All the Tea in China

by Jane Orcutt

  Little Sister sat beside me on the bench, tucking her feet carefully under her skirt before I could see them. “Why are your feet so large?” she said without preamble. “Did your parents not want your feet to be small?”

  “Foot binding is not something that is done where I come from,” I said, then paused. “Are your feet bound?”

  Little Sister shyly pushed her feet out from behind her skirt. To my relief, they seemed normal. “Mother would have bound my feet,” she said, “but when I reached the proper age, Elder Brother would not allow it. It was right after Father died, so Elder Brother’s wish was followed.” She looked wistful. “Mother says my chances to marry have been reduced.”

  She was so young to be concerned about such matters! “They are still very small next to mine, are they not?” I said, holding out my own feet.

  “Yes, Tai Soi.” Little Sister called me Eldest Sister-in-law, giggled, then immediately sobered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed.” She tucked her feet back under her skirt.

  I did the same. “It’s all right, Little Sister.”

  “Are you and Elder Brother going to stay here forever?”

  I did not know what Nai Nai had told the girl, but I determined to tell her the truth. “We will be leaving soon.”

  “Will you return?”

  “I do not think so, Little Sister.” The truth was that I was not certain what would happen to Phineas and me once we arrived in Hupei. After all, his plan was to find the golden tea leaf then use its sales to put the East India Company out of business. Which would, of course, mean eventually returning to England.

  That, however, was not in my plans. Neither was staying at his mother’s house much longer!

  “You will return with me, naturally,” Phineas said when I asked him about it that night when we were alone at last, preparing for bed.

  “I have not thought of returning to England.” I fluffed my pillow and burrowed my head into it. I yawned, exhausted. “My calling, I believe, is to stay in China.”

  Phineas laid his head on his own pillow, beside mine. “Even missionaries sometimes return to their homeland,” he said.

  “But—”

  He put his fingers over my lips. “I know what you are about to say, Isabella. You do not want me to attempt to find this golden leaf tea and bring it back to England.”

  “I still do not fathom how your plan will work. I cannot believe you can compete with the East India Company.”

  “Perhaps not, but I must at least attempt it.” He paused. “Lives are being ruined in this country, Isabella. People are dying. Surely you must understand the urgency.”

  I raised up on one elbow. “I do, Phineas, but I am not certain this is the best way.”

  “My mother also does not wish me to go to Hupei.”

  “Of course not. You are her only son.”

  “There is more to that than the relationship between Mr. Gilpin and his mother. In China, a son, even once married, lives in his parents’ house. He is expected to take over the household, with his wife caring for the home.”

  “Then I should think her pleased that we were leaving so that she need not fear my usurping her authority,” I said. No wonder Nai Nai had resented my presence, even before we met.

  “You have read her fears, which are not uncommon to Chinese mothers of sons. That she has all but begged me to stay is an indication that she is willing to accept that fear instead of the alternative.”

  “And what is that?”

  Phineas touched my cheek. “Being alone for the rest of her life. One day Little Sister will marry and move into her husband’s home. Then who will care for my mother?”

  “Can she not remarry?”

  “It is possible but not likely. Widows generally stay widows in China and are not encouraged to take another husband. Their chastity is highly prized. I think, too, that she is not willing to face heartbreak yet a third time.”

  He blew out the candle and took me in his arms. After only a few days, I had come to rely on his physical presence, particularly at the close of day. In such a short time, I had learned what it meant to share my life with another. I was certain it was not something one could easily abandon, even after death. Lately the thought of losing Phineas, after all we had endured to gain one another, had hovered like a specter during my every waking moment. I could not shake it no matter how I tried to remove it from my thoughts.

  “I am looking forward to our journey,” I whispered. “Tell me about the Mo Tong Mountains. When did you first go there?”

  “The mountains are home to many monasteries, as you know. I learned martial arts there several years ago when I first returned from England—as a man. My mother and stepfather were dismayed that I had embraced Christianity, so they sent me there, hoping the Daoist monks would influence me.”

  “And did they?”

  “I am not fully Chinese, so I was not allowed in the temples or monasteries. However, one man became my sifu, my martial arts master, and I met many other students. My time there did not sway my beliefs. If anything, it reinforced them. The Mo Tong—the mountains themselves—have breathtaking valleys and cliffs and much vegetation and rocks on tall, steep peaks. Sometimes the mist shrouds the ancient buildings and stairways that seem to reach to heaven.” He kissed the top of my head. “I felt very close to God there. I hope you will too. It is a beautiful place.”

  I shivered. We could not leave this home soon enough. I had wanted adventure for so long, and Phineas and I were near to realizing our dreams. In the darkness I held him closer as though I could hold him to the earth, our relationship a sapling threatened by a coming wind.

