But Lady Oba worried mostly about Toshiko.  Her daughter was alone at court, without her family’s support or even her own maid, and Toshiko’s father refused to allow her a visit home or her mother to go to her.  Only this morning, he had made his feelings clear to his wife.  He wished no contact with Toshiko until she achieved success.  Lady Oba had tried to argue but that only made matters worse.  He and Takehira had stormed off to drown their frustration in pleasure.

She knew where they went because this was not the first time.  They were with women in the nearby town, and she was glad to have them gone.

But now this Yamada had come, and she felt hopeful.  She put on a gown of crimson brocade over pale violet silk and prepared to receive him.  The formal reception hall was an old, dark room.  Its heavy timbers rose from black, polished floors and thick shutters protected it from winter storms and the rain torrents of summer.  It was rough and plain — like the men of the Oba family — but it was the most formal room they had, and she did her best to give it a touch of elegance.

The southern sets of shutters stood open to the veranda, where her husband had entertained the Emperor and his nobles.  The view from there was famous, because the Oba manor overlooked a wide valley of moving grasses, a winding river, and blue hills beyond.  The sun was bright, and the greens and blues outside were as intense as the colors on the painted screen she had her maid place behind her.

She was seated on a thick grass mat bound in black and white brocade, and the layers of her many gowns spread handsomely around her.

When the tall young man came in, her first reaction was disappointment.  He was

too soberly dressed — in dark grey silk brocade with a small white pattern — and he wore an ordinary cap.  Surely, she thought, a message from the Emperor would be brought by an official in court costume or a senior officer of the guard.

The young man approached, bowed, then seated himself on the cushion she gestured to.  She guessed his age to be about twenty-five.  He had a nice face, clean-shaven and a little too long and thin, but his eyes were large and gentle, and stirred a memory.  She was still searching his features, when he addressed her.

“My name is Yamada Sadahira, Lady Oba,” he said.  “My people are by way of being former neighbors of yours.  And since I planned to pay them a visit, the Lady Toshiko asked me to stop here on my way to make sure that you are well.  She has suffered from bad dreams and was worried about your health.”

Lady Oba’s heart began to beat so she barely heard the end of his speech.  Of course.  This must be his son.  Her eyes searched the young face again and found there, after so many years, the faint image of the man who had courted her, who had sought in vain to marry her — and she tasted again the bitter despair of her youth.

There were differences, of course.  Sadamori had looked fiercer than his son.  When she had been scarcely older than Toshiko, she had loved this fierceness and his protectiveness of her.  But her family had promised her to Oba Hiramoto.  A woman’s duty is obedience, and she had obeyed and become an obedient wife to a man she cared little about.

Her visitor was puzzled by her silence.  He repeated, “I bring a letter from your daughter, Lady Oba.”

She took a quick breath and said, “Yes.  Thank you.  How kind of you.  You must forgive my rude staring.  You are a great deal like your father, you know.”

He looked astonished and then smiled very sweetly, and her heart nearly burst.  Just so had his father smiled at her and made her knees turn to water.

“Ah,” he said.  “You knew my father.  That is good.  I could not be sure you would remember.”

That brought color to her face.  She changed the subject.  “Toshiko should not have worried.  I am quite well, as you can see.  I think of her often.”  She wanted to ask about his father, if he still thought of her, but that would be improper.  So she waited.

He nodded, still smiling.  “When I met your daughter, she was tending to an injured kitten.”

“You saw Toshiko?”  She could not keep the astonishment out of her voice.  Customs were more casual in the country, but Lady Oba knew that at court a young woman must not be seen by men who are not close blood relations.

Or lovers.

Fear seized her, and she looked at him with new eyes.  Had her daughter’s heart been touched by him — as her own so many years ago by his father — and had this young man, who might have been her son, already seduced Toshiko?

“I am a physician, Lady Oba,” he said, meeting her eyes earnestly, “and was called upon to treat the kitten.”

“Oh, I see.”  The relief felt like a cooling breeze on her hot face.  Perhaps he thought Toshiko a mere child – no wonder when he must be nearly twice her age.  Tending to a kitten!  Toshiko’s playful manner evidently had not yet left her.  She hoped there was no trouble over the kitten incident.

But this particular young man was much too personable to have ready access to her daughter.  Lady Oba decided to speak bluntly.  “It was very kind of you to offer your assistance and to come and bring me news of her.  As her mother, I am worried.  Toshiko is only fourteen and has spent all her life at home.  She must find it very difficult to adjust to her new duties and to behave with circumspection.  I am sure you are aware she serves in His Majesty’s household?”

Young Yamada’s smile faded abruptly.  He straightened his back and bowed.  “Yes, of course.  To be sure, I was not aware of it when I treated her cat, but I have since been informed of the great honor His Majesty has done your family.  My felicitations.”

He did not look at all as if he thought it a fortunate thing.  Lady Oba inclined her head.  “Thank you.  I fear that my daughter may suffer criticism if it should become known that . . . she has received your visits.”

He flushed to the roots of his hair.  Perhaps it was only his pride she had hurt but with two young sons she had a sharp eye for the signs of infatuation.  He reached into his robe and brought out a folded letter.  This, too, Lady Oba thought ominous.  Why not carry the letter in his sash or sleeve?  Why so close to his body?  Extending it to her with both hands, he said very stiffly, “Your daughter sent this.  I was going to offer to take your reply, but perhaps you will wish to employ another messenger.”

Ah, so he had taken offense.  She should have been more circumspect in her reproof.  Regretting her bluntness, she turned the letter over in her hands and sighed.  “That was ungrateful of me.  Please forgive my poor manners.  I am terribly worried about her because she has neither friends nor family to protect her.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then said merely, “I understand, Lady Oba,” and prepared to rise.

“No, wait,” she cried.  “I am sure you will honor a mother’s concern for her child’s future.  If you will accept our hospitality, I would be grateful if you would carry my answer back to her.”  She bit her lip.  Her husband would be in another fury if he found out about this.  “It will be best if we don’t mention the matter to anyone else,” she added, blushing with embarrassment.

If he was surprised, he did not show it.  He said, “Thank you, Lady Oba.  I am completely at your service.”

It was a vague reply, but she did not have the heart to press him further.  “My husband is absent, but my son Yasuhira will see to your comfort.  And my letter will be ready before you take your leave in the morning.”

As he left, she looked after him, thinking how much she would have liked him if things had been different.  If he had been her son, hers and Sadamori’s.

Then she unfolded Toshiko’s letter and read.  It was a loving and dutiful letter but one that left too many things unsaid.  Her daughter did not mention His Majesty.  Did that mean that he had taken no interest in her, or that he had and she was too ashamed to mention their intimacy?  Instead, she wrote of insignificant events:  the cat, her assignments, the oil they used on their hair, her lovely new clothes, and her friend, Lady Shojo-ben.  Not a word either about Doctor Yamada.  Lady Oba put the letter in her sash and frowned.