by Jina Bacarr
It was with that goal in mind he set off that day with a British officer and two soldiers, along with a native soldier, into the hills. He knew something had happened to me when my horse returned with an empty saddle and I’ve no doubt he believed I had met with an unfortunate end. It was a matter of time before they found my body, or so he thought…strike that…hoped. I can imagine how humiliating it was for him when I returned unscathed and tight-lipped about where I’d been…and with whom.
I was correct in my assumption that James had not contacted my family, believing he would soon possess definitive information about my demise and he could play the grieving husband. The bastard. I feared what my da and sainted mother would think should they find out from another source about my adventures, so I posted a letter to them (I prayed Da would understand since he was a man who had spent his life in the line of political fire). I left out the impending birth of my child should James intercept the letter. I was three months pregnant, my belly slightly swollen, my breasts tender, fuller, but the unpleasantness in the morning had subsided, though I suffered fatigue from the slightest task. I prayed my husband wouldn’t notice the subtle changes in my figure before they became apparent since I intended to return to America to have my baby (Shintaro would approve since custom dictated a samurai woman return to her parental home to birth her child). In my naiveté I deemed I could take on the British aristocracy and flaunt tradition by having my child, then seek a divorce from James. Since I had already doomed myself to an afterlife of torment in the eyes of the church, I decided one more sin on my lengthy list mattered little. Without a blink of an Irish eye, I lied to my husband about my trips to the shopping street where I secretly visited the old swordsmith and asked him to pen a note to my samurai, telling him that as soon as I became a free woman I wished to return to the village. I admit my knowledge of the written native language was wanting, so I have no idea what he wrote, but he didn’t seem surprised when I made my request. Later I learned Shintaro had visited his curio shop (in disguise) to inquire about me. (I was remiss not to previously mention that when I told my samurai about the shop, he smiled, the warmth and naturalness in his eyes telling me the old swordsmith was indeed a friend and former samurai and loyal to his lord, Shintaro.) When I returned in two days and asked the old swordsmith if the flowers in the hills would blossom in the spring, he nodded and said all was well. I took that to mean that Nami was safe…and my message delivered.
Explaining what happened to me at the British consul in Kobé was a more delicate matter. I described the same scenario over and over, never veering from my story that I took refuge in a Buddhist temple after I fell from my horse and how the samurai woman befriended me but I was unaware of her identity. I never mentioned her name or gave him a description during the questioning. When prodded, I refused to say any more, though I don’t believe the British officer interrogating me believed me. But I was Lady Carlton and as such, wielded power in refuting anything to the contrary.
Two weeks later, I faced new challenges. I wouldn’t be able to hide my condition much longer and had written to Mr. Fawkes in Tokio and asked him to inquire about a sailing date to Vancouver since the northern ports were a better destination during the winter months. I received a letter from him with a sailing schedule, which I dutifully kept from James. I feared another savage attack upon my person from him, though he made no mention of the day when he taunted me with my dagger. I doubt he had any memory of what happened, so intoxicated was he, but that didn’t stop him from deciding to show his dear wife how lonely he had been without me.
“I’ve missed you, Katie,” he said, putting his hands on my shoulders, surprising me by using my given name. I quickly tucked the letter and sailing schedule into my kimono sleeve as he tried to kiss me, his touch repulsing me. “A man gets lonely here all by himself.”
“Are there no plump bottoms to tempt you, my dear husband?” I pulled away, determined to remain aloof.
“Nothing as pretty as yours,” he slapped my arse, causing me to react with a start. With a subconscious gesture, I held my stomach. Though I detected no movement, I knew the baby was growing inside me, I knew.
“Don’t ever touch me again,” I said, straightening my shoulders. I found his company distasteful and had managed to keep away from him, but this morning he surprised me as I set about making sweet ginger tea with ginger root and honey.
“I don’t care where you’ve been these past few months,” he said, nuzzling his face in my hair. “I’ve allowed you to play your game, but it’s over.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.
“It’s time you did your duty.”
“Duty?”
“Yes, my father, the duke, is quite ill and eager for me to produce an heir as soon as possible.”
“I want nothing to do with you,” I cried out, spilling the hot tea and scalding my hand. I grabbed a linen towel and dipped it into cool water then applied it to my skin. “You’re a braggart and a thief.”
“No one calls me a thief.”
“No? You swindled money from my father,” I said, then told him I wished to have the marriage annulled. He balked at that, but I told him I could prove my accusation since I had examined the books in Yokohama and had no doubt a bank audit would show I was telling the truth. In exchange for an annulment no criminal charges would be filed against him. (I prayed Da’s investment in the railway would make up for his lordship’s gambling losses.) To my surprise, he agreed, most likely to be done with me so he could return to London and snare another heiress who could bear him a child. I should have seen that being distant around my husband was the wrong move, dear lady reader, as if I were hidden from him by veils, my body cloaked and unattainable seducing him more than naked flesh. A temptation he couldn’t resist. I had no idea he had one final play in mind later that evening.