  To prepare for our journey, Phineas insisted that we practice martial arts together in the grassy area of the garden. I smiled every time I thought of the expression on Flora’s face if she could see how I had learned to kick at an opponent’s head or punch much like one of the prizefighters at a boxing salon in London. Somehow I imagined that Uncle Toby would be pleased, for he had always indulged my hoydenish nature. Anything that allowed me to protect myself could only be good, in his eyes.

  I wore the inexpressibles and loose top that Phineas had given me aboard the Dignity, and it felt good to have such freedom of movement. Such freedom was not without cost, however. Phineas refused to spare me from a harsh accounting, challenging my kicks and blocks in rapid progression. He spoke not a word, but I knew from the expression on his face that he meant to push my abilities. When at last he must have realized I was winded and spent (which indeed I was), he knocked me to the soft grass by sweeping his feet behind my knees. I dropped like a winged bird—unhurt, save for my pride.

  He helped me up. I, grim-faced, assumed a defensive position. “Be prepared to counter that move,” he said. He did not allow me the quick, heated retaliation I desired but slowly, patiently demonstrated several kicks and distracting arm movements. I forgot that I wanted to bring him to the earth the same way he had me and practiced the moves until he nodded his satisfaction. Emotion had little place in martial arts, I was learning, but I did not always heed the lesson.

  He bowed. “I think that is enough for today, Isabella. You look peaked.”

  “If I am, it is only because I am anxious to fight you again.” I smiled, assuming an offensive stance.

  “That is enough for now,” he said firmly.

  “Can we practice with the sword?” I was not ready to finish our lesson.

  He shook his head. “Your possession of the sword should be our secret.”

  “You do not want your mother to know that I have it, do you?”

  “No,” he said flatly. “I do not.”

  I bowed, defeated before we had even begun again. “Very well. I will change my clothes.”

  He winked at me. “May I go with you?”

  “I think not.” I laughed in spite of myself. “I am peaked, after all.” Before he could respond, I left the garden and headed toward our room.

  I hummed a cheerful tune, f
or every day drew us one closer to leaving. Passing Nai Nai’s room, I could not help noticing her open door. She had said little to me of late, perhaps resigned that I was taking her son away from her.

  I meant only to glance through the door, as one’s gaze flits involuntarily. But I saw her seated on a willow chair, shoes and stockings off, and it was then that I saw her unbound feet.

  I had never seen flesh so hideous. I had imagined binding meant only a restriction of the feet’s growth so that they were somehow only smaller lengths. But the arch of Nai Nai’s feet was high and pronounced, the toes curled sideways under and to the soles like the folds of an ugly fan. She rubbed them carefully, and it was obvious from her unguarded expression that she was in pain though her foot binding had ceased many, many years ago.

  Catching my breath, I backed against the wall lest she think I spied on her. Against my will, tears sprang to my eyes as they had when she slapped me. In truth, I felt as though I had been slapped again, but it was surely pain much less severe than what she had endured for many years. I headed blindly for my room, grateful for the steadiness of my own feet.

  Fragrance passed me in the hallway, bearing a bowl of steaming water. I stopped short. “Is that for Madame Wong?”

  She yawned. “Yes. But first I have to chat with the other servant girl. We have been planning a long talk.”

  “The water will likely be cold when you get it to your mistress,” I said, frowning at her lack of concern.

  “No matter.” She shrugged. “That old lady isn’t going anywhere. Most likely she’ll smoke some opium. She’ll fall asleep and forget she asked me to bring the water for her feet anyway.”

  I felt much as I had when Phineas knocked me to the ground. “She partakes of the drug?”

  Fragrance narrowed her eyes. “What do you care? I know you don’t like her. If it keeps her from bothering you, it’s to your advantage, isn’t it?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she bustled away with the pan, sloshing water as she went.

  Shocked, I took refuge in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed to gather my thoughts. My head and heart could not reconcile all I had seen and heard with what I had hoped for the future. My picture of Nai Nai was rapidly changing, but surely it did not matter. Phineas and I would be leaving soon. Her life would return to the way it was before we arrived. She had survived without us; she would manage again. Little Sister would no doubt be all right, as well. Besides, it was not my concern.

  14

  I tried to speak to Phineas about his mother many times. She had apparently kept hidden her opium usage, but perhaps she was even addicted. As for the deformity of her feet—did he know the extent of the damage? He obviously knew the practice to be barbaric or he would not have ordered Little Sister’s feet left unbound. Did he know how his mother still suffered?

  He had a right to know about her opium usage, yet I saw the tender way he cared for her. He loved her, and it was obvious she truly loved him. What could he do for her if he did not go to the mountains for the tea? Just as he would resent me for preventing his travel, he would resent her too.

  I found it difficult to believe, but my heart had softened toward Nai Nai. I wanted to help her or, barring that, at least understand her.

  “Perhaps we should delay our journey,” I said to Phineas one morning as we dressed for the day. I needed more time to think about his family. I needed more time to think about us.

  Phineas looked at me curiously. “I thought you were anxious to leave.”

  “I am, but . . .” I could not bring myself to speak the trouble that was in my heart. I am not certain why. Had we not agreed to have no secrets between us?

