The Forbidden Orchid

by Sharon Biggs Waller

  I couldn’t leave her alone in the wilderness to maim herself. And I couldn’t stay to watch her do it, either. She was my friend—no, more than a friend, my sister. My throat constricted, and my fear for Ching Lan nearly knocked the breath from my chest. “Here, give me the knife.” I held out my hand. She hesitated a moment and handed me the billhook.

  I swallowed and lifted the knife to her cheekbone; she tilted her face up and closed her eyes. I set the hook on the edge of her cheek; the tip bit into her skin until blood began to flow around the wound. My heart roared in my ears, and I thought I might be sick. And then I saw tears trickle out from under her eyelids. “I can’t,” I said. “I can’t do this.”

  And then, quick as a flash, Ching Lan wrapped her fingers around mine and tugged, slashing the knife through her skin. I didn’t have a second to react. Blood spilled from her face, and a jagged open wound stretched in a horrific gash from her cheekbone through the edge of her lip.

  I dropped the knife. In a panic I reached into my pocket for a clean handkerchief and pressed it to the wound.

  She gritted her teeth in pain and grabbed my wrist. “Leave it.”

  “Ching Lan, please! You could die if it gets infected. Let me take you back to camp.”

  She pushed me so hard that I fell backward into the leaves. “Wah! You aren’t listening to me. You don’t listen to anyone. I want to have a scar; I want to be ugly so that that emperor doesn’t desire me, that no man desires me. It’s the only way I can be free.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t be sorry, Elodie,” she said. Her face looked ghoulish in the moonlight, but there was a peace about her now. The fear and apprehension had left her. “Just be happy for me.”

  Ching Lan left on Piggy the next morning. She didn’t want to answer Papa’s or Alex’s questions. She would go straight to Pru, then to her parents and the mandarin and tell them what had happened. The mandarin would have to speak for her, to remove her from the selection list.

  As we rode those last few miles to Yen-Ping, I memorized every detail of the wilderness, impressed upon my memory the sights, scents, and sounds so that I might remember them when I returned to Kent. I’d been right: Edencroft was my life, and once again, it always would be.

  While Pru’s manservant helped Alex inside the house, Papa and I took the animals back to their owner and paid him for the lost mule. I stroked Blossom’s neck and made my good-byes. I would miss the little mare.

  On our way back, Papa chatted. “I’ll head down to the river to see about a sampan for tomorrow,” he said. “We should leave as soon as possible to arrange for a steamship home. Many of those orchids in spike will be coming into bud in a month and then into bloom a month or so after that. If we look after them carefully on the journey, the flowers will be in prime condition when we arrive in London, and so they will fetch the best price.”

  As Papa strolled alongside me he failed to look my way once. Couldn’t he see that I was upset about leaving Alex? Did he think me so uncaring that it wouldn’t distress me? But perhaps Papa knew something I did not. Perhaps Alex didn’t want me to stay with him anyway. Perhaps his pledge of love was nothing but the result of a fevered haze.

  When we returned to Pru’s house, I went to see Alex. The door was open, and I paused, unsure of whether to go in or not. Pru sat on the bedside, examining Alex, listening to his heart with a metal tube-shaped instrument. Alex, his shirt open, lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Ching Lan sat next to him. Her wound had been closed in a neat line of stitches.

  Pru sat up and began buttoning Alex’s shirt. She saw me standing in the doorway. “Come in, Elodie.”

  “I’ve come to see how Alex is faring. I’m happy to see Ching Lan, as well.”

  Pru replaced the instrument in her medical bag and snapped it closed. “I think he’s on the mend. A few weeks’ rest will see him back on his feet. You and Ching Lan looked after him very well.” She set her hand on Alex’s shoulder. She hesitated for a moment at the doorway, as though she wanted to say something, but then she squeezed my hand and pulled the door shut behind her.

