The Secret Mandarin

by Sara Sheridan

  I forbore to call a Chinese doctor, trusting instead to my own nursing skills and being unsure what might be prescribed, for what little I knew of Chinese medicine seemed to me more outlandish than wise. The cuts and strains and scratches we had suffered over the whole journey had all been mended in our own keeping—there was no need to turn to native superstition. I dismissed our servants back to their tents and continued in my nursing activities. As the hours wore on I forgot my own exhaustion, continually dousing Robert, blowing on his face and watching for any sign of a recovery.

  At two in the morning or thereabouts I had an idea. I left him only a second, running to the fireside and waking the inn’s servants who slept there.

  ‘Come,’ I ordered them, hauling them behind me back up to the room.

  ‘Move the bed. Over to the window,’ I shouted.

  Sleepily they hovered in the doorway.

  ‘Come along!’ I released the catch on the window to let in the cold, night air.

  Then I returned to the foot of the bed and hauled the frame myself until they realised what I wanted and put their backs into it.

  ‘And fetch me another bucket of water from the stream. Cold as you can,’ I barked at one poor girl. ‘Now!’

  As the night wore on, Robert called out, very loud, and in English. He shouted the name of a dog he had as a child.

  ‘To heel, Tuppence,’ he yelled. ‘To heel!’

  Once he gave instruction as to the care of different specimens of orchid I knew he had grown at Kew. A few times he said my name and for an instant I thought perhaps he knew I was there, but it was not so. As the dawn approached, I worried that his shouting would carry and perhaps be recognised as English. As the maid brought bucket after bucket of icy water, one each hour now, there was fear in her eyes at this strange screaming. I explained Robert’s cries away.

  ‘He is a scholar,’ I said. ‘These words are from ancient texts.’

  The screams got worse. I tried to hold his jaw but he bit me, hard. I was so concerned I thought of gagging him, but a few minutes of that, achieved with a length of muslin from our packing case, seemed only to make him more agitated and I could not bear it and loosened the cloth immediately.

  As dawn broke he was no better. In fact, my guess was that his skin was hotter still. Sing Hoo and Wang came to the rooms as they did every morning when the sun rose. They shifted, immediately worried. Robert was such a force to be reckoned with that to see him delirious and vulnerable was disturbing for us all.

  ‘Doctor?’ Wang offered.

  I declined.

  ‘No. Sing Hoo, you must tell the men we will rest here. Have them guard the camp in shifts and dispense a little money—perhaps two cash each—for their amusement.’

  It was important to consider our charges, no matter what else was going on.

  ‘Go!’ I urged him.

  Wang stayed with me.

  I had not slept and I was clearly exhausted.

  ‘You rest,’ Wang motioned. ‘I will do this.’

  I curled in the chair by the bed but such was my worry that I only dozed fitfully. By late morning Robert’s limbs were twitching in spasm. His skin was pink and his mouth became dry within seconds of swabbing his lips with a sponge. He had stopped shouting, but his silence now seemed worse to me than the uncontrollable screams. I was frantic. The sweat was still running off the poor man’s body and I wondered fearfully how much more he could stand.

  ‘What shall I do, my love?’ I muttered under my breath.

  After all the commotion and entreaties of the long night, Robert sat up, his eyes open. He stared at Wang and I distractedly, unable to stay still for a moment as his arms twitched at his side. Then with a focused determination he reached out and grabbed my forearm.

  ‘Get the tea, Mary,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Whatever happens to me. You must get the tea to the port.’

  And then he let go of my arm and fell back, lying with his eyes closed and his body convulsing. It was terrifying.

  ‘My God,’ I started to cry. ‘Robert,’ I called, trying to bring him back. ‘Robert.’

  The tears were pouring down my cheeks. He did not speak. I grabbed him by the shoulders. His arms were completely limp as they jerked, and I shook him hard in desperation.

  ‘Robert,’ I screamed, letting go in horror as I realised from the feel of him that he was going, that he had given up. I slapped him on the cheek, a fury rising in me.

  ‘Don’t leave. Don’t leave,’ I cried.