“Take off your clothes.”
“You’re mad, James, completely mad.”
“I have decided that part of the stipulation of the annulment you desire will be that I enjoy your naked body for one evening.”
“If you take me to your bed against my will, there can be no annulment.” I panicked, upset at his daring move to invade my quarters when I was at my toilette, applying camellia oil and lemon juice to the reddened skin on my hand.
“Did I say anything about fucking you, my dear wife?” He smirked. “Instead, I will enjoy watching another woman touch you, her lips suckling your breasts, her tongue delving into your pussy…before I fuck her.”
Before I could catch my breath, a young singsong girl appeared (no doubt James had bought his way back into the graces of the local madam), wearing a pale sea-green tunic and trousers so sheer I could see her small dark nipples pointing through the silk and the dark patch covering her pussy trimmed into a perfect triangle.
“I won’t do it,” I cried, tossing the vial of oil at him. “I won’t!”
“If you want an annulment, you’ll do as I say.” He ripped my kimono off me and tossed it aside. I wore only a thin cotton chemise underneath, accustomed as I was to no longer wearing a corset, my full breasts peeking over the low-cut lace and arousing an interest in his eyes that alarmed me.
“Let me go, James.”
“No.” He ran his hands over my breasts, warm and tender, making me cringe, then he cupped them in his hands, pulling the cotton taut to emphasize their fullness. “I may have been too hasty in agreeing to an annulment when you have so much to offer your husband.”
“You will be disgraced, James, if I reveal what I know about your phony gambling losses, your title worth nothing when you’re penniless.”
That angered him, his eyes spewing fire. “You’re treading on dangerous territory, my dear wife. It’s unfortunate you returned, but I shall make the best of it.” He ripped the tunic off the Chinese girl and pushed her toward me. “Touch her, Soong Li, like this.” He made obscene gestures with his hands, touching my breasts, belly, pussy.
&nb
sp; Bowing, the pretty girl put her hand on my breast then slid it down to my belly. I pushed her away, crossing my arms over my midsection, her dark eyes meeting mine, confused, then seeing how I protected my belly from her touch, she shook her head and backed away. She knew I was with child, but she said nothing. She tried to run, but her refusal to arouse me angered my husband. He hit the girl hard, making her cry out, her lip bleed.
At that moment I hated him more than ever, his abuse of defenseless girls setting off an intense, savage anger in me that couldn’t be stopped. I placed my body between them to protect her when he attempted to slap her again, but this time his hand struck my cheek, knocking me off balance…there was a moment of struggle, then I went down, my head slamming against the straw mat…my body screaming with pain.
“Did you know your wife was expecting a child, Lord Carlton?” I could hear a man’s voice saying, impersonal yet curious. I was struck by fear despite the pounding in my head.
“A child?” James. His voice was not without bitterness as he continued, “That’s impossible.”
“Milord?” More curiosity in the man’s voice.
“My wife had a fainting spell,” I could hear him blustering, shock making him stutter. “I had no idea she was in such a condition.”
“She has suffered internal bleeding from the fall. I’ve given her laudanum for the pain.” If James called in a physician, he must have been worried I’d leave this earth under his roof and he’d hang for it. “She must stay in bed or she will lose the child.”
Lose the child.
I heard no more. I lay still, trying to steady my breathing, no scream from me, my throat tight, dry, as if the possibility of losing my baby was beyond my comprehension. I couldn’t open my eyes, so heavy were they with me straining so hard to open them, moisture gathered at the corners, but some thing deep within me came back to life in a shuddering sigh. All I could think of was what he’d said. She will lose the child. I couldn’t. No, no no…
“So my dear wife is a sinner like the rest of us.”
James leaned over me, grabbing my arm and holding me in a tight grip, his breath heavy with the smell of brandy. “No court will grant you an annulment now. And I will never give you a divorce.”
“Your threats mean nothing to me, James,” I insisted, using the last of my strength to pull away from him.
“I demand to know how you found yourself with child.”
“No matter what you do to me, I will not reveal the father of my baby.”
“Do you take me for a fool?” he asked. “You were with that samurai woman when we found you.”
I said nothing, refraining from revealing anything that would incriminate Nami. Watching him pacing up and down, the preoccupied expression on his face disturbing me.
“You’ve been with this Shintaro I’ve been hearing about from members of the legation,” he continued. “A samurai. It’s his child you’re carrying, isn’t it?”
“Leave me alone, James. Please.” I turned away from him. Suddenly the small bedroom seemed airless and stale.
“It matters not to me who fathered the little bastard,” he insisted, smiling, then pouring himself another brandy. “Only that the child guarantees my future.”
“What foul scheme has possessed your maniacal way of thinking?” I asked, the intensity of his smile terrifying me.
He toasted me, then drank the liqueur. “It’s quite simple. You will give up the child and return to London as my wife and no assessment of adultery will be lodged against you.”
