Read Online The Peony Lantern by Frances Watts - Free Book Online

was lively company. Maybe Misaki had a thorny-tongued sister of her own whom she missed?
    This line of thought led me to ask one morning, as I was combing out her hair, ‘Do you miss Morioka, my lady?’
    â€˜Excuse me?’ She turned a blank face to me, as if surprised to find I was capable of speech.
    â€˜I was just asking if you missed Morioka. I suppose all your family is there.’
    â€˜Oh. Yes, I do miss my family.’ I thought she might say something more, but she didn’t.
    I supposed she missed her husband too. Lord Shimizu was rarely at home. He left early for the domain mansion and most evenings he didn’t return until after we were in bed. My father, who had frequently complained about the laziness of samurai, would have been impressed to see how much time Shimizu devoted to his work.
    I’d been in Edo for about three weeks when, as he was finishing his breakfast one morning, Lord Shimizu said, ‘I’ve invited Isamu to join us for dinner tonight.’
    I felt a funny catch in my chest at the mention of his name. It was because he was the only person I knew in Edo, I told myself. I was just longing for a familiar face.
    But all that day I anticipated his visit as eagerly as I longed for plum blossoms when the snow was still crisp underfoot. Like a sign of spring after the long winter, his coming was a promise of warmth and life in this unfriendly place. Misaki was roused to activity, consulting with Ishi about the menu, sending Otami to the storehouse to fetch dishes.
    â€˜These have been in my husband’s family for many generations,’ she said, showing me white porcelain painted with cobalt-blue hydrangeas. Then she added in a stern voice, ‘If you break any, there will be big trouble.’ I thought of Chiyo’s story about the servant and the broken plate, which had ended in her being killed and her body thrown down the well, and shivered.
    I was in the kitchen when the men arrived, though I heard Misaki greeting them at the door, that sweet note in her voice that seemed to be reserved for her husband alone.
    Ishi had laid out four trays and now began filling bowls that I arranged on them.
    Misaki entered the kitchen to fetch the sake cups and glanced over.
    â€˜Just the three trays, thank you, Ishi,’ she said crisply without acknowledging me.
    I felt the burn in my cheeks as blood rushed to my face. The fault was not Misaki’s, I knew, but mine for presuming that I would eat with the family. Once again, my father had known me better than I had known myself: She has always been too bold , he had said. But the stake that sticks up gets hammered down . I had just been hammered down — and, I realised with a surge of disappointment, I wouldn’t be seeing Isamu after all.
    â€˜Like the moon and the turtle,’ Ishi muttered as Misaki returned to the dining area.
    I gave a start at hearing my father’s words repeated.
    â€˜Not you,’ Ishi said. She nodded at the sliding screen separating the kitchen from the rest of the house. ‘Her.’
    â€˜I don’t understand.’
    â€˜Never you mind.’ She clamped her lips shut.
    I was left pondering her words. Misaki couldn’t be both. She was like the moon, so cool and beautiful. But then who was the turtle?
    Misaki returned for a tray of food, which she carried to her husband, while I picked up a tray for Isamu.
    I had just kneeled in the entrance to the room when Misaki bustled over to take the tray for Isamu herself.
    â€˜Now serve me,’ she hissed.
    When I entered the room with the third tray she was saying, ‘It is good of you to visit us, Isamu.’ She might bereserved and standoffish with me, but with her husband’s nephew she was all charm and soft smiles, I noticed. Isamu was gazing at her with undisguised admiration as she picked up her chopsticks. ‘How are you finding Edo?’
    As much as I would have liked to hear his answer, I