  Wang was standing beside me silently, a look of terror on his face.

  ‘Master,’ he started.

  ‘Yes,’ I shouted hysterically. I was absolutely desperate. ‘Fetch the doctor. Fetch him now.’

  I don’t think I stopped crying from that moment until Wang returned almost an hour later. In the meantime I swabbed Robert’s body and dripped water into his mouth constantly, but there was little change in his condition.

  ‘If he is still moving, then he is alive,’ I told myself. ‘Don’t you dare leave me,’ I entreated him. ‘Don’t you dare.’

  This could not be what our love was destined for. I refused to think it.

  When Wang opened the door at last, the doctor entered and bowed to me. He was a fit, jolly-looking, old man. I must have looked a fright—up all night and half frantic. He stared past me though and, seeing immediately Robert’s distress, he went directly to the bedside and got straight

  down to business.

  ‘How long like this?’ he asked.

  ‘He has been hot all night,’ I replied. ‘But twitching since this morning.’

  I felt relieved to have some help, although this man, I noticed, had broken nails and a ragged hem to his gown. My heart fluttering, the doctor examined Robert quickly and brought from his case two long, thin needles and a jar of evil-smelling unction. This preparation he smeared on Robert’s lips and on his fingernails. I sighed with frustration. Surely this could have no measure of success. I could bleed Robert myself, I realised. Yes, I would have Wang fetch leeches. This Chinese medicine was hokum and this country doctor a fool. I must try myself. Why had I not thought of bleeding him before?

  The doctor raised the needles, clearly about to apply them. Horrified, I flung myself forwards.

  ‘No!’ I shouted. ‘You’ll hurt him.’

  The doctor moved back calmly.

  ‘Your master has a reason to die?’ he asked.

  It was a callous question.

  ‘You want him to die? You are prepared to answer for it?’

  I almost spat with fury. How dare he? What kind of medical man worked by fear and threat? If I lost Robert I would die myself. I would have to.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ I said and I turned to pick up my dousing cloth.

  The minute my back was turned the doctor moved quickly once more to the bedside. He inserted his needles deftly into Robert’s left ear. Then, as I realised what he had done and was about to turn on him, he bowed, stepped back and sat to one side. I had no truck with this and immediately dipped my cloth in the bucket and went to remove the stupid pins and douse Robert again. Clearly this man had been a false hope and I must continue to look after him myself. As I approached the bed, the doctor held out his hand to stop me.

  ‘Twenty breaths,’ he said.

  The man was mad.

  ‘He has been like this for hours,’ I shouted, dismissing him.

  Without a further word the doctor grabbed me. He was far bigger than I and rough-handled me over to the chair easily.

  ‘Fifteen breaths,’ he said.

  I hammered on his shoulders. Robert continued to twitch on the mattress.

  ‘Wang,’ I shouted furiously. ‘Get this man off me!’

  Wang cast his eyes around the room, unable to come to a decision about what to do.

  ‘Ten breaths,’ the doctor said calmly.

  I loosened my grip on him. I’d whip Wang myself for ignoring me. Robert was lying there dying for all he cared. I tried to
stay calm and counted the doctor’s slow breaths until there were ten.

  ‘See,’ I shouted without even looking. ‘Useless!’

  At this the doctor stepped back, turned to the bed and bowed graciously. Robert was pink but still. His chest rose and fell calmly with each breath. There was a change in his state, and it was certainly for the better. It was a miracle.

  ‘Oh! Oh, thank you. Thank you,’ I cried in shock, as my anger fell away and I realised, shamefacedly, that I had panicked.

  I grasped the doctor’s hand but he shook me off disdainfully and only moved to the bed, took out the needles in Robert’s ear and inserted them instead near his collar bone.

  ‘You people know nothing,’ he muttered.

  Then the old man sat patiently on the chair to wait out the fever. A shocked laugh left my lips.

  ‘Bring the doctor something to eat and drink,’ I ordered Wang as I peeked at the needles, wondering if they hurt.

