Wanderlust (22 page)

One day she might not believe that, Ling Hwei, but I suppose for now it will do. They exchanged a knowing smile, and in an odd way she envied Ling Hwei. She was sorry sometimes that she was not having Charles's baby. Her life was so distant and remote here that the restrictions of the society she lived in no longer seemed to apply and she missed him so terribly now. Night after night, as she lay in the nun's bed, she would think of the nights they had shared, and the days, and the laughter ' the endless train ride, and the discoveries in Peking, the glorious days on the Orient Express when it all began ' and their passionate lovemaking in the Pera Palas ' how far away it all seemed now, and she was desperately lonely without him.

The letter that Audrey wrote to Charles on Christmas Eve reached him four weeks later, and he sat reading it late one night in his living room in London. The fire was lit, and he had a glass of brandy in his hand as he read again and again of Shih Hwa's death and Ling Hwei's baby, and then her words ' . How I wish that baby were ours, my darling ' how sorry I am now that we were so careful ' And in an odd way, he knew precisely how she felt. He had reproached himself a million times for everything ' leaving her in Harbin, not forcing her to come home with him, not marrying her ' leaving her to the Japanese ' leaving her ' leaving her ' he hadn't had a moment's peace since he had. And finally, in desperation, he had confessed it all to James, who had been deeply shocked by the story.

You know, it's amazing ' . Violet was sure it was serious with you two last summer, and I told her she was mad. You know, the girl amazes me sometimes. he smiled. She's almost always right. I wouldn't tell her that though, if I were you ' it'll make her terribly hard to get along with! Charles had smiled, wishing he could feel amused by Lady Vi's omniscience.

I was a damn fool to leave her. It makes me sick thinking of what could happen to her there. I knew it by the time I left Shanghai. I was crazy.

You have your own life to lead, Charles. James was always sympathetic, and particularly now as they sat in a quiet corner of his club sharing a glass of port. You can't be expected to spend the next year in Manchuria, tending orphans. Though I must say, I'm surprised at her. I didn't think that was quite her thing either. If you told me she had stayed on to take photographs, I could believe that quite easily, but not this ' . He smiled gently at his old friend. She's a good soul to take those children on, isn't she?

She's a damn fool, Charles had said darkly. And Violet had returned the compliment to him, when her husband told her the story.

He did what? She had shrieked the words as James looked at her in amazement. He left her there? In occupied Manchuria? Is he crazy?

Darling, she's a grown woman after all. She has a right to make decisions for herself, and she made that one.

Then why did he leave her? He took her there to begin with, he could have damn well stayed with her till she came home.

Apparently, going to Harbin was her idea, and she absolutely refused to leave the children.

I should hope so. Vi understood perfectly and thought her a saint for staying.

He couldn't very well violate his contract, and abandon all his responsibilities. He would have excused Charles of anything, far more than Charles was willing to excuse himself. Charlie completely agreed with Lady Vi, and thought himself the worst bastard on earth for leaving Audrey in China. Not a day went by that he didn't reproach himself for leaving. But there was no reproach in her letters to him. Particularly the one she had written to him at Christmas. It was tender and gentle and loving, and it was obvious that she was anxious for the nuns to come. She had already been there for over two months, and she was worried about getting home now.

