The Gilded Fan (Choc Lit) (17 page)

Eventually, she buried her face in his neck and whispered, ‘Oh, Nico, why don’t you come with me to Plymouth? Meet my relatives. I’m sure they’ll be only too pleased to—’

‘What?’ Nico pulled away abruptly and stared at her, a frown appearing on his brow. ‘Did you say Plymouth? I thought you were going to London?’

Midori caressed his cheek. ‘I didn’t quite tell you the truth, but I don’t want there to be any secrets between us now. I’m going back to my mother’s family, the Marston’s, and they’re in Devon. That’s not too far from London, is it?’

But Nico didn’t reply to her question. He scowled at her and repeated the words, ‘Marston? Your mother?’ as if he couldn’t quite take them in.

Midori leaned her cheek on his chest and tried to pull him close again. ‘Yes, my mother Hannah went to Japan years ago and stayed there. She fell in love with my father you see and—’

Nico took hold of her wrists and put some distance between them. He shook his head, disbelief and what looked like pain in his eyes. ‘You should have told me that from the beginning,’ he said, sounding stern.

‘But what does it matter?’ Midori looked down to where he was holding her away from him and felt as if a chasm had suddenly opened up between them, but she didn’t understand why.
Does he hate liars? But I had good reason not to tell him everything about myself, surely he must see that?

Apparently not. He let go of her and turned away. ‘I’m sorry, Midori, this should never have happened. I … I have to go.’ He headed for the door without looking back.

Midori stared after him in disbelief, then sank down on to her bunk, feeling cold and numb, as if she’d been the one outside all night. She didn’t cry; it was a pointless exercise. Besides, she felt like an empty shell, all her emotions expended. She was now sure that Nico meant a great deal to her, but it would seem there was no future with him. He had been repulsed by her dishonesty and there was nothing for it but to accept that.

She couldn’t blame him. Honesty and integrity were the most important things in Japanese society, too; obviously it was the same in Nico’s country.
If only I’d told him the truth earlier, perhaps things would have been different? But he wasn’t exactly forthcoming himself …
And she still couldn’t quite understand why her destination mattered so much to him.

Either way, it was clear he didn’t want her.
I have to put him out of my mind.

Fate had been unkind yet again, but she had lived through this storm, she could weather others as well.

Nico stumbled up the stairs, then turned and made for his own cabin. He slammed the door shut behind him and threw himself down on to his bunk, breathing heavily. Putting an arm over his eyes, he groaned.

‘No, I don’t believe it! Of all the strange coincidences … How is this possible?’

He swore viciously and cursed fate.
This is too much!

He’d hoped never to hear the word Plymouth again. It was the place where he’d grown up, the place he’d fled from and tried to forget.
A hell-hole.
And he’d especially hoped never to hear about the Marston family ever again.
Damn them!

‘Hannah,’ he muttered. It was a name he’d heard many times and he didn’t think there could be two of them. At least not two who had gone to Japan thirty years ago.

‘She stowed away on a ship, dressed like a boy. Sailed all the way to the Japans with us, then got herself abducted by a warlord. We managed to retrieve her, only to lose her on the way back to the ship. Drowned in a river, she did. So sad …’

The words echoed round his brain, the story all too familiar. Whenever they attended a gathering of his stepmother’s family, the old tale was told. Hannah had been her sister and their brother Jacob was the man who’d lost her in Japan. Those people weren’t just Midori’s relatives, they were his as well, albeit only by virtue of his father’s marriage to Kate Marston.

‘Hell, they’re nothing to do with me. Not blood kin, not wanted!’ And the feeling was mutual – he had never got on with them and once he’d run away, he’d changed his name and even his nationality to make a new life for himself. He was Nico Noordholt now, Dutch citizen. There was nothing to connect him to Plymouth or the Marstons.
Except Midori, devil take it!

He stared at the ceiling.
That’s not her fault though, but still … the irony of it!

‘So, Hannah Marston obviously didn’t drown, or she wouldn’t have had a daughter.’ Nico gritted his teeth. ‘And the blasted girl had to buy passage on my ship, of all the ones in the world? Damn it all to hell!’

