It was apparent from the moment the first couple had walked through the door that they had not come to enjoy “A Night In China—A Reception Presenting the Chinese Collection of Philo Page, Presented by his Granddaughter, Mrs. Jason Terrell Harrington III,” as the invitation announced. No, they had come to gawk at Jade and inspect the inside of Harrington House.
Matt was adept at making introductions. Jade was inept at recalling names. She had always been that way in a crowded situation. As the women were introduced to her, dressed in the latest fashion, bedecked in beaded gowns and adorned with jewels, feathered headdresses, and plumed fans, each and every one had paused to gape at Jade’s unusual costume. Some, mercifully, were speechless. Others merely looked skeptical. Still others gave her backhanded compliments.
“How unique. How ever did you think of it?”
“Heavens! I would think you’d feel half-dressed.”
“My goodness, don’t you look . . . different?”
Through it all, Jade had smiled. And smiled. And ached to tell them all to go home.
She saw Matt standing across the room talking to two portly gentlemen in cutaway tails. Their bored expressions said they would rather be anywhere else. She caught Matt’s eye and motioned him over.
“Try not to look so worried,” he advised as he grabbed an egg roll from a passing waiter.
“No one has even looked at any of the art except for a cursory glance here and there. They’re all too busy gossiping among themselves. Look at the way the women have split up into those little groups of twos and threes. Do you think I’d have the courage to intrude on any of them? They remind me of hens in a barnyard. There’s a definite pecking order to this, Matt, and I don’t fit in.” The men were just as bad. Worse, perhaps, because they spoke louder. No one had made any attempts to speak to her after they entered the ballroom.
“I think you should call them to attention, explain some of the more fascinating points about the collection. At least the highlights. That way they’ll know what to look for.”
Jade shrugged. “From the questions they asked at the door, I know now that all they came to see is Jason, not the collection. He’s more of curiosity to them than art will ever be.”
“You should try, at least, because that group by the door appears ready to bolt any minute now. All it will take to end this affair is for one couple to leave and—”
“You don’t have to tell me. Grand exodus.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Can you get their attention?” She was as nervous as she had ever been before, but tried not to show it. Jade didn’t know which was worse, having to endure the unreceptive crowd, or face the end of the evening with Jason’s ultimatum.
Matt clapped his hands to attract attention. One or two of the ladies’ groups stopped talking. Half of those in attendance looked his way.
“Mrs. Harrington would like to give you a brief description of each piece of the collection. As she moves about the room, she’ll be happy to answer questions.” He leaned over toward her and whispered, “Where would you like to begin?”
For a moment she was tempted to say nowhere. Then it all became clear. She would start where it all began for her. “With the camel,” she said, pointing toward the opposite end of the room, “near the tall double doors.”
UNNOTICED AS YET, J.T. stood in the doorway trying to control his temper. He had been outside the foyer when Matt made his announcement to the crowd, and now he watched Jade at the far end of the room. She was trying to speak to the gathering in general, but the only ones paying any attention were the two oldest women in the room—and one of them seemed far more interested in what she was eating than in what Jade had to say.
No matter what barriers stood between them, Jason’s heart went out to his wife as she valiantly tried to carry on with her presentation. He wondered what gave these people the right to be rude. Why had they come, if not to view the collection and hear what Jade had to say?
Although she had not noticed him yet, J.T. couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Jade stood out against the crowd like an exotic orchid in a field of daisies. The dark background of her Chinese jacket provided a unique contrast to her red-gold hair. It reminded him of the impossible pairing of the sun against a midnight sky. The other women in the room appeared overblown when he compared them to Jade. Instead of wearing her hair in an intricate style of the day, she had braided it into one long, thick queue that swayed behind her, and into it she had worked the red silk sash that she had found in the adobe. A few unruly wisps and tendrils had escaped the braid to curl softly about her face.
She was so alone, and so vulnerable in this room full of strangers, that the unguarded moment reminded him of the time she had appeared in the doorway at their wedding. That night he had left his place before the judge to go to her. That night he had loved her more than he knew.
But even after all that had passed between them, he could not leave her standing alone in this hostile crowd tonight. Jason took a step in her direction, then stopped when he heard Matt Van Buren say, “Thank God you’re here!”
J.T. glanced away from Jade just long enough to acknowledge Matt. He adjusted his cuffs, refastened a diamond stud that had nearly slipped loose, and kept an eye on his wife. He wished he could will her some of his strength. She looked about to wilt.
He couldn’t keep the rage from his tone as he took Matt aside and said, “No one’s paying any attention to her. I’m going to make them shut up and listen.”
As Jason stepped forward, Matt pulled him back.
“Oh, no you don’t. Not unless you want to cause her more humiliation. If you want to help, you’ll get in there and give them what they came for—a chance to meet one of the five richest men in San Francisco—and act like these Chinese antiques of hers are the greatest things to hit the city since the trolley car.”
“What should I do?”
“Just be gracious,” Matt advised.
Jason scanned the room. “Sounds easy enough.”
