Fifty Words for Rain(23)

“Yes?”

“Something is wrong with Ojosama, madam. I believe she is ill.”

Yuko-sama purses her lips, a sign of her immense displeasure, likely as much by my referring to Nori as little madam as mentioning Nori at all. I know that she prefers to think about her granddaughter as little as possible. She was thrilled about Akira-sama, the legitimate male heir, coming to stay with us. She practically danced on her former son-in-law’s grave with joy. I can tell she is irritated that he has chosen to spend so much time (or any time at all) with Nori-sama. I think she is afraid they’ll contaminate each other. But she does not want to limit the boy. What she truly wants is his loyalty. The only Kamiza he has ever known was his mother, Seiko-sama, and well . . . I daresay that interaction didn’t leave him with a burning sense of family pride. Yuko-sama is smart. In the coming years, she will need him. If he wants to amuse himself with his bastard sister, let him amuse himself with his bastard sister. It is a small price to pay to ensure the family legacy.

After a long pause, Yuko-sama relaxes her lips. “She is typically a healthy child, is she not?” she asks me, though she already knows the answer.

“Yes, Okugatasama.” Madam.

“What is wrong with her?”

I hesitate. “She is hot to the touch. She is sleeping heavily, and I could not wake her.”

My mistress lets out a frustrated sigh. It is clear that she was hoping to avoid involving an outside party. But she cannot ignore this. Kohei-sama, I’m sure, would love to use this as an excuse to get rid of the girl. But Yuko-sama is not like her husband. She holds no love for the child but, make no mistake, she is the only reason that Nori-sama wasn’t taken to the dark woods and shot like a sick dog the minute she arrived on the doorstep.

I do hope she doesn’t die. She is my charge. I am responsible for her well-being.

I admit, when the little madam first arrived, I didn’t want to look after her. For the first few weeks I thought that I had been given an imbecile. I swear, all she did was sit on the floor all day and stare at the wall.

But now I do not mind her so much. It would be preferable if she didn’t die.

I don’t know what I will do if she dies.

Yuko-sama makes a discreet call from the study, and not an hour later, I open the door to greet a man, ancient and stooped. He smiles at me and I am tempted to cringe.

My lady greets him cordially, and he bows low to her, addressing her as Yuko-hime. She smiles at him and swats him lightly with her fan. Through this little gesture alone, it is obvious that they are familiar.

“Thank you for coming, Hiroki-san. Prompt as always.”

He flashes her the same toothy grin he flashed me. He is missing several teeth.

“It is my pleasure. To be in your company, I would agree to treat the plague. Heaven forgive me, but I wish people in your house would take sick more often.”

They exchange a few more pleasantries. He inquires about her husband’s health and seems vaguely disappointed when she responds that he is fine. Then she leads him up to the attic.

I run to the kitchen to prepare a tea tray. I have been thumped over the head with that fan more than once for forgetting the tea.

Just as I am about to embark up the stairs with the tray, Akira-sama rounds the corner. I am so startled that I nearly drop everything in my hands. I never hear him coming—he manages to walk without making a sound. Though he is certainly polite, well-spoken, and charming, there is something about him that unnerves me.

He looks at me without smiling. “Akiko-san. Ohayou gozaimasu. Have you seen Noriko?”

Of course—he has no idea what is going on. Their little music lesson was supposed to begin some time ago.

“Ojosama is ill. Your esteemed grandmother has had to call a doctor. They—”

Before I can finish my sentence, he steps forward and takes the tray right out of my hands.

“I’ll take it,” he says. “Thanks.”

And then he marches right up the stairs, just as prim and proper as the Emperor himself. He has this way of being rude while still maintaining the air of someone who was born and bred with manners. I wait a minute or two before following.

I find things much as I expected. Yuko-sama is sitting down at the table, fanning herself lightly and sipping at her tea. The young master is hovering beside the bed with his arms crossed. His face is difficult to read.

Hiroki-sensei is examining the girl. He touches her forehead and the sides of her throat, muttering to himself as he goes. He then reaches into his satchel and pulls out a wooden tongue depressor, which he jams rather roughly into her mouth. She does not move a single inch through all of this poking and prodding. When he opens her mouth, I hear the faintest hint of a groan. He touches the exposed skin on her collarbone, which I notice for the first time is raised and red.

When the good doctor has finished his examination, he makes a series of strange noises to signify that he is ready to speak.

Yuko-sama offers up a polite if slightly tense smile. Akira-sama’s face is fixed in a scowl so tight that I have a hard time believing he’s only fifteen. The boy is as frightening as his mother was when she was displeased. God help us all if we ever see a repeat of the day Seiko-sama found out that her music studies were at an end and she was to be married immediately. The day she came home from Paris to find a wedding gown already laid out on her bed.

“The child has the scarlet fever,” the doctor announces, sounding a little too proud of himself for good taste. “I am certain of it.”