The Chrysanthemum and the Rose

by DJ Clawson

This is story 9 in the series that started with "A Bit of Advice." You might want to click on my author profile and start with the first one at this point. Otherwise, enjoy!

Check the Flicker account for frequent updates based on things described in the chapters. Updates bi-weekly or so.

www . flickr . com / photos / 25734638 (at) N03 / sets / 72157605063518073 /

Chapter 37 - Notes from Home

Two weeks later, the long-awaited Christmas letters arrived in a large bundle. Their condition could be described as "decimated." Geoffrey, who had far more spare time than Georgie and received the package himself, quickly surmised that not only were words and paragraphs blotted or torn out, but entire pages were missing. The saving grace was a note from Nadezhda in Japanese, which Georgie read to him upon returning from sparring with Mugen.

Dear Geoffrey, Georgiana, and Danny (and Alison),

The new customs official in charge of inspecting your mail seems to be particularly concerned with political matters, and also interprets anyone having a title in front of their name to be an important figure in English politics, so there will be missing text. Before you become alarmed, when Frederick is discussing someone who is very ill, he is discussing his natural father, not Brian's brother. No one else is ill.

Princess Nadezhda Maddox

Geoffrey turned to the letters from Frederick Maddox, which seemed to have more blackened words than normal ones. His father was a Sir, his mother Lady, and the other person no less than a king. Fortunately he only mentioned his wife as "Heather" or her name likely would have been gone, too.

"Is there a letter from Heather?"

He handed her one. She read it quickly. "She is expecting!"

"Wonderful. When is she due?"

"She says – by Easter." She frowned. "She's gone and had the baby by now, or not. I think." They weren't entirely sure when Easter was, but it was certainly soon.

"There'll be others," he assured her. "Frederick Maddox, a father. Where's Danny?" He rose, and opened the door to the main room. "Danny?"

"I believe he's outside."

Geoffrey padded over to the other door and opened it to Danny Maddox, practicing one of the sword forms. "Danny, you're an uncle! Possibly!"

Danny Maddox replaced his blade. "What?"

"We've a letter from Lady Heather, when she was expecting, and that was months ago."

He removed his long sword as he entered their room. "May I see?"

"Ignore the holes," Georgie said as she handed him Heather's letter. "If she delivered, you're an uncle."

"Fred, a father?" He shook his head.

The Darcys shared a laugh, and continued going through the pile. Many of the letters were mixed up, and they relied on handwriting to put them back together.

Dear Georgiana,

It seems unwise of me to have chosen to do black out in the hole, for every time I go to the office, I have only another reminder of you, and my nephew, and of course my granddaughter. Oh, why did I let you go? Darcy said I was a fool, but he has said that all his life, so I stopped listening to him.

We were delighted to hear from you, especially the letter from Edo, a city I have never seen. I am truly amazed that you had an audience with blacked out words and blacked out. It reminds me of my time in India. Perhaps some day when you are all settled (not too soon!) I will take Jane, but at the moment, she hardly needs to be reminded of foreign travel.

With all of our hearts, we send our love.

Charles Bingley II

Many of the letters were repetitive, of course, and some of them were even multiple ones from the same person, collected over time. Darcy admonished his son several times to be careful. Geoffrey's mother made a comment on this.

You must believe me when I say that even the servants feel your absence. It is as if Pemberley has lost its favorite son. When I told your father, he scoffed at this, but I suspect he is not quite willing to give up the position of 'Pemberley's favorite son,' having carried that mantle for so many years.

Elizabeth Darcy

What had been distant for so long became very real to them again. They had left that world behind, if only for a short while, but it did not seem that way sitting on the floor of their wooden bedroom, barefoot and wearing silk robes. They could not have imagined a year ago, themselves in this position.

"There are so many letters from Eliza," Georgie said. They were all to her, so she sat aside to read them as Geoffrey called for lunch.

"What's this?" Mugen said, announcing his interest. "Where have all my little gaijin gone?"

"I'm taller than you," Geoffrey reminded him as they moved into the sitting room, taking the letters with them. Only Georgie remained behind.

"Easier for me to get the jump on you, then," Mugen said, and began shoveling down his lunch. The others ate more slowly, half-eating and half-reading, and passing words to each other. So-and-so visited so-and-so, there were balls and of course Christmas, but not much out of the ordinary was happening at home, to their relief. No one had died, or married, and the only one expecting a child was Lady Heather Maddox.

