Tai-Pan (50 page)

“Well, I’ll be off.”

“Is all right I invite Ma-ree Sin-clair today?”

“Aye. But I dinna ken where she is—or if she’s arrived yet.”

“She’s on flagship. She arrive yesterday with her amah, Ah Tat, and her ball gown. It’s black and very pretty. It’s going to cost you two hundred dolla. Ayeee yah, if you’d let me arrange the dress, I’d save you sixty, seventy dolla, never mind. Her cabin’s next to her brother’s.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Her amah is Ah Sam’s mother’s sister’s fourth daughter. Wat for is the use of a mealy mouth slave like Ah Sam if she does na keep her mother inform and have connections?”

“How did Ah Sam’s mother tell her?”

“Oh, Tai-Pan, you are so funny,” May-may cried. “Na Ah Sam’s mother, 
me.
 All Chinese slaves call their mistress ‘Mother.’ Just as she calls you ‘Father.’ ”

“She does?”

“All slaves call the master of the house ‘Father.’ It’s ancient custom and very polite. So Ah Tat, Ma-ree’s slave, told Ah Sam. Ah Sam, who is a good-for-nothing lazy maggot and needs a whipping, told her ‘mother.’ Me. It’s really very simple. Oh yes, and to be absolutal correct, if you could speak a Chinese language, you’d call Ah Sam ‘Daughter.’ ”

“Why do you want to see Mary?”

“It’s lonely na to talk. I’ll only talk Cantonese, dinna worry. She knows I’m here.”

“How?”

“Ah Sam told Ah Tat,” she said as though explaining to a child. “Naturally such an interesting piece of news Ah Tat told her mother—told Ma-ree. That old whore Ah Tat’s a jade mine of secrets.”

“Ah Tat’s a whore?”

“God’s blood, Tai-Pan, that only a figured speech. You really should go back to bed. You’re very simple this morning.” ,

He finished his tea and pushed his plate away. “And I’ve nae wonder, listening to all this nonsense. I’m lunching with Longstaff, so I’ll send word to Mary. What time shall I say?”

“Thank you, Tai-Pan, never mind. Ah Sam will be better. Then no one knows except the servants and they know all anyway, never mind.”

Lim Din opened the door. He was Struan’s personal servant as well as cook boy, a small squat man in his middle fifties, neat in black trousers and white tunic. He had a round, happy face and darting, cunning eyes. “Mass’er. Missee and Mass’er come see my. Can?”

“Mass’er wat?” Struan was astonished that anyone would be so impolite as to come uninvited.

Lim Din shrugged. “Mass’er and Missee. Wantshee wat Mass’er, wat Missee?”

“Oh, never mind,” Struan said and got up from the table.

“You expect guests?” May-may said.

“No.” Struan walked out of the room and into the small anteroom. He opened the far door and closed it behind him. Now he was in the corridor that led to a hallway and to the separate quarters in the front of the house. And the moment he was in the corridor he knew that one caller was Shevaun. Her fragrance, a special Turkish perfume that only she used, had delicately changed the quality of the air.

His heart quickened and his anger lessened as he strode down the corridor, his soft leather half boots clicking on the stone floor, and turned into the living room.

“Hello, Tai-Pan,” Shevaun said.

Shevaun was twenty and graceful as a gazelle. She wore her dark red hair, darker than Struan’s, in long ringlets. Her full breasts, under the discreetly decollete green velvet dress, sailed over an eighteen-inch waist. Her delicate ankles and feet peeped from beneath a dozen petticoats. Her bonnet was green, her sunshade a startling orange.

Aye, Struan thought, she gets prettier every day.

“Morning, Shevaun, Wilf.”

“Morning. Sorry to arrive uninvited.” Wilf Tillman was exceedingly uncomfortable.

“Oh, come now, Uncle,” Shevaun said blithely, “it’s a good old American custom to wish a house well.”

“We’re not in America, dear.” Tillman wished he were, today. And that Shevaun was safely married to Jeff Cooper and no longer his responsibility. Damn Shevaun. And damn Jeff, he thought. I wish to God the man’d formally press his suit. Then I could simply announce the marriage and that would be that. But all this shilly-shallying around is ridiculous. “Give her time. There’s plenty of time,” Jeff is always saying. But I damn well know now there’s very little time left, now that Struan’s wifeless. I’m absolutely sure Shevaun’s set her cap for the Tai-Pan. Why else insist on coming here this morning? Why else keep asking questions about him?