Charles answered her as often as he could, but there seemed to be so little to say to her. For a writer, he found himself bereft of words, whenever he sat facing a sheet of paper with her name scrawled across the top, My darling Audrey ' And then silence. What could he say to her? How desperately sorry he was? What a huge success his latest book was becoming? That he had been invited to India in the spring and Egypt in the fall? ' that Lady Vi and James wanted him back the following summer? It all seemed so stupid and inconsequential, and he missed her so desperately. He felt as though someone had torn a limb from his body the day he left her. And he kept remembering again and again what she said before he left ' what if those children were ours ' and then what she said about Ling Hwei's baby, that she wished it were she having his child. And the agony was that he wished the same thing now. And he knew there was no point in asking her to marry him again, or to join him in India, or Egypt. She couldn't go. She had to go home to the family whom he felt took such terrible advantage of her. He had secretly come to hate Annabelle, for demanding so much of her, for expecting Audrey to rear her children, tend to her house, do everything for her. When would Audrey get a chance for her own life? And when would he see her again? It was that which tormented him most, and which led him to the cognac bottle every night before he went to bed. He couldn't bear the emptiness of his bed, as he remembered their nights in Venice and Nanking, and Shanghai ' and the endless hours on those tiny trains ' he did nothing except work and think of her. He hardly went out anymore at all, and Lady Vi finally stopped berating him for leaving Audrey in Harbin, because she could see he was suffering enough without her assistance. He had lost weight, and he had a bleak look about the eyes, which worried James.

Lady Vi finally wrote to Audrey herself, and Audrey was thrilled to get the letter, relieved to have her friend in her confidence about her love for Charles, and she wrote to Lady Vi whenever she had a free moment and had already written to Charles, which wasn't often. Or not often enough. And Vi would call Charles whenever she got a letter from Audrey.

What did she say? By mid-February, he sounded grim when Violet called him.

The nuns hadn't arrived yet when she wrote. Of course they could have arrived by now. I certainly hope so. Poor girl. She is really quite the bravest soul I know. And Violet said as much when she gave a dinner party and invited Charles, and his illustrious publisher, Henry Beardsley, as well. She had met him before and rather liked him. He was a powerful, blustery man with a brilliant mind and a somewhat common manner. But he made excellent dinner conversation and James thought it was fun to mix in some fresh blood with their aristocratic friends. And this time Beardsley had surprised them by asking if he could bring his daughter, Charlotte. She was an attractive girl in her late twenties, extremely well groomed, and dressed in the latest fashion, although not beautiful in the classic sense. But she was attractive and very bright. She had gone to college in America, Vassar, and had a Master's in American literature, which made her useful to her father in his business. He was obviously very proud of her, and Vi was surprised to learn that she still lived at home with him. She was twenty-nine years old, she admitted candidly, and her father was widowed.

Actually, I would have preferred law school. She smiled across the table at Charles, in answer to Vi's question about Vassar. American colleges had always fascinated her. But my father objected. He said he didn't need another solicitor in the house, but one day he would need a managing director. Father and daughter exchanged a knowing smile. It was no secret in publishing circles that he was grooming her for the role, and Charles had met her before. But most of his dealings were with her father, and he had never been as impressed by Charlotte as he was that night. She was extremely bright, and very pleasant, and it was obvious to Violet that she was extremely interested in Charlie.

Oh for heaven's sake, Vi ' James gave her a disparaging look as they got undressed later that night. You're always imagining romance in the air.

And am I right? Besides, I didn't call it romance this time, did I?

What's that supposed to mean? He looked at her with interest. He enjoyed her company more than anyone else he knew. Aside from being husband and wife, they had been best friends for years now.

To tell you the truth, darling, I'm not sure. If you want to know what I really think, I think she's cold as ice and she likes who Charlie is. She's twenty-nine years old, she's smart as hell, has plenty of money, and she needs a suitable husband. Charles would be perfect for her.

Good God, you certainly don't waste time. I hope she's not as analytical as you are.

Don't be too sure. She gave him a Mata Hari look and he laughed as she swept off to the bathroom in a cloud of French perfume and pink satin peignoir.

But two weeks later, he wondered if Violet weren't more perceptive than he gave her credit for when he ran into Charles having lunch with Charlotte Beardsley.

Very nice to see you again, Miss Beardsley ' . Charles, old boy, behaving yourself ? They chatted for a few minutes and he moved across the room to the group he was meeting for lunch, but he noticed that Charlie looked relaxed and seemed to be having a good time, and when he questioned him about it the next day, Charlie attributed it all to business.

She's a good-looking girl. James was fishing and Charlie laughed as they stretched their legs out in front of the fire at their club.

