If the body and
Mind are not balanced, how can
One find harmony?
I was so very happy, I forgot that it is only the gods who are entitled to perfect joy in their lives. And that they take it amiss when mere humans presume to join them. Summer had finally come, and the whole of London seemed to have thrown off the fogs and chills of winter and to be going about business with a smile.
Especially me.
I was convinced that our joyful reunion had made me pregnant. At last! It was irrational, I knew. I had missed only two of my monthly courses. Nothing to get excited about; it had happened before and each time I had been disappointed. But this time I felt different. I woke up each morning with a small thrill of excitement, as if my very blood was pulsing a little faster through my veins. I was hungry all the time as well. I said nothing to Callum, wanting to be absolutely sure first. But he obviously saw my happiness and commented on it.
“The sunshine is good for you, sweetheart. You’re glowing with health. I’m only sorry we’re going to be here in London for a while longer,” he said. “I expected the legal business to be sorted out months ago, but it’s dragging on forever. It’s all Uncle’s fault,” he added in an uncharacteristic burst of annoyance.
“Your poor uncle!” I teased. “That’s not fair. You’ve said yourself that you hated looking after the legal side of things just as much as he did. Couldn’t things be sorted out in Scotland?” I asked hopefully. I still loved the buzz and liveliness of London, but now I had a new life to think of. The very thought of it thrilled me, and the idea of giving birth to a baby in the grime and smoke of London was appalling. And everybody told me that the warm weather would mean an increase in cholera. I had seen the ravages cholera caused in the Crimea. Although I could hardly believe that it could strike with the same dreadful severity here in civilized London, I had no wish to be proven wrong.
“I wish they could.” Callum shrugged, obviously annoyed. “That’s why I said it was Uncle’s fault. The land that’s under dispute is in Kyle, right enough. But apparently Uncle didn’t bother reading the contract document properly, and it was made subject to English law, not Scottish, so it has to be fought out in the English courts.”
“And would you have bothered reading it either?” I teased.
Callum looked glum. “I don’t suppose I would have,” he admitted. “But in any event, I’m stuck with it. Every time I go to see my solicitor, he tells me the other side has come up with something new, so now he has to examine the fresh evidence and respond to it. And that in turn is going to postpone the court hearing yet again. I wish I could just walk away from it, I really do.”
“Why don’t you?” I asked, although I knew the answer anyway.
“I can’t!” Callum sounded horrified. “It’s quite a large piece of land that’s in question. It’s never been farmed, and according to Mr. Smythe, Uncle was always under the impression that the man who wanted the land was a tremendously wealthy Sassenach—that’s an English gentleman to you, Tara—who just wanted to use it to hunt and fish with his friends, which was fine by Uncle. So Uncle leased it to him, or so he thought. He never actually read the contract, of course. Just signed where he was told to put his name. Whatever plans the Sassenach had for the land were never put into place, but now he’s died and his heir is claiming that the contract is clear the land was purchased outright, not leased at all. And he says he now wants to evict all the crofters and make it into one, gigantic farm. Put a manager on and run it as a profitable business and to hell with the families who have lived on Kyle land for as long as we have. Can’t have that, of course, so I’m now fighting tooth and nail to prove that there was a fundamental mistake and that Uncle only made the deal under the idea that the land was to be leased, not purchased, and always with the intention that it was to be used only for hunting, never for farming. Impossible to prove now that he’s dead, of course. But I must try.”
I understood at once. My poor Callum’s conscience again. I was so certain that I really was pregnant, that this morning it had been on the very tip of my tongue to tell him my news. Now, I was pleased I had not. If I had told him, poor Callum’s conscience would have tied itself in knots. Who would have come first, me and our baby, or the tenants who were in trouble? I didn’t know the answer. I didn’t want to know.
“Never mind,” I said cheerfully. “I’m sure right will prevail in the end.”
We went for a walk, arm in arm, looking just like every other man and wife on the streets who had an eye for the good weather and each other. We took a light lunch at the Café Royal, and then returned hot and footsore and very happy.
“I think I’ll take a nap.” I smiled at Callum happily. And why shouldn’t I be happy? The long, sad months when we had nothing to say to each other were past, and the pain had begun to be if not forgotten, then more of an unpleasant memory. The sun was shining. I was irrationally sure that the legal problems would be resolved very soon and we could go back to Kyle and get on with our lives as they should be. With a new baby in the cradle, and—who knew?—perhaps more to come. And although I knew it was irrational, I couldn’t help my heart leaping with another hope. Surely this good fortune had to be an omen? If I had been gifted with another baby, then perhaps fate would finally relent and send my dear Kazhua back to me as well so my life would be complete. I filled with joy at the thought.