Well, I swore never to go back. She’ll have to find her own way there.

And I’m not telling her why.

July–August 1642

Midori didn’t see much of Nico in the days that followed, and whenever she did catch a glimpse of him, it was as if the night of the storm had never happened. He spoke to her politely, just as he’d always done before, but seemed distant. If there was still a spark between them, he gave no sign of it. Midori did her best to pretend indifference as well. She’d had years of practice at hiding her emotions and knew she could do it now, too.

Amsterdam turned out to be a bustling port, just like Nagasaki, but there the similarities ended. Where Nagasaki was surrounded by and built on hills, the Dutch town was as flat as it was possible for a place to be. You didn’t approach it directly from the sea, but via the Zuider Zee, a vast yet shallow inlet of the North Sea.

As the
Zwarte Zwaan
glided down the length of it, Midori enjoyed her first view of Holland. Peasants’ dwellings abounded, most of them two-storey buildings with a thatched roof, each with a barn or two and a muddy farm yard where animals roamed freely. The lowing of cattle, clucking of chickens and braying of sheep filled the air, mixing with the joyous birdsong of summer. People called out to each other in the Dutch tongue, its lilting cadence a pleasure to listen to. There were young women singing as they went about their daily chores. These sights and sounds lifted Midori’s spirits and even the occasional whiff of excessive farm smells couldn’t put a damper on things.

I’ve arrived in Europe at last.

The surrounding landscape, with its trees and shrubs, was a lush green, which reminded Midori of the forests near Castle Shiroi. The flowers swaying in the breeze added a vivid touch of colour. What fascinated her the most, however, were the distinctive windmills that dotted the countryside. She’d never seen their like and when Nico happened to pass her, she stopped him and asked if he’d explain to her how they worked.

‘You really want to know?’ He seemed genuinely surprised at her question.

‘Of course. I find such information fascinating.’

Nico’s mouth curved into a reluctant smile. ‘I’m sorry, I should be used to your questioning mind by now, shouldn’t I?’

Midori wasn’t sure if this was a compliment or not, so just replied, ‘Precisely.’

He told her everything he knew about windmills and Midori listened with rapt attention, not least because she still loved to listen to his voice.

As they reached the city of Amsterdam itself, Midori marvelled at the rows of neat and orderly houses, their noble brick façades and richly decorated cornices facing the canals and mirrored in their still waters. She recognised the style of building from Batavia, although Amsterdam was far prettier, in her opinion.

Nico surprised her by staying next to her as they waited for the ship to dock. He still seemed a bit distant, but made small talk as if he couldn’t bear a silence between them. ‘The city’s canals were built as a series of semicircles next to the river Ij,’ he told her. ‘There are smaller ones running north and south between them as well and narrow, bustling streets among the houses.’

Midori gazed around her. The sheer size of this town would have over-awed her if she hadn’t visited the great city of Edo with her father several times.

‘There is a stream of goods from all parts of the world pouring into the warehouses of this town, making it a hive of activity,’ Nico continued.

There were foreigners of every description too and, once on the quayside, Midori could hear a jumble of tongues all around her. Nico pointed to some specific races.

‘Those men over there are Jews from Spain and Portugal, who have found a haven from persecution here. The tall blond men are from the Baltic States and Scandinavia; they’ve come to trade their iron ore, wood and pelts for foreign goods. And the rest are a mixture of different European nationalities who flock to Amsterdam for various reasons. It’s a huge market place, with goods coming and going in all directions, and the local merchants are making fortunes undreamt of by former generations. I’m hoping one of them will be me.’ He let down his guard for a moment and grinned at her.

‘Come now,’ he continued. ‘I’ll take you and Harding to an inn before I go and oversee the unloading of the cargo.’ As if sensing the question Midori had been about to ask, he added, ‘You can’t stay at my lodgings. For one thing, it wouldn’t be seemly, and for another, there’s no room. You’ll be more comfortable at an inn. Harding, do you mind keeping Mistress Midori company for a little while longer? Jochem is off home to his family, I understand.’

‘Not at all, Cap’n. It’ll be my pleasure.’

