PAPA HELPED ME ORGANIZE MY TRIP BACK UP THE MIN, BACK TO Pru’s. After making enquiries of the vicar who’d married us, Papa found a group of missionaries that I could travel with, as he still wasn’t happy with letting me travel alone. But if he had any more reservations, he kept them to himself. He gathered the supplies I needed, purchasing each one carefully and thoughtfully, testing me on my fire-making skills and making me repeat phrases in Chinese that would be useful. I knew that in his way, this was how he was showing me that he loved me, and that he approved.
He left on the steamship two days before me. I traveled down to the quay with him where he was to take a launch out to the Pagoda Anchorage. We stood on the dock together.
“Take care of Mamma and the girls, and please try not to quarrel. Promise me.”
He smiled. “I’ll do my best. Make sure to write. You can send letters through the mission, and they will send them on to England.”
“I will, Papa.” Suddenly I was overcome with a wave of homesickness. I didn’t want to say good-bye to Papa. Some part of me wanted to get on that boat with him and go home to where it was safe and I knew what to expect from each day.
Papa must have seen the hesitation in my face. “I’m very glad you’re staying here. Now you’ll be my eyes and ears in China. We need new plants in England, and I expect you to find them. Be as careful as you can with the buds and flowers; always wrap them in damp moss. And always note your surroundings; don’t just ramble about. Make sure you mark your way off the path with strips of cloth so you don’t get lost. And keep notes. Lots of notes.”
“Of course, Papa,” I said, suddenly unable to see him through my tears.
“Hey, now,” he said. “No tears, now. Just think, if you had remained at home, you might have married that dunderhead of a deacon or surely someone just as dull and witless.”
I smiled. “I don’t think that would have happened. Not now.”
He grunted. “Well, I can’t imagine any other man matching your wit and intelligence besides Alex Balashov.”
The captain of the boat called out. Sailors rushed to and fro, and passengers bustled past us to climb into the boat. There wasn’t much time left. I picked up Papa’s bag and handed it to him. “We must say good-bye, Papa.”
He took the bag and set it back down on the deck. “We have a minute, and there’s something I want to say to you.” Papa shuffled about, taking a goodly while to come to the point, which was making me feel anxious about what he had to say.
“I was afraid I would never be the same man again. I dreaded returning to China, dreaded going out into the world again. After I was captured I began to see only danger where once there was beauty. But now I see the world anew. I see it through your eyes, and I feel a little of my old self returning.
“That day on the ship . . . I was so harsh with you, but I understand now why you made the decision to remain hidden. I would have demanded we turn back, whatever the cost. And you were the one who saved the family, not I. If you hadn’t come, I doubt I would have had the strength to leave the inn.”
“You were right to want to protect me, Papa. I’m not sure I would want my sisters to see all of this pain,” I said. “The people addicted to opium and those poor girls with their bound feet.” I shook my head.
“This is the life of the adventurer, my dear. Sometimes you see things you don’t want to see, and experience things you’ll never forget, both good and bad. But that is life itself, is it not? And I know that whatever comes your way you rise up to greet it and make the best of it.”
He slid his hand inside his pocket and drew something out. He took my hand and set the object in it. It was a pearl-handled pocket knife. “Mr. Darwin carried this on the Beagle and he gave it to me several years ago. I want you to have it.”
I stared at the knife in my hand. “It’s too special, Papa, I can’t—”
“Don’t argue. It belongs with an adventurer now, and that is you.” He kissed my cheek then, picked up his bag, and stepped into the launch. I didn’t want to see him leave, and so I left the quay. But in the end, I turned back and saw Papa watching me from the bow, holding his hat in his hands.
ON MY WAY BACK DOWN THE PIER, I NOTICED A GREAT MANY Wardian cases sitting on the docks. I looked around. No one was near, so I went up to inspect the cases. A hot flush spread over me.
They were filled to bursting with Queen’s Fancy orchids.
