The Secret Mandarin (5 page)

When I woke after this restless sleep it was already light. I shook off my misgivings and dressed for breakfast. Downstairs, Robert was just finishing. He drained his glass. I wished him a good morning and slipped uncomfortably into a seat. It transpired that the Hunters had gone to church early. St Peter’s held special services for travellers about to embark and my shipmates were, it seemed, of a pious disposition. It would be awkward now but I would do my best to befriend them once we were underway. It was a long voyage, after all.

In silence, I sipped some cocoa and nibbled on a slice of bread. Outside the little window the weather was perfect for getting off. The dockside was bustling with activity, ships loading last-minute supplies and sailors turning out of the waterside inns, some drunker than others. Robert paid our bill.

‘I will escort you to the
Filigree,
’ he said. ‘I promised Jane I would make sure you were safely aboard. I have sent the luggage.’

I felt like a schoolgirl, but there was no point in arguing.

‘Lead on,’ I replied, falling into step along the cobbles of the sea front. I told myself it would be fine. I was set to try. Perhaps India would be wonderful and I would lead a life of exotic adventure in the Raj. Shortly, we came to a halt at the ship, right under the name, emblazoned in white above our heads. Robert gave me my passage money. I squared up to him and held out my hand.

‘I know you only want rid of me. You might not believe it but I wish you the best, Robert. Come home safe and wealthy from your adventures.’

Robert peered at my hand and then reached out to take it.

‘Goodbye, Mary,’ he said. ‘It seems unlikely we will meet again.’

He did not stay to watch me up the gangplank. I held the railing studiously. William’s money had secured a more expensive passage for me this time. The ship was bigger than the
Regatta
and well finished. Mostly she was laid out to cabins. Up the other gangplank they were loading boxes and casks—the final supplies for the voyage. I stood at the top of the plank and with some satisfaction, my gaze followed the figure of Robert as he made his way towards the
Braganza
and disappeared into the throng of bobbing heads.

‘Well,’ I thought, ‘at least I am on my own reconnaissance now. I shall find my cabin.’

I drew myself up and turned to face the deck, and my future.

This resolve, however, did not last me thirty seconds for I had no sooner moved than Mr Hunter appeared from a doorway near the poop deck.

‘Miss Penney,’ he greeted me curtly.

I nodded back, at a loss how to explain Robert’s poor behaviour the day before. Mr Hunter, however, showed no sign of discomfort at all.

‘I have come to check our cabin. Clara will follow me shortly. Perhaps I could help you to yours?’ He took my arm.

For one moment I thought perhaps it would be fine, and then my blood ran cold as Mr Hunter placed his free hand on my waist, coming too near to whisper:

‘I realised last night that your face was familiar. No one on this ship or indeed in Calcutta need know, Miss Penney, of your particular talents or your misfortune.’

I pulled back. Would I never be free of the reputation afforded me in those damn scandal sheets?

‘We can come to some arrangement, my dear. I did not expect you to be childish.’ The blaggard pushed up against me so that I could smell the tobacco on his skin and the claret on his breath. His contemptible intentions were all too clear.

‘Would Mrs Hunter find it childish?’ I challenged him.

‘A man being married never troubled you before as I understand it.’

‘I can find my own cabin, thank you,’ I retorted and turned away, catching the sneer he gave me, the half-muttered threat under his breath.

‘You don’t have a choice, you harlot.’

Robert, it occurred to me, would probably agree with him. For that matter so would William. I was fair game.

But there on the deck, quite suddenly I found that I did have a choice. I did not have the choice I wanted, of course, but that was by the by. In a flash I realised that if I was to be labelled with my shame and preyed upon wherever I went, then why should I go anywhere? Especially not on William’s say-so or indeed, Robert’s. Damn them all, why should I do what they say? It was for Henry’s welfare, certainly, but then who was to know if I didn’t embark? Who was to berate me or penalise him? In fact, the only thing that mattered was that William wouldn’t find out. Robert would be gone, I reasoned. Jane hardly left the house and certainly never went as far as Drury Lane. I had lost my family whether I went to Calcutta or not and I was never expected to return. I had tried to come back and it had not worked out as I had hoped. Now I might as well make myself happy, or as happy as I could be. I would not be subjected to Mr Hunter’s odious desires. Why should I?

