All the Tea in China (10 page)

Besides the two hammocks lining opposite walls was a large trunk I assumed to be Phineas’s on his side and a wooden crate on mine. I was also fortunate, I suppose, to have a porthole, which was partially open. A gentle sun streamed through, and I caught a glimpse of blue sky. I could smell brine and hear water lapping against the ship.

Physically, I seemed to be mostly to rights, though I felt as weak as a newborn calf. I could not remember if Snowe ever procured the promised broth, but my stomach allowed that it was doubtful, for such a rumbling could only signify its emptiness. I could not remember the last meal I had eaten, somewhere back in Oxford, I believed. Heaven only knew how long ago that was.

Though I lay covered with a thick blanket, I had been divested of my muslin dress in favor of some sort of night dress. I blushed to think that Snowe had anything to do with that, though common sense told me otherwise. After all, where would he have procured such? He was an odd man, but surely not one given to the possession of ladies’ night clothes.

The door opened, and though I expected Snowe, a buxom brunette in the most adorable green satin dress smiled at me. It seemed to me somehow to be daytime, and the dress seemed a trifle too fancy to wear before dusk. The way it rode about her person also did not speak to the fashion of society but of something else.

“So you live, after all,” she said. “Phineas said so, though I thought it simply one of his fanciful notions.” She laughed, and despite her attire, she seemed to be void of malice, at least toward me. Something familiar rested in the way she moved, the flutter of her hands, the sharpness of her features, but I could not recall.

I thought it wise to be agreeable, so I smiled. Her eyes connected with mine as though we shared a secret, and my memory was restored. Though previously she had worn a nondescript brown dress with a faded gray pelisse, there was no disguising her plainness of face nor sharpness of eyes. She was the missionary in Phineas Snowe’s group who had accompanied us to feed the poor.

“You are Julia Whipple,” I said.

She nodded. “I look a bit different now, I suppose.”

“Why, yes.” It would be impolite to inquire, but I wondered if there were some missionary rule about saving one’s finest clothes for travel.

She gestured at the clothing she wore. “Fortunately for you, I brought those horrid things with me on the trip. Along with that nightgown you’re wearing.”

It was not the height of fashion to be sure, but it seemed a perfectly decent nightgown. “What happened to my dress?”

She shrugged. “I tried to wash it as best as I could, but I don’t know as you’ll want to wear it again.” She paused. “You’ve a lot of gumption in you, I’ll say that. I pegged you as a lady, but I wouldn’t have dreamed you’d be able to hide for so long in a cow stall.”

“How long was I there?”

“Three days since we left England before you were discovered.”

“I thought it was angels who attended me.”

Julia laughed. “It was a sailor sent to muck the stalls. Fortunately for you, one of those young officers was with him, and he connected you with Phineas right away. Snowe accepted the blame for your presence and had you brought to his cabin.”

Despite my previous anger at him, I felt a flush of gratitude. “I hope he was not chastised unduly for my behavior.”

“Another time the captain might have been angered, but your weakened state made your welfare everyone’s primary concern. But the ship’s doctor pronounced that a decent rest and some food should revive you. Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” I said.

“Then I’ll bring you some broth and let Phineas and the captain know that you’re awake.”

While I awaited her return, I pondered over the fact that she constantly called Snowe by his first name, a behavior that was most unseemly in polite society. Even if they worked the same mission field in the Far East, she should certainly follow conventional address.

I greedily ate the broth that Miss Whipple brought and felt quite revived. I felt even more so after she brought a bowl of water and a cloth so that I could clean myself. When I grew faint, she whisked the bowl from my hands and set about wiping my face and arms herself. At last she smiled at me, giving the tip of my nose a little swipe as though I were a child. “That’s enough for today, Miss Goodrich. We’ve a long voyage ahead of us and plenty of time for cleaning away the grime.”

She set the bowl on a small table, her movements steady and sure as she wrung water from the cloth. She was obviously accustomed to service work, for none of my Oxford friends—except Flora, of course—would have managed with such efficiency. Cathy would have giggled and avowed that she knew nothing of cleaning or bathing an invalid.

