The Concubine's Daughter (28 page)

Li had said nothing to the Fish of the silent hand at her door, and decided it could serve no purpose to reveal it now.

U
nder Miss Bramble’s amiable
tutelage, Li’s life became a fantasyland of learning. The days began with a brisk walk in the grounds and early breakfast in the English garden, followed by mornings spent learning to speak, read, and write in English; lunch served by the Fish under the lilac tree; more lessons; then afternoons or evenings of general conversation, when Li was encouraged to ask all the questions she wished. Sometimes they listened to Western music on the gramophone in the teacher’s rooms, or discussed a book and the life of its writer. Every moment was a gift to Li-Xia.

Miss Bramble had acquired two ladies’ bicycles fitted with ample baskets in which to carry sandwiches and flasks of tea. This, she explained, was the preferred mode of travel for an English lady in the countryside. The exercise of cycling, which proved the perfect break from intense studying, sometimes took them on tours of the city outskirts or to picnics on the breezy cliffs of the promontory. Even on these welcome excursions, Li would bring her book bag for an hour or so of quiet reading or a lively debate over the complexities of the English language.

Late one evening, six months to the day after Li’s schooling had begun, Ben was pleased to receive Winifred Bramble in his study with a half-term report, and to hear nothing but the highest praise for her promising young student. Li had taken readily to the niceties of deportment, showing a natural grace and a promise of elegance. Yet as surely as she had developed manners acceptable in any English drawing room,
she just as convincingly displayed an enthusiasm for the raw propensities of the China trade perfectly suited to the waterfront godown. She was, the teacher concluded, a quite exceptional and determined young woman.

When Ben had confided his intentions to Winifred, she had given him her heartfelt but guarded congratulations. She had seen enough of her employer to know that Li could not be placed in safer or stronger hands than those of Captain Devereaux; and enough of her young pupil to know that she could not be forced to do anything against her will. Miss Bramble did not doubt that Li could make Ben a very suitable companion and eventually become an asset to his company. Nevertheless, the blind stupidity of both East and West when it came to mixed marriages weighed upon Miss Bramble’s heart. This could be a difficult and even a dangerous path. Though she knew that a man of Ben’s stature and courage was unlikely to be deterred by prejudice or superstition, she wondered how he would respond to the insidious menace that could one day threaten those he loved. It was a thought she found difficult to cast aside.

By the end of twelve months, Li spoke enough English to hold a conversation with Winifred Bramble and her small circle of eloquent acquaintances; to speak coherently with Ben on any subject he chose; to write a passable note in English, Cantonese, Tanka, or her native Hakka; and to read, slowly but thoroughly, the
South China Morning Post
from front to back, marking any words she did not fully understand.

Ben visited the house more frequently now, and spoke to her often in the company of her tutor. He brought small gifts, nothing too large or obvious—a sandalwood fan from Formosa, a silk shawl from Shantung, an amber pendant from Hangchow. Li kept these things hidden in her chest, ever more aware of the vigilant forces at work around her. She had even taken the golden guinea from around her neck, determined to do nothing that could inflame the hidden resentment of the other servants. Under Ben’s close protection and in the constant warmth of Miss Bramble’s
company, Li found it impossible to consider her own vulnerability, but grew increasingly concerned for both the Fish and Ah-Kin, the gardener. Although she knew the time would come when she must speak of these things to Ben, she hesitated, looking forward instead to the training as a comprador that would take her from Sky House to the shipyard’s office on the Praia. She did not allow the discontent of others to interfere with her studies or the stiff examination that had been set for her, and passed all tests with the highest of marks and a growing self-confidence that left no room for fear of any kind.

Ben had proposed that Miss Bramble should take a well-deserved holiday at his expense, expressing his hopes that she would return as tutor at large and companion to Li for an indefinite period. She decided to spend Christmas with old friends in Hong Kong and to consider her future in the coming year.

Li became an increasingly familiar presence in the godowns, aboard the company vessels as they loaded and unloaded their holds, and in the tiny office provided for her in the shipyards. She soon learned that Double Dragon clippers never carried the richest and most dangerous cargo of all—chests of raw opium shipped from the poppy fields of India and sold for their weight in silver bullion. When she asked Indie the reason for this, he would only say, “This is something Ben will tell you in good time.”

The tall double doors to Ben’s office at the shipyards were at the end of a corridor. Their brass handles were polished every day but seldom used. One afternoon, when he had been away for several weeks, Li entered his office to see if it needed dusting. Instantly, his presence seemed to fill the large, high-ceilinged room, which seemed an extension of his Sky House study—the same rich paneling and ornate desk, its surface covered with the same dark green leather as his chair. Curios and antiques stood on shelves around the walls; a vast glass-fronted display cabinet was filled with ancient porcelain and priceless figures of jade in all its many hues.

Almost immediately, her eye was drawn to two photographs in identical frames on the wall directly behind the desk. One showed the genial face of a foreign woman, strong, robust, with a mop of unruly gray hair.
Beside her, as large and dominant but heavily grained from enlargement, was the face of a brutal-looking Chinese man, his heavy jaw thrust forward in a threatening gesture, his eyes glaring menacingly from beneath a high-domed forehead shaved—including his eyebrows—to the top of the skull. She could not see it but somehow knew he wore a queue, the heavy pigtail of a Boxer. The picture seemed so charged with malice, she found herself stepping back.

