “We have nothing to say to each other.”
“I have plenty to say. And it’s time it was said. You are going to listen to me, Callum Niaish, whether you like what you hear or not. You’re ashamed of yourself. It’s not me you’re trying to punish, it’s yourself.” His hand jerked up and I thought he was going to strike me. I watched his face; I would not back down now. His hand fell to his side. “You think of yourself as a coward. As a meater. The dog that will only eat meat because it’s frightened of anything that can fight back. My big, brave husband, the meater. If anybody knew how we left Edo, you’re convinced they would see you as a coward who ran away from a yakuza, a mere gangster, with your tail between your legs. From the moment you woke up on board the Louisa, you’ve been so ashamed of yourself you won’t let your conscience stop torturing you for a minute. Are you trying to drive me away from you? Is that it? If you can manage that, will you feel as if you’ve been suitably punished?”
He stared at me coldly. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did leave me,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to tell me I’m a coward, Tara. I know it. You’re right. I’ve known it every waking moment since I woke up on the ship. Why did you do it? You should have run away yourself and left me in Edo to take my chances. But you never gave me the choice, did you? I am a coward, you’re right. And even worse, I was made into a coward by the woman I loved. That’s me, Captain Niaish, the brave soldier who was pleased to hide behind his wife’s skirts.”
“Getting out of Edo was nothing to do with you.” I was so angry, I was almost shouting. “Mountjoy drugged your tea. You were out cold. You had no idea what was going on until it was too late. Can’t you understand that and forgive yourself? You’re not a coward. I only threw that at you to make you come to your senses.”
“Did you really? Strange that you should choose the one word that would hurt me more than anything.” He paused suddenly. My fury had ebbed into pity. I began to raise my hand with the intention of touching him, offering comfort, but I saw him flinch away and turned the gesture into a touch of my own hair, pushing a stray lock away that had come adrift in the violence of our quarrel. Callum's shoulders slumped and he shook his head slowly. “You’re right, of course. I am a coward. But there’s something else. Something you don’t know. I need to tell you the whole truth, and it might as well be now.” His voice was so soft I had to lean forward to hear him clearly. “I had heard dreadful, unspeakable things about Akira. I had come to realize what he was capable of. I had even begun to think that he must have been involved in Simon’s murder. I was frightened of him, but not for myself. All I could think about was what might happen to you.”
“I understand that,” I said helplessly. “But if you were so worried about me, why didn’t you tell me? Explain that you felt we had to leave, for my sake. In Edo, Akira was king. There was nothing you could have done about it if he really had decided he wanted me. He would have swept you into an unmarked grave without thinking twice about it. I would have understood, believe me. Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”
“I just couldn’t say anything. When we were in Edo, I could see how happy you were to think that we were close to finding Kazhua at last. I thought it would break your heart if I said we had to leave before we got anywhere. You see, the truth is that I was terrified of Akira, even if it was on your behalf.” I started to protest, but Callum put his hand over my mouth, very gently. “I was in turmoil. Half of me wanted to snatch you away from danger, to walk out of Edo as soon as we could. The other half listened to you talking about Kazhua and saying how you were so sure we were close to finding her at last. So I did nothing at all. Just dithered. If we could have talked it over, agreed that there was no point in staying any longer, that would have been fine. I would have walked out of Edo happily. But before I could bring myself to do that, you made the decision for me.”
I felt an absurd desire to apologize. “But I didn’t know!” I protested. “I thought I had to get you away, no matter what.”
“I know. But that hasn’t stopped me worrying at it like a dog with a bone. I tried to tell myself I had had no choice. But when we docked in the East Indies, I almost decided I should say goodbye to you and go back to Edo. To finish our search for Kazhua.”
“So why didn’t you go back?”