Some of the orchids were in bud, some in bloom. The plants were crammed into the cases, one on top of the other. It saddened me to see them jumbled up like that, without care, as though they were leeks headed to market to be chopped up into stews. The person who had collected the orchids had no idea how to store them, or maybe he did and simply didn’t care. If only a few survived, the rarity would make them all the more sought after.
“Lovely things, ain’t they?”
Startled, I jerked my head up. So intent was I on the flowers that I hadn’t noticed a man had approached me—none other than Luther Duffey. I took an involuntary step back, flinching.
“Beggin’ your pardon, miss. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He pulled his hat off his head and bowed low. “Luther Duffey, at your service.” He scratched his head with his hook. I saw up close what my knife had done to him. A deep, badly healed scar ran across his cheek. “I know me looks is off-puttin’ to some. Don’t often see young ladies like yourself in Foochow.”
He did not recognize me. I was a different person now, both in my body and my mind. I had always been slender, but now I was leaner and stronger from riding and walking the mountains. My face was tanned from the sun, and my hands were rough from the weather.
“I was just admiring these blooms. Are they yours?” I asked.
“They belong to my employer, but I found them, as it goes. Takin’ ’em back to England, where they’ll sell for a pretty penny.” He considered me, and I looked back, almost daring him to remember me, but not a flicker of recognition crossed his face. “You a missionary?”
“You might say so.” I listened, a polite smile pasted to my face, as the orchid thief gabbled on, talking about how he’d beat another hunter to the orchids and how he wished he could have been there to see his face.
“I must take my leave, Mr. Duffey,” I said. “I wish you the best of luck with your orchids.” I turned to leave but then reached into my pocket. “Oh. A small gift for you. Just in case you need to prune your plants.”
“Orchids don’t need no pruning, miss,” he said, grinning.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” I handed him my billhook.
He stared at the tool in his palm, and then looked at me, recognition sparking in his eyes. His smile faded, and his mouth opened.
“I do hope you fetch that pretty penny for your flowers. Good day, Mr. Duffey.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
A week later, I was at Yen-Ping. As I drew closer to Pru’s house, apprehension filled me. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find. If Alex would welcome me.
And then I saw him. He sat outside Pru’s house, sitting in a chair, sleeping in the sunshine, his arms crossed over his chest. My heart squeezed. His face no longer held that awful yellow pallor. He was a little thin, but in the fortnight I’d been away, he’d regained some of his weight already. I stood in front of him, blocking the sun, and he opened his eyes.
“Myshka?” He looked astonished, as though he couldn’t believe I was real. He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t give him a chance. For once in my life I wanted to say how I felt, to embrace my own emotions, no matter what.
“I’m not returning to England, Alex. My place is here. With you. Just as you belong with me. I’m sorry I thought you’d smoked the opium. You’re right. I shouldn’t have assumed that you had.”
Alex was shaking his head. “Even though I didn’t smoke it, I wanted to. I’m afraid I’ll be an opium sot
for the rest of my life, and I don’t wish to drag you down with me. The only place I know for sure that I’ll be safe is on the Osprey. That’s the reason why I never leave the ship. I know I’ll never be tempted there.”
“Listen to me, Alex Balashov! Just because you wanted to return to opium doesn’t mean you will. If you want to be on the Osprey because you love it, then I want you to go—but not because you’re frightened of what will happen if you don’t. I know people who’ve lived a moral life, who think they are doing good work, God’s work, even.” I thought about Deacon Wainwright, Dr. Thumpston, and the gossiping villagers when I said this. “But their actions hurt people because of the way they judge and condemn. You think a happy life is forbidden to you because of your past? Well then, in that reckoning no one deserves a happy life. I said I loved you and I meant it. I said I wouldn’t leave you and I meant that, too. I don’t care if you don’t remember, but I do.”
He stood up then. He was a little wobbly on his feet, so I stepped closer and put my arms about his waist. He was so thin I could feel his hip bones.
“Of course I remember that night,” he said. “I remember every word I said, every moment. Everything I did for you was because I loved you, not because I owed you. The only place I want to be is with you.” He laughed a little, a soft little murmur that went all the way through my heart. He took my hand away and lifted it, pressing his palm against mine. “We’ve touched each other before, but now it feels not the same.”
