The Secret Mandarin (30 page)

‘Could be anything,’ Robert said sagely. ‘An attack, an accident or some sickness or other.’

I laid a stone on each of the coffins in remembrance and we moved on.

By the end of the day we had rejoined the caravan at a small town on the main road and instructed the men to make camp and see to our horses. While the mules needed little attention, Romanov and Murdo were ridden hard daily and required rubbing down and a careful feed. All this was done for us while Robert and I took rooms. I could already see that Robert was not quite himself, but it did not overly concern me. By later that evening, however, I noticed he had become jumpy and his skin felt clammy to the touch.

‘You should lie down,’ I ventured. ‘I am worried that you have caught some kind of infection.’

‘Don’t fuss, Mary,’ he insisted, ‘I am fine,’ and he unpacked the small overnight valise Sing Hoo had brought from the servants’ camp.

When it came time to order dinner Robert was indecisive and had little appetite. I ordered for myself and suggested some chicken soup for him. Something light. By the time the soup came his skin was hot to the touch and he was running a fever.

‘I’m fine,’ he murmured once more, but I could feel the burning and insisted on taking command.

‘Is there a cold stream?’ I asked the innkeeper, a fat man in the habit of carrying a knife with him, I noticed, though I only ever saw him use it to carve meat off the joint.

He nodded and pointed away from the settlement towards the higher ground.

‘Have them bring me a bucket of water from it,’ I directed. ‘Cold.’

When the maid arrived with the bucket it was icy enough to bring Robert’s temperature down if I doused him in it, I was sure.

‘Come now.’ I took him by the arm and guided him to the bed.

He seemed confused.

‘But dinner…’ his voice trailed.

He was getting hotter.

At first I had no other thought than perhaps this was a chill and that with a good night’s rest and some cooling he would recover. I knew what to do. Jane and I had made cold compresses to ease Helen’s fever when she was little. The freezing flannels had broken the child’s burning overnight. I started to cool Robert’s skin with the spring water and, after protesting at first, he let me.

‘Bring me another bucket of this water,’ I directed the maid.

After some time I realised that Robert’s fever was not breaking and the cold compresses were curiously ineffective. By midnight he was all but delirious. The sweat dripped off his pale skin and the cloth of cool water became hot in my hand almost immediately I held it to his forehead or swabbed his chest.

‘Doctor?’ Wang offered.

‘No. No.’

I forbore to call a Chinese doctor, trusting instead to my own nursing skills and being unsure what might be prescribed, for what little I knew of Chinese medicine seemed to me more outlandish than wise. The cuts and strains and scratches we had suffered over the whole journey
had all been mended in our own keeping—there was no need to turn to native superstition. I dismissed our servants back to their tents and continued in my nursing activities. As the hours wore on I forgot my own exhaustion, continually dousing Robert, blowing on his face and watching for any sign of a recovery.

At two in the morning or thereabouts I had an idea. I left him only a second, running to the fireside and waking the inn’s servants who slept there.

‘Come,’ I ordered them, hauling them behind me back up to the room.

‘Move the bed. Over to the window,’ I shouted.

Sleepily they hovered in the doorway.

‘Come along!’ I released the catch on the window to let in the cold, night air.

Then I returned to the foot of the bed and hauled the frame myself until they realised what I wanted and put their backs into it.

‘And fetch me another bucket of water from the stream. Cold as you can,’ I barked at one poor girl. ‘Now!’

As the night wore on, Robert called out, very loud, and in English. He shouted the name of a dog he had as a child.

‘To heel, Tuppence,’ he yelled. ‘To heel!’

Once he gave instruction as to the care of different specimens of orchid I knew he had grown at Kew. A few times he said my name and for an instant I thought perhaps he knew I was there, but it was not so. As the dawn approached, I worried that his shouting would carry and perhaps be recognised as English. As the maid brought bucket after bucket of icy water, one each hour now, there was fear in her eyes at this strange screaming. I explained Robert’s cries away.

‘He is a scholar,’ I said. ‘These words are from ancient texts.’

The screams got worse. I tried to hold his jaw but he bit me, hard. I was so concerned I thought of gagging him, but a few minutes of that, achieved with a length of muslin from our packing case, seemed only to make him more agitated and I could not bear it and loosened the cloth immediately.

