Bryce’s mirth vanished, as he thought of the coachman’s frown when he had ordered the vehicle to leave with only two passengers. So well trained were the Catherwood servants, that neither the driver nor the footman had asked any questions. If he had spoken of Davis’s death on the docks, which were stained red from the blood left by the whalers, word would have reached the Catherwood home faster than any carriage.
Their hundred days at sea had not lessened his pain at losing his best friend. He had tried to devise a way to offer consolation to Captain Catherwood. All the old man would receive from this voyage were its profits and a daughter he had not known existed.
He wished he knew how Davis had intended to introduce Lian to his family. Each scenario Bryce imagined ended with his being dismissed for allowing his captain to be killed.
Frustration filled his voice as he drew Lian back from the window. “Stop gawking. Don’t you want to make a good impression on your family?” He frowned. “Or the best you can make.”
Lian brushed her hands against her ch ’eŭng shaam. The blue silk was spotted with salt from the long months of the voyage. “I shall shame neither my family nor my brother’s memory.”
“Really?”
At his sarcastic smile, her knuckles bleached with her outrage, but she did not voice it. Soon Captain Trevarian would be gone, for he did not share the Catherwoods’ house. She was unsure how long the China Shadow remained in port, but she hoped it would be a very short time.
Her eyes widened as the carriage pulled through a wide gate in a white fence. The house at the top of the hill was undoubtedly the largest she had seen. Three stories high, it was topped by a glassed room in the center of its flat roof. Wooden shingles, stained by the salt air and rain, covered the exterior. Dark green shutters and white railed porches seemed whimsical.
“How many families live here?” Lian asked in awe.
“One.”
“One?”
Captain Trevarian brushed dust from his dark coat and clasped his hand around the knee of his tan trousers. With a cold smile, he raised an irreverent eyebrow in her direction. “Are you becoming a parrot, blue eyes?”
“I never know when you are being honest.”
“I’m always honest.”
She chuckled. “And the sun sets in the east.”
“When have I lied to you?”
She faltered, for she could accuse him of being overbearing and give him dozens of examples. She could mention a score of times when he had been short-tempered. More times than she was able to count, he had embarrassed her by calling her a little fool in front of the crew. But dishonesty …
He laughed. “It galls you that I might have a virtue or two, doesn’t it?” He held up his hand as she was about to reply. “We’ll have to continue this later, blue eyes. You are home.”
Lian flinched at the emphasis he put on the word. This was not home. This was the place of strangers.
When the carriage stopped in front of a set of steps, Captain Trevarian opened the door and climbed out. She was surprised when he turned and offered his hand to her instead of rushing out of the rain. She placed her trembling fingers on his. Sliding across the seat, she froze when her eyes were only inches from his.
She stared into their green depths, which were as fathomless as the sea. The pain, that had haunted her through the hundred nights since Davis died, burned in them.
“Are you sewn to the seat, blue eyes?”
Lian bit back her answer. This man did not deserve sympathy. He waited for any opportunity to taunt her. Stepping from the carriage, she jerked her hand out of his as rain pelted her. He motioned toward the steps.
She would not let him see how terrified she was of what waited beyond the wood door with its etched glass oval in the center. Gathering up the skirt of her ch ’eŭng shaam, she walked up the stairs slowly.
The door opened before she reached it. Captain Trevarian’s hand in the center of her back guided her into the entrance hall. She bowed to the man by the door, not wanting her father to think she had been poorly taught. She swallowed her grief when she saw a rug with patterns she had seen for sale in Canton. Homesickness raced through her, so strong she feared she would be ill.
“Lian, stand up.”
Bryce watched as Lian straightened. From her sleek hair shadowing her delicate features to her dress which flowed along her slender curves, she was incredibly alluring. In the months at sea, he had forced himself to forget how beautiful she was. He ignored the familiar surge of yearning. Davis had trusted him to watch out for his sister, and he would not betray his friend, even when he had awakened too many nights hungering for her soft mouth on his lips.
