The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure

by Adam Williams

  With a sinking heart, and a growing sense of anticlimax, she listened to Mrs Airton and Herr Fischer, the man they had met at the railway camp on their arrival, discussing the weather. She had nothing against Herr Fischer, but everything about him was dreary. His head emerged like that of a reluctant seal from an old-fashioned tailcoat. With his hair cut short in the Prussian style and sunburned features, his grizzled moustache and stained, calloused hands, he carried about with him an aura of the grime and dust of the railway camp, and his pale eyes blinked like a kindly vole’s as he showered her with laborious and overflowery compliments. He reminded her of one of the tradesmen on whom her aunt had called in the high street.

  Admittedly the two Italian nuns in their black habits would have been a little out of place at a Sussex dinner party. And there was certainly nothing conventional about the pig-tailed, silk-robed Chinaman chattering gaily in plummy English as he spooned his soup and gulped his wine, rolling his eyes as he explained earnestly to the nuns between mouthfuls why he preferred French Camemberts and Bries to Dutch and Swiss cheeses. Yet Charlie Zhang’s very outlandishness in such an ordinary setting merely confirmed for Helen Frances her disillusionment and made him for her the exception that proved the rule. He was like a parody in fancy dress of the exoticism she had hoped to discover here, the eccentric foreigner who had been invited to tea and to whom well-brought up girls such as she had been taught to be particularly polite in case they offended any sensibilities. After an hour of so of polite embarrassment a pony trap would come for him and the English household would resume its orderly ways.

  As the evening progressed Helen Frances experienced a growing sense of futility and boredom. She felt that a trap was closing about her. She wanted, irrationally, to scream or make a scene, or to answer courtesies and platitudes with something so outrageous or shocking it would provoke indignant stares. When she realised that these people would be her only companions for the coming months and years she felt stirrings of panic. Even the doctor, whom she liked, appeared ridiculous to her this evening. With his pale whiskers and inquisitive eyes, his amiable and slightly bumbling manner, he might have stepped out of the pages of the Pickwick Papers; he certainly had no role to play in the sort of adventurous romance that Helen Frances had dreamed of discovering in China. She watched despondently as, with thumbs hooked in his waistcoat and his eyes moving round the wine glasses to make sure that none were empty, he hurried his guests to their places and on to the first course as if activity alone would somehow make the dinner party a success. As for her father—well, tonight, much as she loved him, in his unlikely and ill-fitting white tie and tails, his hair streaked with brilliantine and his moustaches curled, she saw only a bombastic caricature. He had promised to be on his best behaviour but his red face and booming laughter carried with it the atmosphere of the music-hall and the pub.

  She wished she could have caught Tom’s eye, as she had on the captain’s table on the ship, to share with him the satire of the scene, but Tom was deep in conversation with Mrs Airton. Instead she found herself looking towards Henry Manners, whose elegance of evening attire and languid posture made him actually the most incongruous figure in the room. His whole manner smacked of a larger, more cosmopolitan world. Helen Frances imagined that he might, only a minute ago, have left a dinner at the Reform Club or White’s to take his seat at this provincial table. She thought she identified a bored curl to his lip as he attended to his hostess with perfect courtesy and apparent concentration. It did not fool Helen Frances. Suddenly his blue eyes turned in her direction, and his head moved almost imperceptibly in recognition that she was observing him. Despite herself she grinned, and feeling the onset of the giggles, hastily drank a glass of water. His eyes crinkled in amusement and his teeth flashed in a wide smile. Their unspoken alliance lasted for the rest of the meal.

  The doctor tapped his glass after the first course and rose to welcome the newcomers to Shishan. The two nuns clapped their hands, their eyes shining in excitement, as Airton announced the happy news of Tom and Helen Frances’s engagement. If the company would forgive him, he would adopt the Chinese custom of getting the speeches over before the main course. ‘Business before pleasure, as you merchant chaps say.’ He nodded at her father. Helen Frances felt curiously detached. She noticed an ironic expression on Manners’s face as he raised his glass in her direction, and she wanted to smile back. Instead she blushed, and Herr Fischer said something pompous about maidenly modesty. Tom rose in his clumsy manner and delivered a self-deprecatory speech in the varsity style. Her father became sentimental and talked of his little girl. Mercifully the formalities were soon over and the doctor went to the sideboard to carve the mutton.

