by Dawn Farnham
The slow movement through the crowd, greeting various acquaintances here and there, meant that she approached at a pace which enabled her to take in the figure of the man she believed to be her close companion of years ago. The fashion just now for new arrivals from England was for great caged crinolines, which jutted out yards from their body in vast swathes of cloth.
How did these women survive in these hot, cumbersome cages, she thought as she edged by. She was reminded of Carlyle’s pronouncement of the first purpose of Clothes being not for warmth or decency but ornament. Man might warm himself from the toils of the chase or amid dried leaves in his tree or bark shed, but for Decoration he must have Clothes.
Her own choice of Decoration was far simpler and of an older time. The petticoats were silk and soft and the outer dress of organza for lightness. She deliberately wore pale shades to these events, though always with a touch of colour. Tonight she was in white with ruby earrings and necklace.
Several women turned away from her or talked behind their fans and she chose, as she always had, to ignore this.
She was greeted by the St. Joseph’s contingent, Father Beurel, Evangeline, his housekeeper and Joseph Lee, the Chinese priest. She had known them almost twenty years and they spoke briefly. It was people like these and others like the da Souza family, Reverend Keaseberry and his wife, old, old friends, and new ones who felt no imperative to take a moral stance. These came from unlikely quarters. Miss Cooke, to whose school Charlotte made donations, and many of the German and French merchant families.
Thus, stopping to greet friends, and ignore enemies, knowing she left a frothy wake of gossip in her passage, she made her way towards the man she believed to be Edmund. The band began a lively tune which signalled the arrival of the Governor’s carriage and the crowd ebbed suddenly. The dark-haired man turned and, with a sharp intake of breath, she recognised him.
His attention was momentarily taken with the throng at the door and the insistent conversation of the woman at his elbow, a woman Charlotte recognised as Emily Blackwood, the pretty young daughter of the new Resident Counsellor.
His head was inclined to Miss Blackwood’s in an attitude of gentlemanly attention when a further jostling of the crowd occasioned him to look up and their eyes met.
That he recognised her was not in doubt. They stood, both of them, a moment, then he inclined his head in a bow in her direction and she dropped into a small curtsy.
Emily Blackwood, attentive to his every move, removed her gaze from him to Charlotte and the glance she threw was a blade. Emily’s father appeared, gathered up his daughter and bundled her towards the hall to greet the Governor.
The Chinese merchants moved as one through the throng. Zhen sought Charlotte but the crush was too great. Tonight he was accompanied by the Fu Shan Chu and other important members of the kongsi. Hong had been invited but had refused. Zhen knew that Hong was uncomfortable with the men of the government. He spoke no English at all, had no social graces, was as ignorant as a peasant with a peasant’s mentality. His entire being was concentrated on money and power. Cheng Sam Teo was in attendance but hung back. This place was new to him. Here he was at the very centre of British power in the Far East. It was overwhelming when one had spent most of one’s life in a small town in Riau. He looked around at the great room with its elegance, the lines of red-coated soldiers, the European women in the silk gowns and exposed bosoms and felt entirely intimidated.
Zhen seemed totally in his element. Cheng looked at the man they had selected. He was to be merely a momentary and useful filler until Cheng could get his bearings and bid for the leases and understand the extent of his father-in-law’s power in Johor.
But he did not look like that. His height made him stand out. With his silk robes and the mandarin hat with the diamond, he looked like an emperor. He moved with ease in the throng. He spoke fluent English and bowed and talked to the government men. Everyone knew him. Cheng felt at once that he had been an inspired choice. His mind began to entertain other more interesting possibilities. Ones of a more permanent nature. Where was his English concubine? Cheng searched the crowd for this black-haired woman.
The young Temenggong arrived in the midst of his retinue, resplendent in his rakish turban, tight gold trousers and green silk coat embroidered with gold thread and diamonds. Cheng, Zhen and the Deputy went forward to greet him.
Edmund took three strides and was at her side. She felt short of breath. He was so very unexpected.
‘Hello, Charlotte.’