“Your service must be needed greatly in China,” I said.

Miss Whipple set the cloth in the bowl and turned toward me. “I hope so.”

“Have you ever been there before?”

She shook her head.

“But you have done charitable work in England? London, perhaps? I do not believe I have seen you in Oxford before that day I joined you and Mr. Snowe.”

“Yes, I have been in London. If I lived in your hometown, I daresay you would not have ever made my acquaintance, though.”

My conscience pricked. I had not always been a doer of charitable deeds, but surely she did not believe I would ever turn up my nose at more faithful servants. “I should have been glad to meet you,” I said. “I have a notion that we would have gotten along splendidly.”

She looked at me curiously for a moment, then burst into a smile. “You truly don’t know, do you?”

I cocked my head, puzzled.

A knock sounded at the door, then who should enter but Phineas Snowe. “There you are,” Miss Whipple said. “You can see that our patient is much improved. Her complexion seems to have more of a pinkish hue.”

Snowe looked at me solemnly, then approached. Wood creaking, the ship listed a trifle, and the bowl of water nearly slid to the floor but for Snowe’s quick catch. His movement reminded me of a cat, but he replaced the bowl on the table without a moment’s hesitation. When he turned back to me, his eyes were unfathomable. “As you can see, Miss Goodrich, life onboard a ship is not for the faint of heart.”

Miss Whipple laughed. “I think she did fine by herself these past days, Phineas. No need to give the girl a lecture.”

He frowned at her. “She could have spoilt everything and caused our delay. We will be fortunate not to incur the captain’s wrath as it is.”

“I’m sure you can explain it satisfactorily . . . if you haven’t already.”

“I’ve done my best. The rest is dependent on fortune. And Miss Goodrich’s cooperation, of course.”

“I am sorry for the trouble I have caused,” I said, eager to put their minds at rest. “If I had not been so convinced of the rightness of my actions, I would not have undertaken to come aboard.”

“You are a stowaway, Miss Goodrich. There can be no rightness in that.”

I lowered my eyes. “I understand, Mr. Snowe. It is not a good way for a missionary to begin her life’s calling.”

He stared at me a moment as though seeing me for the first time. “Then you truly believe that you are to be a missionary? That is why you followed me to the
Dignity
?”

I nodded. He was abominably full of himself—believing that I followed him because he had courted me, indeed!— but he was still a man of the cloth. “Serving alongside you and Miss Whipple among the poor in Oxford convinced me of my calling. I do not seek a husband, as you supposed, but a life of service.”

Snowe looked to Miss Whipple as though for help. She crossed her arms and smiled. “She wants to join us in China,” she said.

“You know very well that is not possible,” he said to her.

“But why?” I asked, bewildered that I was summarily dismissed from the conversation. “Surely you have seen that I am resourceful. Despite my upbringing, I am not afraid of hard work. I am also most learned. I can read the Bible in Greek and Hebrew, I speak several languages, and I even brought the Gospel According to St. Luke in Chinese that you gave me, Mr. Snowe. I am certain that if Miss Whipple is willing to serve, that I can accomplish the same.”

“I believe she means it, Phineas,” she said.

He glared at her. “Julia, why don’t you remove the bowl of water from this cabin. I will speak to Miss Goodrich alone.”

Still grinning, she retrieved the bowl and held it against her hip, water splashing her green satin dress. “What are you going to tell her?”

He glared at her again, and she retreated for the door, laughing. When she was gone, he turned to me. “Miss Goodrich, your decision to follow me was most ill-advised. I am certain that your uncle must be heartsick.”

At the mention of Uncle Toby, my own heart felt ill. “I left him a note explaining my intentions. He will know that I am in your good care since he approved of your work. You have already shown me great kindness by bringing me to restored health.”

“Nevertheless—”

“Though why you wanted me to agree to your ruse that we are brother and sister is yet unclear. As I seem to have more of my wits about me than the last time we spoke of the matter, please explain.”

“You are aware that this is an East Indiaman—a ship belonging to the East India Company?”

I nodded.