"Charles has gone back to the Continent," Geoffrey announced, reading his Aunt Bingley's letter. "He doesn't care for London."

"If that's the only news, I'll be glad."

"There might be some news from Ireland, but I have no idea," he replied, holding up Grégoire's letter, which was nothing more than a few scratches between punched-out holes in the text. "Clearly my uncle talked in his usual manner, which meant he mentioned G-d every other line. There's not a significant word in here."

"I'm sure Uncle Darcy would say something."

"I'm sure he would," he said, and sighed. "I'll have to write him. 'Dear Uncle, Thank you for the letter, but none of it made it through. Try not to mention religion. Yours in Buddha, Geoffrey.'"

"He might have an apoplexy if you write that."

They laughed, at least until Georgie opened the door between them, clutching the letters to her chest, and Geoffrey saw her face. He leapt to his feet. "What is it?"

"It's all right," she told Danny, and Geoffrey followed her into their room, sliding the door closed behind him. "It's Charles."

"He's gone to the Continent."

"I know."

"Is he ill?"

"I don't know. Just read."

The letters were not long, but there were several. Tossing aside the ordinary parts of the correspondence, Elizabeth Bingley launched into a myriad of undefinable concerns about her twin brother, beginning while he was still in England.

...He has holed himself up in London. I am sure he will be here at Christmas, but for everything else he makes excuses. Papa assures me he is just being a bachelor, but my friends in Town have not seen him so often at all of the balls, and Frederick says he's not seem him at the unseemly parts of London – and yes, I did apply to Frederick Maddox for an answer to such an indecorous question, and he replied to the fullest extent possible, but said as a married man, he is not such a frequenter of certain sections that I would not even want to know about.

I suspect Mama and Papa's concerns about your safety, which they have no control over, are eclipsing his behavior, but I don't wish to invade in his privacy...

... He has confirmed to me, on my recent visit to Town, that he is not gambling away his allowance. I threatened to ask Papa before Charles admitted to me that he was not wildly spending money on gambling or any other disgraceful behavior, though I do find the amount of alcohol he drinks disgraceful. He is not a glutton – in fact, he has grown very thin. He says he is not sick, but will not see a doctor...

... Perhaps you can ask Geoffrey if he remembers the death of his friend Guy. He was very distraught over it, he wrote to me, because he tried to visit the grave to pay tribute with some other friends from Cambridge and was turned away by the family, even though it has been years. He won't speak of it directly to me, only in letter form. You know how sensitive our brother is...

"Do you remember Guy, from my birthday party at Cambridge? His theater friend?" Geoffrey said, and she nodded. "He was Charles' year, and he died shortly after graduating. I believe it was a hunting accident on his family's estate. Charles was beginning his travels abroad, and he wrote to me to send on his condolences. He's not mentioned it since."

There was more.

...I finally convinced Charles to see a doctor, on the basis that if our parents saw him as he was at Christmas, they would question his health and send him right to someone anyway. He did go, and passed inspection, though the doctor told him to drink less heavy liquor and more wine instead. I told him to try to gain weight before Christmas, and he smiled so sadly at me...

...Charles did look very well at Christmas, and was all smiles except when you were mentioned, and read and re-read the letters you sent to him in regards to his goddaughter. My parents are convinced nothing is the matter, except perhaps he is a bit lonely, and they have been urging him to consider being more serious about marriage. He answers them politely, and says yes, but I know he is refusing...

...Our brother leaves for Paris tomorrow. From there he intends to go to the Roman coast. He informed me not half an hour ago, and intends to tell our parents in the morning, just before he leaves. I told him outright that he was being cruel. Forgive me, Georgie, that I said it was in your name. You have the strength to be hard on him, and I do not. He persisted; Mama and Papa want him to be happy, and that was where he was happy, so what right did anyone have to stop him? He said – and this was in private, so do not repeat it – that his life was meaningless until Papa died, as his only job was to inherit Kirkland, and he couldn't bring himself to wish Papa dead. 'A gentleman's life is not for me,' he said. He would not listen to any reason, but he was very compassionate when I started to cry, and held me until I stopped. I will miss him...

...Charles is in Italy now. He has purchased a villa on the coast. From what I have heard our parents discussing, it was by no means an extravagant purchase, and they were trying to console themselves that it is a very trendy place for young people to wile away their time in bachelorhood, and that his spending was always reasonable and he was never seen in an improper situation. I suspect they were trying to talk themselves out of their concern. Edmund is unreachable; he is obsessed with investments, as he has always been obsessed with anything he put his mind to. I am at a loss. I beg of you to visit him in Italy, if he is still there upon your return to the West.