Charlotte had forgotten his voice, the deep, modulated tones. She remembered, in a rush, the calmness of his voice under pressure, when waves were pouring over the ship or when they had, terrifyingly, lost sight of the fleet. Remembered his courage, his unflagging strength which gave strength to others. He was a born naval commander. She had forgotten, though, his physical appearance. He had been only twenty-one when they had met and now he was fully a mature man of forty. His shoulders had broadened, the litheness of his body had changed into the hard sinew and muscle of a seaman, used to hardship. His face was tanned, furrowed from the sea life, his chestnut hair thick and wavy. All these things she could not recall. But his eyes she did remember, brown eyes, filled with intelligence and quickness. These had not changed. He was dressed in the dark blue, white and pale gold uniform of a high-ranking royal naval officer. It suited him very well.
‘Edmund, how incredible that you are here.’
Edmund smiled. She had forgotten his smile too, the warmth of it. Edmund was stoical and careful of his emotions, but not guarded with those he trusted.
‘You look well, Charlotte, as lovely as I remember you.’
Something in the way he said these words spoke of a constant remembrance, as if he had thought of her often. She could hardly believe that was true but it left her nonplussed. She looked down and a silence fell upon them.
He broke this little moment by taking her hand and putting it to his lips.
Zhen’s gaze found Charlotte at that moment with her hand in that of another man, the lips of that man upon her hand, her eyes gazing at him, her body so quiet and attentive to that man, in an attitude of total rapture, or so it seemed. The merchants around him followed his gaze. She was always of interest to these men. A beautiful white woman beyond their own reach, who slept with a Chinese man. Human natured demanded curiosity and envy.
The Deputy whispered to Cheng, who moved to Zhen’s side. ‘I am sorry to keep you from such beauty,’ he said, ‘it will not be for long.’
Zhen felt his face grow hot.
‘I am so very glad to see you again,’ Edmund said, holding on to her hand.
Charlotte smiled and gazed into the warmth of his smile.
‘Oh Edmund, and I am so very glad to see you.’
The band struck up God Save the Queen. Edmund released her hand and turned to the door.
Charlotte, too, looked to the door and there saw Zhen, surrounded by the entire Chinese merchant population of the town, all gazing at her. She started, surprised and suddenly guilty. Zhen threw her a deep look of unfathomable meaning and moved away.
Now Edmund too was claimed by duty and his naval colleagues and left, with a small backward look at her, to form the line for the new governor.
Robert came to her side, sliding his arm into hers.
‘Come on, time to take our places. Teresa is looking for you.’
She shook him off. ‘Why on earth can’t you sort out your business, Robbie? Do you really want to spend your life with Shilah when Teresa is your wife and loves you so much?’
Robert’s mouth dropped open, staring at his sister. By the time he closed it again, she had moved away, the anthem had finished and Colonel Cavenagh had made his entrance to the room between the serried rows of officers and civilians. He was short and stocky with mutton-chop whiskers and a bald head.
‘You can hardly see his false leg.’
Charlotte felt her arm taken and, startled, looked at her ni
ece.
‘Amber, it’s you. Thank heaven. I thought it might be … never mind.’
They both watched as the new governor approached with Governor Blundell. Behind him, with Mrs. Blackwood, was Mrs. Cavenagh, a slim woman of some elegance but less than compelling beauty.
‘She has the face of a horse,’ whispered Amber.
Charlotte tapped her niece’s hand lightly. ‘Stop it. You girls spend all your time in horrid gossip. Now hush.’
Both Charlotte and Amber curtsied gracefully to Colonel Cavenagh as he passed and finally the official arrival ceremony was over. The band began a gay tune and the noise level rose as each and every one found their acquaintance and discussed the new Governor and his lady. Champagne was passed and Charlotte allowed Amber a glass.
‘He hardly limps at all. It’s marvellous, don’t you think? But shall he dance? With only one arm he might attempt a gavotte, perhaps, but I rather think not the waltz.’
Amber laughed gaily and Charlotte smiled. She, Zhen’s daughter, Lian, and Sarah Blundell were impossibly high spirited. But she did not begrudge them it for, Charlotte knew their lives would change in some way or other irrevocably all too soon.