“Tell them you’re all for this museum Jade is trying to establish.”
J.T. didn’t comment on Matt’s second suggestion, but moved off into the room before Matt could add, “Above all, don’t be yourself.”
“THIS NEXT PIECE,” Jade said as she lifted a wafer-thin disk of jade from a lacquer box, “is called a pi disk. Pi being a symbol for heaven and earth. It’s made of jade and adorned with two tiny dragons on the outer rim and one in the center. Grandfather felt it was of significance because he believed jade carved in this form dated back to China’s late Warring period.” Her voice dropped away to nothing. It was apparent that no one in the room cared to hear what she was saying except for the two elderly dowagers standing in front of her. The room hummed with the conversations of the tight groups scattered across it. At least, she thought, she could be kind to the two women who had given her their attention for the last few moments. “Do you have any questions?” Jade asked.
One elderly woman, whose name Jade had promptly forgotten, looked at the other and asked, “Do you think they have any more of these cakes?”
Jade was about to signal to one of the waiters when she saw Jason working his way to her through the crowd. As he passed through the room, more and more people took note of him and turned to watch him walk by. She was surprised to see him in his formal attire, and noted with outright astonishment that even his boots had been polished to a gleaming shine. She remained speechless as he walked directly to her without pausing to speak to anyone else, took her hand, and placed a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Sorry I’m so late, dear.”
Dear?
She shook her head to clear it. Had she fainted? Was she hallucinating?
The two women in front of them were immediately joined by two more. All of them sought introductions to J.T. He smoothly handle
d them while Jade remained able to do little more than gawk. He never once let go of her hand. Instead, he laced his fingers through hers and held them tight.
When most of the crowd had gathered around them and he had their attention, Jason said, “I’m so happy you were all gracious enough to attend this little gathering of my wife’s. I’m sure you realize the importance of viewing this collection that once belonged to Philo Page, but have you taken a close look at the craftsmanship of these pieces? Look closely at the paintings hanging to my left. They are as beautiful as any Rembrandt you’ve ever seen.”
He beamed down on Jade with pride. “I find it quite astute of my wife to see the intrinsic value of this collection, but of course, anyone with an eye for quality and taste will recognize it in these pieces. Enjoy yourselves,” he added. “Have some more champagne. Look around at your leisure.”
Jade was so amazed by his impromptu speech that she could not move. She knew her eyebrows had risen nearly to her hairline, but she simply couldn’t stop staring at Jason.
Just when she thought there could be no surprises left, someone nearby said, “Look, the Stanfords have just arrived.”
Sure enough, when Jade looked toward the ballroom doors, she saw the former California governor and his wife entering the room. Although they were building their own mansion on the hill, one that would far surpass Harrington House, Jade had never met them. She glanced up at Jason, who was taking note of the stir the new arrivals had caused. He immediately pulled her along with him as he went to greet the Stanfords.
Within minutes J.T. had completed the introductions and had found a common ground of conversation with Leland Stanford. The man was passionately interested in horses. Jason was at ease talking to him about Occident, the first racing trotter in Stanford’s stable. As smoothly as if he was a politician himself, Jason offered Stanford cigars and brandy in the library and left the two women to talk alone, but not before he gave Jade a parting kiss on the cheek and a reminder to “Have fun, dear.”
“Well, my dear, the men have certainly become fast friends in no time at all,” Stanford’s wife said.
Jade was only half-listening to Mrs. Stanford. Still amazed, she was too intent on staring after Jason.
“May we talk, my dear?”
Jade finally turned to her guest. “Of course. I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
The woman smiled and tossed the edges of her opera cape back off her shoulders.
“I can have a waiter take that if you like,” Jade offered.
“No, thank you, Jade. I’m still a little chilled. The wind has come up and it’s quite foggy out. Now, as I was saying, I’m so sorry we arrived late. I told Leland I just had to see this collection. You see, we plan to decorate one whole room in our new home in a Chinese mode. Are any of these pieces for sale?”
Jade slowly and carefully outlined her plan for a museum foundation as she escorted Jane Stanford around the room, pointing out piece after piece of art.
Finally, Mrs. Stanford stopped her, well aware that most everyone in the room was watching. “I like you, my dear. And I knew your grandfather, although I’ll admit I hadn’t seen him for years before he passed on. I’m well acquainted with the California History Society here in the city—they do a fine service to San Francisco—but I agree that the Chinese need a museum of sorts, too.” She glanced around the room and raised her voice a bit before she said, “I will be happy to be your first sponsor. In fact, I would be pleased if you would put me in charge of the whole affair. Will you leave this to me?”
Jade was so thrilled she almost grabbed the woman and hugged her. After viewing the entire collection, Mrs. Stanford met Matt Van Buren and agreed to have her own lawyer call on him in the morning to finalize the details.
It all seemed too good to be true. Jason had appeared in the doorway like a guardian angel and rescued her. Then the Stanfords had arrived and the most respected, highly regarded wife of one of the state’s most influential men agreed to take charge of organizing the museum foundation. Jade was afraid she was going to awaken from the dream at any moment.