Clearing his throat, he said, “Lian, this is the …” He sighed as she bowed again deeply. He saw shock on the butler’s face.
“Welcome, Miss Lian,” said Hyett, his composure returning. “The captain awaits you in the back parlor, Lieutenant Trevarian.” The butler glanced out the door. “Is Captain Catherwood joining you?”
“No,” replied Bryce as he took Lian’s arm. He was glad the butler’s question had not forced him to lie.
Seeing Lian’s head swivel from one side to the other as she looked around them, he smiled grimly. There would be many things more alien to her than the furniture which glistened from beeswax. When she paused, he tugged on her arm. She did not move.
She raised a fingertip to touch a figurine. “This looks like the lion guarding the gate to Mother’s Younger Brother’s house.”
“I thought you had never been inside the wall.”
Lian smiled sadly. “Mother drew me pictures.”
“You are lucky Hyett isn’t looking,” Captain Trevarian replied. “He’d have your head for touching the captain’s temple lion. It’s the symbol for the Shadow Line.”
“Who is Hyett?”
“The man at the door. The butler.”
“I thought you said only Catherwoods lived here. Who are these Butlers?”
He laughed shortly. “He’s the butler, blue eyes. A servant.” He pulled on her arm again. “Keep your mouth closed. I don’t want you telling the captain the wrong way about his son’s death.”
“I understand.” She was glad to admit that, finally.
Giving her no time to stare at the odd furniture and rooms surrounding a staircase, Captain Trevarian drew her to a wide door edged by richly stained wood. He whispered something, but she did not hear what as she stared into the large room, which was filled with furniture. She guessed some of the pieces were for sitting, but was unsure why there were so many tables covered with items.
Again Captain Trevarian’s hand against her back pushed her forward. Near a hearth, three men in dark coats were bending toward a man sitting in a chair with wheels attached to the sides. Suddenly four pairs of eyes riveted on her.
She had no time to ask Captain Trevarian which one was her father, for her gaze was caught by the white-haired man in the chair. He was little more than a skeleton covered with skin and fine clothes. Across his time lined face, his skin was loose on his high cheek bones. Blue eyes regarded her with astonishment above his golden mustache.
Was this the Captain Catherwood Mother had spoken of with love? Lian’s eyes grew heavy with tears. Was Mother still alive? One thing was certain. Mother would want her to show reverence to her father. Dropping to the floor, she pressed her head to the rug.
“What’s this?” The voice was scratchy. “Young lady, rise.”
Slowly she obeyed, as Captain Trevarian said, “Good afternoon, Captain Catherwood.”
The man in the odd chair was her father. Keeping her face blank, she stared at the old man. If she could see nothing of herself in him, she saw much of Davis.
“And who are you, child?” Samuel Catherwood asked kindly.
She whispered, in English, “I am Lian, honorable sir.”
“Lian? The willow?”
“Yes.” It should not have surprised her that Captain Catherwood knew the mean
ing of her name. If he had lingered in Canton long enough to teach her mother to speak English, and to persuade her to fall in love with him so deeply that she had never married, he must know much about China. That thought was comforting.
Captain Catherwood smiled. “You show excellent taste, Bryce. I assume, because you brought her to Stormhaven, that she’s your bride.”
“No, sir,” he said quietly.
Lian glanced at Captain Trevarian. His voice did not match the arrogant shout she had heard on the ship. Her family’s wealth and prestige intimidated even Captain Trevarian? No, the captain was not intimidated. He offered respect to her father.
Captain Catherwood’s mouth tightened. “Your mistress? Do you think this is wise?”
Captain Trevarian’s stiffness disconcerted Lian. She wished he would be honest. When she dared another look at him, she saw he was struggling to speak. She longed to touch him, to let him know she shared his grief, but that would embarrass him. She could not imagine what would infuriate him more than that.