All the way to Struan’s house he had been pondering the wisdom of a match between Struan and Shevaun. Naturally there would be definite financial advantages, but Struan was totally opposed to their way of life in America; he just simply wouldn’t understand.

He would certainly turn Shevaun against us, Tillman thought. He’d force the issue through her. Jeff would be furious over losing her and he’d probably break up Cooper-Tillman. Nothing I could do to stop that. If the company goes on the rocks, there’s no money for brother John to entertain so lavishly in Washington. Politics is expensive, and without political pull life for the family will be very hard, and we need every bit of help against the blasted Northern states. No, by Heaven. Shevaun’s going to marry Jeff and not the Tai-Pan, and that’s that.

“Sorry to arrive uninvited,” he repeated.

“You’re both very welcome.” Struan motioned Lim Din to the decanter and glasses. “Sherry?”

“Well, thank you, but I think we ought to be going,” Tillman said.

Shevaun laughed and her tilted nose wrinkled prettily. “But we’ve just arrived. I wanted to be the first to welcome you to your house, Tai-Pan,” she said.

“And you are. Sit down. It’s good to see you.”

“We bought some gifts for the house.” She opened her carrying bag and took out a small loaf of bread and a tiny container of salt and a bottle of wine. “It’s an old custom to bring the house good luck. I would have arrived by myself, but Uncle said that that would be in the worst possible taste. It’s not his fault at all.”

“I’m glad you came.” Struan picked up the bread. It was gold-brown and crisp and fragrant.

“I baked it last night.”

Struan broke off a piece and tasted it. “It’s excellent!”

“You’re not really supposed to eat it. At least, well, it’s just the idea.” She laughed again and picked up her carrying bag and sunshade. “And now that I’ve done my duty, we’ll be off.”

“My first guests will do no such thing. I insist, at least a sherry.”

Lim Din offered the glasses. Shevaun took one and settled herself comfortably while Wilf Tillman scowled. Lim Din padded away.

“You really cooked it yoursel’? All by yoursel’?” Struan asked.

“It’s very important for a girl to know how to cook,” she said and stared back at him, eyes challenging.

Tillman sipped the sherry. “Shevaun’s a good cook.”

“I’ll take a loaf a day,” Struan said. He sat in the big leather chair and lifted his glass. “Long life!”

“And to you.”

“Your house is lovely, Tai-Pan.”

“Thank you. When it’s finished I’d like to show you over it.” Struan knew that she was curious to find out whether the rumor about May-may was true. “Aristotle said you were poorly the last time I saw him.”

“It was just a chill,” she said.

“Are you having another portrait done?”

“I’m considering it,” she said, unruffled. “Dear Mr. Quance, I admire his paintings so much. Uncle and I are trying to persuade him to try a season in Washington. I think he’d make a fortune.”

“In that case I’d say you’ll have a visitor.” Struan wondered if the innocence in her face was assumed or real. He glanced at Tillman. “How’s business?”

“Excellent, thank you. Jeff’s coming back from Canton this afternoon. Things are booming in the Settlement. Will you be going back there?”

“In a few days.”

“I hear 
Blue Cloud
 and 
Gray Witch
 are neck and neck. One of our ships, beating up from Singapore, passed them two days out, going at full speed. Best of luck.”

While the two of them chatted politely about business matters, neither really interested in the other’s opinion, Shevaun sipped her sherry and studied Struan. He was dressed in a light woolen suit, well tailored and elegant.

You’re quite a man, she thought; you may not know it, Dirk Struan, but I’m going to marry you. I wonder what your Oriental mistress is like; I feel her presence in the house. Mistress or not, I’m the girl for you. And when I’m your wife you won’t need to stray for a long time. A very long time.

“Well, I think we’ll be going,” Tillman said, and got up. “Again, sorry to arrive uninvited.”

“You’re always welcome.”

“Oh, by the way, Tai-Pan,” Shevaun said, “I understand ladies aren’t invited to the prizefight this afternoon. Would you put a guinea on the navy man for me?”

“Good God, Shevaun,” Tillman said, shocked. “You mustn’t say such things. Most unladylike!”

“And you’re most dishonest,” she said, “and old-fashioned. You men enjoy a prizefight, why shouldn’t we? You men enjoy a gamble, why shouldn’t we?”

“A good question, Shevaun.” Struan was amused by Tillman’s discomfort.

“After all, it’s an Oriental custom.” She looked innocently at Struan. “I hear the Chinese gamble all the time, particularly the women.”

Struan blandly ignored the remark.

