Part 5 (1/2)
Have you ever wished to visit your father's land? Dear G.o.ds, how she had wished for that! For the first dozen years of her life she'd looked forward to the day when her father would take her to Scotland as his acknowledged daughter. She had not known then how doting a parent he was compared to most. In his eyes, she had been beautiful, and while his uncritical love had not prepared her for what others would think, she could not be sorry that she had been his beloved pet. If only he had not died...
Wishes could not change fate. She knelt before the small altar and lighted three joss sticks in honor of her father and mother. The scent of the burning sandalwood soothed her. She was fortunate to be part of a powerful household, to be educated in two languages from birth when many Chinese women could not even read or write, and to have the freedom to move around Canton. She would have gone mad if Chenqua had turned her into a maidservant who was never allowed to leave the compound.
But was this the life her father would have wanted for her? She watched the smoke spiral up from the glowing tips of the joss sticks. He would have been grateful that Chenqua had saved her from starvation- with her looks, she would not have been desirable as even the lowest kind of prost.i.tute.
But Hugh Montgomery would not have been pleased to see his only daughter as a fraudulent clerk, ashamed to raise her head or look anyone in the eye. When she was small he'd told her bedtime stories of Mary, Queen of Scots, who'd led her men into battle with her long red hair flaring behind like a banner. He'd explained how in Britain women were forces to be reckoned with, not humble creatures with less value than even the least important man.
And he'd raised her to be a Christian who believed in heaven, and who had no need to make offerings to the dead so that they could survive in the shadow world.
d.a.m.n Maxwell! It was his fault that she now remembered her childhood dreams of riding recklessly across Scottish moors, and arguing with men as an equal. Of being a woman and proud of it, rather than hiding her female garments like a shameful secret.
She set the smoldering joss sticks into a porcelain holder and rose to pace about the small room in agitation. Maxwell had no interest in her, except to the extent that she could appease his traveler's curiosity. He would not lie in bed at night, dreaming of her in his arms, as she would lie yearning for him...
Shaking, she came to a halt and pressed her hands over her face. Soon he would be gone, and she would be content once more.
Yet when she finally went to bed, she wondered bleakly if she would ever know peace again.
Chapter 8.
Kyle awoke early the next morning, muscles aching ferociously from the kicks and blows he'd received. Troth must have decided that if Kyle was well enough to argue, there was no need to rouse Gavin Elliott. But Gavin must be informed now.
After splas.h.i.+ng cold water on his face, he limped down the corridor to his friend's room, which also faced the river. Junior members of the firm had to make do with breezeless rooms looking onto narrow courtyards or toward the city wall.
When he knocked, Gavin called, ”Come in.”
Kyle entered to find his friend working on correspondence at his desk by the window. Wearing a loose Chinese robe and surrounded by a mixture of Western and Eastern furnis.h.i.+ngs, he was the portrait of a merchant prince. He'd recovered from the financial difficulties he'd inherited along with Elliott House and was well on his way to becoming one of the richest men in America.
Gavin gave a low whistle at the sight of Kyle's bruises. ”What the devil happened? Did you decide your visit to Canton wouldn't be complete without joining a sailors' brawl on Hog Lane?”
”I only wish that was it.” Kyle helped himself to a cup of tea from the tray on Gavin's desk, nodding with approval at the taste. ”I like this blend. Lemon?”
”Right. It's the best yet, but I'll keep experimenting. And don't change the subject-what happened last night?”
Kyle settled carefully on a wooden chair. ”I was lured from Hog Lane by the promise of singing crickets, then attacked by six members of a gang. They seemed interested in murder, not robbery.”
”Good G.o.d!” Gavin laid down his pen. ”That's unheard of. Within the Settlement, Europeans have always been completely safe. How did you escape?”
Kyle had already worked out an edited version of the truth. ”Luckily I had a knife. Though I was roughed up some, I managed to return to Hog Lane without any serious damage. Jin Kang saw me-he'd been working late at the English Factory, and he helped me back here.”
Gavin crossed his arms on his chest, frowning. ”Did Jin have any idea why you might have been singled out for attack?”
”He thought it might be the work of one of Chenqua's enemies. My d.a.m.ned t.i.tle again-killing a lord would produce a far greater scandal than killing a normal person.”
”Too true. Chenqua will take care of this-the men who attacked you will probably end up being sliced slowly into dog meat within the next forty-eight hours. But you'd better confine yourself to the hong until you leave.”
”No.” Kyle got to his feet. ”There's already little enough of China that I can see. I'll be d.a.m.ned if I let myself be confined to a single warehouse. If it will make you feel better, I'll carry a pistol, and not go out at night or unaccompanied.”
”Be discreet with the weapons-we foreign devils are supposed to be unarmed.”
Kyle nodded. ”Can I use Jin Kang as an escort when I go out? He has enough English to carry on at least limited conversations.”