“Sir,” he said, “it was Davis’s wish that Lian be brought here. He—”
“Davis?” The old man grinned. “Then it’s my son who must be congratulated on his excellent taste in ladies. I should have known he’d inherit the Catherwood talent for finding the loveliest rose in the garden. Where’s the young rascal?”
“Davis is dead, Captain Catherwood. Killed in Canton.” He glared at Lian. “Murdered, I should say.”
The old man gripped the arms of his wheeled chair. His smile vanished. “Lieutenant Trevarian, if this is your idea of a jest—”
“Captain Catherwood, honorable sir,” Lian said, “Davis died trying to rescue my mother.” She sensed rather than saw Captain Trevarian’s anger. Over and over, he had warned her to remain silent.
“Your mother? What is this nonsense?” demanded Captain Catherwood.
Captain Trevarian snapped, “Why don’t you tell him everything as heartlessly?”
Lian wanted to beg both men to forgive her. All her English fled, as she sought the words to explain that Davis had died bravely and with honor. In Cantonese, she whispered, “I don’t know how.”
Captain Trevarian growled something under his breath, then said, “According to her mother, Lian is your daughter.”
“My daughter?”
“Honorable sir—” Lian began.
“Your mother’s name,” ordered Captain Catherwood, but his voice shook.
“Honorable sir, she is called Ch’en Mei.” From under her ch ’eŭng shaam, she pulled out the thousand stories box. “She told me you gave her this.” She gasped as Captain Catherwood’s face became as gray as Davis’s had just before his last breath. Whirling to Captain Trevarian, she cried, “Help him! He’s ill!”
He caught her arm as a swarm of servants surrounded the man in the chair. “Be quiet, you little fool!”
Lian tried to sort out the cacophony of voices. When someone shouted, Captain Trevarian jerked her backward, as servants pushed the wheeled chair from the room. She started to follow, but his grip on her arm tightened.
“Stay here!” he ordered.
“I must—”
“Your brother is dead because of you. Do you intend to kill your father as well?”
In horror, Lian stared at him. Repeating his order not to move, he walked to the door. She wavered between obeying and going to stand where she could see what was happening.
Captain Trevarian stamped to the hearth and clasped his hands behind his back. The seams of his coat strained at his shoulders, but he seemed unaware of it or the increasing clatter of rain at the windows.
Lian hesitated. If she spoke, he would lash out at her in anger. If she said nothing, she would be labeled as callous.
A shadow appeared in the doorway. When she saw the man named Hyett, she inched toward him and bowed.
“No, no, Miss Lian,” he murmured.
Looking up, she regarded him with dismay. How many more mistakes could she make? “If I have offended you—”
“No, no,” he repeated. “Miss Lian, you’re wanted upstairs immediately.”
Captain Trevarian turned from the hearth. “Hyett, you must be mistaken. She caused the captain’s heart palpitation.”
The butler tried to smile. “Sir, this request is from Captain Catherwood himself.”
“All right.” Crossing the room, Captain Trevarian put his hand on her arm. “Take us up.”
“Lieutenant—er, Captain Trevarian, the request was solely for Miss Lian.”
“She speaks very little English. I doubt if the captain remembers much Cantonese after all these years. They’ll need me to translate.”
The butler nodded and urged them to follow. Lian twisted her arm away, but Captain Trevarian caught it again before she had taken two steps. Whirling her to face him, he put his nose so close to hers that she was surrounded by the emerald seas of his eyes.
In an intense tone, he whispered, in Cantonese, “Don’t do anything to endanger the captain more, you little fool. You are a jinx. Give me one more reason to rid this world of you, and I gladly shall.”
Her chin rose. “My father awaits me.”
Lian heard Captain Trevarian’s heavier steps behind her, but did not look back. If she did, he might make some cruel comment. She wondered how he could believe she wanted to see her father dead.
Her hand quivered on the curved bannister. When they reached the dusk at the top of the stairs, Hyett motioned toward an open door. Taking a deep breath of the musty air, she entered the room.