Once back in Scotland, London could be visited as and when we wanted. There would be no reason why we had to be here. I even amused myself with the thought of inviting Mountjoy to visit us in the Highlands, wondering all the time how long it would take for him to become completely bored with the country.
Or perhaps—chameleon that he was—he would blend in and become the perfect country gentleman. For the Mountjoy here in London was different again to the Mountjoy who had helped us escape from Edo. He had even changed physically. His hair was longer and curled raffishly on his collar. He had grown a neat mustache and beard. Apart from that, it was a matter of the way he presented himself to the world. In Edo, he had been a prosperous, well-mannered merchant. In London, he was the complete man-about-town, walking with a swagger and a gleam in his eye.
“Paid your tailor, have you?” Callum demanded as he turned up in yet another new suit.
“Certainly have. I’m not one of you fly-boys, here today and gone tomorrow!” Mountjoy said indignantly. “Besides, old chap, money is no object these days.” He closed his eye in a deliberate wink.
“And one of these days the likes of Kelsey are going to work out exactly how much you’re taking off them,” Callum said drily.
Mountjoy grinned. “Don’t know why you don’t join in the fun yourself, old chap. I know you don’t need the money, but a little more’s always welcome! And I must admit that you’re a far better card player than I am.”
“That’s precisely because I don’t need the money,” Callum said thoughtfully. “If I did, I might not be so cool about it. As it is, I play because I enjoy the skill of it. And I know when to stop.”
I looked at Mountjoy indulgently. I knew his faults, and despite them—or perhaps because he acknowledged his own shortcomings with such unconcern it was endearing—I had come to look upon him as a friend.
Thoughts of Mountjoy slid out of my head as I snuggled down comfortably on our bed. I was drowsing as I heard Callum call out that he was going to the bank and to pay yet another visit to his attorney. I heard the door shut softly behind him, and then nothing more as sleep stole over me gently.
I dreamed I was back in the Floating World. Yet, as if often the way of dreams, it wasn’t quite the Floating World I remembered. I was dressed in Western-style clothes. I stared down at myself in confusion and was surprised when nobody seemed to notice. Instead, the crowds simply folded around me and carried me with them. The scent of jako seeds rose from them and I inhaled it with pleasure. The pleasure evaporated quickly as I saw they were urging me on toward Akira’s house. I tried to pull back, but they wouldn’t allow it. Closer and closer, until we came to the crossroads leading to his cul-de-sac. The crowd around me stopped, and a sigh of satisfaction came from many throats.
Akira’s house was gone. There was simply an empty plot where the beautiful building had stood. Even the wonderful garden might never have existed. I cried out loud in amazement. I felt almost bereaved by the lack, as if something very precious to me had been lost unexpectedly. I turned my head, waiting for somebody to tell me what had happened. But the crowd had melted away and I stood alone. My sense of mourning was so deep, it was a physical pain in my belly.
And then I woke up. The dream faded slowly. It had been so very real, for a moment I was caught between two worlds and I was unsure where I was. I yawned and stretched, and the pain I had felt in my sleep came back to me. Only this time, it was a real, physical pain. I was off the bed so quickly I nearly tripped over my own skirts. I ran to the bathroom and pulled up my skirts and petticoats frantically. A thread caught and snagged on my nail and I tore at it, whimpering at the small pain as the nail snapped off. I then cried out loud as forced my hand between my thighs and felt the trickle of blood there. I slid to the floor of the bathroom, whimpering and rocking back and forth, praying to all the gods that I was mistaken. That the blood came from my ragged nail even though I knew it did not.
I was grateful beyond anything I had not shared my hopes with Callum. There was no reason for both of us to be disappointed. I smiled at him when he came in and felt my heart break when he yawned and stretched and suggested roguishly that I might like to spend an hour in bed with him.
“Sorry.” I shrugged, as if it was the most matter of fact thing in the world. “Wrong time of the month.”
“No need for that to stop a bit of fun, is there? I could make it nice for you. You know that.”
And he could, of course. Just as I could make it nice for him. I nearly told him in that second. Explained to him just why “fun” was the last thing I wanted, when my precious baby was running out of my body. Instead, I smiled and shrugged my shoulders.