”A good choice. He'll keep you out of harm's way for Chenqua's sake. Do you need a doctor? You've got quite a black eye there.”
”Not the first, and probably not the last.” Kyle withdrew, feeling pleased. He had sworn not to betray Troth's secret, but at least he could have her company.
Troth was working at Elliott House that morning, translating a set of doc.u.ments, when her neck began to p.r.i.c.kle just before she heard a familiar voice.
”Good morning, Jin Kang. Elliott has given me permission to borrow you for my own use today.”
Alarmed, she glanced up at Lord Maxwell, who managed to make his bruises seem das.h.i.+ng. Though his words to her would not arouse curiosity in an onlooker, there was definitely mischief in his eyes. Warily she swished her brush in the water dish to clean it. ”You have work for me, sir?”
”Since Elliott says you know the best shops and showrooms in the Settlement, I'd like you to accompany me to buy presents for my family.”
His family. Of course. ”It will be my pleasure, sir. I'm sure your wife and children will be honored that you will select gifts with your own hands.”
His expression tightened. ”I have neither wife nor child, but there are plenty of other family members to indulge. Are you free to go now?”
”I am at your lords.h.i.+p's command.” Though it was ridiculous to care, she was glad that no beautiful Englishwoman waited pa.s.sionately for her lord's return. Even in her dreams, her sober Scottish side forbade adulterous thoughts. The Chinese part of her didn't care, though. Mei-Lian would accept being one of Maxwell's junior wives. Or even a concubine, with no legal status at all, as long as she was his favorite...
Ashamed of her thoughts, she followed Maxwell out into the square, which as always was crowded with people bustling about their business. The crowded conditions made her nervous. It would be easy for an a.s.sa.s.sin to jostle up to Maxwell, slide a knife between his ribs, and be gone before anyone saw.
Luckily, Maxwell was no fool. He had the quiet alertness of a man who had survived in more dangerous lands than this. Between the two of them, he should be safe. Just in case, she now carried a concealed knife.
Two lanes ran between the hongs to connect with Thirteen Factories Street. By unspoken consent, they used Old China Street rather than Hog Lane. As they walked, he said, ”Try not to look so gloomy, Jin. The object of the day is not only to buy presents and learn more about local trade goods, but to find amus.e.m.e.nt.”
She slanted him a glance. ”Amus.e.m.e.nt, sir?”
”You are too serious for a young man.” Maxwell paused in front of an open-fronted shop and picked up a set of nested ivory b.a.l.l.s, each intricately carved within a larger ball. ”My brother would find these intriguing. What incredible carving skill.” He tossed the ball at Troth.
She was so startled that she almost dropped it. ”A set of these takes a craftsman many months to carve, sir,” she said, unsure how to deal with Maxwell's antic mood. ”A very fine gift. What else do you seek?”
”Clever little toys to intrigue children. Jewelry and lacquer boxes and silk for the ladies of my family. Perhaps some pieces of furniture.” He wandered into the shop and paused in front of a display of tiny bottles carved from precious materials like jade and amber and turquoise. ”Lovely trinkets like these.”
Looking hopeful, the shopkeeper approached and told Troth in Chinese that there would be a commission for her on anything the Fan-qui purchased in this shop. Curtly she refused his offer. As a point of pride, she wanted to see that Maxwell left Canton with the finest goods at the lowest possible prices. In English, she said, ”There are better goods elsewhere, my lord.”
Understanding the gist of Troth's comment, the shopkeeper protested in energetic pidgin. Maxwell played along with her as skillfully as if they'd rehea.r.s.ed this beforehand. Half an hour later, a sizable number of bottles and carved ivory were being packed carefully for delivery to Elliott House.
They moved on to shops that dealt in jewelry, lacquer wares, and porcelain. Maxwell had an eye for quality and an impressive ability to bargain. They worked out a wordless system in which he would glance at Troth and she'd give a tiny nod or shake of her head to let him know if he had reached a fair price, or whether he should continue bargaining. He was very good at giving a bored shrug and turning to leave, which always produced a new and better price.
Troth was enjoying herself, just as Maxwell had wanted. She found vicarious pleasure in helping Maxwell to spend large amounts of money. Though Chenqua was surely far richer, she'd never had the chance to spend any of his wealth.
As they left a shop where Maxwell had purchased a dizzying number of fans in painted silk and carved ivory, she asked, ” Your homeland is so small that you can buy gifts for everyone in England?”
He laughed. ”No, but I want a stock of trifles suitable for friends and servants. For a person who has never been more than twenty miles from his place of birth, a fan or perfume bottle will be rare and special. A reminder of what a wide world we live in.” He fingered the only bottle he'd carried with him from the first shop, a lovely little vial carved from crystal shot through with dark veins. ”And of course I want to buy the affections of my young nieces and nephews, whom I've never met.”