Fifty Words for Rain(110)

I croak like a frog, covering my mouth with my sleeve too late. “That’s quite impossible,” I say firmly.

But then I remember that she is not a child anymore, but a twenty-four-year-old woman who has been away from me for over a decade. I don’t know anything about her life now.

He looks at me like I’m a peasant.

“By various ways I can tell,” he says pompously. “I’d estimate she’s about three or four months. I’d need her blood to be certain of the progression. But one look at her told me she’s with child. I would bet my house on it.”

I look at the little madam, waving away another maid who is trying to get her to drink some tea. One glance at her face tells me that she doesn’t know.

He follows my gaze. “Oh,” he says. “Is she unmarried?”

His voice oozes condescension, and instantly, I am on the defense of the girl I could never protect.

“None of your damn business and you will mind your tongue in this house,” I hiss, “or I’ll have a word with my mistress about you.”

He bows his head. “I meant no offense. I can tell her the news, if you like.”

I don’t even consider it.

“I’ll take care of her. You may go. Speak nothing of this.”

He goes out. I dismiss everyone else from the room and the surrounding hallway, including that vulture Hideki with his beady, soulless eyes.

I smooth her hair away from her tired face.

“Now then, my dear, let’s get you into a hot bath.”

I guide her to the bathroom and fill the large tub up with steaming water, just as I used to do. I strip her naked and brush her hair, as I used to do.

I note the fullness of her breasts and the ever-so-slight curve of her stomach, and I know what the doctor said is true. My eyes are drawn to a jagged scar, just above her heart. I know better than to ask how she got it.

I wash her back and agonize over what to say to her, how to break the news to this gentle creature who has already suffered so much.

“Tell me of your life,” I say, and she smiles.

She talks for hours, until the water goes cold. She speaks of the inhumane with grace; she shrugs off the unbearable with a grim smile. Her voice breaks when she tells me of Akira-sama, but she doesn’t cry. I think the only way she survived that loss was to carve out a piece of her heart.

He was everything to her.

When she gets to the part about her life now, I see her face light up with joy.

“And your lover, this boy . . . he is to be your husband?”

“As soon as I return to London.”

I feel truly sick at what I have to tell her.

“And what if you didn’t go back?”

She gives me a bewildered look. “Why wouldn’t I go back?”

“Your lady grandmother—”

“Is dying,” she cuts me off. “Yes, they mentioned. She has called me halfway across the world to absolve her old soul.”

I bite my tongue as I have done so often before. It is not my place.

There is only one thing I have to tell her now.

“Little madam . . . have you been feeling ill?”

She shrugs.

“I’ve felt worse.”

“Yes. But have you been . . .” Have you been with child? I’m an idiot.

She turns to face me, her amber eyes full of alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“My dear girl . . .”

“Tell me quickly,” she demands, and I am reminded that she is used to bad news and there is no point in me dragging it out.

“You are with child,” I say, as gently as I can.

She blinks at me. “I am not.”

“You are, my dear. Listen to your body and you will know. You haven’t bled for some time, have you?”

Nori-sama raises herself out of the tub, splashing water everywhere. She heads for the door, hastily covering herself with a towel.

“You are quite mistaken. I don’t want children. Ever.”

Why does this not surprise me? After the life she has had, this must be her nightmare.

She sits on the bed, and I manage to coax her into a silk robe. Her eyes are blank; her hair clings in wet tendrils to her face.

I pat the sides of her cold cheeks.

“It will all come right,” I promise her.

Nori-sama closes her eyes. “I can’t deal with this, Akiko-san. Not now. Not when I have to face her.”

She looks so very young, but she sounds so tired.

I realize that it is taking every scrap of resolve she has just to stay afloat. This is one burden too many. She will accept it later. But right now, her denial is a necessity.

And when she chooses to feel, I will be here.

“So you’ll see her, then? For the money?”

She laughs, and it is full of bitterness. “No. Not for the money.”

She looks up at me as if I can help her. “Will you dress me?” she asks shyly, and I think how dear she is, this girl.

This, at least, I can do. I can fix her hair and bundle her into an expensive silk kimono; I can put jewels in her ears and makeup on her face.

I can make her shine like polished silver.

“Yes, little madam. I can do that.”

She sits like a doll as I brush and plait her long hair. I pull out three kimonos, and she chooses the one of dark blue with gold stars embroidered on it.