Reiko said, “Planting a spy in our midst is bad enough, but now Lord Matsudaira has attacked your poor, helpless mother. This is preposterous! Of course she didn’t kill that boy.”
“Of course.” But Sano’s expression was grave, conflicted.
“You can’t think there’s any chance she did it?” Amazement filled Reiko.
Sano’s frown deepened. “I really don’t know what to think.” He expelled a deep breath. “It seems I don’t really know my mother. She led me to believe she was a peasant, but I just now learned that she’s from a Tokugawa vassal clan.”
As Sano related how this fact had come out, Reiko shook her head. That her meek, shy mother-in-law had a secret past!
But as Reiko recovered from her initial shock, she wasn’t really surprised. She remembered things about Sano’s mother that had never fit her persona. Her manners had the effortless grace of a lady. Her speech was more refined than a typical commoner’s. Although she dressed plainly, her clothes had an elegance that had less to do with expensive fabric and the latest fashion than with the wearer’s style. Sano wouldn’t have noticed such things; men seldom did. Reiko hadn’t told Sano because she hadn’t thought it important enough and he would have scoffed at the idea that his mother was someone other than she seemed. But the revelation about his mother explained a lot.
“How did her life turn out the way it did?” Reiko asked.
“I don’t know. That’s one question I mean to ask her.” Sano’s expression was stony with hurt because his mother had deceived him, and grim because he now must contend with her troubles as well as his own. “And believe me, I have plenty of others. I have to determine who really killed Tadatoshi, and at the moment she’s my only source of clues.”
He turned toward the guest room. “She should be settled by now.”
“Shall I come with you?” Reiko asked, filled with curiosity.
“No,” Sano said. “I’d rather talk to her alone. Whatever she says, I’ll tell you later.”
Reiko resisted the temptation to eavesdrop. As Sano entered the guest room, she drifted down the corridor, marveling at the turn of events. Last night she’d offered to help him with his investigation if something arose that she could work on at home. Now it had. The investigation had come to her, in the form of the one and only suspect.
Sano’s mother lay in bed, propped on cushions, guarded by Hana. Her expression was desolate. She gazed into space, her hands limp on the quilt that covered her. She hadn’t touched the tea set on the table. But at least she was calm.
“Mother?” Sano knelt at her feet.
She blinked, and her eyes focused on him. In them appeared the same expression with which she’d beheld him since his childhood-a mixture of love, pride, and maternal anxiety. But there was something new.
It was fear.
Of him.
Sano didn’t want to think what her fear might signify. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, murmuring, “I’m sorry to make so much trouble for you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Sano said with affection. She’d always put him first. “I want to help you. I need to ask you some questions about what’s happened. Do you feel up to that?”
“I suppose so.” But she looked ill and exhausted.
Sano wouldn’t have forced her, except that they had no time to lose. Lord Matsudaira was probably working to ruin them already. “Hana-san, will you leave us for a few moments?”
Reluctance compressed Hana’s mouth, but she started to rise. Sano’s mother said, “Please, I want Hana to stay.”
For moral support or protection against him? Sano had never thought to find himself interrogating his own mother who was accused of the crime he was investigating. He could see in her face that her feelings toward him had changed: He was no longer the same son she’d borne. He was the authority, a danger.
“Please don’t be upset,” Sano said, “but I have to ask you: Did you kill Tadatoshi?”
“No!” Hurt encroached on the fear in her eyes. “I’m innocent. You don’t believe him, do you?”
Sano supposed that any woman arrested, dragged out of her house, accused before the shogun, and threatened with death would be afraid, even if not guilty. “Believe Colonel Doi? Of course not. But why would he make up that story?”
“… I don’t know.”
Sano noticed the hesitation before she answered, the glance she and Hana exchanged. “Do you know Colonel Doi?”
Although she wouldn’t meet his eyes, she nodded.
“How well?”
Hana said, “Tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Sano said, mystified.
His mother sighed. “Colonel Doi and I were once engaged to be married.”
Sano’s body didn’t register the shock. His breath didn’t catch; no blow landed in the pit of his stomach. It was as if her words had fallen on a cushion whose stuffing had already been punched out by earlier revelations about her. But he felt a sensation like a knife piercing the core of his spirit. That his mother had been engaged to Colonel Doi, and he hadn’t known, put to question everything he’d believed about their family.
“When was this?” he asked.
Sadness and shame clouded her face. “Before I met your father.”
He’d thought his father had been the only man in her life. He knew it was stupid to be jealous on his father’s behalf, or his own. His father had been dead eleven years; nothing could hurt him. And Sano had no claim on his mother before his birth. But emotions were often neither rational nor controllable.
“Did my father know?” Sano asked.
“Yes.”
“And neither of you ever told me.” Anger gathered heat in Sano. The engagement didn’t mean his mother and Doi had been involved in any unseemly way, because most marriages were arranged, and betrothed couples were barely acquainted until their wedding day. But Sano felt as if her prior engagement was a violation of her marriage to his father and their family.
“We didn’t think it mattered,” she said weakly.
“What happened with the engagement?”
“It was broken.”
“Obviously.” Had it not been broken, she couldn’t have married Sano’s father. “Who broke it? Your parents or Doi’s?”
Her gaze turned vague. “It was a long time ago. I don’t remember.”
“Do you remember why it was broken?”
“… No.”
Sano beheld her with disbelief. The breaking of an engagement was a serious matter. In this instance it had resulted in his mother marrying a poor ronin and losing her place in high society. Sano doubted that even after more than forty years she’d forgotten.
“What did Colonel Doi think about the broken engagement?” Sano asked.
“Must we talk about this?” Her voice was querulous, her face wan.
“If you expect me to save you, I have to figure out what’s going on,” Sano said. “You have to work with me.”
She closed her eyes briefly, as if wanting to hide from him. “I’m sorry.”
“All right, let’s forget Colonel Doi for now,” Sano said. She’d already given him a possible clue in that direction. If Doi had been upset about the broken engagement and nursed a grudge all this time, maybe that was why he’d incriminated her. He certainly merited investigation. “Let’s talk about Tadatoshi. Do you remember him?”
“He was just a boy. I barely knew him.”
Her hand crawled across the quilt toward Hana. The maid held and patted it reassuringly. Her stern gaze disapproved of Sano’s treatment of his mother even if it was for her own good.
“Could he really have been kidnapped?”
“I don’t know.”
Sano remembered the shogun saying Tadatoshi had been prone to wander off. That was a preferable explanation for his disappearance that Doi’s story had unfortunately eclipsed. “What can you tell me about the day he disappeared?”
A shadow of memory darkened her eyes. “It was the day the Great Long-sleeves Kimono Fire started. Everyone in the house was supposed to travel across the river, to get away from it. But when we were ready to leave, Tadatoshi was missing. We looked all over the estate, but he wasn’t there. His father sent us all out to look for him in the city. But nobody ever found him.” Her voice broke. “I was caught in the fire. So were other people from the house. Only a few of us survived.”