All the Tea in China

by Jane Orcutt

  My heart pounded.

  “I would like for you to leave with me,” he continued, though I could ascertain no enthusiasm in his voice. “I know we have spoken of this day for a very long time and that you have worked hard to prepare the tracts you wish to hand out.”

  I clenched my teeth to stall the tears.

  He turned toward me. “Will you say nothing?”

  “I cannot go,” I said in a small voice.

  His expression did not alter. “I have said that I want you with me.”

  I shook my head. “Though I have my doubts about that at the moment, I know that they will pass. I know little of marriage, but I know that any two people who have pledged to share their lives must encounter some argument along the way. That we should find ourselves at such a point after mere days of being wed is disheartening but not, I am certain, the end of our relationship.”

  He looked relieved. “Then you are not angry with me?”

  “No. Nor you with me?”

  He took my hands. “Of course not,” he whispered. “So you will go with me?”

  “You know that I cannot countenance this silly tea business, particularly now that I know you are working with Americans.”

  He dropped my hands, exasperated. “Isabella—”

  I placed two fingers on his lips. “It is more than that, Phineas. No, I cannot countenance it, and so I do not wish to be a part of it, no matter how much I want to be with you and to travel to these mountains. Beyond that, there are higher considerations.”

  “Such as?”

  “Your mother and your sister. Who will care for them?”

  A shadow crossed his face. “Who will care for them when we leave China? Perhaps they should become accustomed to the idea now. They knew I—we—would not stay in Canton for long.”

  But Nai Nai cannot be relied upon to care for herself, let alone Little Sister! “Your mother has no one, Phineas. Even the servants show her little respect, have you noticed?”

  “Yes, I have. I can speak to them.” He sighed. “If this is about what I said earlier about you not being fit to be a missionary . . .”

  I shook my head. “It is not. But it is about my caring for your sister—and mother—while you are gone. When you return . . .”

  I stumbled on the words because I suddenly felt a wave of apprehension—the old fears—that he would somehow never make his way back to Canton and that we would be parted forever.

  “When I return . . .” he prompted.

  I drew a deep breath. “When you return . . . we will leave together as you have planned. My place is with you, whether in China, Britain, or America. But for now perhaps, at least, I can help your mother to . . . to establish some sort of order in her home in the meantime.”

  He touched my cheek. “I was wrong. You are not naïve, only tenderhearted. How can I leave you here?”

  “How can you have any other choice? You have seen that I can care for myself, so you need not worry about me.”

  “But I will,” he said softly. “Every minute.”

  I smiled, trying to lighten the moment. “Then it will motivate you to gather the leaves and return to Canton as quickly as possible.”

  He moved closer, his face only inches from mine. “And will you worry about me?”

  I trembled. “Yes, of course,” I whispered. “Every minute.”

  He kissed me then, longing welling between us. Later that night we held each other close, whispering to each other in Chinese and English, sharing memories, foolishly planning for a future that we both unspokenly knew might not be. At dawn we awoke, and as I drowsily struggled to awaken, Phineas whispered in my ear. “Isabella, I love you.”

  I opened my eyes.

  He smiled at me. “I have loved you for a very long time. Have you not known that?”

  I should never have let his mother’s words cause doubt to fester in my heart. “I have known it,” I whispered back. “I love you too.”

  “Nothing can separate us,” he said. “You know that I will return from the mountains, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” I lied to hide my fear. “Though perhaps you will board another ship and try to evade me again?”

  He laughed softly. “And you will follow,” he said, joining in the tale. “But this time I will know exactly where to look. You have a fondness for cows, I believe.”

  I could not help the smile that curved my lips. My days with Bossy seemed so very far away and long ago.

  His expression sobered. “If I had known you to be the kind of woman I know you are now, I would not have wanted to lie about the Chinese symbols of bravery embroidered on your slippers. Your character is evidence enough of that trait.”