“Because of you, Tara-chan. I knew if I went back I would be walking straight into Akira’s arms. And that he would do his best to kill me. I had heard enough to know that he would never tolerate me making a fool of him. He would have to make an example of me. The whole of Edo would have laughed at him if he had lost a woman for a second time to another man, and a stupid gaijin at that. I wasn’t worried for myself—I’ve faced death too many times for that. But I thought about Simon going back to Edo and being murdered because he was trying to find Kazhua. I began to think what it would do to you if history repeated itself and I was killed as well. I knew that you would blame yourself and would never be able to forgive yourself. But at the same time, I felt I should go back. I was so torn, I began to think I was going mad. I couldn’t live in peace with my conscience telling me I was the world’s worst coward, and at the same time I couldn’t face inflicting such hurt on you. So I did nothing at all. And if that wasn’t the coward’s way out, what was?”
My eyes blurred with tears. For Callum, life would never be easy or straightforward. Always, there would be the tug of war between happiness and duty. He had not wanted to be Marquess of Kyle, but he had accepted the title because he felt he must. He had not wanted to fight in the Crimea, but it had been the right thing to do, so he had gone to war for Queen and country and done what was expected of him. And now? Now the balance had been between losing me or losing his own self-respect. And I had won.
That would have given many women great satisfaction. Look at the power I have over my man, they would have gloated. He may hate himself, but look how much he loves me! It gave me no satisfaction at all.
“Fate can be very cruel at times.” I stared at the flickering light from the gas mantle, not wanting to look at Callum. “If you had told me what you were thinking, there would have been no need for any of this. I would have understood. Come to that, if Mountjoy had thought to mention that he knew Kazhua was in America, happy with her lover, we would have left Edo in peace anyway.”
“Possibly.” Callum shrugged wearily. “But I had been thinking about breaking it to you that we should go for weeks, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I kept putting if off. Thinking about your face if I told you we were going to run away and abandon Kazhua. And then when I realized that Mountjoy had made my mind up for me, do you know I was relieved at first? I could blame him—and you. Nothing to do with me, I was as innocent as a lamb. Although before long that made things even worse. I realized I had been so much of a coward, even Mountjoy saw it.”
“As if that matters!” I broke in. “You’re wrong anyway. Mountjoy only decided to take matters into his own hands because he knew what danger you were in and he knew you would never leave of your own accord.”
“Does it matter?” Callum said wearily. “I was a coward. Nothing can undo that. And there’s nothing I can do to make that right.”
“None of it matters, now.” I spoke very gently. “It’s not true anyway, but it’s all gone by, and time cannot be turned back on itself.”
“I thank you for your understanding.” He spoke so politely, I might as well have been a stranger. “But I can’t undo the way I’ve behaved since we left Edo. And I can’t take back the words I threw at you this evening. I’d walked about for hours, turning things over in my mind and getting no further. I’d expected you would still be out when I got back in. When I found you here and so worried about me that you were going to call the police, I felt ten times worse. I was so guilty, I hated myself. I couldn’t hurt myself anymore, so I tried to hurt you instead. I had to turn it around, to make you think that everything was your fault. You were right. I was hoping that you would decide you’d had enough of me and leave me so it would be your choice. I’m so sorry, Tara-chan. I can’t unsay what I said this evening. And I can’t take back any of the pain I’ve caused you. In spite of that, is there any chance at all that you can forgive me?”
I looked at him in silence and then walked over to the gas mantel. I turned the flame down to a pinprick.
“My mother was a very placid woman,” I said.
Callum frowned at me, obviously puzzled.
“But she did have a temper, when she was aroused sufficiently. When that happened, my father always said very firmly, ‘The quarrels of a married couple and the west wind stop in the evening.’ I think, roughly translated for Western ears that means, ‘Come to bed. If need be, we will talk in the morning.’ Are you coming with me, Callum?”
I held my hand out to him and he rose and walked behind me. I wondered for a moment who was beating a drum so very loudly, then I understood that it was the sound of my own blood, pulsing in my veins.