During their journey, Nico had told Midori a little about the people of Holland and their history.

‘They’ve been at war with Spain for nearly eighty years because its ruler considers himself the head of state for all the Netherlands. The northern states joined together, calling themselves the United Provinces, and have been fighting hard for the freedom to rule themselves.’

‘But they haven’t won?’

‘Well, almost. At least, it’s been a long and gruelling fight, but everyone feels they’re nearly at the end of it now. The fighting has stopped and peace negotiations have been mentioned, but they’re not yet underway. The word is that the Spanish have given up their claim and are prepared to discuss it at last.’

‘So really, you’re in the middle of a civil war?’ Midori couldn’t believe the bad luck that had brought her to Europe at such a time.

‘Yes, but, as I said, it’s nearly over, I think, so you needn’t worry. It shouldn’t affect you. No one is fighting right now.’

As they walked along by the side of the canals, this seemed to be the case. The people all around them were going about their daily business as if they’d never heard of the word ‘war’, so Midori began to feel reassured.

‘Right, here’s the inn I had in mind.’ Nico indicated a respectable-looking establishment, which appeared to be clean and neat. ‘I’ll go and ask for rooms, if you think it will do?’

Midori nodded. ‘It looks perfect.’

He returned soon after. ‘I’ve secured two bedchambers and a private parlour for dining. The landlady says you can eat as soon as you are ready.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ve much to do, but I’ll come back as soon as I can.’

Nico seemed impatient to go, so Midori didn’t try to keep him. In a very short time she was installed in a small, neat room, with a comfortable bed and wash stand, but not much else. She sat down on the soft cover and tried not to feel overwhelmed.

Nico spent the rest of the day making sure his valuable cargo was safely stored in a locked warehouse, with guards posted outside. He wasn’t taking any chances and knew there were plenty of unscrupulous people who would happily steal what they could. When he reached his lodgings, which were in the house next to the one that had belonged to Casper, he was exhausted. It seemed the day wasn’t quite finished, however, because the landlady told him there was someone waiting for him.

‘
Mijnheer
Schuyler, I hadn’t thought to see you so soon.’ Nico greeted Casper’s solicitor friend with a firm handshake. He’d always liked the man, and knew Schuyler would genuinely share his grief over Casper’s death.

‘I felt I had to come. I was told about the arrival of the
Zwarte Zwaan
this afternoon, but my joy at your safe homecoming was of course dashed by the news of my friend.’ Schuyler shook his head. ‘He was a good man. I shall miss him very much.’

‘As do I.’ Nico sighed. He’d had over nine months to come to terms with Casper’s demise, but it still felt unreal, especially here where he’d always been only one door away.

‘Will you tell me what happened, please? Or perhaps you’d prefer that I return another time …’

‘No, no, of course I will. Shall we go in search of supper somewhere? Then you can hear all about our adventures.’

An hour later, they were ensconced in a corner of a very cosy inn, replete and with a tankard of ale each.

‘Ah, I can’t tell you how nice it is to eat proper food and drink something that doesn’t have to be sieved for maggots first.’ Nico smiled at Schuyler. ‘You get used to it, but enough is enough.’

‘I can well imagine. And yet both you and Casper have been willingly travelling the world for so many years.’ Schuyler shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t stomach it myself, even though you’ve certainly seen some wonderful sights by the sound of it. Now, speaking of Casper once more, did he mention his will to you?’

Nico frowned. ‘Yes. I told him I didn’t want him to give me anything, but he insisted there would be something. Really, it should go to his relatives, though.’

Schuyler gave a small smile. ‘I’m afraid you can’t argue with a legal will. The bequest is yours whether you want it or not. He left you his house, but you can sell it if you prefer.’

‘What? Why? Shouldn’t it be sold and the proceeds divided between his nieces and nephews?’ Nico was stunned at the magnitude of this inheritance. Properties in Amsterdam were expensive.

‘Casper left them his savings, which were considerable, since he never married and lived quite frugally. No, the house is yours, and everything in it, including the servants, if you want them. I’ll inform Casper’s relatives, don’t worry.’

