All the Tea in China (30 page)

“Is everything all right?” Phineas said, frowning.

She cleared her throat again. “Yes. I only wanted to see that you were home safely. You have not told me where you are going so soon when you have only just arrived yesterday.”

So he had not told his mother about his plan! That was certainly curious. I glanced at Phineas to check his expression, but he revealed nothing. “We can discuss it tonight at dinner if you like,” he said amiably.

“That would be suitable. Please forgive me for the intrusion.”

“You have not told her?” I said when we were alone.

Phineas sighed and sat on the bench. “There is no need, Isabella. She and I seldom speak of my father, and she has no notion of the East India Company’s commerce. Her husband never spoke of business matters with her, and she only knew that he dealt with foreigners.”

“Has she forgotten about your father completely?” I sat beside him. “Does she not remember their love?”

“I believe she has chosen not to,” he said. “Just as she would not remember me if I had not returned to China.”

How cruel. How very cold and cruel! She was a heartless woman, indeed. I took Phineas’s hand and held it as if I could keep him close forever. “My mother probably has some medicine for that mark on your face,” he said. “Would you like me to ask?”

“No. It will be fine. Phineas?”

“Yes?” He smiled.

“I do not ever want to lose you the way your mother lost your father,” I whispered.

“And you will not,” he said, kissing me for good measure. “Isabella, I want you beside me. We are warriors together, yes?”

I nodded, thinking of the family sword he had given me. His mother would most likely halve me herself if she knew it to be in my possession!

The welt on my cheek disappeared, as did the broken ceramic cup and spilled tea. I never knew if Nai Nai had Fragrance clean it up or if she herself did the deed. It did not matter to me. I would not tell him myself, but I would have been happy to have heard Phineas ask about the broken cup and for his mother to be forced to confess.

I still could not fathom that she had destroyed the Gospel I had so painstakingly copied by hand. No doubt the characters were shaky and perhaps even a trifle illegible, but like the monks of old who labored at the Book of Kells, I had endeavored to make the rendering as accurate as possible. I wondered if the tiny bit she had stuffed into the wall was still there . . .

As for walls, something strange occurred to me one afternoon. Phineas had left for an errand for his mother, as ladies did not venture from their homes. I, being weary, decided on a nap. I had just headed down the hallway toward my room when someone pushed me against the wall and felt under my skirt for my feet, one of which was lifted. I cried out, more in surprise than pain.

Nai Nai jerked off my slipper and stocking. “Just as I suspected,” she said in an accusing tone. “You have large feet.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“Good women—women with class—have their feet bound when they are girls. Your feet are natural. Large.”

She reached for them again, and I hopped away. “My feet are not large. They are rather small in nature, actually.”

She shook her head, scowling. “Very large.”

“Yes, well, would you please leave me alone now?” I said, reminding myself to lock the bedroom door. No telling if she would try to follow me to criticize more of my body parts!

Because of that incident, however, I made a note to study the feet of Phineas’s sister and mother. Only Nai Nai walked with a hobble, but their feet stayed hidden under their skirts. Perhaps it was no accident, if they could hold such power as to pull men under their spell. Apparently the mere sight of their supposedly tiny feet might send some men into a swoon.

I did not have to wonder long, for that afternoon I again retreated to the garden. This time Little Sister joined me. She often followed me around like a shadow when I first arrived, quiet, but once I had been there a few days, she apparently felt free to ask a multitude of questions. When she learned I spoke Chinese, no matter how halting, she peppered me with questions about England, about the
Dignity
, about fashion and books . . . She was hungry for knowledge and conversation. I often said a thankful prayer that she had somehow managed to survive. Many Chinese parents murdered newborn girls because they would only grow up and marry into another family.

Little Sister sat beside me on the bench, tucking her feet carefully under her skirt before I could see them. “Why are your feet so large?” she said without preamble. “Did your parents not want your feet to be small?”

“Foot binding is not something that is done where I come from,” I said, then paused. “Are your feet bound?”