As dawn broke he was no better. In fact, my guess was that his skin was hotter still. Sing Hoo and Wang came to the rooms as they did every morning when the sun rose. They shifted, immediately worried. Robert was such a force to be reckoned with that to see him delirious and vulnerable was disturbing for us all.

‘Doctor?’ Wang offered.

I declined.

‘No. Sing Hoo, you must tell the men we will rest here. Have them guard the camp in shifts and dispense a little money—perhaps two
cash
each—for their amusement.’

It was important to consider our charges, no matter what else was going on.

‘Go!’ I urged him.

Wang stayed with me.

I had not slept and I was clearly exhausted.

‘You rest,’ Wang motioned. ‘I will do this.’

I curled in the chair by the bed but such was my worry that I only dozed fitfully. By late morning Robert’s limbs were twitching in spasm. His skin was pink and his mouth became dry within seconds of swabbing his lips with a sponge. He had stopped shouting, but his silence now seemed worse to me than the uncontrollable screams. I was frantic. The sweat was still running off the poor man’s body and I wondered fearfully how much more he could stand.

‘What shall I do, my love?’ I muttered under my breath.

After all the commotion and entreaties of the long night, Robert sat up, his eyes open. He stared at Wang
and I distractedly, unable to stay still for a moment as his arms twitched at his side. Then with a focused determination he reached out and grabbed my forearm.

‘Get the tea, Mary,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Whatever happens to me. You must get the tea to the port.’

And then he let go of my arm and fell back, lying with his eyes closed and his body convulsing. It was terrifying.

‘My God,’ I started to cry. ‘Robert,’ I called, trying to bring him back. ‘Robert.’

The tears were pouring down my cheeks. He did not speak. I grabbed him by the shoulders. His arms were completely limp as they jerked, and I shook him hard in desperation.

‘Robert,’ I screamed, letting go in horror as I realised from the feel of him that he was going, that he had given up. I slapped him on the cheek, a fury rising in me.

‘Don’t leave. Don’t leave,’ I cried.

Wang was standing beside me silently, a look of terror on his face.

‘Master,’ he started.

‘Yes,’ I shouted hysterically. I was absolutely desperate. ‘Fetch the doctor. Fetch him now.’

I don’t think I stopped crying from that moment until Wang returned almost an hour later. In the meantime I swabbed Robert’s body and dripped water into his mouth constantly, but there was little change in his condition.

‘If he is still moving, then he is alive,’ I told myself. ‘Don’t you dare leave me,’ I entreated him. ‘Don’t you dare.’

This could not be what our love was destined for. I refused to think it.

When Wang opened the door at last, the doctor entered and bowed to me. He was a fit, jolly-looking, old man. I must have looked a fright—up all night and half frantic. He stared past me though and, seeing immediately Robert’s
distress, he went directly to the bedside and got straight

down to business.

‘How long like this?’ he asked.

‘He has been hot all night,’ I replied. ‘But twitching since this morning.’

I felt relieved to have some help, although this man, I noticed, had broken nails and a ragged hem to his gown. My heart fluttering, the doctor examined Robert quickly and brought from his case two long, thin needles and a jar of evil-smelling unction. This preparation he smeared on Robert’s lips and on his fingernails. I sighed with frustration. Surely this could have no measure of success. I could bleed Robert myself, I realised. Yes, I would have Wang fetch leeches. This Chinese medicine was hokum and this country doctor a fool. I must try myself. Why had I not thought of bleeding him before?

The doctor raised the needles, clearly about to apply them. Horrified, I flung myself forwards.

‘No!’ I shouted. ‘You’ll hurt him.’

The doctor moved back calmly.

‘Your master has a reason to die?’ he asked.

It was a callous question.

‘You want him to die? You are prepared to answer for it?’

I almost spat with fury. How dare he? What kind of medical man worked by fear and threat? If I lost Robert I would die myself. I would have to.

‘Leave him alone,’ I said and I turned to pick up my dousing cloth.

The minute my back was turned the doctor moved quickly once more to the bedside. He inserted his needles deftly into Robert’s left ear. Then, as I realised what he had done and was about to turn on him, he bowed, stepped back and sat to one side. I had no truck with this and immediately dipped my cloth in the bucket and went to
remove the stupid pins and douse Robert again. Clearly this man had been a false hope and I must continue to look after him myself. As I approached the bed, the doctor held out his hand to stop me.