This room was crowded with people. They stood around tall cabinets and a variety of tables and chairs that concealed most of the scarlet carpet. A massive bed was set by the hearth. A row of windows offered a view of the harbor, but was blocked by the wheeled chair.
“Come here, child.” From the bed, Captain Catherwood added in a weak voice, “Don’t be afraid.”
“I am not afraid,” she whispered.
“Good.” He smiled, deepening the creases in his face. “It proves Catherwood blood is in your veins.”
Glancing at the servants, she stepped closer to the bed. She began to drop to her knees.
“No, do not kneel,” he ordered. “This isn’t China.”
When Captain Catherwood held out his hand, she put hers on it. His skin was as dry as paper, but she hid her reaction behind the mask she had worn during years of taunts. He told her to sit on a chair beside the bed. Furtively she glanced at Captain Trevarian, who was standing behind her, frowning.
“Your name is Lian?” Captain Catherwood asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s a good one, for you are like the willow, blowing with the winds of chance which I’m sure have been unkind, child.” His smile returned. “You may call me ‘Father.’”
“Yes. Yes, Father,” she answered dutifully, but tears trickled into her eyes. How happy Mother would be to witness this!
Mother! Was she alive or had Mother’s Younger Brother taken out his fury on her? Lian clenched her hands. She was happy and she was sad and she was confused and she wanted … She did not know what she wanted.
Her father said, “Do not look so sad, for that reminds me of how your mother looked when she came pleading for me to protect her from his cruelty.”
His cruelty? He must be speaking of Mother’s Younger Brother, who had tried to destroy her life, too. “Is that why she—she—?”
“Someday I shall tell you how I took her into my quarters and into my heart.” He touched the box she held, then looked at the mantel where another box was set.
“That is like my box!” she gasped.
“Because I made it the same voyage I gave your mother that box. Once it sat on a table in the back parlor, but I like it here where it reminds me of past voyages.” He ran his fingers along the clipper ship on the box. “It pleases me that Mei kept this small token.”
“She treasured the thousand stories box.”
“Thousand stories?”
“We had no books and little paper, but Mother wrote what lessons she could and stored them in this box for me along with the story of Captain Catherwood.”
“Will you read it to me some day?”
“Yes.”
“Then smile, child. There is no need to be unhappy. You are home.”
“I have dreamed often of the day when I would find my father. My mother told me much of you. My heart is happy, Father.”
“As mine is that you are with me.” His smile faded into lines of pain. “Tell me of Davis.”
Lian obeyed. When her English failed her, Captain Trevarian assisted quietly, shocking her. She had become accustomed to his blustery haughtiness on the China Shadow. She was finishing the story just as a rap sounded on the door.
She met the startled eyes of a young man wearing a black coat like Captain Trevarian’s. Caramel brown hair twisted across his forehead and fell into his dark eyes.
“Come in, Doctor,” ordered Captain Catherwood impatiently. “Do you know Bryce Trevarian?”
“Yes, yes. How are you, Trevarian?” He continued to stare at her as he walked to the bed.
“This is my daughter, Lian, who has arrived from Canton.”
“Daughter?” he choked. He cleared his throat. Offering his hand, he stated, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Catherwood. I’m Dr. Weston Newberry.”
“Shake the doctor’s hand, Lian,” Captain Trevarian ordered. When she lifted quivering fingers to obey, he added, “You may find her Chinese sensibilities offended by the commonplace.”
The doctor smiled, but as quickly as possible, she pulled her hand away and stepped back.
Father asked, “Bryce, will you take Lian downstairs while young Newberry pokes me until he’s satisfied that I am still alive?”
Lian had time only to smile at her father before Captain Trevarian grasped her arm. He led her out of the room, down the stairs, and into the room where she first had seen her father.
Bryce closed sliding doors behind him. “‘My heart is happy, Father,’” he said in mocking Cantonese. “That was one hell of a performance, Lian.”
The Captain's Pearl Page 6