“Gambling’s a bad habit,” Tillman said.

“I quite agree, Uncle. How much have you wagered?”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

Struan laughed. “With your permission, Wilf, we’ll indulge her. A guinea on the navy?”

“Thank you, Tai-Pan,” she said before Tillman could answer, and she held out her gloved hand to Struan. “It’s just the principle. You’re most understanding.”

He let her hand rest in his a moment longer than necessary, then kissed it, fascinated by the thought of taming her, and escorted them to the door. “See you both this evening.”

“If I don’t win that prize, I’ll be livid. And also in debtor’s prison.”

“You won’t, Shevaun, but your poor long-suffering father and uncle may be,” Tillman said.

When they had gone, Struan returned to May-may’s quarters.

She stared at him coldly.

“What’s amiss?”

“That mealymouthed godrotting doxy’s after you. That’s wat’s amiss.”

“Will you na be so foolish and will you na swear! How’d you see her, anyway?”

“Huh! Have I no eyes? No nose? Wat for should I pore over plans of house, eh, hour after godrot hour? So it’s to be planned so I can see who comes here and who passes by without seen. Huh! That maggoty-drawers dung-heap doxy’s after you to marriage.”

“To marry,” he corrected.

“Kiss the hand, huh? Wat for you no kiss my hand, eh?” She slammed the teapot down. “Wat for you linger with cow eyes, hey? Ayeee yah!”

“You ayeee yah yoursel’. And one more remark like that and I’ll paddle you. You want to be paddled?”

“Mens!” She tossed her head. “Mens!”

“ ‘Men’—not ‘mens.’ How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Men!” May-may shakily poured herself some tea, then slammed the cup down and got up. “ ‘I hear Chinese mens gamble hugely, partikilly the womens,’ ” she said, mimicking Shevaun, lifting her breasts to give them size and waggling her backside. “And you sats there and eat up her busums. Wat for my busums you no stare at, heya?”

Struan quietly put down his teacup and rose. May-may retreated to the other side of the table.

“I na say nothing, never mind,” she said hastily.

“That’s what I thought.” He calmly finished his tea and she watched him without moving, but ready to run.

He set down the cup. “Come over here.”

“Huh! I for no trust you when your eyes speak green fire.”

“
Come over here.
 Please,” he added as sweetly.

She was almost cross-eyed with rage, and she seemed to him like one of the Siamese cats that he had seen in Bangkok. And just as spiteful, he thought.

She cautiously came over to him, ever ready to retreat or hack with her nails. He gently patted her cheek, and turned for the door. “There’s a good girl.”

“Tai-Pan!” May-may imperiously held out her hand to be kissed.

Restraining a smile, he walked back and gallantly kissed her hand. Then he spun her around before she knew what was happening and slapped her smartly on the backside. She gasped and fought out of his hands and jumped for the safety of the table. Once safe, she hurled a cup at him. It shattered against the wall near his ear and she picked up another.

“Dinna throw it!”

She put it down.

“That’s a good lass. One is fine. Two extravagant.” He turned for the door.

“I only say you to protect you,” she shouted. “Protect from mealymouthed, ugly, old cow-busumed doxy!”

“Thank you, May-may,” he said, closing the door after him. He pretended to walk down the corridor, then listened in the silence, trying not to laugh. The cup crashed against the other side of the door. The sound was followed by a stream of curses and Ah Sam’s name and more curses.

Struan cheerfully tiptoed away.

The whole of Happy Valley was pulsating with activity, and as Struan walked down the slight rise from his house toward the foreshore, he felt not a little pride. There were the beginnings of many buildings. The biggest two were the huge three-story factories of The Noble House and Brock and Sons that fronted on Queen’s Road—the vast buildings containing warehouses, offices and living quarters, favored by the China traders and similar to those in the Canton Settlement. At present they were just shells of peripheral bamboo scaffoldings soaring skyward, hundreds of Chinese laborers swarming them. And around these dominating structures were dozens of other buildings, dwellings and wharves.

In the distance, halfway to Glessing’s Point, Struan could see that work had already begun on the dockyard; a never-ending stream of coolies was dumping stones and rocks to form the first of the deep-water wharves. Opposite the harbor master’s small house, complete but for its roof, were the stone walls of the jail, three-quarters finished. And beyond the dockyard was the first of the army’s barracks and its scaffoldings.

Struan turned west to the series of large tents that housed their temporary headquarters. They had been set up on the outskirts of the valley. The church was not yet under construction, though Struan coud see men surveying the top of the knoll.