‘Twenty breaths,’ he said.

The man was mad.

‘He has been like this for hours,’ I shouted, dismissing him.

Without a further word the doctor grabbed me. He was far bigger than I and rough-handled me over to the chair easily.

‘Fifteen breaths,’ he said.

I hammered on his shoulders. Robert continued to twitch on the mattress.

‘Wang,’ I shouted furiously. ‘Get this man off me!’

Wang cast his eyes around the room, unable to come to a decision about what to do.

‘Ten breaths,’ the doctor said calmly.

I loosened my grip on him. I’d whip Wang myself for ignoring me. Robert was lying there dying for all he cared. I tried to stay calm and counted the doctor’s slow breaths until there were ten.

‘See,’ I shouted without even looking. ‘Useless!’

At this the doctor stepped back, turned to the bed and bowed graciously. Robert was pink but still. His chest rose and fell calmly with each breath. There was a change in his state, and it was certainly for the better. It was a miracle.

‘Oh! Oh, thank you. Thank you,’ I cried in shock, as my anger fell away and I realised, shamefacedly, that I had panicked.

I grasped the doctor’s hand but he shook me off disdainfully and only moved to the bed, took out the needles in Robert’s ear and inserted them instead near his collar bone.

‘You people know nothing,’ he muttered.

Then the old man sat patiently on the chair to wait out the fever. A shocked laugh left my lips.

‘Bring the doctor something to eat and drink,’ I ordered Wang as I peeked at the needles, wondering if they hurt.

On either side of the bed, the old man and I watched carefully the rest of the day. The doctor drank some green tea but would not eat anything. I sank down on my knees and thanked God that Robert’s condition was improving. I reached out and held his hand and I swear, he squeezed my fingers. I had not lost him.

‘
Nue,
‘ the doctor said, without looking at me.’there have been outbreaks in the hills.’

Nue,
I later learned, was a kind of malaria. No doubt the disease that had carried those villagers away.

By the evening Robert was asleep, his skin was cool and his breathing steady. I had washed and changed and taken time to eat. As the sun sank, the doctor left. I paid him twice what he had asked, such was my gratitude. He left instructions as to Robert’s diet and suggested not moving him until he was fully recovered. Judging me of an independent mind despite his advice, he said the next hospital on our route was at the Shan te Maou temple. If we did continue on the road it might be as well to know that help could be found there. For me, however, there was no question of it. I was taking no chances. We would stay as long as Robert needed.

I spoke to the landlord to secure our room and then had a small bed made up on the floor where I slept at last, waking twice in the night, frantic. Once I was in a sheer panic and the second time I dreamt we were in Scotland, a place I have never been. There were midges everywhere and Robert said to me, ‘I had rather die than have to leave you, Mary.’ And I could not reply. I could not form the words. As I woke, I jumped from the little bed and checked on my patient.
He was fine, of course, the dream only a foolish fancy. When I opened my eyes the third time it was morning and Robert was sitting up. I rushed to his side and flung my arms around him.

‘You scared me,’ I said.

‘What happened?’

‘You almost died,’ I cried.

He had no memory at all of the fever though he still felt weak. In a babble I told him everything that had happened and of the doctor’s treatment and instructions.

‘It will set us back to tarry,’ he objected.

‘Lord, Robert, I thought I would be ordering that monument you drew. Your own mausoleum with Fortune carved over the gate. We will stay here until you are completely well. And you, my boy, will eat fish and vegetables as instructed.’

Robert laughed.

‘You are clearly in charge, then,’ he teased me. ‘I take it that you would have been upset at my demise?’

I shuddered at the thought. He was weak still, dizzy when he tried to rise.

‘If you had gone, that cord that runs between us would have pulled me over the divide,’ I swore. ‘I could not bear it.’

I brought flowers to the bedside and read to him from one of my books of Chinese myths. For days my patient fell asleep to stories of warriors who could fly and of spirits who returned to earth to haunt their dishonourable relations. The threat of separation, even separation by death, had scared both of us and, as what had happened sank in, Robert became tender with me once more, strong enough between restorative naps, to take me in his arms and kiss me.