“Ugly
bastardo
, isn’t he?” The voice of Indie Da Silva caused her to start. “I suppose you must be wondering who they are.” Indie leaned his knuckles on the desk. “You are looking at the two most important people in my partner’s life. He believes, and so do I, that you should always keep your friends close … and your enemies too. Neither must be forgotten.”

Indie’s voice had lost its customary ease. “The lady’s name is Aggie Gates, the nearest thing he’s ever had to a mother. She is Ben’s greatest friend … he would die for her and she for him.” He paused. “The other one is a Boxer brave, known as Chiang-Wah the Fierce, who is a sworn enemy. Chiang-Wah is a flag bearer for the Yellow Dragon triad, holder of the golden sash. I will say no more of him; Ben will tell you when he must.”

Buying and selling goods, dispatching and receiving cargoes to and from every corner of China and the Far East, became increasingly absorbing to Li as her command of figures and skill with the abacus grew daily. From her small office overlooking the Double Dragon shipyards, she could smell the sawn timber and hot tar mixed with turpentine, paint, and varnish. The sounds of great ships taking shape on the slip rails became more than a noise to her—the hiss of the steaming press, the planing of wood, and the hammering of mallets as familiar as the chatter of the
mui-mui
among the groves.

Quite unexpectedly one day, when she had become accustomed to his absence, Ben filled the doorway of her office with the briefest of knocks and a loud “hello.”

“Indie tells me you are born to be a comprador. It seems you have fulfilled your promise in every way.” Li had automatically stood up from the ledger she was studying. “Please, do not let me disturb you, but tonight we will put away the tally sheets and manifests to celebrate the success of a prosperous year.

“You will find some new things in your room. The Fish will help you.” He was gone before she could speak.

Packages covered Li’s bed in a colorful array. The Fish chuckled with delight as she helped unwrap them. There were gorgeous cheongsams in radiant silks, a silver-backed mirror and comb, and smaller things that drifted over Li’s body like softly colored mist. These, the Fish whispered archly, were to be worn only in the bedchamber and for his eyes only. Li had learned to overlook such harmless giggling by the old one, and instead caught her breath at the beautiful array of garments before her.

There was a glittering bottle of crystal that filled the air with fragrance.

Li hesitated. “Such splendor is meant for a woman of great standing,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“Yes,
siu-jeh
,” the Fish replied. “It is meant for you. The master asked me for your size many weeks ago, and also for the shape of your feet.”

“I have never seen such things. Will I not look foolish?”

“He is very thoughtful for a
gwai-lo
, and would never allow the woman on his arm to look a fool.”

Li selected a cheongsam of shimmering turquoise—the form-fitting full-length dress fastened at the shoulder, leaving her arms bare. Slit at each side to an inch above the knee, the skirt allowed Li to walk freely but with short and feminine steps. The high collar fitted her long, slender neck perfectly, keeping her posture proudly erect, especially in the silver shoes she chose, with heels that made her feel taller. The Fish fetched a mirror and makeup for her lips and cheeks and eyes. Li shook her head. “If my face cannot be seen without such colors painted upon it, then I should not wear such fine clothes.”

At the appointed time, Li knocked softly at the door of the study. Ben was seated at his desk, and rose as she entered. He stood staring in silence.
Finally, he said quietly, “I have never seen anyone quite so lovely.” He came from behind the desk, leading her by the hand to the mirror over the fireplace, and gently turning her to face it.

“You could not look more delightful … except perhaps …” His hands lifted with a sudden flash in the mirror, gently laying a strand of blue sapphires across her throat. “These are from Siam. They are a gift of appreciation for your dedication to the Double Dragon.”

Li lifted a hand to touch them, cool and heavy against her fingertips. It was a shock to see herself adorned by jewels so far beyond her station in life and indeed beyond her needs, yet their magnificence lit her eyes and caused her to gasp.

She turned abruptly, dazzled by the moment, to find herself close to him. She would have stepped back, but he bent to kiss her lightly on the forehead. “Their worth is not in their weight or value, but in the life you bring to them.” He let them spill through his fingers, his touch so close to her breast, she was sure he would feel her heartbeat.

He lifted her hand, folding it warmly in his. “These are a token of my affection and respect.” He put a finger to her lips when she tried to speak, then placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. “At least wear them for tonight, then I shall keep them safely for you, until you are ready to accept them as your own.”

He released her. “Now we will go to dinner in the finest restaurant Macao has to offer.” As if reading her thoughts, he added, “Miss Bramble will join us as your chaperone, so all will be proper for those who will see us together.”

O
n the drive to
the Bella Vista, which the Fish had assured her was Macao’s oldest and most famous hotel, Li hoped her deep sense of anxiety would be seen as pure excitement. Cushioned between Ben and Miss Bramble on the leather seat of his royal-blue Rolls-Royce, she could scarcely believe this was real.

As if to reinforce her disquiet, the eye of Ah-Geet appeared in the small mirror above his head. She could not see his face, but the eye alone showed his scorn as clearly as though he had spoken aloud. She looked away, but the eye returned to her whenever it could, as menacing as a raised voice or the threat of a physical blow. His hand came up to adjust the mirror so that both his eyes were upon her. For the flash of a second, the mirror framed his mouth as it mimed the unmistakable word “
cheep-see
.”