The evening gradually came to an end. J.T. returned to her side, and as they bade each of the guests good night, they were still holding hands.
As soon as the door closed and the last carriage pulled down the drive, Jason let go of her hand. He unfastened his collar and tie and shoved them into his coat pocket, shrugged out of his jacket and hooked it over his shoulder. Jade watched as he stopped one of the waiters carrying a champagne bottle toward the kitchen and then quickly relieved him of his burden. She thought he had forgotten about her until he started up the stairs with the bottle in his hand, paused midway, and turned to look down at her. He didn’t say a word.
“Thank you, Jason.” She felt she owed him that much for what he had done this evening.
“Don’t thank me now, Jade.” He pulled his watch out of his pocket and checked the time. “I’m giving you thirty minutes to finish up down here. Then, you’ll either meet me in my room, or I’m coming after you.”
FOR A FEW BRIEF hours that evening, Jade had seen what her life would have been like if Jason’s trust had not been broken. The experience had been wonderful. He had played the perfect mate. Then, just when she thought there might be a glimmer of hope for them, he had reissued his ultimatum.
She tried to maintain her calm as she went back to the kitchen to give Tao Ling the money to pay the waiters. Once the extra staff had left, Tao started to make her some tea. She did not think that even his soothing brew would calm her, so she refused.
“And Tao,” she added before she could change her mind, “we won’t be needing you tonight. You needn’t sleep in the hallway.” She looked down at her hands.
“If you are certain?”
He did not sound at all surprised, but then, she knew he had witnessed Jason’s sudden attentiveness all evening.
“If you are certain,” he repeated, “and do not mind, Mrs. Harrington, I would like permission to go to the fan-tan parlor tonight. It has been a while since I have had a night off.”
Jade knew he was hopelessly addicted to gambling. Once a week on his day off, Tao went to Little China to play fan-tan, a game of odd or even, in one of the many gambling houses where the Chinese could also bet on pai gow, a domino game, or the ancient game of Mah-Jongg, played with tiles.
“Of course,” she agreed. “You can take tomorrow off, too. I’m sure Quan can help out here in the kitchen.”
He allowed himself to look doubtful. “I will return before morning.”
The clock in the drawing room chimed and she hurried out of the kitchen. She had a quarter-hour left to decide what to do. Hurrying up the stairs, she took down her hair and shook it free. With the red sash she had used as a hair ornament in her hand, Jade ran down the hall. Once she entered her room, she quickly pulled a chair over to the door and jammed it beneath the knob. Its spindly, cabriole legs didn’t look strong enough to keep anything out of her room, let alone someone as strong as Jason.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Did she really want to keep him out? If she was to be truthful, she had to admit that she didn’t. What she wanted was Jason, the loving, caring Jason she had known before the wedding—the man she had had another glimpse of tonight—and she knew with sudden clarity that locking him out of her room was not the way to go about getting him back.
As much as she did not want to, she thought of Babs. Naturally, Babs would have known what to do under such circumstances. What Jade decided she had to do was try to broaden her thinking and come up with a plan. She paced the room as she ticked off the facts on her fingertips.
She wanted her marriage to Jason to work.
She wanted his love and his trust.
In the three weeks that he’d been home, she had been biding her time, hoping he would learn to trust her a
gain. For three weeks nothing had changed. They were at an impasse.
Today he had pledged, in no uncertain terms, that he meant to have her. Now. Tonight.
And she realized she wanted him, too.
But not just for tonight. For always.
The facts were clear, but she still didn’t have a plan.
The clock on the mantel ticked loudly in the deep silence of her room. There were five minutes left.
They could fight it out again. She could try to hold him off as long as possible.
Or she could give in and go to Jason of her own free will to prove how much she loved him.
She removed her Mandarin jacket and tossed it over her bed, stripped off the silk trousers, then her pantaloons, her chemise, her slippers and stockings. Nude, she raced to the chest of drawers, grabbed up her brush, and ran it through her hair until it hung free and alive with curl.
Two minutes to go.
She leaned close to the mirror and pinched her sallow cheeks. The deep shadows beneath her eyes worried her enough to make her pause and stare back at the faded image of herself. Tomorrow she would go to the doctor. There was definitely something wrong with her.
One minute left. Jade donned her simple topaz robe and drew a deep breath. She tied the robe, crossed the room, and moved the chair out of the way, and once the door was open, Jade silently padded down the hall toward Jason’s room.
A WARM FIRE WAS burning in the grate in the master suite, providing the only light in the darkened room. Jason sat brooding before the fire, his eyes reflecting the hypnotic movement of the flames. He tossed back a glass of champagne and stared at the door.
She wasn’t coming.
He sighed and ran both hands through his hair. He didn’t look forward to arguing with her any more than he looked forward to having to force her into acquiescence the way he had on their wedding night. But he had given her no choice, and he was not about to back down now.
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