I smiled. “No, it feels not the same at all.”
And then we were in each other’s arms, kissing one another as though we’d die if we tried to part, just as I imagined it.
AT THE BEGINNING OF DECEMBER, ALEX AND I WERE BACK IN Foochow to return to England on the Osprey. We had collected several orchids for Kew—one a pure white that smelled of vanilla that we had named “Ching Lan”—and the seedlings of an odd-looking pine. If Mr. Pringle had refused the Sister Orchid, if it wasn’t worth a penny and Papa had been sent to the workhouse, then I hoped I’d be able to sell the orchids and pay the fee to release him.
There was a telegram waiting for us at the inn. From Papa.
I held the paper tightly in my hands. The answer to my family’s future lay inside that envelope.
PAPHIOPEDILUM ELODIAE “SISTER ORCHID” IS NEW FIND. PRINGLE’S CONTRACT ASKS FOR THE QUEEN’S FANCY. KEW TO SELL ORCHID ON OUR BEHALF. BUYERS INTERESTED AT ONE HUNDRED GUINEAS EACH.
LOVE, PAPA
One hundred guineas for each orchid. At three hundred orchids, it added up to a huge sum, well over thirty thousand pounds. So huge that we could pay Mr. Pringle the amount he demanded plus repay him the cost of traveling, and have plenty left over.
My family was finally free. And I was free, too.
EPILOGUE
September 1862
East India Docks, London
“Go on, Robin,” Alex said.
Robin Tewkes gripped the tea chest that lay on his shoulder, grinning.
“Roundly, now,” Alex said. “On my count as we pass the dock. Throw the tea chest as hard as you can.”
Robin nodded, his expression earnest.
Throwing the tea chest was only a formality, because the Osprey had left our opponent far behind at the mouth of the Thames. The paddle wheel tug in front of us let loose a peal from its whistle, and the crowd lining the quay sent up a cheer. Captain Everett stood on the quarterdeck, his hands behind his back, seemingly oblivious to the crowd, but I caught him smiling.
Alex and I would spend the autumn and Christmas with our family, but we didn’t know where we would go from there. We had heard of beautiful orchids to be found in the Sandwich Islands. But wherever we found ourselves, we would always return to Edencroft once a year. I would make that promise to my mother.
I saw Mamma and Papa coming down the dock, Violetta behind with a string of little girls holding hands and trailing after her. Kukla trotted along at their side, her sweet face turning to look at the children from time to time. My heart nearly burst when I saw Mamma looking well and happy and holding Papa’s arm. As Violetta had said that fateful Christmas, perhaps the reunion wouldn’t last, but I knew they were trying, and that was enough for now.
“Violetta!” I shouted.
Violetta shaded her eyes against the sun, looking up. “Sister!” She waved her entire arm back and forth like a semaphore.
I leaned over the railing of the tea clipper, watching my family, as the bow of the ship dipped and rose as it carved a path through the Thames. Water rose up to splash against the wooden mermaid who held the Osprey in her outstretched hand, and I felt as free as that maiden of the sea.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Orchids
Orchids (orchidaceae) are considered the most highly evolved and adaptable flowering plants on earth and are thought to be over 100 million years old. Most orchids perch in trees (epiphytes); others grow on stones or in stony soil (lithophytes), or in forest or grassland soil (terrestrial). Diverse in appearance, color, scent, and size, the approximately 25,000 known orchid species are found all over the world except Antarctica—from the bogs and roadsides of America’s Midwest to the hedgerows of England and the jungles of Madagascar. The tiny, dustlike seeds (the tiniest in the plant kingdom) are borne on the wind to populate areas far from the mother plant. After hurricanes, new species of orchids are found in unlikely places.