  She had to admit that everyone was being very kind to her. Herr Fischer described himself as a lifelong bachelor, but protested it was only because in his youth he had never met someone as beautiful and enchanting as her. If he had, he told her, then, by Himmel, he would have duelled every student in Heidelberg to win her hand. Sister Caterina, her apple cheeks flushed with her first glass of wine, was begging to be allowed to fashion the wedding dress when the happy day came near. The darker Sister Elena wanted to hear all the details of how they had met and fallen in love, so Tom described the voyage and the fancy-dress ball, and they all laughed at the idea of him dressed as Desdemona. Sister Caterina asked Mrs Airton if one day they might have a fancy-dress party like that here, and Nellie smiled tightly and said, ‘We’ll see.’

  Helen Frances did not know quite what to make of Nellie Airton. She admired her statuesque good looks but was a little intimidated by her severity. She pretended to be flattered when Nellie asked if she would like to work in the hospital, but feared she had offended her when she answered noncommittally. The truth was that, for the moment, no idea could have appealed to her less. She had not come all this way to work in a western hospital and to live in a house that might have been built in Surrey. The thought of being locked into a hospital ward with these cheerful nuns filled her with a sense of claustrophobia and images of the convent school she had just left. ‘I do not intend to force you, my dear,’ Nellie had responded, to her lame excuses. ‘I was only thinking of what might be best for you. With Mr Cabot and your father away at the office or on field trips, you will certainly find time heavy on your hands. We do good work at the mission and we can always use a willing helper.’

  ‘Let the poor girl alone, Nellie,’ Airton had cried good-humouredly, from the head of the table. ‘Give her time. She’s got to get used to Shishan first, and her engagement, and us. What can she think, uprooted from her English home, suddenly landing in a queer place like this with a bunch of even queerer devils like us, if we force her straightaway to don starch and clean bedpans?’

  ‘I think Helen Frances would make a damn fine nurse, wouldn’t you, Tom?’ said her father, missing the point.

  ‘Fräulein Delamere,’ Herr Fischer was still playing the gallant, ‘if ever I were to suffer illness I cannot think of an angel from heaven I would prefer to nurse me more than you.’

  ‘It’s all very well of you to say wait awhile, Edward,’ said Nellie, ‘but you know how short-handed we are, and Miss Delamere can hardly wish to stay in her lodgings all day by herself. It wouldn’t be healthy for you, my dear, would it? You seem a spirited girl to me, and I would hate for you to be pining here for something to do.’

  Helen Frances felt that she was being forced into a corner. She was relieved when Henry Manners came to her rescue. ‘May I be blunt, Mrs Airton?’ He smiled. ‘I think your offer to Miss Delamere is most generous and neighbourly, and I’m certain that one day she’ll become a veritable Florence Nightingale in your hospital. But as a newcomer myself I agree with the doctor, give it a while, and I’ll tell you why. I’ll say it in one word: Shishan.’

  Nellie appeared puzzled and not a little suspicious of where he was leading. ‘I don’t think I follow you, Mr Manners. What do you mean, Shishan?’

  ‘Well, as you may kn
ow, I’ve bashed about the world a bit and seen a lot of things. And I tell you that from the little I’ve experienced of this city it’s one of the most fascinating spots I’ve ever been to.’

  ‘It seems ordinary enough to me, Mr Manners.’

  ‘You’ve lived in China many years, Mrs Airton. Miss Delamere and I are newcomers. May I venture that for her—as it certainly is for me—this city with its walls and towers, its temples and markets, is everything intriguing and romantic that we’ve ever imagined about Cathay, from the days we read stories of Marco Polo in the nursery. I confess I’m stunned and excited and I want to explore it in every detail.’

  ‘What a romantic you are, Mr Manners—but a young lady on her own cannot go out and explore a Chinese city. It’d be dangerous.’

  ‘Well, here’s what I propose, with Mr Delamere’s and Mr Cabot’s approval, of course. My duties on the railroad are presently quite light and I find I have a bit of time on my hands. Is that not so, Herr Fischer?’