Nico took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what to say. This is entirely unexpected.’ He was touched that Casper seemed to have valued him so highly, especially since his own family had been the exact opposite. When his father had died, he’d left his entire estate divided equally between the rest of his children, with not a penny to Nico. The explanation in his will was that he considered Nico a wastrel who needed to be taught a lesson by having to fend for himself. Although there was some truth in this, it had hurt him deeply to be singled out in such a way.

‘Just accept the bequest,’ was Schuyler’s advice now. ‘Casper told me he considered you the son he never had and he’d want you to be happy. We can sort out the legalities tomorrow, if you come by my offices. Say mid-afternoon, would that suit?’

‘Yes, of course. Thank you.’

I’m the owner of a house, a home.
It felt strange to have somewhere that was really his, not just a rented lodging, but it also felt good.

Nico didn’t come back the following day, and Midori decided to explore the town with Harding in tow.

‘I don’t want to sit around here all day, but is it safe, do you think? I wouldn’t want to get into trouble again.’

‘Oh, this here place is much more civilised,’ Harding assured her. ‘And I won’t let anyone knock me senseless neither, I swear.’

Midori had to smile at that. ‘Yes, we’ll both stay away from dark doorways, shall we?’ They stepped into the street and she looked around with interest. ‘Isn’t it wonderful to be on dry land again, Harding? Although the ground still feels as though it’s moving a little.’

‘Yes, that’ll wear off soon.’

‘I wonder where the nearest market is?’

‘Over that way.’ Harding pointed. ‘I’ve spent quite a lot of time here, so I know my way around.’ They headed in the direction he’d indicated, walking slowly and taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling city.

‘
Goedemorgen, mevrouw.
’

‘
Goedemorgen.’
Midori answered the greetings of the merchants with a polite nod of her head and a smile. They gave her some strange looks, on account of her wearing a
kimono
she supposed, but since Nico had told her all manner of people came to Amsterdam, she decided it didn’t matter. She felt more alive than she had for months; as if she’d been liberated from prison. Happiness bubbled up inside her.

Midori marvelled again at the orderliness of the canals and houses, and the people hurrying about their business fascinated her. There were the inevitable differences between rich and poor, but most of them looked content, no matter their station in life. The burgomasters and their families, the cream of Amsterdam’s merchant class, as Harding explained, cut fine figures in their splendid outfits. Black was the predominant colour of clothing for the rich, but there were other hues as well. Even those dressed in black had used such rich materials their clothing seemed iridescent in the morning light, the black turning to blues and purples in the flash of an eye. Midori made a mental note to purchase some of that lovely dark silk immediately, just because it was so beautiful.

Most of the townspeople wore simple woollen garments in earthy colours, which was presumably cheaper. Midori also noticed a lot of the women wore white caps – coifs, Harding called them – some with lace, some without. ‘Why do they do that?’ she asked.

‘They show whether a woman is married or not, though some wear them anyways,’ Harding said. ‘It’s more proper, see. These are different to the English ones, though.’

‘Do you think I ought to buy one?’

Harding guffawed. ‘I doubt it would go with your foreign clothes, beggin’ your pardon, mistress. Best to wait till you reach England. They’ll have their own styles there.’

‘Oh, yes of course.’

The market, when they reached it, was everything she could have wished for, and Midori soon found all manner of things to buy. Poor Harding walked behind her, weighed down with parcels, while Midori threw herself into haggling with gusto. The Dutch she had picked up during the voyage stood her in good stead and she was able to hold her own. At the cloth merchant’s stall, Midori fingered the costly materials to determine which was of the best quality.

‘
Hoeveel kost het?’
She pointed to a length of black silk of the finest kind, happily prepared for a haggling battle. She wasn’t disappointed. It took her a long time to make the seller lower the price sufficiently, but in the end they reached a sum that satisfied them both, and she sailed off triumphantly with her neatly wrapped package.

‘I knew it, he was a rascal,’ she chuckled.

‘I’d have given up long since,’ Harding admitted. ‘You did well. Now how’s about we turn back to the inn for some victuals? My stomach’s been grumbling this half hour or more.’

‘Of course, sorry, Harding. I just got carried away. Let’s go.’