“Thanks, but no thanks. My stomach hurts, and I just want to lie down and be quiet for a while.”
Callum was instantly concerned. He drew the curtains in the bedroom and laid beside me, waiting until he thought I had gone to sleep before he dozed off himself. As he often did, he threw his arm across my ribs. Normally, I enjoyed the weight across my body. Today, I moved his arm away, very gently, so as not to waken him. I lay awake and stared into the dim light. Tears ran down my face and wet my hair, but I did not wipe them away. Each one was a pearl, I thought. A pearl for my unborn child to take with him into the next world.
My agonized thoughts slipped from my unknown baby to the child I had lost so long ago. I had been so very sure that this new life inside me had been a sign that I would find Kazhua again. Now, all my joyful hopes for the future left me. I was to have no babe to suckle at my aching breasts, and my dear Kazhua was as far away from me as ever. I cried silently, cursing the fate that had roused my hopes only to snatch them away from me with such cruelty.
Poor Callum understood intuitively that there was something wrong with me. He probed gently, but constantly. I had made my mind up that I would not tell him, and pleaded the heat as an excuse for my sudden lack of energy. And truly, London was vile that summer. The hot air lingered in the streets, captured and compressed by the buildings on each side. I had never gotten accustomed to the fact that even the best parts of London shared their space with factories. Just down from our apartment building was a tannery. The stink of green hides being treated made me want to retch. Almost worse was the fat rendering factory; the miasma from that was almost tangible. It seemed there was no escape. Wherever one went in London, there were horrible smells. Clever Mr. Bazalgette had started work on his massive scheme to give London new sewers, and everybody said that in a couple of years it would be wonderful, but that summer, the work on the project only made things worse. Everywhere we went, there seemed to be enormous holes in the ground and even bigger hills of debris at the side of them. Traffic was diverted and the roads were solidly at a standstill, jammed with carts and carriages and cabs. We were even denied the pleasure of strolling beside the Thames. Not just because of the dreadful fumes that arose from the sluggish river—the water was so contaminated it ran as thick as soup—but also because Mr. Bazalgette had decreed that three new embankments must be made at the side of the Thames, and the on-going work meant that our favorite walks were denied to us.
“Do you think you might fancy a trip to the music hall?” Callum sounded so worried, I knew he was grasping at straws to try and cheer me up. I had not been able to face either the opera or the ballet for over a month. The very thought of those hot, sweaty bodies, the men puffing away on cigars and the ladies drenched in cologne to disguise the stink of their sweat, made me nauseous. I was about to tell him no, I would rather stay at home quietly, when I glanced at his face and saw the depth of concern in his eyes. Suddenly, I wished I had told him about the baby. Our baby. Was it too late now? I decided it was. I knew Callum would not only mourn for our child, but would also be deeply upset for me. I could not bring myself to inflict the double hurt on my poor husband.
“The music hall?” I echoed doubtfully. I had looked forward to seeing a performance what felt a like a lifetime ago. Callum had promised he would take me, but somehow it had never happened.
“The Alhambra,” he said eagerly. “I believe they have an excellent bill on this week. It might cheer you up a bit.”
I had seen the Alhambra, of course. At least from the outside. It was very difficult to miss. It stood on the east side of Leicester Square, only a few minutes’ ride from our apartment. It was a huge, ornate building, built in incredibly bad taste. I had been told it was supposed to resemble the Alhambra Palace in Andalucía, in the south of Spain, but even without seeing the original I knew that it was a terrible, vulgar imitation. It always struck me as looking more like an over-decorated wedding cake than anything else.
Callum obviously mistook my hesitation as interest. He went on cheerfully, “You’d probably find it dreadful after the opera,” he warned. “It’s not meant to be serious, just a bit of fun. But they do say a change is as good as a rest.”
His voice tailed off hopefully. The scar on his eyes looked sore and inflamed, a sure sign that he was unwell. Was he so worried about me, I wondered, that he was making himself ill? A flare of guilt made me respond far more enthusiastically than I had intended.
“It sounds a lovely idea. I have been a bit down in the dumps. I think it must be the hot weather. And all the dreadful smells.”
“There’s been a big increase in cholera cases since it got so hot.” He put his hand solicitously on my forehead. “You don’t feel ill. Should I send for a doctor to take a look at you?”
“I’m fine,” I said briskly. “Probably just a bit stale. You might be right. A trip to the Alhambra might be just what I need to take me out of myself.” And then again, it might not, I thought cynically.