  I sat next to him. “I’m leaving tomorrow with Papa to take the orchids back to England. I expect you’ll rejoin the Osprey in December? I’ll bring Kukla to you.” I babbled on, talking about how happy she’d be to see him and how if he had time I’d love for him to come to Kent to see my sisters and Mamma. “I know they’d want to meet you.”

  Ching Lan opened her mouth to say something, but Alex interrupted her. “Can I speak to Elodie alone?”

  She nodded and left.

  Alex struggled to sit up, and when I stepped up to help him, he lifted a hand. “Don’t help,” he said. “I can do it.”

  I bit my lip, watching him fumble to pull himself upright. Sweat sheened his brow, and his arms trembled under his own weight. Exhausted by the effort, he sank back against the pillows. His cheeks were hollow, and his skin looked paper-thin.

  “Can I fetch you anything? Water or tea—”

  He shook his head.

  There was a window at the side of the bed, and this looked over a bare patch of ground where a few plants struggled to grow. Alex turned away from me and looked out at the window. “I didn’t smoke the opium,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t smoke it. You thought I did, though. You didn’t give me a chance to explain. At all. How do you think that made me feel?”

  “But I saw—”

  “I know what you think you saw.”

  “But I thought . . . the pipe?”

  “The pipe you saw was from another man who left it behind. I was worried someone would try to go into your room, so I sat by the ladder, keeping watch. I was too much of a coward to return to you after what I said. So I know that’s why you’re leaving me, why you left my care to Ching Lan when I awoke. Why you don’t want to be near me anymore. Because of who I am, and what I’ve done. I understand. You could be honest with me.”

  He looked at me then, but his eyes were so blank and expressionless that it scared me. Where was the friendliness and kindness that always shone forth from them? It was as though the fever had extinguished it.

  “That’s not why, Alex. If that were true, then I wouldn’t have made that promise to you.”

  “What promise?” he asked. From the look on his face I knew he remembered what had come between us the night he fell ill. But he glared at me, as though daring me to say it out loud.

  “You know what I’m speaking of, Alex. You woke me and said you loved me.”

  “I remember nothing. It was fignya, gibberish, I’m sure.”

  “It wasn’t. Not to me it wasn’t.”

  He returned his gaze to the window. “Well, I’m sorry for you, then.”

  Those words, coming from Alex, struck me so hard I was nearly breathless. I wanted to double over with the pain of it.

  “Alex, please . . .”

  “Go away, Elodie,” he said, his voice hitching. “Just go away.”

  I knew then that I was making the right choice. Alex didn’t want me. He was better off here with Ching Lan and Pru, as Papa had said.

  I was glad, I told myself. I was relieved.

  Perhaps someday I might believe it.

  I left the room silently and headed outside to find Papa. I had just reached the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  Ching Lan spun me around. She reached out as though to slap me, and I caught her hand. “What are you doing?”

  Her cheeks were red with fury, and tears pooled in her eyes. “For the first time in three years I am not afraid anymore. I know now that I can find a way to live my life the way I want to, no matter how hard or how painful. And here you are, going back to England and leaving Alex behind. How can you do that? He loves you!”

  “You don’t know everything!” I said. �
��Our marriage is a farce, Ching Lan.”

  “It’s not a farce! When we were searching for plants together, he wouldn’t stop talking about you. He dared to love you, and now you’re leaving him.”

  “He doesn’t love me!” I said. “He said as much just now.”

  Ching Lan lunged at me, her hands outstretched as though she wanted to scratch my eyes out.

  I caught her hands and pushed her away. “My family needs me. My father needs me at home to look after my sisters. Can you tell me you don’t understand that? You are the one who told me about being filial, and that’s what I’m doing.”

  “Not before your husband. Husband comes first.” Ching Lan pulled away from me and crossed her arms.

  Papa came around the house just then, carrying a pack in each hand. “Elodie,” Papa said. “Can you help me go through these? We need to make sure everything is dry before we leave or it will be rotted through by the time we reach England.”

  Ching Lan turned and stared at Papa, defiant. Papa sucked in his breath when he saw her face. “Your face, my dear. What happened?”