  “I don’t know if I can be brave,” I said. “Even before you have gone, I find myself already afraid.”

  “But you are brave”—he kissed my temple—“and unselfish. You are like Ruth who followed Naomi to care for her.”

  “The Bible does not say whether Naomi was lovable or irritating,” I said. “Perhaps she was a gentle companion for the younger Ruth and therefore no burden.”

  “My mother will be a burden for you. I am aware of her faults. I have an idea that Julia Whipple will have a much easier time with Thomas Gilpin’s mother than you will with mine. But I love her dearly.” He kissed me again. “And I thank you for caring for her in my absence. Particularly as you are giving up the future you have worked so hard to obtain.”

  I wished he had not mentioned my plans. I had told myself that I was being noble for abandoning them, but in truth, all I could think of at that moment was that the only loss that mattered to me was him.

  He touched my hair, smiling. “You are indeed a spontaneous creature, Isabella. Will you change your mind about me while I am gone?”

  “Never,” I whispered. “My spontaneity has brought sorrow to those I love. I see now that I was selfish in leaving Uncle Toby and Flora, that I thought only of myself. I pray that they forgive me.”

  “You are not selfish. Quite the opposite. You wanted only to help others.”

  I realized then the fear Uncle Toby must have felt when Flora returned without me. What if Phineas did not return? Who would give me even an inkling of his fate? It was a long journey . . . Mountains were steep . . . Bandits might lurk at any bend . . .

  I held him close, fear overtaking me. “Please come back to me,” I whispered.

  “We will be together again,” he insisted, kissing me. “You have my pledge.”

  His words meant no deception as they had when we had first met, but I did not know that I could trust them still. So much in life was beyond mortal control—destiny, some would call it, God’s will, others. I suddenly realized that I had traveled this great distance not to find adventure, but love, and I wondered if Phineas and I would have been better served—safer—to have found that love back in England.

  He left soon after the sun rose, and I could barely speak, so heartbroken was I. I doubted my motives for staying in Canton when his mother merely nodded at him as a farewell. Surely she did not need someone to look after her! Naturally, I felt instant shame at the notion, but I do confess that my heart longed to journey with him and leave her to fend for herself.

  At last Phineas drew me aside, and after giving me a final kiss, whispered, “I cannot bear to be parted from you. I promise to return as soon as I possibly can. Do you believe me?”

  I nodded mutely, accepting a final embrace, then watched as he left the safety of his mother’s home. After he had disappeared from view, Nai Nai gave me an evil glare, then went inside the compound to the house. Little Sister lingered with me for a moment, slipping her hand into mine. She had come to adore Phineas in the short time they had become reacquainted with one another, and I sensed she would miss him greatly.

  Still hand in hand, she and I walked back into the house, silent. How would we three pass the time until he returned . . . if he did at all?

  I decided to secretly take stock of the house—was everythi
ng in order? Were the servants performing as they should? Was there a secret stash of opium somewhere?

  Naturally, Nai Nai caught me scouring her room for evidence. To say that she was livid would be an understatement. “What are you looking for?” she demanded as I guiltily closed her dresser drawer.

  “What might I be looking for?” I challenged her, hoping that she would confess right away.

  “Money, probably. That must be the only reason you married my son. You bewitched him into marrying you so that you could steal my money.”

  In truth, this woman rivaled all the selfish thinking of Mrs. Akers! “Were you aware that Phineas did that very thing to me? He flirted with me to gain my uncle’s money.”

  Her face reddened. “He would never do anything like that. He is a good son.”

  “He is sorry for what he did, yes.”

  “See?” She folded her arms. “I know that you didn’t leave with him so that you could stay here to torment me. You want to take over my house.”

  “I only want to help,” I said. “I did not want you and Little Sister to be alone.”

  “Bah! We have been alone for a long time now. We are fine.”

  I wondered if it was too late to try to join Phineas. Surely it would not be difficult to find the Hupei province! How large could China be, anyway?