Once the idea presented itself I was taken. My heart fluttering with anticipation, I climbed the steps to the poop
deck without a word, leaving Mr Hunter behind me. Above, the captain was not at his post but the first officer presented himself. I had made the decision.

‘Take my trunk off,’ I said. ‘I will not be sailing today.’

‘But Miss Penney, your passage is part-paid. We cannot wait for you.’

‘I am not going,’ I said very definitely. ‘Keep the money.’

Mr Hunter had left the deck when we came back down. No doubt he thought he had the whole voyage to prowl me. I watched as my trunk was carried off and I paid tuppence to have it taken back to Mrs Gordon’s. A plan was taking shape, even as I walked away from the
Filigree
and all my good intentions. I could pitch up in London and use a different name. I had always wanted to be named Georgiana. The more I thought of it, the better it seemed. Would William even recognise me, I wondered, if I changed my name and my appearance? Dyed my hair darker with the walnut, plucked my eyebrows thin and wore an old-fashioned mole? I would disappear into the world of London’s theatres. Better for me to stay in England surely, than go to Calcutta. Why should I be banished when I was not the one who had broken my word? I had tried what they wanted, now I would make my own way and best of all they never need know.

Fired up, I cut along the dock, avoiding the
Braganza,
and walked uphill towards Mrs Gordon’s. With luck I could take the public coach back to London the following morning and have, if not everything, at least some chance of happiness. I would be in Shaftesbury Avenue in time for the evening shows. I still had friends there, people I could call on easily and who would welcome me back with a role if I wanted it. They would keep my secret, I knew, for Drury Lane is full of confidences and cover-ups and its residents are adept at their workings. Quite suddenly I felt exhilarated. I had been so cooped up that even walking alone along the narrow streets
was an adventure and now here I was unexpectedly at the start of a new career. Another twist in my life prompted by a damn blaggard, I reflected, but still this felt good.

‘I shall call myself Georgiana Grace,’ I decided. It had a ring to it. Oh, yes, I would dine well at Mrs Gordon’s house and, better still, I’d play Rosalind yet.

I rapped on Mrs Gordon’s door and the maid answered. The trunk had followed me up and was now deposited in the otherwise empty hallway. Mrs Gordon hurried down from her chamber and I made my requests, checked the Hunters were now gone and, paying one night’s lodgings, I settled by the fire with a bottle of burgundy to myself, a plate of cheese and some bread.

‘I do not wish to be disturbed,’ I said and Mrs Gordon asked me no questions. It occurred to me in any case that she was the kind of person who knew the answer before the question was posed.

‘The London coach leaves at nine tomorrow. I’ll have the maid rouse you with time to spare,’ she said.

I ate, read and daydreamed. I thought perhaps that after some months had passed I might manage to see Henry in the park. I could walk there when Nanny Charlotte was sure to be taking the children out and I could keep my distance, but watch him nonetheless—see him grow up a little. The loss of Henry was at the heart of me and while I knew I would never see my sister again—that simply was not possible—perhaps, I hoped, I might be able to keep an eye on my son. The more I thought of it the more I liked my plan. At length the
Filigree
sailed and when it was gone, and I could no longer change my mind, I felt freedom beyond measure and I decided to take an afternoon stroll. The weather was fine and I was eager. I pulled on my gloves, checked my hat in the glass and set out to work up an appetite for my evening meal.