Little Sister shyly pushed her feet out from behind her skirt. To my relief, they seemed normal. “Mother would have bound my feet,” she said, “but when I reached the proper age, Elder Brother would not allow it. It was right after Father died, so Elder Brother’s wish was followed.” She looked wistful. “Mother says my chances to marry have been reduced.”

She was so young to be concerned about such matters! “They are still very small next to mine, are they not?” I said, holding out my own feet.

“Yes, Tai Soi.” Little Sister called me Eldest Sister-in-law, giggled, then immediately sobered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed.” She tucked her feet back under her skirt.

I did the same. “It’s all right, Little Sister.”

“Are you and Elder Brother going to stay here forever?”

I did not know what Nai Nai had told the girl, but I determined to tell her the truth. “We will be leaving soon.”

“Will you return?”

“I do not think so, Little Sister.” The truth was that I was not certain what would happen to Phineas and me once we arrived in Hupei. After all, his plan was to find the golden tea leaf then use its sales to put the East India Company out of business. Which would, of course, mean eventually returning to England.

That, however, was not in my plans. Neither was staying at his mother’s house much longer!

“You will return with me, naturally,” Phineas said when I asked him about it that night when we were alone at last, preparing for bed.

“I have not thought of returning to England.” I fluffed my pillow and burrowed my head into it. I yawned, exhausted. “My calling, I believe, is to stay in China.”

Phineas laid his head on his own pillow, beside mine. “Even missionaries sometimes return to their homeland,” he said.

“But—”

He put his fingers over my lips. “I know what you are about to say, Isabella. You do not want me to attempt to find this golden leaf tea and bring it back to England.”

“I still do not fathom how your plan will work. I cannot believe you can compete with the East India Company.”

“Perhaps not, but I must at least attempt it.” He paused. “Lives are being ruined in this country, Isabella. People are dying. Surely you must understand the urgency.”

I raised up on one elbow. “I do, Phineas, but I am not certain this is the best way.”

“My mother also does not wish me to go to Hupei.”

“Of course not. You are her only son.”

“There is more to that than the relationship between Mr. Gilpin and his mother. In China, a son, even once married, lives in his parents’ house. He is expected to take over the household, with his wife caring for the home.”

“Then I should think her pleased that we were leaving so that she need not fear my usurping her authority,” I said. No wonder Nai Nai had resented my presence, even before we met.

“You have read her fears, which are not uncommon to Chinese mothers of sons. That she has all but begged me to stay is an indication that she is willing to accept that fear instead of the alternative.”

“And what is that?”

Phineas touched my cheek. “Being alone for the rest of her life. One day Little Sister will marry and move into her husband’s home. Then who will care for my mother?”

“Can she not remarry?”

“It is possible but not likely. Widows generally stay widows in China and are not encouraged to take another husband. Their chastity is highly prized. I think, too, that she is not willing to face heartbreak yet a third time.”

He blew out the candle and took me in his arms. After only a few days, I had come to rely on his physical presence, particularly at the close of day. In such a short time, I had learned what it meant to share my life with another. I was certain it was not something one could easily abandon, even after death. Lately the thought of losing Phineas, after all we had endured to gain one another, had hovered like a specter during my every waking moment. I could not shake it no matter how I tried to remove it from my thoughts.

“I am looking forward to our journey,” I whispered. “Tell me about the Mo Tong Mountains. When did you first go there?”

“The mountains are home to many monasteries, as you know. I learned martial arts there several years ago when I first returned from England—as a man. My mother and stepfather were dismayed that I had embraced Christianity, so they sent me there, hoping the Daoist monks would influence me.”

“And did they?”

“I am not fully Chinese, so I was not allowed in the temples or monasteries. However, one man became my
sifu
, my martial arts master, and I met many other students. My time there did not sway my beliefs. If anything, it reinforced them. The Mo Tong—the mountains themselves—have breathtaking valleys and cliffs and much vegetation and rocks on tall, steep peaks. Sometimes the mist shrouds the ancient buildings and stairways that seem to reach to heaven.” He kissed the top of my head. “I felt very close to God there. I hope you will too. It is a beautiful place.”