  Fischer shrugged. ‘Ja. You have told me. You are your own master.’

  ‘Then I propose that each afternoon for the next two or three months Miss Delamere and I become tourists together and discover Shishan. The monasteries, the rides, the temples. After that she’ll decide whether she wants to work in the hospital and I’ll get back to the railway.’

  There was a silence around the table. Henry leaned back in his chair, a comfortable smile on his face. Helen Frances was conscious that her cheeks were burning. The doctor spoke at last. ‘I’m not sure quite what to make of that suggestion, Mr Manners. In my youth it might have been considered forward, not to say shocking, for an engaged woman to gallivant alone with another man.’

  ‘I’m talking of sightseeing, Doctor, and some rides in the countryside. We won’t be alone. We’ll have our mafus, our grooms, with us. I do not know why you should find that shocking.’

  There was another silence. Helen Frances could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.

  ‘It’s only a suggestion,’ he added.

  Tom, his face redder than usual, leaned forward. ‘HF, if that’s what you want, then I think it’s a dashed good idea. I really do. I’m in your debt, Henry. I only wish I had more time myself to join the two of you. Mr Delamere, I trust you have no objection?’

  ‘Me? No,’ said her father. ‘Roll on the twentieth century, say I.’

  ‘Then it’s settled,’ said Tom. ‘Thank you, Henry, I’m obliged to you.’

  Helen Frances felt she had to contribute something to break the tension, which she seemed unwittingly to have caused. ‘I’m—I’m grateful to all of you for your concern for me—and, Mrs Airton, I truly am interested in helping in the mission if you will have me. But, as Mr Manners said, I am very excited to see Shishan, and if … and if…’

  Dr Airton put a hand on hers. ‘Say no more, my dear. It’s settled. I’m the stick-in-the-mud who should be embarrassed. Of course you must take up Mr Manners’s suggestion, and later if you would like to work in the hospital a job will always be open to you. In fact … why don’t I take you round the mission tomorrow to show you what we’re doing? The first item on your tourist itinerary? Nellie, what do you say?’

  ‘You decide, Edward,’ said Nellie. ‘I have to see to the third course.’

  ‘Ah, cheese!’ said Charlie Zhang, a relieved smile on his face. He had found the previous exchange rather bewildering.

  ‘It’s roly-poly pudding,’ said Nellie icily.

  ‘But there will be some cheese to come?’ said the doctor, desperate to get the dinner party back on a harmonious track.

  ‘If we have any,’ said Nellie, and disappeared through the door.

  But even the roly-poly pudding could not bring the conversation back to the merry note of celebration that had preceded Henry’s intervention. The unspoken and vague accusation of impropriety seemed to hang over the table.

  The ladies left the men to their port (and some mouldy Parmesan that Ah Lee had discovered for Charlie Zhang) and retired to the sitting room. Nellie was distant but polite to Helen Frances, and both were relieved that the two nuns took the initiative and chatted away about the patients in the wards.

  * * *

  In the dining room, the doctor asked Henry Manners and Tom to elaborate on the adventures of their journey. Frank told them that the news of the events in Fuxin had caused some concern to his merchant friends, but the doctor was dismissive as usual of any link to Boxers, quoting the Mandarin’s assurances. Tom described Helen Frances’s strange encounter with the blind priest and it was only then that Charlie Zhang, who had been concentrating on his cheese, looked up.

  ‘He was at our camp yesterday,’ he said.

  The others looked at him uncomprehendingly.

  ‘Who was, Charlie?’ drawled Manners, pausing from lighting a cigar.

  ‘The blind priest, of course.’

  ‘You never told me,’ said Herr Fischer.

  ‘Didn’t think it was important,’ said Charlie. ‘Anyway, I gave him the boot. Funny-looking fellow. He was disturbing the men. This cheese is so good, Doctor.’

  ‘What was he doing?’ asked Manners.