I wonder often what might have happened had I not left Mrs Gordon’s that afternoon. I wonder what might have happened had the
Braganza
set sail an hour or two before she did. For I had made my decision to disappear and it was not in my mind that Robert, of course, was still in Portsmouth. In fact, I was not thinking of Robert at all and, while I avoided the docks and set out in the opposite direction, I had no thought that he might see me. I expected him to be in his cabin or sitting on deck reading some dull and worthy textbook as he set out to sea.

Robert, however, believing I had gone, had repaired to a public house to celebrate before his ship set off. He was not a drinker as a rule but I expect I had tried him and he had hoped to blow off some steam. The place he had chosen was not a bawdy house. It lay away from the docks on the path I happened upon for my afternoon stroll. It was frequented mostly by naval officers, many of whom followed Robert into the street when he spotted me through one of the small windows and dashed outside in rage and disbelief. He bellowed my name so loudly it echoed.

I froze and so did he. Both of us stopped on opposite sides of the narrow street, staring in incredulity and horror at the sight of each other. We hesitated. Then I turned and ran, pelting up the cobblestones, cutting into a muddy alleyway with no thought but to flee, blood pumping through me so fast that my heart was hammering. Of course, a lady is at a great disadvantage when it comes to a chase and I did not get far.

He caught me roughly and bundled me back down the hill, dragging me most of the way. I could not imagine where he was going, could not make out the furious muttering under his breath. His fingers were gripping my arm so tightly that I thought he would draw blood. People avoided us, stepping out of the way and deliberately not meeting my eyes.
I was crying. As we came closer to the port such was Robert’s fury that I feared he was going to throw me over the side and into the stinking, green sea. Instead he clutched me by the shoulders and pushed me aboard the
Braganza.

I shouted, ‘No, no, no,’ over and over. I cursed him for his hateful snobbery. I shrieked every insult I had kept to myself all the weeks I had been home. ‘You liar! You bastard, Robert Fortune! You are nothing but a Scottish pretender! Even your wife can’t bear to touch you! I’ll embarrass you now, by God! What would Jane say if she could see you like this? You’re a beast and a bully! No gentleman at all!’

Robert did not reply. He bundled me across the deck and flung me through the door of his cabin, slamming it shut and turning the key before I could round on him. I sank to my knees, pulling the clothes off the bed, flinging papers, scattering his precious tobacco on the bare floor. I wanted to rip everything apart, to smash my way through the thick, wooden walls and destroy everything.

‘Let me out,’ I screamed, hammering so hard my palms hurt. ‘Let me out! You have no right, Robert! No right!’

No one came. As my wrath wore down I lay on the floorboards and cried until at last my tears ran out. I waited a long time, the ship creaking, footsteps passing by the doorway, until at length the sounds of the ship changed, voices were raised and we cast off. Outside the tiny porthole the skyline seemed to move. We were in motion. Robert had clearly decided that if I could not be trusted to leave England alone then he would escort me himself. I could imagine nothing worse.

I sank down onto my knees and for once I prayed. ‘Dear Lord, please,’ I said, ‘not to sea with Robert. Not with Robert. Anything, anything else.’

But as the ship rocked this way and that, setting out from Portsmouth on her long voyage, it seemed that that was exactly what God had in mind.

Robert and I did not speak for a month. He waited until we were suitably far from shore before he let me out of his cabin. He had it in his consideration, I expect, that I might have jumped ship and swum back had he not left a few miles of open water between England and me.

‘You swine,’ I hissed at him, my voice acid and my heart black, as he led me to my own quarters that first afternoon.

I had never hated anyone as much as I hated Robert then—not even William. If I had had the opportunity I would have cheerfully pushed him overboard but our passage to the cabin newly assigned to me took us nowhere near the fringes of the ship. As it was, my trunk had been fetched from Mrs Gordon’s, a small ship’s cot had been made up for me and from there on, as Robert closed the door, not a word passed between us as we sailed south. My meals arrived from the galley on a wooden tray. Robert dined with the captain and the officers. Everyone avoided me. I had been hauled aboard red-faced and screaming, and I could only guess what Robert had told them.