Your Loving Sister,

Elizabeth Bingley

"Of course we will," Geoffrey said to her unasked question. "This is Charles. I am tempted to repeat all of the reassurances of your parents. He's not ill, he doesn't have a gambling problem, he's not a glutton – "

"He is very sad," she said. "He must be."

"He will recover from whatever this melancholia is, probably by finding a wife," Geoffrey said. "And if not, we'll go to Italy and you'll beat some sense into him. If living with you has taught me anything, the most sensible option is often violence."

At this, she smiled, which was a great relief to Geoffrey, who did not feel so happy himself.

"Now." Mugen raised the Chinese sword. "Hit me!"

What had become a daily spectacle began in earnest. Georgiana had only her wooden sword, but she was aiming for him, not his sword, and as long as she hit it where it was flat, it did not hurt her own. His sword bended in a most unnatural way, and flowed like it was a part of him – an extension of his arms, making it all the more difficult to attack him. Still, with increasing discipline, Georgie found a way. The sound of their blades hitting each other could be heard from across the road, and Danny was put in charge of keeping away spectators trying to look over the wall, though Geoffrey told him not to be too hard on the village children who managed to climb up there, just to make sure they didn't fall down and hurt themselves.

Geoffrey sat with Sanjuro and watched. He appreciated that Georgie didn't fall so often, but when she did, it was hard.

"He's not holding back as much as he used to," Sanjuro said. His health had improved with the weather, enough for him to make his way out to the porch on his own, but no further. "At this rate, your wife is going to be his equal very soon."

"I suppose I should take that as a compliment," he replied. "How did you know he was holding back? Or is it just obvious?"

"Nothing about Mugen-san is obvious. It's perspective. He didn't move before like he does now. I don't understand how she keeps up." He turned to Geoffrey. "Is it true he believes Jorgi-san is a reincarnation of his sensei?"

"I don't know what he really believes," he said.

"But you don't believe it."

"My religion does not have that kind of scope. Besides, it is easier for me to take comfort in disbelief."

"Why is that?"

"Because she's also my wife."

Sanjuro laughed. "I wouldn't want to be married to an ancient master, either!" He coughed, but managed to control it before it became serious.

Kiso appeared and bowed. "O-samurai-sama." He held out a tray of medicinal tea, and Sanjuro accepted.

"I don't know why you let me freeload," Sanjuro said. "I'm of no use to you."

Geoffrey watched Mugen take a hit. It was the third time today. It wasn't serious enough to take him down or even slow him down, but she'd breached his defenses. "It's the Christian thing to do."

"What?"

"Sa, I made a mistake. Forgive me. It's the moral thing to do."

"Moral must mean rich, the way you throw money at poor people," Sanjuro said, with not even a hint of distain. Then, from nowhere, he said, "The magistrate's going to come after you."

"What?"

"If he gets a chance. It'll be him or the daimyo. The only reason he hasn't done it so far is because you've made yourself invaluable to him. So the magistrate's decided you're more useful alive than dead, or maybe he just thinks there's a way to get the drop on you, and take your money without you noticing."

"He does take my money. We're paying for our stay."

Sanjuro lowered his voice. "You know what I mean."

They still had a tremendous amount of money from seizing Tanaka's treasury. Geoffrey saved it for hard times by burying it separately from his own money (also considerable), and was planning to buy more rice in the fall. If he just released it to everyone in coin, there would simply be inflation, and he hadn't yet worked out a way to keep prices down. "What makes you say this now?"

"I know his type. And I know what daimyo are like. The daimyo pushed you hard for that land survey, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"He probably wanted a bribe, and the magistrate hoped you would suggest it. Cash now is better than the possibility of taxes later. Some years there's nothing to tax, when there's a real famine. Now the magistrate stands between you and the daimyo, and that's an awkward position for him. Sooner or later, their own greed will get to them. Look!"

Mugen had finally yielded, and stepped back to prevent falling down. Georgie had swung for the chest, but when Mugen blocked, she raised her sword up and hit him in the face. Despite her rush to check him, he did not appear to be seriously wounded.

"Mama!" Alison cheered, and Danny clapped his hands.

Geoffrey joined. "How do you know so much about daimyo and magistrates? I thought you were from Edo."