Don't be silly, and you can tell Lady Vi to call off the hounds as well. Charlotte wants to start handling my contracts for her father. She says he's getting tired, and my work is rather clean-cut and direct. I don't see any harm in handling it with her, and she gets on well with my agent, cousins or something of the sort. Charlie didn't seem to suspect any ulterior motive, and James insisted to Lady Vi that this time she was wrong. But Violet refused to believe it.

Don't be silly, Vi. And I can tell you, all he thinks about these days is Audrey. Any news from her today? It was March by then, and they were all beginning to wonder if she would ever be able to leave Harbin.

And so was she. She had been asking herself just that for weeks, as the freezing weather held and Ling Hwei came closer and closer to having the baby.

It was mid-March and Audrey was lying in bed in Harbin, thinking of Charlie and the nights they had shared, when she heard a thump and a soft crash in the kitchen beneath her room. She sat up in bed and listened, her mind instantly alert, fearing that the Communists had come to hide there, or worse yet, bandits, as they once had in the church, when they killed the nuns. Her entire body stiffened, and her hand closed around a gun Ling Hwei had given her several months before. She wasn't sure where she had gotten it and she didn't question her about it. She was just very grateful to have it.

She heard another muffled bump, and then a sound as though someone were dragging something very heavy across the floor beneath her. There was no question now. There was someone in the house with them, and as she tiptoed out of her room in one of the nuns' heavy wool nightgowns she had appropriated months before, she saw Ling Hwei tiptoe out of the room she shared with half a dozen of the younger children. Her body was distorted by her baby now, and with a stern look, Audrey waved her back to her room in silence. She didn't want her getting hurt, and the memory of the beheaded nuns came rushing back to her now, as she wondered who was downstairs. There had been no major Communist skirmishes in the area since she'd been there, but the Japanese had been tightening their rein for a while. All she knew was that there was an intruder in the house, and she tiptoed down the stairs with her pistol loaded and cocked, ready to shoot whomever she met, her whole body tense, her eyes darting into the darkened room beneath them as she came down the stairs. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she wondered if she would hear the intruder in time to defend herself, but suddenly she could hear heavy breathing as she saw his shape outlined by the window. With her finger on the trigger she hesitated for only an instant. She realized suddenly that there could be no hesitation, she would have to kill him, but his voice called out to her sharply in the dark. He knew she had seen him, and what startled her was that he had spoken to her in French, assuming that she was one of the nuns.

A growling breathless voice had said to her, as though in pain, Je ne vous ferai pas mal I won't hurt you. He had an odd accent she hadn't heard before, but he had spoken clearly. But there was no way to know if he had come in peace or if he was lying to her.

Qui +!tes-vous? she whispered into the darkness as her heart pounded like jungle drums. She had asked him who he was and she had no idea what he would answer.

Le G+!n+!ral Chang. He spoke up in a clear voice this time, but she did not lower the pistol that she was still keeping trained on him.

Que faites-vous ici? She asked him what he was doing there and waited for his answer.

Je suis bless+!. There was a long silence then, after he told her he was wounded, and coming down the last few steps she grabbed a candle and lit it awkwardly with one hand, still watching his form, as she kept the pistol pointed at him.

She warned him not to move and held the candle high, and all she could see was a stocky man of medium height in what looked like Mongolian costume. There were pools of melting snow around where he stood, and suddenly in the guttering light she could see a huge bloodstained gash on his shoulder. It was wrapped in bloody rags, and he was holding it awkwardly as he looked at her. There was a large pistol shoved into his belt, and a large sword hung at his side, a long strap of bullets over one shoulder, but he held none of his weapons out in defense against her. He only watched her with cautious eyes and asked her if she was one of the nuns of Saint Michael. She wasn't sure whether or not to pretend she was, and then she decided to be truthful. She shook her head, still staring at him in terror, and upstairs she could hear Ling Hwei moving around now. She was terrified that he might see her and hurt her, but he didn't seem ready to hurt anyone. He looked as frightened as Audrey felt as she held the pistol and the candle.