My isolation made the days and nights both long and lonely. There is little enough to do on a voyage, no privacy outside the dark, wooden cabin and scarcely any space or, indeed, occupation outside your own mind—if no one will speak a civil word to you, that is. I passed Robert frostily
on deck every day that first week or two and neither he, the officers or the main body of the crew acknowledged me once. I was a pariah.

At night I had a strange dream, that Henry, his body still that of a baby, but his face as old as his father’s, screamed abuse at me for leaving him behind. As the ship sailed further I felt the lack of him like a hunger—a physical sensation—that woke me often in the night. I had not had this on my last voyage for I had not known the child at all and my mind had been focused on William’s betrayal. Now, I tried not to dwell on these dreams and, during the long days and their endless line of blue outside my porthole, I continued with my Hindustani lessons out of sheer boredom, and read about India’s history and the customs of the Bengali region around Calcutta. Of elephant-headed goddesses and golden temples. Day after day after day, my hours in the dark cabin were punctuated only by a short and uncomfortable stroll along the deck with all eyes upon me. With a sinking sadness I resigned myself to this punishment and to my banishment once more.

One such dreary afternoon, the line of blue at the porthole grew a streak of vibrant, tropical green and, unable to take my eyes from it, I flung open my cabin door to discover we were pulling into dock. I rushed across the deck, excited, halting in my tracks only when I saw Robert standing at the rail, his brown suit buttoned up and cravat in place. As if he sensed my movement he swung round, his blue eyes hard.

‘Is this Tenerife?’ I asked in a breathless rush, quite forgetting my hatred of him in the excitement.

We had stopped here on the
Regatta
and the ladies had bought trinkets. Robert strode across the deck towards me and almost swept me off my feet with the force of his anger
as he pushed me to the side of the steps that led up to the poop deck. I still did not immediately understand what he was doing and I continued to babble.

‘They have parrots here, as I recall,’ I said, pushing back against him. ‘Let me pass, Robert. It is quite a spectacle.’

The crew were all about their business on the deck, securing the sails and making ready. The captain was above us, instructing his officers. I heard a snippet of their orders—a list ofprovisions required and names of the men who were allowed ashore.

‘Robert,’ I started, distracted and enthusiastic still. ‘What are you doing?’

He had taken a thin rope and expertly tied a knot, which he slipped quickly over my left hand and then the right, before I had time to set myself free. Then he tethered me to the post at the foot of the stairs.

‘No. No. I promise,’ I whispered, desperate with embarrassment. ‘I will not jump ship here. Please, Robert, don’t. Please.’

But it was no use. He grunted like an animal about to attack and then he moved off.

‘How could you? How could you?’ I shouted.

My cheeks were burning. My brother-in-law turned, his eyes as sharp as a hawk’s trained on its kill. I knew he was thinking of hauling me back to my cabin if I made a fuss. Damn him. My stomach turned over in fear and a single tear slipped down my cheek as I bowed my head, trying to contain my fury. I did not want to be confined to my cabin for the rest of the trip. I could not have borne it.

‘I will be quiet,’ I said, tight-lipped and unwilling.

It was better at least to stand on deck and see the loading and unloading on the shore. I kept my head high. The whole crew were in good spirits as the stocks of fresh water, fruit, meat and vegetables were replenished.

‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ they said, tipping their caps as they passed me, acknowledging my existence for the first time since I came on board.

No one mentioned the rope that bound me or even looked at it and I tried not to dwell on what Robert had done though I was furious with him.