  He frowned. “The leaves are only golden for several weeks. We must gather as much as we can, press them into cakes, and get them aboard a ship to take back to England.” He sat beside me and took my hand. “Why do you no longer wish to go?”

  No secrets. We must have nothing between us, no matter what the cost. “Your mother slapped me,” I said, thinking to begin with that.

  “What?” He rose. “When? Why?”

  “Remember the red mark on my cheek days ago? I did not walk into a doorway, as I said. She slapped me.”

  He headed for the door. “I will talk to her. She cannot do this.”

  “Wait.” I put a hand on his wrist to stay his departure. I had been prepared to tell him about the opium, but I lost my composure. “Your mother is . . . she . . .” I could not help it; I began to cry. These were no false tears, either, designed to persuade a man to do a woman’s bidding. I wept because I suddenly felt exceeding sorrow for that old woman and all she had been through, all she was going through.

  Misunderstanding my motives, Phineas took me in his arms. “I am so sorry, Isabella. We will leave here at once. I had no idea she had treated you this way.”

  “She does not want us married, but that is not why I weep. I feel sorry for her.”

  He pulled away. “Sorrow?”

  “Y-yes. She is old and lonely, and you have said that she is not likely to remarry. Little Sister will grow up and move away. Who will care for her then, Phineas? You have plans to find your precious tea leaves and return to England.”

  He turned away, running his hands through his hair. “I cannot stay here, Isabella. I cannot be who my mother wants me to be or even who you want me to be.”

  “And what is that?” I heard the sharpness in my voice but did nothing to prevent it.

  “You want me to abandon my plan to gather the tea and sell it.”

  “I find the notion foolish.”

  “So you have said.” Did his voice sound as cold as I thought, or did I imagine it?

  “Do you deny that once you find the leaves you will return to England?”

  He turned toward me. “Not England. America.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Isabella.” He sighed and took my hand. “Remember the couple who were to be at the Ransoms’ party where we met?”

  “The Tippetts?”

  He nodded. “William Tippett looks to start a tea trading company, much like the East India Company, only in America. Tea is quite popular there as well as Britain, and he hopes eventually to put the East India Company out of business. I have convinced him that the golden tea leaves are the best means of doing so. I was originally in London to discuss our business. We came to Oxford to research information about tea, and of course, I wanted to meet your uncle. When we were invited to the party, Mr. Tippett and his wife invented an excuse to decline. They did not want to answer a lot of questions about the nature of two Americans in England.”

  “With good reason. We are at war with them, Phineas.”

  “Yes.”

  I folded my arms. “That does not trouble you?”

  “Not particularly, no. My concern is not with whatever silly squabble Britain has with the lost colonies. I am only interested in stopping the opium trade here in China.”

  “The way to help those who abuse opium is to prevent them from using more of the drug.”

  “The only way to do that is to prevent it from coming into the country altogether! Can you not see that? I have to stop the men who profit from its sale.” He shook his head. “You are naïve, Isabella. Do you think that I can stop everyone in China from partaking of the drug?”

  “And do you think that you can stop all the tea in China from getting into British hands by way of illegal trade?” My eyes stung with tears. “You and your precious golden tea leaves . . . You are the one who is naïve.”

  He stared at me, hard, and I knew instinctively that I had wounded his pride. “You are not fit to be a missionary,” he said in a low voice. “You cannot care for others when you have doubted, nay, insulted, the one person you should care for most.”

  “And you have never said that you loved me,” I said, reacting impulsively to his own wounding blow.

  He stared at me again, then he left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
r />   I sank to a teak chair, holding my head in my hands. I could not stay, I could not go. Most of all, I realized, Phineas was right. What had I been thinking? I was not fit to spread the gospel. I could not even please my own husband.

  I am sorry to recount that we avoided each other for much of the day. Phineas spent time with his mother, and I entertained Little Sister. She and I sat on the bench in the garden, and I entertained her with tales of England and what my life had been like there. She especially enjoyed hearing about my clothing, and I smiled to remember the pink slippers with the Chinese symbol.

  Since we were at odds, it pained me to recount the Ransoms’ party where I had met Phineas, but I thought she might enjoy hearing about the dresses all the ladies wore. She seemed most interested in mine. “You wore white?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  She shuddered. “What a strange country you come from, Eldest Sister-in-law. We don’t wear white except at funerals.”

  Phineas stood at the entrance to the garden.

  I smiled at the girl. “Little Sister, you must leave. We can talk more later.”

  She returned my smile and left. Phineas walked to the bench but did not take her place. “I have spoken to my mother, and she is sorry for slapping you.”

  “I did not mean for you to speak to her about it,” I said.

  “Nevertheless, it needed to be discussed. She assures me that it will not happen again.”

  Then he sat beside me, though stiffly. “Isabella . . .” He cleared his throat. “Isabella, I am leaving tomorrow. It is time to travel to Hupei.”