  On either side of the bed, the old man and I watched carefully the rest of the day. The doctor drank some green tea but would not eat anything. I sank down on my knees and thanked God that Robert’s condition was improving. I reached out and held his hand and I swear, he squeezed my fingers. I had not lost him.

  ‘Nue,‘ the doctor said, without looking at me.’there have been outbreaks in the hills.’

  Nue, I later learned, was a kind of malaria. No doubt the disease that had carried those villagers away.

  By the evening Robert was asleep, his skin was cool and his breathing steady. I had washed and changed and taken time to eat. As the sun sank, the doctor left. I paid him twice what he had asked, such was my gratitude. He left instructions as to Robert’s diet and suggested not moving him until he was fully recovered. Judging me of an independent mind despite his advice, he said the next hospital on our route was at the Shan te Maou temple. If we did continue on the road it might be as well to know that help could be found there. For me, however, there was no question of it. I was taking no chances. We would stay as long as Robert needed.

  I spoke to the landlord to secure our room and then had a small bed made up on the floor where I slept at last, waking twice in the night, frantic. Once I was in a sheer panic and the second time I dreamt we were in Scotland, a place I have never been. There were midges everywhere and Robert said to me, ‘I had rather die than have to leave you, Mary.’ And I could not reply. I could not form the words. As I woke, I jumped from the little bed and checked on my patient. He was fine, of course, the dream only a foolish fancy. When I opened my eyes the third time it was morning and Robert was sitting up. I rushed to his side and flung my arms around him.

  ‘You scared me,’ I said.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘You almost died,’ I cried.

  He had no memory at all of the fever though he still felt weak. In a babble I told him everything that had happened and of the doctor’s treatment and instructions.

  ‘It will set us back to tarry,’ he objected.

  ‘Lord, Robert, I thought I would be ordering that monument you drew. Your own mausoleum with Fortune carved over the gate. We will stay here until you are completely well. And you, my boy, will eat fish and vegetables as instructed.’

  Robert laughed.

  ‘You are clearly in charge, then,’ he teased me. ‘I take it that you would have been upset at my demise?’

  I shuddered at the thought. He was weak still, dizzy when he tried to rise.

  ‘If you had gone, that cord that runs between us would have pulled me over the divide,’ I swore. ‘I could not bear it.’

  I brought flowers to the bedside and read to him from one of my books of Chinese myths. For days my patient fell asleep to stories of warriors who could fly and of spirits who returned to earth to haunt their dishonourable relations. The threat of separation, even separation by death, had scared both of us and, as what had happened sank in, Robert became tender with me once more, strong enough between restorative naps, to take me in his arms and kiss me.

  Meanwhile I resolved as Robert slept to keep his journal up to date and make pencil sketches of the countryside around the inn. It had been some time since I had paid any attention to the notebooks. Leafing through the pages I could see his mind had wandered of late and I was flattered to read that he had taken notice not of the properties of the soil or the acidity of the water, but of me. The flowers by our bed at Wuyi Mountain had been pressed dry and kept between the pages, and Robert had written of our lovemaking, the taste of my mouth and the softness of my skin. I was touched. He had drawn me naked as I slept and written wistful lines of our chase across country one day when the horses had taken off and we had wheeled towards the hilly ground to the south of the Great Imperial Road. He had written my name over and over and then: ‘What will I do without her?’ And here I stopped. Without me? What horrors was he planning?

  I furiously flung the book down and then bundled it back in its box and thrust the whole caboodle beside the door, eyeing it angrily from my chair across the room as my mind raced. How dare he? For my part I was not naïve but I simply had ceased to think so far ahead. My whole world was in our summer caravan, with no thought to its destination. We had promised each other that. No choices, no decisions, he had said. And when it came time we would do so together. And yet, here was Robert, in advance of me, wishing our time away. Worse, coming to a conclusion alone. He had decided on rejecting me, it seemed. Of course, from our situation, some things were clear—after all, how could I return to London now? But then again, how could he? Still, it was unforgivable. It was like William all over again. By Hong Kong I would be inconvenient and Robert would slip back to London alone.