Robert had written to my sister and now at length I saw her name on a packet that was passed down to the dockside. As it passed me by, I felt sad that Jane would know I had been caught trying to get away. She always worried so, as if the spectre of our father might be waiting in the wings to punish any wrongdoing. I did not wish to add my own missive home. I could think of no words that would calm her. Robert, I surmised, would make a better job of that. My apology could wait. Had he told her, by postscript, I wondered, that he had tethered me to the ship? That he had confined me by force? That in a matter of weeks he had struck me, kidnapped me, bound me and bullied me? He had a fire in his belly that belied his bookish existence in London—how could my sister have married such a brute? But then I could not be sure whether Jane would be more horrified by my behaviour in sneaking off the
Filigree
or her husband’s in press-ganging me to his own voyage.

All in all, I was left for four hours tied to the deck that day in Tenerife. My wrists were as painful as my furious heart as I tried and failed to loosen the bonds. When we sailed away from the port at last, heading back to sea, I watched the yellow houses on the dockside recede until they were only tiny pinpricks on the blue horizon—a final goodbye to all that was even vaguely familiar. The coast of Africa lay ahead.

When Robert came to cut me free my body tightened with fear and anger. God knows what he might do next.
I said nothing, only regarded him with clear disdain and held his gaze defiantly as he removed the ropes. Still he did not speak, only stood back to let me return to my cabin.

Over the following week Robert maintained his silence. Whenever I saw him he was tending his plants. Glass cases like huge trunks had been bolted into the deck. He watched over them devotedly, like a child with a fallen fledgling. And they thrived. As the weather became warmer he appeared to relax. He worked without a jacket, or when he was not working he sometimes sat reading. The day he first said something to me it was a week since the ship had pulled out of the Canaries. I had taken to walking the deck for an hour each morning, as there were gulls and jumping fish to watch where we followed the coastline.

‘These Ward’s cases have done well,’ he said as I passed him on my way down the deck.

There was no sign of viciousness in his voice. It was as if we were in the habit of passing our time chattering to each other and this casual comment was not a landmark—he sounded just as he used to in the drawing room at Gilston Road. For a moment I found it difficult to comprehend that Robert had spoken to me at all and I was not sure how best to reply.

‘Ward’s cases,’ Robert repeated, tapping the top of the glass box.

I could see out of the corner of my eye the cabin boy stop coiling rope and silently watch us. The child was the only person on board who routinely acknowledged my presence. He never spoke but always nodded in recognition when I passed him and was often sent to deliver my tray. One time I had offered him a scrap of cloth to bind a cut on his arm, but he had fled from my cabin in terror. It made me wonder what reputation I had been
afforded among the crew. Robert sat down on the deck and continued.

‘At first I was troubled by weeds. But what I realised, Mary, is that if unwanted seed can germinate on board so can wanted ones. On the way home I shall try it. I shall embark with bags of seed and arrive with saleable seedlings worth a great deal more.’

He poked his trowel at a bougainvillea plant he had brought on board. The flowers were a beautiful, deep pink. They bloomed in abundance all over the wiry stems. Robert picked one and passed it to me.

‘Robert, you know that you have bullied me half to death,’ I accused him. I was not that easy. ‘And you seem to expect simply to take up normal society. I am angry.’

I held the flower in my hand.

‘Yes,’ he said, a slight tremor in his voice. ‘I am angry too, Mary. You lied. You did not keep our agreement. But we are beyond Europe and there is no point in argument now and every point in coming to terms.’

‘No apology then,’ I suggested.

Robert’s body became tense at once and he leant forward, his voice too low for anyone else to hear. I think he wanted to strike me, but he was holding himself back.

‘And did
you
apologise? You are headstrong, Mary Penney. You simply do whatever you please. I took in your son for Jane’s sake but that lodging did not come free of charge. If you leave he will be recognised a Duke’s grandson, one day a Duke’s son, too, with a title of his own. Don’t you want that for him? For us all? And I catch you in Portsmouth and your ship has sailed. Come now.’

I bit my tongue but I am sure my eyes flashed with fury.

‘Think on it,’ he said. ‘I have done what’s best for the boy.’

And he returned to his work as I stalked away. He had a point, of course, God damn him. I knew he did.