Some orchids are self-pollinated, but many rely on specific pollinators, or even one pollinator. The star orchid (Angraecum sesquipedale), found in Madagascar, has an eleven and a half inch nectary that hangs behind the flower. Charles Darwin predicted, based on his understanding of evolution, that a moth with an eleven-inch proboscis must have evolved alongside the star orchid. In 1907, more than twenty years after Darwin’s death, a subspecies of the Congo moth, Xanthopan morganii praedicta, whose name means “predicted moth,” was discovered with this lengthy proboscis. In 1992 the moth was observed feeding on the flower, proving Darwin correct 130 years after his prediction.
The name orchid comes from the Latin orchis, which means “testicle.” In Victorian England, orchid collecting sparked a madness called “orchidelirium.” The plants raised such passion that orchid collecting was considered improper for young ladies, although Queen Victoria was an avid collector. Unusual and rare orchids were status symbols, but no one knew how to cultivate tropical orchids, so wealthy men would send orchid hunters on expeditions to dangerous and often uncharted lands. Once the orchids were collected, the hunters would often destroy the area, so no one else would be able to collect the plant. Sometimes plants would be brought back to England and then never found again in the wild. These were called “lost orchids,” and became even more collectible. Victorians were notorious for killing their orchids, having no idea how to care for them (their greenhouses, or “stoves,” were too hot and humid), so collectors were the only means to new plants.
There are over 1,000 orchid (lanhua) species in China. The orchid, considered a symbol of spring, female beauty, and love, is one of China’s “Four Noble Plants”; plum, bamboo, and chrysanthemum are the other three. The flowers are also used in tea and Chinese medicine.
Today orchids in the wild are heavily protected and it is illegal to collect and transport them without official CITES (Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora) permits. However, there are over 100,000 cultivated hybrid orchids, created through meristem cloning (using plant tissue made of cells that can grow indefinitely to produce similar cells), at all price points, available to anyone who wants to become a collector.
Plant Hunters
Plants were valuable commodities before people learned how to breed them from a mother plant (a process called propagation). The female pharaoh Hatshepsut (1508–1458 BCE) is the first known plant hunter. She brought incense trees to Egypt from her expedition of 1469 BCE. Through the ages, plant hunters hav
e collected most of the garden plants that are common today, such as the lupine, azalea, and rhododendron. Plant hunting was a dangerous business, fraught with peril, discomfort, and failure. Hunters traveled into unfriendly territories; faced landslides and earthquakes, harassment and kidnapping by natives; contracted exotic diseases with no known cure; and battled rival plant hunters, often to the death.
Many men met a grisly end while hunting, including Scotsman David Douglas (1799–1834), who discovered the Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) and hundreds of other species. While recovering from an accident in Hawaii he fell into a pit meant to catch wild cattle and was gored to death by a bull. Others drowned, fell to their death, died of tropical illnesses, were murdered by bandits, natives, or fellow plant hunters, were eaten by creatures, or simply vanished, never to be seen or heard from again. But this danger was often what drew the plant hunter to his work. Danger also thrilled his employer, who lived vicariously through the dashing plant hunter. The employers would often pit their hunters against one another, spying on each other to see what plants they were after.
Most of the plant hunters stated they were no longer able to fit into polite society when they returned. No one could understand what they went through, and yet they were expected to step back into the old society roles.
Notable plant hunters include John Tradescant the younger (1608–1662) who collected the tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera); Thomas Lobb (1818–1894) who collected the moth orchid (Phalaenopsis amabilis dayana); Richard Spruce (1817–1893) who collected Cinchona tree saplings, which were transplanted in India to fight malaria; Robert Fortune (1812–1880) who smuggled tea out of China to grow in India; and the explorers Meriwether Lewis (1774–1809) and William Clark (1770–1838) who collected flora from the Western half of the United States. The Victorian painter Marianne North (1830–1890) did not collect plants; instead she captured their likenesses. She traveled the world alone and painted plants, most of which were unknown to Europeans, right where they grew, often including their seeds, fruits, and pollinators in the paintings. She was outspoken in pointing out the damages man did to the natural world. Today, her beautiful and valuable paintings hang in an exquisitely beautiful gallery in the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, which she designed and paid for.
The Forbidden Orchid Page 31