  “I did it myself, and I’m not ashamed for anyone to see.”

  “Because of the emperor’s selection?”

  She nodded once.

  “Well then.” He dropped the packs and slid the sleeves of his jacket up. He held his wrists out to show her. “If you are not ashamed, then I suppose I should not be, either.” They were exactly as I remembered them, the skin dented and thick with scars.

  Ching Lan gasped. “Kao-niu?” she said.

  “Yes. So I know a little bit about scars the emperor inflicts,” Papa said. “Some are more noble than others, and we have to bear it the best we can.”

  She took Papa’s wrists in her hands, holding them gently, meeting his eyes for a moment before she released them. Papa nodded to her, picked up the bags, and left.

  “I’m sorry, Elodie,” Ching Lan said. “If you have to go, I suppose you should go.”

  “Promise me you’ll look after Alex,” I said.

  Ching Lan began to cry, and her tears set me crying, too. “In China we have a custom,” she said. “If we love someone, we try to make them part of our family. Would you be my sister?”

  I looked at her sweet face and said yes, but only if she would be mine. I found I had come to love Ching Lan like a sister, and I wished with all my heart that I could take her home with me and keep her safe there. But her life was not mine to govern, and she had a life of her own in China. I wished we could meet again someday.

  WHEN DAWN CAME, PAPA AND I SAID GOOD-BYE TO CHING LAN AND Pru. They stood in the doorway and watched us go, waving us good-bye.

  Although it had taken many days to travel up the Min, it took only two to travel back, as the currents swept the boat down the river.

  I sat, cross-legged, watching the scenery go by. As the miles built up behind me, I mourned the loss of my friends and of Alex and the months of freedom gone by, possibly never to be repeated again. Somehow I had to return home and carve out a new life, but I was leaving my heart with Alex and my soul in the mountains and rivers of the Chinese landscape. “I wanted to ask you, Papa,” I said. “That word Ching Lan used when she saw your scars. Kao-niu. What does that mean?”

  “It’s the name of the punishment, this cuffing of the wrists with soaked ties. Most people don’t live through it. One of the jailers knew me and released me of my bonds in time.”

  “I think it’s cruel that Mr. Pringle forced you to come back to get the orchids. Especially since he knows what happened to you.”

  “He was perfectly in his right to do so. It was my fault that I lost his plants. I wasn’t meant to be where I was. I had the Queen’s Fancy orchids crated up in their Wardian cases and ready to go, but the ship had been delayed, and so I decided to travel north, to look for plants for Kew. I saw Bowlby before he set out on his mission, so I went along with him. I have always had a taste for adventure and an eagerness to search for new things. Sometimes this feeling is so great that it quite undoes me, and I act without thinking.” Papa’s voice trailed off, and he looked out at the river for a long time.

  Before I fell in love with the Queen’s Fancy, I wouldn’t have understood Papa’s yearning, but now I did. I wanted to know what lay farther beyond the mountains; I wanted to find more orchids. Despite all of the danger and heartbreak I’d experienced, China called to me still.

  TWENTY-SIX

  That first night, in the inn at Foochow, the bed felt too soft, the pillow under my neck an odd sensation. It was too quiet. I missed the sounds of the forest and the dew on my face in the early morning. I felt restless; the blankets lay heavy on my legs, trapping me in place. The nightgown felt too tight around my neck, the lace scratching, the skirt twisting around my legs. I was plagued by worry about the Sister Orchid. What if it wasn’t enough for Mr. Pringle? What if we were leaving too soon? Perhaps I should have explored the forest more, seeking other plants that might do for him.

  Papa arranged our transport on a steamship that was returning to England at the end of the week. He telegrammed Mr. Pringle, Kew, and my mother. The telegrams would be sent on the mail ship from Alexandria and arrive before we did. I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into despair as we grew closer to departing. I thought about what I would do when I returned. I would go back to my usual tasks, looking after the children and Mamma. Working in my glasshouse.