I shivered. We could not leave this home soon enough. I had wanted adventure for so long, and Phineas and I were near to realizing our dreams. In the darkness I held him closer as though I could hold him to the earth, our relationship a sapling threatened by a coming wind.

To prepare for our journey, Phineas insisted that we practice martial arts together in the grassy area of the garden. I smiled every time I thought of the expression on Flora’s face if she could see how I had learned to kick at an opponent’s head or punch much like one of the prizefighters at a boxing salon in London. Somehow I imagined that Uncle Toby would be pleased, for he had always indulged my hoydenish nature. Anything that allowed me to protect myself could only be good, in his eyes.

I wore the inexpressibles and loose top that Phineas had given me aboard the
Dignity
, and it felt good to have such freedom of movement. Such freedom was not without cost, however. Phineas refused to spare me from a harsh accounting, challenging my kicks and blocks in rapid progression. He spoke not a word, but I knew from the expression on his face that he meant to push my abilities. When at last he must have realized I was winded and spent (which indeed I was), he knocked me to the soft grass by sweeping his feet behind my knees. I dropped like a winged bird—unhurt, save for my pride.

He helped me up. I, grim-faced, assumed a defensive position. “Be prepared to counter that move,” he said. He did not allow me the quick, heated retaliation I desired but slowly, patiently demonstrated several kicks and distracting arm movements. I forgot that I wanted to bring him to the earth the same way he had me and practiced the moves until he nodded his satisfaction. Emotion had little place in martial arts, I was learning, but I did not always heed the lesson.

He bowed. “I think that is enough for today, Isabella. You look peaked.”

“If I am, it is only because I am anxious to fight you again.” I smiled, assuming an offensive stance.

“That is enough for now,” he said firmly.

“Can we practice with the sword?” I was not ready to finish our lesson.

He shook his head. “Your possession of the sword should be our secret.”

“You do not want your mother to know that I have it, do you?”

“No,” he said flatly. “I do not.”

I bowed, defeated before we had even begun again. “Very well. I will change my clothes.”

He winked at me. “May I go with you?”

“I think not.” I laughed in spite of myself. “I am peaked, after all.” Before he could respond, I left the garden and headed toward our room.

I hummed a cheerful tune, for every day drew us one closer to leaving. Passing Nai Nai’s room, I could not help noticing her open door. She had said little to me of late, perhaps resigned that I was taking her son away from her.

I meant only to glance through the door, as one’s gaze flits involuntarily. But I saw her seated on a willow chair, shoes and stockings off, and it was then that I saw her unbound feet.

I had never seen flesh so hideous. I had imagined binding meant only a restriction of the feet’s growth so that they were somehow only smaller lengths. But the arch of Nai Nai’s feet was high and pronounced, the toes curled sideways under and to the soles like the folds of an ugly fan. She rubbed them carefully, and it was obvious from her unguarded expression that she was in pain though her foot binding had ceased many, many years ago.

Catching my breath, I backed against the wall lest she think I spied on her. Against my will, tears sprang to my eyes as they had when she slapped me. In truth, I felt as though I had been slapped again, but it was surely pain much less severe than what she had endured for many years. I headed blindly for my room, grateful for the steadiness of my own feet.

Fragrance passed me in the hallway, bearing a bowl of steaming water. I stopped short. “Is that for Madame Wong?”

She yawned. “Yes. But first I have to chat with the other servant girl. We have been planning a long talk.”

“The water will likely be cold when you get it to your mistress,” I said, frowning at her lack of concern.

“No matter.” She shrugged. “That old lady isn’t going anywhere. Most likely she’ll smoke some opium. She’ll fall asleep and forget she asked me to bring the water for her feet anyway.”

I felt much as I had when Phineas knocked me to the ground. “She partakes of the drug?”

Fragrance narrowed her eyes. “What do you care? I know you don’t like her. If it keeps her from bothering you, it’s to your advantage, isn’t it?”