  I took a deep breath. “Nai Nai, I know that you are using opium. I would like to discuss it with you.”

  “If I would not talk about it to him, what makes you think I would talk about it with you? It is none of your concern, and if you try to interfere, I will throw you out of my home.”

  She flounced out of the room, or would have, if her tiny feet had permitted a faster gait. I was glad to see it, though, for it reminded me to be sympathetic and charitable. I was inclined that way as long as I could focus on her feet—so to speak.

  The rest of the first day was, I believe, painful for all three of us. Nai Nai moved through the house in stony silence, snapping at the cook, Fragrance, and the gardener. Little Sister sat at a chessboard most of the day, staring at the pieces. I asked her if she knew how to play, and she shook her head. “My father was going to teach me, but he died.”

  “Would you like for me to teach you?”

  “Another time.” She shook her head again and went back to studying the pieces, picking up each one as though it were for the first time.

  I could not sleep that night, so heartsick was I. I had shared a room with Phineas for so long that the loneliness overwhelmed me. I curled up in a ball and finally fell asleep near daybreak. Of course I slept much later than usual, prompting many critical words from Nai Nai. I gritted my teeth and ignored them.

  For the next few days, she found fault in everything I did, from how I arranged a vase of camellia blossoms, to my chess playing with Little Sister, to even how I looked.

  “Why my son married you, with such hideous feet, is beyond my understanding,” she said, eyeing my slippers as I tucked them under my skirt.

  Yes, and I can at least walk at a normal, civilized gait! “Phineas married me for more than my feet,” I said smugly.

  She laughed. “Chinese men like women with small feet.”

  I prayed she would speak no further on the matter, and thankfully, she did not. She returned to her embroidery work, which I must confess I admired greatly. She stitched the tiniest of flowers and animals on red silk. I had seen her handiwork on decorative pillows, and I wondered how she would employ the silk of this project but did not dare ask. I had asked Fragrance for my own embroidery materials, but Nai Nai had criticized my efforts so much that I decided to work on them only when alone.

  We coexisted thusly for several weeks. I found I spent more time with Little Sister than Nai Nai, who disappeared for hours on end. When she did, the servants became lazy and insolent, refusing to obey not only me but Little Sister. Our meals seemed less fresh and appetizing, as though thrown together with scraps. Sometimes Nai Nai did not eat with us, and I wondered if she was taking meals in her room. One day she did not appear at all, and when I inquired about her, Fragrance only smiled mockingly. I feared that much was amiss, and I awoke one morning determined.

  What was needed was for me to take over the household. Phineas had said that daughters-in-law often did so, and while my courtesy was to allow Nai Nai the management of her own home, someone had to stop her opium use as well as the laziness of the servants.

  The first thing I did was to question the servants to see if they had noticed anything amiss. I started with Cook. He was displeased at my presence, never mind my endless questioning: Did someone go to market every day for fresh food? Did Madame Wong leave much of her food untouched? (I had heard that opium addicts lost interest in food.) Was he preparing as much as he should for Little Sister and me? Yes, yes, yes, he said, finally brandishing a cleaver and admonishing me to allow him to return to his work.

  Fragrance was of more help. She said that Nai Nai had only begun to smoke opium within the past few months, but obviously it had begun to affect her management of the house. Fragrance often had to remind her of many basic details, such as seeing that everyone (particularly the servants, she noted) was clothed and fed on a regular basis. I found it interesting that she made no mention of neither Nai Nai’s nor Little Sister’s welfare.

  When I inquired where Nai Nai secured the opium, her gaze flickered downward for just a moment.

  “Oh, Fragrance, how could you?” I said. “She is your mistress.”

  She raised her head defiantly. “She asked me to find it for her. I do as I am told.”

  When you feel like it, apparently. “And do you also pocket a small sum for its procurement?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think you do,” I said, folding my arms.