As for Lian, despite the shock of Zhen’s announcement she had argued the girl’s case. Zhen had listened politely and then said he would look into it. She could not go further on the matter and had no desire to spoil their last evening together.
Sarah Blundell had no greater ambition than to be married to some English officer and become a regimental wife. Perhaps, she, of the three, might actually find happiness.
Amber, surprisingly, paid little attention to the young men who had come courting. She was not of the highest birth, of course, being the daughter of a white man and an Indian nyai, and, in consequence, the young men had not been of the highest calibre either, but none of that seemed to matter, in any case, to Amber. She was simply not interested in them. She showed an aptitude for languages and spoke excellent Malay and passably good French.
Charlotte felt it might be time to speak to Amber of her future. She was sixteen and in a short time her days at school would be over. Robert had no time or inclination to concern himself with Amber, though he loved her dearly. Shilah was somewhat out of her depth with her educated daughter and now was entirely involved with her doting love of Robert and the birth, in her late thirties, of a new child. Charlotte and Amber had always been close but Charlotte recognised that, over the last three years, she too, had been taken up with her own life, with her oblivious passion for Zhen and the delight of their love for their daughter.
She patted Amber’s hand. She would invite her to luncheon and they would speak of this. Before she could utter a word however, Amber spoke rather breathlessly.
‘Aunty Kitt, what news of Alex?’
Charlotte turned and looked Amber in the eye. She had known for some time that Amber had feelings for Alex but, in that instant, it came to her that, actually, Amber might be the kind of young woman that could settle Alexander’s wild ways. If they could care for each other and marry quickly, Charlotte would send Alex to Batavia to pick up the reins of the affairs at Brieswijk and discover what was happening in the company. The money which she should have received for the quarter had not arrived. It was a great sum and she had become intensely worried.
‘He comes home under a cloud. I have not the faintest idea what to expect.’
Amber looked down and twisted her lace handkerchief. Robert came up, his face set, and took Amber by the arm. ‘ Sarah’s asking for you.’
Amber made to open her mouth but Robert looked severe.
‘Off you go. You girls should find plenty to gossip about.’
Amber threw a long glance at Charlotte who nodded to her. As she departed Robert turned to Charlotte.
‘Teresa is …’
‘No, Robbie.’ Charlotte put up her hand. ‘Not this evening. I don’t care. You must sort this matter out between you. I have my own concerns.’
She turned away abruptly meaning to look for Zhen and found herself gazing again into the eyes of Edmund Mallory.
He glanced over her head at Robert. ‘May I take Charlotte away for a few moments?’
Robert stared at Edmund.
‘It’s all right, Robbie. Edmund and I are old friends.’
Robert threw a look of total incomprehension at his sister and before he could agree or disagree, was joined by his sister’s Chinese companion. He was rather relieved. He had no idea who this other fellow was.
‘Ah, Zhen, so good to see you.’
Zhen bowed to Robert and turned his gaze to Edmund.
‘Charlotte,’ he said and Charlotte, who knew him so well, felt the control he was exerting on a situation he did not fully understand. ‘Will you introduce us?’
Robert, too, stared at his sister. ‘Yes, Kitt, do introduce us.’
‘Allow me,’ Edmund said, looking at the two men. ‘Edmund Mallory. Naval commander in Her Majesty’s service.’
He put out his hand to Robert and the men shook. Edmund turned to Zhen.
‘Your servant, sir,’ he said and once again put out his hand.
Zhen stared at it for a moment. The tension between the two men was palpable. Then Zhen bowed and Edmund dropped his hand.
‘Yes, of course. Forgive me. The customs of your country are somewhat new to me.’
‘That is surprising since you naval officers spend your time battering China to bits.’
Edmund, if surprised by this riposte, did not show it and looked coolly at Zhen. ‘It is regrettable that the Chinese government cannot abide by the treaties it signs.’
‘It is regrettable that the Chinese government is forced at the point of a gun to sign such treaties.’