“Then you are also aware that it is populated primarily by sailors.”

I clasped my hands. “You have only managed to state the obvious, Mr. Snowe. I assure you that I can handle much more information and certainly in a more timely fashion. I fear that we may be in China soon at the rate you are explaining yourself.”

He raised a brow over one dark brown eye. Where had the spectacles gone to? “You prize directness, do you?”

“Yes, and I—”

He took a step closer. “Then let me be perfectly frank. I will have you put off this ship at the first available opportunity. Until that time, the sailors will be eyeing any unattached female, some with courtesy but some with less than Christian thoughts. Perhaps backed by less than Christian deeds, as well.”

I thought of the sailor I had met when I boarded and nodded.

“I have explained your presence as my sister so that I may see to your safety. They will respect you if they believe us related.”

“And what of Miss Whipple? Will they respect her too?”

His eyes leveled with mine. “Julia Whipple does not seek their respect. Only their coins. At least once we reach China.”

“I do not understand.”

“Julia is going to China for one reason only.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “She hopes to set up trade with the Englishmen working in Macao.”

“Then she is quite enterprising. A tradeswoman! Such a thing is practically unheard of in England. Is it easier in China for a woman to do so?”

“No easier than in England. She is involved in the trade at which women naturally excel.”

Understanding dawned in a rush. “Oh!” I felt my face warm. “I . . . I understand now. But you . . . surely you do not approve? Why do you sponsor her?”

He paced a few steps, hands still behind his back. “She cannot have a good life in London as she was not born into society. I hoped that a change of continents might precipitate good fortune for her. Women, decent or otherwise, are in short supply in China, and who knows but that one of East India’s finest might seek her hand. In the meantime, she helped me in my endeavor, and I with hers. It was a suitable arrangement.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “But nothing more?”

He ceased pacing, standing directly in my line of sight. “It is you, Miss Goodrich, who is ensconced in my cabin. Not Julia Whipple.”

5

I did not quite know what to make of such a statement. Before I could respond, however, he turned away. “I will see that you receive some fresh clothing. Perhaps one of the other women on board can loan you a frock.”

“If there are other women on board, perhaps I should lodge with them rather than continue to be your cross to bear,” I said.

“They are all married women, traveling with their husbands. I do not think they would find your presence acceptable in their cabins.”

“No, of course not. And yet you find it acceptable for me to be in yours?”

He sighed. “Miss Goodrich, I feel responsible for your safety and well-being until such time as you can be restored to your uncle. Is it so difficult to believe that I can act as a gentleman?”

“Would a gentleman keep an unmarried woman in his room?” I countered.

“Perhaps you would rather return to your accommodations with the cattle,” he suggested, “and whoever might choose to join you in the straw. I made a quick decision to claim you as my sister . . . for your protection only. Fortunately, the prevarication was believed, and no one will be the wiser if you act the part. As for me, I assure you that my intentions toward you are nothing but honorable.”

Without waiting for my response, he left the cabin, and I was left to wonder at all that had transpired. He had said that he would have me put off the ship as soon as possible. That could not happen, as I still held to my original belief that I was meant to be in China. Besides, Miss Whipple needed me. Despite the fact that she was a Cyprian, I sensed a goodness in her soul that wanted validation. I had seen her work with the poor; it was no mere pretense. She had been as genuinely concerned for their welfare as Mr. Snowe had been. It had been the generosity of those two that helped me see my future. Perhaps if I stayed close to Miss Whipple during the voyage, we could become friends. After all, I seemed to have left certain social norms behind in Oxford.

I saw the logic in Mr. Snowe’s claiming me as his sister, but I did not think much about it that first day I regained consciousness. I tried mostly to regain my strength, dutifully eating the broth that either Mr. Snowe or Miss Whipple brought me. Indeed, though we spoke of mere triflings during her ministrations, she and I shared each other’s company rather well. I did not know if Mr. Snowe told her that I was aware of her situation, but after an initial wariness, she seemed to realize that I had no intention of chastising her. She smiled at me as before, and like Mr. Snowe, promised to find me some suitable clothes.