  She sighed. “Very well. My betrothed knows some of the foreign traders near the port, and Madame Wong buys it from him through me. Of course I get a small sum for my trouble.”

  “I want you to stop. Now,” I said firmly. “You will be the death of Madame Wong, and then where would you go?” For some reason, I thought about Julia Whipple and breathed a prayer of thanks that she had found a happier life.

  Fragrance laughed. “I will go with my betrothed.”

  And I am certain that he has a lovely home and a charming life for you. “Until such time as you are no longer in the employ of Madame Wong—and that time may come sooner than you think—you must buy no more opium. Is that understood?” I drew myself up to my full height. “I am in charge.”

  I must have employed the precise amount of command, for she bowed.

  For a first day’s work, I felt rather pleased with myself. Now to speak with Nai Nai.

  I found her in her room, sitting on a chair and staring out the window, hands folded in her lap. Her eyes seemed dull and unfocused, the smell of a sweetish smoke clinging to her clothes. I knew that she was probably under the drug’s influence.

  I turned to leave. “You have assumed command of my house,” she said.

  I entered the room and stood beside her. “I thought it best.”

  She turned to me, unblinking. “Best for you, of course.”

  “You are . . . troubled lately,” I said. I saw no reason to discuss her drug use when she was currently under its wicked spell.

  “I am troubled for my son. You are not the proper wife for him.”

  Thank you for your thoughtful words! “He believes that I am,” I said. “Marriage is the choice of a man and a woman where we live.” I thought of David and Catherine Ransom and added silently, Most of the time!

  “That is what his father told me too. He was wrong.”

  I knelt before her chair. “Nai Nai, I am sorry for what happened so many years ago. I am certain that you have endured much grief. A heart once broken is not easily mended.”

  “I will endure even more when my son returns. He tells me that you and he plan to return to your foreign land again.”

  I paused. “I d
o not wish it so.”

  “You would remain in China?”

  “That is why I traveled here. To stay.”

  She closed her eyes, and I thought I saw a dreamy smile cross her face. Within a moment, her head nodded forward. I rose, alarmed, but then I heard a gentle snore and knew her merely to be asleep.

  I called for Fragrance to help me, and we saw Nai Nai into her bed. Fragrance departed as quickly as possible, but I remained to see that Nai Nai was adequately covered. Her face had a waxy yellow cast, and she appeared older than I had ever seen her.

  “Is Mother going to be all right?” Little Sister said from the doorway.

  I turned, wondering how much of the truth Little Sister knew. I held my fingers to my lips even though I doubted we could disturb Nai Nai. I tiptoed to the door for effect, however, and beckoned Little Sister outside. “She is not feeling well,” I said.

  Little Sister made a face. “She has not been feeling well much at all lately. I wish Elder Brother were still here. She was happy then.”

  Little Sister shuffled down the hall, her head hanging low. Anger rose in my heart that Nai Nai could be so selfish as to ignore her daughter this way. It was time for something to be done, I determined, and I would tell Nai Nai—whenever I next saw her—that that smoke had been her last.

  Fragrance grudgingly led me to Nai Nai’s stash of opium, of which I personally oversaw the destruction. As much as I liked the opium-infused Nai Nai for her quiet and mild state more than the normal, bellicose Nai Nai, I was determined to confront her. She did not appear for breakfast, and I lingered over my congee, thinking of Phineas.

  The fear that he might not return had not abated. Nor had my longing for him. Was he so focused on obtaining the tea leaves that he had forgotten me? Would his desire for me be overwhelmed with the sense of purpose he had had ever since we first met? Would bandits waylay him along the road?

  Fragrance appeared at the table, startling me. “My betrothed, Chow Wah, is here to see you, Mistress.” She beckoned him toward the table, and a scruffier fellow I do not believe I have ever seen. How could she bring him here? Surely she knew the proper etiquette would have been for me to have met him in a more formal setting. I was still at my breakfast, for goodness’ sake!