  ‘Oh, nothing, really. He was deaf and dumb as well as blind so he couldn’t say anything. Just stood there with all the work on the bridge stopped and the men staring at him. Scary, actually, as if he was casting a spell. Not like the usual mountebank who comes to make speeches about evil spirits in the railway lines. Don’t know what the men were concerned about. Peasant superstition, I suppose. It’s the blight of my country. Anyway, I gave him money, a Mexican silver dollar, and do you know what he did? He put it into his mouth and swallowed it.’ Charlie giggled. ‘I thought the men would laugh at that, but it seemed to make them more nervous than before. In the end I had to lead the priest away and see him on to the road. Men got back to work, I gave them double rations of gaoliang, and that’s the end of it. Why are you so interested?’

  ‘Someone like that was seen just before the disturbance in Fuxin,’ said Manners. ‘There’s one view that it was he who instigated the riots.’

  ‘A sort of Boxer priest?’ asked Frank. ‘That’s scary, eh?’

  ‘So some seem to believe.’

  There was a chill in the air. One of the candles sputtered and hissed out in a pool of wax.

  ‘Oh, my country is full of these crazy men,’ laughed Charlie. ‘We mustn’t encourage this superstition. China must move forward. Are we not going to hear Herr Fischer and Mrs Airton play us some enchanting music? Now, that’s the sort of magic we should be introducing to my country.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said Dr Airton. ‘There’s too much nonsense talked about these Boxers, and it upsets the digestion. Charlie here seems to be the most rational of the lot of us, for all he is a Chinaman. Come, now, the ladies are waiting. Herr Fischer, have you brought your fiddle?’

  As they moved down the corridor to the sitting room, Manners murmured to Tom, ‘Hope I wasn’t out of court, old boy? Don’t know what bee the doctor had in his bonnet. Seemed to be suggesting I was after Helen Frances’s virtue or something.’

  ‘No, I think it’s a good idea, as I said,’ said Tom, looking at him a little coldly. ‘But next time ask me first, will you? People like the Airtons are a bit old-fashioned. Well, so am I, actually.’

  ‘I’ll drop the idea, old boy. Couldn’t matter less.’

  Tom stopped, sighed. His features wrinkled, then settled into his lopsided smile. ‘Come on, Henry, we’re friends. You take her sightseeing by all means. I’ll join you on whatever day I can. Now, come on, let’s face the music.’ He put his arm round Manners shoulder and steered him into the sitting room.

  For the next hour they listened to Nellie playing the piano while Herr Fischer accompanied her on the violin. Helen Frances was persuaded to sing an air but only Charlie Zhang was enthused by the performances, clapping and crying, ‘Encore,’ as if he were in a concert hall. There were no foxtrots or polkas. The guests left
earlier than the doctor had hoped. He walked the last guests to leave, Herr Fischer and Charlie Zhang, down the garden path, then paused for a full minute outside his front door, steeling himself to face Nellie’s inevitable bad humour. The party had clearly not been a success.

  * * *

  The detachment of soldiers whom Major Lin had sent to the Black Hills returned to Shishan the next day. Manacled in their train were three ragged peasants whom they had captured in the forest. They were brought to the yamen and tried for banditry. The Mandarin sentenced them to immediate execution, and accordingly a crowd gathered in the market square that afternoon to witness the beheadings.

  The Mandarin ate a light lunch and took an opium pipe before donning his magisterial robes and stepping out of his study. Major Lin and a company of soldiers were waiting in the outer courtyard with the prisoners. They were stripped to the waist and shackled to large wooden cangues with holes for head and hands. Notices fluttered above their heads describing their crimes. They were slumped disconsolately by the wall of the yamen, bent under the weight of the cangues and guarded by a rifleman. They looked up when the Mandarin passed, but there was no hope in their miserable, dead eyes. The Mandarin ignored them, and walked to his palanquin where a stooping Jin Lao was obsequiously holding open the door. He nodded briefly at his chamberlain and climbed in, Jin taking a position on the seat opposite him. The palanquin wobbled slightly as the eight bearers lifted the poles to their shoulders. Major Lin mounted his white horse. His sergeant barked a command. The condemned men were pulled roughly to their feet, and to the slow beating of a drum and the wail of a horn, the procession moved solemnly down the hill towards the town.

  The Mandarin leaned back in his shaking seat and closed his eyes. ‘Perhaps, Jin Lao, you can now tell me what is the purpose of this charade and why it is that I am spending an afternoon using the resources of the state to execute three harmless bumpkins?’