He continued, saying this “unfortunate incident,” as he called my absence, would be quickly forgotten if I produced an heir, a son. He made no secret that I must make myself available to his sexual urges until I did produce a male heir.
“And if I refuse, James?”
“I will make it known in every circle in Mayfair that you are no better than a common whore from the lowest lodging house. With your reputation ruined,” he said in a businesslike manner, “I shall be free to seek a new wife to beget me with an heir.”
“You are humiliating and vile,” I sputtered, knowing he was cruel enough to carry out his threat. But like a dog with its nose pressed up against another animal’s arse, smelling, he wasn’t finished.
“To guarantee my silence on the matter, I also want a sum from your father in the amount of—” He named a figure I found exorbitant, but what choice did I have? If I didn’t do as he wished, I would be ruined along with my family.
A burning restlessness fueled by his demands made me want to strike back at him, but I didn’t. Not for lack of courage, but because I had learned to keep my emotions hidden, to redirect my anger to a humble place, to never forget I followed the way of the warrior. Loyalty, discipline. I could not allow my family to suffer because of what I’d done. I had no choice but to give up my baby and return to my life in London as a childless woman.
James outlined his plan, though I admit my entire being floated in and out of consciousness, my mind reeling, knowing I was responsible for my baby’s soul as well as my own and I could not fail. I would travel to Ōzaka with a native woman to assist me, he said, where I would have my baby with a private midwife. To assure himself the child presented him with no further difficulties, he would arrange to have the baby adopted. He went so far as to suggest I lace up to hide my condition as was common among women of the lower classes in England should the child be stillborn. I refused, not wishing to jeopardize my baby, while in my mind I retreated to a dark place behind the shadows, so fearful was I for my child’s safety. I assured him I would see no one. Reluctantly he agreed, but I did not trust him. James could—no, it was a thought so terrible, so ugly I shan’t write it down. I would bide my time until I made certain my baby was safe, or there would be no bargain with the devil.
I sit at the oak desk in my hotel room, reading over what I have written, wondering how I was able to endure the months of my confinement, knowing what James wished of me and what lay ahead for me in London. To pass the time, I relived the days and nights past with Shintaro, dreaming about the laughter and tears I would never know with my child. Yet as I look back, I see those days as an enchanted, beautiful time when I carried my baby within me, this long-sought dream growing and bending and feeding upon that dream. And so I entreat those of you who have borne a child to sit next to me and feel free to speak should you desire, for I fear trying to impart the emotions and feelings of childbirth are not unique to me alone. If you have not known feelings of motherhood, I also ask you to come along with me, for ’tis a journey of sisterhood where your life will be more abundant with understanding because you will have known the joys and pain of birthing a child.
It was a time of confusion, of questions. I missed my mother terribly, not having her to ask about how she felt or when she let out the waistbands of her dresses and donned loose skirts. She would have embraced the ease of the kimono and the way it outlined the curve of my expanding belly. I can hear her saying it must have been woven by fairies, so soft it was, like holding nothing in your hands. So I shall share my time of confinement with you, dear lady reader. A gossip, if you will, a gathering of female family and friends. I would like to take your hand if I may, for I know that with all your attempts to remain cold and aloof to me since I am not born into the peerage, we as women share a common bond concerning the expectation regarding the birthing of a child. The apprehension, uncertainty, pain, as well as the apparent danger to our persons, make the trial of having a child an integral part of that secret world we inhabit during that time, a world filled with whispers and endearing smiles, when the calmness we take for granted sipping a cup of tea is ceremoniously interrupted by an audacious kick in our bellies, a quickening, then another and another from the tiny creature inside us. So pleasing, it makes our hearts swell with contentment, yet ’tis something we cannot share with the strong man whose moment of passion gave us this joy, but only with another woman who has known the wonder of these days, fragrant and dreamlike
moments that opened to us the secret garden where life begins.
I experienced bloating, but except for slight swelling, my condition did not show for several months. My figure thickened, though I tend to retain a certain thinness and believe that is why I was able to conceal my condition. I was often moody, tearful, given to fretting over my changing body, my nipples dark and sore, my belly hardening, my face spotted, my frequency visiting the necessary place, and toward the latter part of my confinement, I wondered if I should ever feel normal again. Yet I could never push aside the fact that when my time came, I must give up my baby.
Give it up? You can’t, you cry out, squeezing my hand. Fight for your child, the baby is yours and no man, not even his lordship, has the right to take it away from you.
I knew you’d fight for me, dear lady reader, and so you will understand that although I lay in bed for weeks, spending a scant few hours a day on my feet, you will not judge me harshly for braving the wrath of my husband when I overheard the physician attending me speaking with James. He would recommend two or three native women to assist me in preparing for my trip to Ōzaka, he said, with James choosing the woman to travel with me for my safety. Then, as an afterthought, he mentioned the reported sightings of samurai in the settlement.