In my cabin, I placed Robert’s flower in a tiny glass of water on my bedside table. It was the brightest thing I owned by far.

That night, after dinner, I took my life in my hands and crossed the deck to Robert’s cabin. The weather had become hotter and I was uncomfortable despite the breeze. My only sleeveless gown was of a pale eau de nil tulle. I coiled my hair in the French style to keep it off my shoulders. I had come to try for a peace. Some kind of resolution. Robert was right—there was no point in quarrelling so far from home though it was difficult to quell the anger in me. I paused a moment, took a deep breath and then knocked.

‘Come in.’

Inside, lit by two oil lamps, Robert was surrounded by his books. He stuck stringently to his suits the whole voyage and was still wearing evening dress, having dined earlier with the captain. His face was dark from the sun and lines of paler skin showed at his wrists. If he was surprised to see me he showed no sign of it.

‘Mary,’ he said. ‘Can I offer you…’he gestured towards a decanter on the side table.

I shook my head.

‘Robert,’ I started with my heart pounding, ‘I have come to ask you, where am I heading? You have kidnapped me and I don’t have a clue of your plans.’

‘I had no choice, Mary,’ he started his defence.

My fingers quivered. I did not intend to fight with him—that would not get me what I wanted and I knew now that he would simply force me to do whatever he decided was best. Straining against my instincts, I stepped further into the room and shut the door behind me.

‘You were probably right,’ I conceded. ‘I had promised
to leave. Only that fellow Hunter recognised me. He threatened me and I walked off the ship. He wanted…relations I was not prepared to accord. And now, Robert, I merely want to know where I am going and when I might get there.’

Robert shifted uncomfortably before he replied.

‘Oh, Mary. I had no idea that man had…’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said miserably. ‘You are right in that I intended to stay in England and I should not have done so.’

I waited momentarily and Robert nodded, clearly deciding that I was at least rational.

‘The captain’s plan is to dock somewhere on the western side of the Indian continent but he told me he must consider weather conditions to the other side of Africa before he can be sure.’ Robert jerked his head to the left indicating the general direction of the land mass. ‘It is only then he will make his judgement where we will port.’

‘Will you leave me there?’ I asked plainly.

My hands were still quivering.

‘We are bound for Hong Kong,’ he said quietly. ‘I have paid your passage.’

The truth was, of course, that Robert did not trust me to stay in India. I can hardly blame him. Shortly after we embarked he amended his original plan. He discarded Calcutta and chose to take me somewhere remote that had the advantage of a less regular passage, as well as being a hub for his own voyage. His plan was to use Hong Kong as a rallying point at the end of his trip. He would therefore be able to check on me over time. It made sense now I thought of it.

‘I see,’ I said, hiding my surprise.

‘We have another eleven weeks or so. The current to the other side will bear us more swiftly.’

I hung my head. I knew the currents around the African coastline only too well. I had to be practical and control myself. Robert took my silence for fear.

‘There are no monsoons at this time of year, Mary. I trust Captain Barraclough. He is prudent.’

This half-hearted attempt at comfort annoyed me but I said nothing. I was further and further from London, that was all. At least now I knew.

‘Did you tell Jane that I am here?’

Robert nodded. ‘As briefly as I could,’ he said.

I suppose that was fair of him.

That night I stayed up late. As the humidity increased I found myself keener on the clear, balmy, black skies than the midday swelter. I excused myself from Robert’s cabin and took a turn around the deck. The wide sky was breathtaking, more pinprick stars coming into focus every minute. The only sound was the boat cutting through the water, slapping against the swell. I have always been a night owl rather than a lark. It felt like a very long voyage as we sailed into the inky blackness ahead. I was childish, I suppose, but with tears on my cheeks I surreptitiously snapped the stem of one of Robert’s stupid plants in a silent rebellion. I ripped the bright flower to pieces and threw it over the side.