  At breakfast the following morning, Papa sat writing in his notebook. “I’m very interested in researching the medium we collected to see if I can duplicate it at Kew. I plan to create a miniature Chinese environment for the plants. Also, can you remind me about the pollinator? What the bee looked like? I’m going to write to Mr. Darwin and tell him about it. He’s very interested in orchids and their pollinators.”

  “You’re returning to Kew, then?” I pushed my porridge about in the bowl.

  “Yes. I wish to do some research on the new orchid,” he went on. “I trust you’ll be my eyes and ears at home again.” It wasn’t a question, rather a statement. You’ll be my eyes and ears.

  I started to say yes, but every fiber in my being began to resist. I saw my life in front of me again. Steady Elodie, whom everyone depended on.

  I didn’t want to be that girl anymore. I’d made up my mind not to when I tossed my braid in the ocean. I couldn’t remain in Edencroft, my life unlived. I could not live a life bereft of adventure. I longed to see more of the world. I longed to break out of the glasshouse for good. I couldn’t stop my parents from arguing: they would fight whether I was there or not. I couldn’t continue to prop them up. Ching Lan was right when she said I couldn’t fix everything.

  Like a dress I had outgrown, perhaps my old life no longer fit me.

  I loved my family, but I wanted to take my place in the world. My father had named me after a wildflower, and I knew now that wildflowers could not thrive inside of greenhouses.

  Papa’s mention of Mr. Darwin reminded me of the final line in his book: from so simple a beginning, endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved.

  I had to continue evolving too.

  When we first set foot in Foochow, the relief in Papa was almost tangible. I doubted he would ever travel again. His life was no longer as an adventurer. But I set foot in Foochow feeling nothing but dread.

  His passion for plant hunting had abandoned him and found a new home in me.

  I pushed my bowl away. “No, Papa. I don’t want you to depend upon me anymore. Mamma and the girls . . . that is your life, your responsibilities. It’s not fair to ask it of me. You must go home and stay home.”

  “Elodie, my work is at Kew,” he said firmly, not raising his head from his book. “I couldn’t possibly—”

  “My conservatory is perfect for your work. We already know Chinese orchids thrive in it. You can do your work very well
at home and look after Mamma and the children.”

  Finally he looked at me. “The children? What about you?”

  “I don’t belong there anymore, Papa,” I said.

  “Where do you belong?” he asked carefully.

  “Here, in China. I want to search for more orchids just in case the Sister Orchid isn’t enough. I want to explore the area where I found it. I want to see what else is out there for me. And I want to be with Alex.” I wanted to be with Alex because I loved him, not because I felt obligated. Ching Lan wasn’t right when she said that a husband came before family. It was the responsibility to myself that came first. That was the most important thing. Otherwise how could I help anyone if I were an unhappy shell of a being?

  “My dear.” He closed his book. “I don’t know what to say to you about Alex. You must try to move forward with your life. Elodie, his life is as a sailor. “

  “Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t. I won’t know unless I ask him. But that isn’t the entire reason why I wish to stay. I want to be a plant hunter. I don’t want that world forbidden to me anymore. I want . . .” I hesitated, searching for the words that would make him understand. “I want what you wanted,” I finally said.

  “I do believe you’ve been afflicted with the illness most plant hunters have. After seeking adventure they have a difficult time fitting into civilization. The excitement of newness takes you. You find that you crave it. But you can’t think to go collecting by yourself, Elodie. The Chinese wilderness is not a place for a girl . . .” Papa’s voice trailed off. He set his pencil down and sat back. “Well now. I apologize. That statement is most certainly not true. You’ve proven to me that you can look after yourself, and everyone else around you. And you do it with kindness and love.” He sighed. “So you’re set on staying?”

  “I am.”

  He picked up his pencil and turned to a blank page, and slid them across the table. “Then you’d better write and explain it to your Mamma. I most certainly don’t want to be the one to do it.”