"So? There are plenty of daimyo in Edo and plenty of my fellow students in the dojos who became magistrates. Me, I volunteered for the fire guard. What a stupid move that was, but I wasn't devious enough to become a politician and I knew it. Whores are very happy to be carried out of burning buildings, by the way."

Geoffrey had no comment to that.

"And the doctors say maybe it was that, or the conditions I worked in. Who knows?"

"I appreciate your advice," Geoffrey said. "And if you can keep your ears open ..."

"It's the least I can do. Not that the magistrate trusts me, but we'll see." He chuckled again. "Now he's having his revenge."

He was referring to Mugen, who didn't strike Georgie, at least not in any way their eyes could follow, but somehow managed to flip her so she landed on her back. He held her down with one foot on her stomach until she yielded.

"If I didn't know him better, I suppose I would stop him," Geoffrey said. "Maybe I know him too well."

That night, the priest came down to visit them. Specifically he visited Sanjuro, and spoke with him a while.

"I thought he was doing better," Danny said.

"That may be the problem," Mugen said as they ate, but refused to explain his comments.

"Alison, use your chopsticks," Geoffrey said.

Alison, who had been picking food out of her bowl, pointed a dirty finger at her mother, who was using her hands to get the rice from the bowl to her mouth because her fingers were too sore for the delicate work of chopsticks.

"That's no excuse," she said. "Listen to your father. We're civilized people."

"Yes. That's why we're eating with sticks and not proper silverware," Danny said, which earned a glare from both of the Darcys, but it eventually dissolved into laughter.

"Oi, kid, I'll show you," Mugen said, and speared a rice ball with his chopstick and handed it to her. "There."

"Mugen, don't encourage her!"

"Look at her tiny little fingers. What do you want from her? Isn't that right, Ali-chan?"

"Right!" she shouted back, and began eating the rice ball off the chopstick as if it were on a skewer.

"Good enough," Georgie said, and leaned over and kissed Alison on the head. She had just enough time to bow to the priest as he entered.

"Dani-san," the priest said, "Sanjuro would like to speak with you, when you are finished."

Danny nodded and set his food aside. He picked up his long sword from the floor, bowed again to the priest, and left for Sanjuro's room.

"Sa! Here it comes," Mugen said.

"What?"

"Don't assume the worst," Geoffrey said, and returned to his meal.

When Danny Maddox entered, the incense were lit, so the room smelled quite pleasant. Sanjuro was sitting up properly, even wearing one of his swords, and gestured for Danny to sit across from him.

"Sanjuro-sensei," Danny said with a bow.

"There's no need for formalities," the samurai said, and smothered a cough. "I have a favor to ask of you."

"I would be honored."

"Don't say yes until you've heard it," he warned. "I can't commit seppuku because I didn't do something dishonorable and have no reason to redeem myself, but I don't want to die of this poison in my lungs. I want to die like a samurai – in battle." He sighed, and it was ragged from his unnatural breathing. "Mugen is not samurai, and neither is Hachiro. And I know it would be a valuable experience for you, if this is a path you truly want to take."

He set his long sword down between them.

Danny was horrified. "It wouldn't be a fair fight."

Sanjuro smiled. "That's okay. I don't want to win. I don't even want to survive."

Danny said nothing, but lowered his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to face Sanjuro. "I don't think I can do this."

"A samurai understands sacrifice and invites death. He values loyalty and honor. It would be an honor for me to die in this way, and not in a sick bed."

Danny shook his head. "I can't – it's not like killing someone on the battlefield. Which I couldn't even bring myself to do ..." He finally looked at his semi-mentor. "I don't think I could live with myself." He mumbled, "Would you think less of me if I refused?"

"No." He smiled. "I suspected you would. But no matter what Hachiro says about this era of peace, being a samurai is at least in principle more than carrying swords and knowing how to fight in a dojo."

"I understand that."

"Why did you want to become a samurai, Dani? You've come so far and now you've achieved your goal, but you're not at all like Jorgi-san, who takes so naturally to violence."

"I ... wanted to be someone. Someone who protects people. Someone people can turn to when they're in trouble. Someone who is respected ... and not looked down on."

"Because they are going blind."

He nodded despite himself.

"Hopelessness cannot drive you to be a killer. That will not make you the person you've described. And I familiar with hopelessness." Sanjuro said it between coughs. "When I was raised, they taught me to have no hesitation before acting, but they spent years teaching me that." He smiled. "Your time will come." He added, "I think it will be soon enough."

...Next Chapter - Shamisen