  When Robert woke I was sitting cross-legged on the chair with my arms also crossed before me.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ he said, for it was clear all was not well. He sat up with some effort.

  ‘You are for leaving me behind, I read in your journal,’ I said coolly.

  He did not berate me for reading his private papers, but sat up squarely.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  I tramped over to the box and pulled out the pages.

  ‘What will you do without me, Robert?’ I said, throwing them haphazardly on the bed. ‘Without me?’

  He lifted the page.

  ‘I don’t know what I will do,’ he said sadly, ‘for I love you completely. But what else is there? I am contracted from here to India and then to London. Will you come with me and kiss your sister hello?’

  I kicked the chair so hard it buckled. I knew I could not go home again.

  ‘And must you go back?’ I asked, tears welling in my eyes. ‘You cannot avoid it? What of all your promises, Robert? This love of ours? Your intention is to abandon me, is it not? I am convenient here—a bit of fun for you—but come Hong Kong you will head west and scarce look over your shoulder.’

  ‘The last part of the money is due on return,’ he said. ‘I must collect it for the children. For Jane too, if it comes to that, Mary. I must go home and see to my duties. The Company will pay me over a hundred and fifty pounds in London. I cannot set that aside.’

  It was a huge sum of money.

  I nodded sadly. ‘It seems too easy for you,’ I said, the tears welling. This felt horribly familiar. A man returning to his wife, abandoning his promises. I had no doubt that I had uncovered Robert’s secret intentions. The truth was he had everything on his side. He could do whatever he wanted.

  The patient picked up the papers on his cover.

  ‘Easy for me?’ he retorted, casting his eyes on the sheets before him. ‘How could it be easy for me?’

  I followed his gaze. The page or two I had not read, the last entry, was before me.

  ‘And I had rather die,’ he had written. ‘It will be agony. But I swear I will return three thousand miles to her. I will come back. Whatever it takes.’

  I picked up the page, my heart quickening, ‘And if I stay here and wait then, you will return?’

&n
bsp; ‘How could I not?’ he said and reached out to touch my arm. ‘How can you even think it?’

  I knelt down. It was as if China had healed me of all my hurts from before. In that moment my faith was truly restored and I knew, absolutely, that I was loved. Robert might be rushing towards London but it was only so he could settle his business there and return to me the quicker. We had a month till we reached the coast and a few weeks more until Hong Kong. But we would be together no matter what, and that was all that was important.

  ‘Then I will wait for you, wherever you leave me, however long,’ I promised.

  Robert reached out, putting his arm around me.

  ‘We are home to each other now,’ he said. ‘There is no other way.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Foo Chow Soo is Britain’s most southerly port in China, but it is a small place and not at all popular. In good health and set on each other for life, Robert and I approached the settlement in the middle of the day, dirty from the road and with a full three tonnes of luggage. It was four weeks since we had left the inn and the journey had been glorious. Now, as our party crested the hill leading to the little town, the tea gardeners caught their first, bright glimpse of the sea and a wild wail started. The strangeness of the shimmering water shocked them beyond all belief. Two men burst into tears. Another fell on his knees and begged Wang to send him home again for he was too afraid. Robert looked down amused at this commotion from the sedan chair he had adopted for our arrival in the town. It had not occurred to either of us that the sea would be such a shock.

  ‘The ocean will not be their only surprise in Foo Chow Soo,’ he said lightly.

  We, after all, were set to lose our disguises once we were safe on British soil.

  To allow the bearers to get used to the scale of the water, we chose a slightly longer route into town that brought the men to a shingle beach about a mile to one side of the port. There we stopped so they could take in the view and, we hoped, compose themselves. Together in a line they walked hesitantly towards the little waves breaking on the pebbles as if the water might surge forward and engulf them. For me, it was lovely to be near the sound of the surf again and, despite my misgivings about what the coming weeks might hold, I felt exhilarated. This was not only Robert’s achievement, it was mine as well, and I wanted to see the completion of it, even if it meant Robert would be gone a year or more back to Europe. And then, of course, we were anticipating treats—British food, ample wine (French, we hoped), fresh books to read and news of home.