That Edmund was not in the least used to arguments of this kind from stray Chinese merchants who spoke excellent English was blatantly obvious. His eyes narrowed but before he could speak Zhen transferred his gaze to Charlotte.
‘Mrs. Manouk. I see you are enjoying yourself. Goodbye.’
He bowed, turned on his heel and left her.
Charlotte felt a blush spread from her neck to her cheeks. She gazed at his back and felt close to tears.
She put her handkerchief to her mouth and moved away from the men towards the terrace.
Edmund looked to Robert. ‘What an odd fellow. Is your sister all right?’
Robert frowned.
‘I have no idea. I shall go to her,’ he said and Edmund bowed slightly. He saw something was amiss and, with a sensitivity not often found among sailoring men, realised his presence, just then, would not help her.
‘Yes, please go to her,’ he said and Robert departed.
7
‘Who is this upstart sultan, cheeky blighter?’
Colonel Cavenagh whacked his artificial leg with a crack against the floorboards. Robert realised that when the new governor was displeased, this was his mode of expression, much the way a judge might use a gavel to get attention.
‘Young fool, sir,’ said Randolph Blackwood, the Resident Counsellor. ‘Needs putting back in line.’
‘Flying the British flag on his boats, attacking states in our name. Good God! What’s that place again?’
Blackwood put on his pince-nez and consulted his paper. ‘Pahang. Large state in central Malaya, timber, possibly tin. Succession dispute between two brothers.’
‘These damn princes. Just like India, always fighting some petty wars.’
‘If I may, sir,’ Robert said and Cavenagh looked over at him.
‘Yes, Commissioner, what is it?’
‘A little more complicated than that.’
‘What, what,’ Cavenagh said gruffly. ‘Well?’
‘Sir, Temenggong Abu Bakar’s late father signed an agreement with Tengku Ali, son of the late Sultan of Singapore, in which Ali agreed to give up Johor in exchange for a pension and his recognition as Sultan here, which had been in abeyance for many years. This agreement was put in place by Governor But
terworth. But other Malay sultans were not in agreement and Abu Bakar is facing a threat from Sultan Mahmud Shah, who was deposed at Riau by the Dutch, and now claims suzerainty over both Pahang and Johor through blood lines and marriage. In this pursuit he aims to overthrow the Sultan Umar of Terengganu, his neighbour, with the backing of the Siamese and take both states by force. We have already warned Sultan Umar to resist any such efforts. Now Mahmud Shah has an alliance with Pahang’s Prince Wan Ahmad against the interests of his own brother Tun Mahatir. Abu Bakar feels that the fall of Pahang would bring his own position in Johor under threat. Consequently he backs Tun Mahatir and has sent weapons and gunboats.’
Cavenagh stared at Robert as if he were confronted with Isaac Newton asking him to solve the riddle of the spheres. His mouth opened but nothing emerged and he closed it again.
‘The Temenggong’s wife,’ Robert went on, ‘is the sister of Tun Mahatir.’
A silence fell on the room and Robert and McNair exchanged a glance. Blackwood, too, had fallen, as if stunned, into a stupor.
Finally the governor, as if released from some hypnotic spell, roused himself.
‘Good God, man. Who can make sense of all these sultans? Well, well, what to do,’ said Cavenagh and thumped his leg against the floor. ‘We don’t want Siamese influence down here. What do you say, McNair?’
The governor’s ADC stood up and threw a glance at Robert.
‘No, sir. We support Abu Bakar. His acquisition of Johor was quite legal. I have looked into the paperwork. He is wealthy through a monopoly on the gutta percha trade and has licensed the Chinese to set up gambier and pepper plantations on the southern rivers of Johor. In addition, since the establishment of New Harbour, his land at Telok Blangah has become very valuable. But he does need pulling into line, sir. I have it on good authority he has been going around saying that the British governor is his personal tax collector.’
‘What!’ Cavenagh threw his leg this time against the leg of the table, shaking the pens and inkpots into a minor convulsion.
‘What do you mean?’ Blackwood said, his pince-nez dropping from his nose.