A slight noise and they both glanced back at the adjoining door that now was half open. She was standing there, elegant peignoir over her nightdress.

"Hello, cheri," she said at once.

"I thought I heard voices. How are you today?

Good morning, Jamie. Malcolm, you look so much better, can I get you anything?"

"No thank you. Come in. Sit down, you look wonderful. Sleep well?"

"Not really, but never mind," she said though she had slept wonderfully. Her perfume surrounding her, she touched him sweetly, and sat down. "Shall we breakfast together?"

McFay dragged his attention off her. "I'll come back when I've made the arrangements.

I'll tell George Babcott."

When the door had closed, she smoothed Struan's brow, and he caught her hand, loving her. The envelope slipped to the floor. She picked it up. A little frown. "Why so sad?"

"Father's dead."

His sadness brought her tears. She had always found it easy to cry, to make tears almost at will, seeing from a very early age their effect on others, her aunt and uncle particularly. All she had to do was to think of her mother who had died bearing her brother. "But Angelique," her aunt would always say tearfully, "poor little Gerard is your only brother, you'll never have another, not a real one, even if that good-for-nothing father of yours remarries."

"I hate him."

"It wasn't his fault, poor lad, his birth was ghastly."

"I don't care, he killed Maman, killed her!"

"Don't cry, Angelique...."

And now Struan was saying the same words, the tears easy because she was truly sad for him. Poor Malcolm to lose a father--he was a nice man, nice to me. Poor Malcolm trying to be brave. Never mind, soon you'll be well and now it's much easier to stay, now that the smell has gone, most of the smell has gone.

A sudden spectre of her own father came into her mind: "Don't forget this Malcolm will inherit everything soon, the ships and power and..."

I won't think about that. Or... or about the other.

She dried her eyes. "There, now tell me everything."

"Nothing much to tell. Father's dead. The funeral was days ago and I have to go back to Hong Kong at once."

"Of course at once--but not until you are well enough." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. "What will you do when we get there?"

In a moment he said firmly, "I'm heir.

I'm tai-pan."

"Tai-pan of the Noble House?" She made her surprise seem genuine then, she added delicately, "Malcolm, dear, terrible about your father, but... but in a way not unexpected, no? My father told me he had been sick a long time."

"It was expected yes."

"That is sad but... tai-pan of the Noble House, even so, please may I be the first to congratulate you." She curtseyed to him as elegantly as to a king, and sat back again, pleased with herself. His eyes watched her strangely. "What?"

"Just that you, you make me feel so proud, so wonderful. Will you marry me?"

Her heart missed a beat, her face flushed.

But her mind ordered her to be prudent, not to hurry, and she pondered whether to be as grave as he was grave, or to release the exploding exuberance she felt at his question and her victory and to make him smile. "La!" she said brightly, teasing him, fanning herself with a handkerchief. "Yes I will marry you, Monsieur Struan, but only if you..." A hesitation and she added in a rush, "only if you get better quickly, obey me implacable, cherish me hugely, love me to distraction, build us a castle on the Peak in Hong Kong, a palace on the Champs-Elys`ees, fit out a clipper ship as a bridal bed, a nursery in gold, and find us a country estate of a million hectares!"

"Be serious. Angelique, listen to me, I'm serious!"

Oh but I am, she thought, delighted that he was smiling now. A gentle kiss but this time on the lips, full of promise. "There, Monsieur, now don't taunt this defenseless young lady."

"I'm not taunting you, I swear to God.

Will-you-marry-me?" Strong words but he did not have the strength to sit up yet or reach out to bring her closer. "Please."

Her eyes still teased. "Perhaps, when you're better--and only if you obey me implacable, cherish me..."

"Implacably, if that's the word you want."

"Ah yes, pardon. Implacably... etceteras." Again the lovely smile. "Perhaps yes, Monsieur Struan, but first we must get to know each other, then we must agree to an engagement, and then, Monsieur le tai-pan de la Noble Maison, who knows?"

Joy possessed all of him. "Then it's yes?"

Her eyes watched him, making him wait. With all the tenderness she could muster, she said, "I will consider it seriously--but first you must promise to get well quickly."

"I will, I swear it."

Again she dried her eyes. "Now, Malcolm, please read your mother's letter, and I'll sit with you."

His heart was beating strongly and the elation he felt took away the pain. But his fingers were not so obedient and he had trouble breaking the seal. "Here, Angel, read it to me, will you please?"

At once she broke the seal and scanned the singular writing that was on the single page. ""My beloved son,"" she read aloud, ""With great sadness I must tell you your father is dead and now our future rests with you. He died in his sleep, poor man, the funeral will be in three days, the dead must cherish the dead and we, the living, must continue the struggle while we have life. Your father's Will confirms you as heir, and tai-pan, but to be legal the succession has to be done with a ceremony witnessed by me and Compradore Chen in accordance with your beloved grandfather's Legacy.

Settle our Japanese interests as we discussed and return as quickly as you can. yr devoted Mother."" Tears filled her eyes again because of a sudden fantasy that she was the mother writing to her son.

"That's all? No postscript?"

"No, cheri, nothing more, just "your devoted mother." How brave of her. Would that I could be so brave."

Oblivious to everything except the portent of these happenings, she gave him the letter and went to the window that looked out on to the harbor and, drying her eyes, opened it. The air was fresh and took away the sickroom smell. What to do now?

Help him to hurry back to Hong Kong away from this foul place. Wait... will his mother favor our marriage? I don't know. Would I if I was her? I know she didn't like me, the few times we met, so tall and distant, though Malcolm said she was that way with everyone outside family.

"Wait till you get to know her Angelique, she's so wonderful and strong..."

Behind her the door opened and Ah Tok came in without knocking, a small tea tray in one hand.

"Neh hoh mah, Mass'r," good day, she said with a beam, showing the two gold teeth of which she was very proud. "Mass'r slepp good heya?"

In fluent Cantonese, Malcolm said, "Stop speaking gibberish."

"Ayeeyah!" Ah Tok was Struan's personal amah who had looked after him since he was born and a law unto herself. She hardly acknowledged Angelique, her concentration on Struan. Stout, strong and fifty-six, wearing the traditional white smock and black trousers, the long queue hanging down her back signified that she had chosen amah as her profession and had therefore sworn to remain chaste all her life and so never to have children of her own that might divert her loyalty. Two Cantonese manservants followed with hot towels and water to bathe him.

Loudly, she ordered them to close the door.

"Mass'r bar'f, heya?" she said pointedly to Angelique.

"I will come back later, cheri," the girl said. Struan did not answer, just nodded and smiled back then stared again at the letter, lost in thought. She left her door ajar. Ah Tok grunted disapprovingly, shut it firmly, told the other two to hurry up with his bed bath, and handed him the tea.