All the Tea in China (25 page)

“I knew that those two were bound to wind up in matrimonial bliss,” Mrs. Akers declared loudly to everyone at the table. “You can see that they are quite compatible and evenly paired in temperament. Mind, I do not consider myself a matchmaker, but I thought I detected a hint of marriage in the air among us. I must confess that at first I thought it might be Mr. Gilpin and Miss Goodrich, but after that unfortunate incident with those heinous Frenchmen, I knew I was wrong.”

Captain Malfort cleared his throat, glancing at me briefly. “We are all pleased with the impending nuptials, which are to take place in Macao. The East India Company has a chaplain there.”

“Indeed!” Mrs. Akers looked at Julia Whipple. “But you must have a true clergyman, my dear. Without, it is simply unthinkable!”

“Chaplains are authorized to perform marriage ceremonies,” Miss Whipple said. “We thought it might be difficult to find a Church of England clergyman in Macao. After all, Catholicism is the dominant religious practice.”

“Papists!” Mrs. Akers fanned herself. “Oh my, no! You are right, indeed. Besides, it is rather romantic to be wed aboard ship, for after all, it is where you met.”

“Perhaps Miss Whipple and Mr. Gilpin did not intend to hold the ceremony on the
Dignity
,” I ventured.

“Of course they will,” Mrs. Akers said, staring at me coldly as though I had suggested they grow gills and marry underwater.

“We have not decided on a location yet,” Miss Whipple said, trying to smooth the conversation.

Captain Malfort raised his wine glass. “I would like to propose a toast, since this is our last dinner together before docking in Macao. To the new relationships that have been forged aboard the
Dignity
, in both hard times and good.” He smiled at Mr. Gilpin and Miss Whipple. “May they be blessed by the Almighty.”

“Hear, hear,” we said in reply, raising our own glasses. I took a sip of wine, catching a glance from Phineas over the rim. While the others laughed, distracted, he held up his glass slightly in my direction.

After all the long days, weeks, and months at sea, we docked at Macao. Phineas had told me a little of what to expect of the port. It had been a quiet fishing village until the Portuguese colonized it hundreds of years ago. It was still under their control, though it was considered a peninsula, connected to China by a small strip of land. When we docked and all were properly ashore, I felt as though I were, indeed, in a new world.

The port bustled with activity—ships of various shapes, sizes, and nationalities lay at the docks. Sailors loaded and unloaded mysterious cargo, primarily chests and crates stamped with Chinese characters. I was disappointed that the buildings all appeared British or Portuguese in their structure. Dominating the scene, however, were the mingling sounds of different languages. English, of course, and what must be Portuguese and even Dutch. For the first time, I heard someone besides Phineas speak Chinese. I was accustomed to his patient tempo, for as my teacher, he had wanted me to understand every word. Yet the workers on the ships and dock spoke so quickly I could scarce understand a word. When I said as much to Phineas, he smiled. “You will pick it up in good time, I am certain. Do not try to translate to English in your mind. Allow yourself to absorb the Chinese language on its own.”

We wandered the port together. I was no doubt as wide-eyed as a child, taking in all the sights. Birds squawked in cages, merchants hawked their wares to sailors in a peculiar language of animated Chinese and broken English. Phineas found a quiet, out-of-the-way place to eat, a tea house, where I sampled my first Chinese food—
dim sum
.

The building was crowded with other diners and noisy, like the vendors’ birds. A man brought stacks of bamboo baskets, steam rising as he lifted the lids, for us to choose what we wanted to eat. Phineas chose for us, speaking so quickly in Chinese that I could not catch every word. Or perhaps I was merely enchanted by the sight and smell of the food. What a selection! Some of the foods were steamed—pork spareribs and
char siu bao
, which were roast pork packed into fluffy white steamed buns. Some were fried—spring rolls, which were thin flour skins filled with carrots, cabbages, and mushrooms, and
wu gok
, a light, crispy dough filled with something called taro. (I did not inquire about its nature.) We also ate dumplings made of shrimp and wrapped with seaweed. Then dessert, my favorite, the custard tarts.

The food was sticky and sweet and fluffy and slipped from my chopsticks in my haste to eat and in my lack of skill with the foreign utensils. Phineas smiled and showed me again and again how to hold the two sticks between my fingers. Soon I was able to capture even a bit of rice.

All the while we dined on such scrumptious fare, we participated in the tradition of
yum cha
—drinking tea. Lots and lots of green tea, of which I could not seem to get enough.
Dim sum
means “to touch the heart,” and by the time we had finished eating, my heart already felt touched in this new world.

I was accustomed to a society where people spoke in polite tones and acted civilly, at least on the surface. In between the smiles and polite words, however, one could say just about anything about another person. A quick observation of the Chinese men at the next table made me realize that there was nothing polite or subtle—by my British standards—about their speech. They yelled at, berated, and argued with one another to the point that I winced. I could only understand every other word, but perhaps that was to my advantage.

As if that were not enough, the men both spat small bones from their food—not to mention saliva—directly on the floor. I could not fathom such behavior!

Phineas smiled. “You are disturbed?”

I nodded. “They lack proper table manners.”

“Those are proper table manners here. Just as you learned a different language, so must you learn a different way of life.”

A man at the table next to us rose, as did his voice. The pitch grew louder, but his words continued in the beautiful rise and fall of the Cantonese dialect. He gestured at his companion, then turned and stalked away, his long queue swinging. No longer appalled, I was now fascinated. I had sought adventure, and now I lived it.

Phineas took my hand. “We should speak of our wedding.”

He received my undivided attention with those words, a reminder that adventure of another sort lay waiting. “Yes?”

“Julia and Mr. Gilpin will wed tomorrow, for he will be expected to go with the
Dignity
on to Canton as soon as possible. We should wed the following day.”

“I leave the plans to you, of course, but a wedding only two days hence?”

“It is too soon?” he said, frowning.

“I thought only . . . oh, it is far too silly for a man to understand.”

“If it concerns you, Isabella, then it concerns me too,” he said. “What troubles you?”

In truth, I believed his concern. I smiled. “I was hoping to find a new dress for the wedding. I may have to clothe myself as a proper missionary for the rest of my life, but I want something special. I want to look truly beautiful for our marriage day.”

He took my hand. “You always appear so to me. No matter how fine the material or exquisite the design, the dress would only be secondary to your beautiful face.”

Remember your mission, Isabella. This is a marriage of convenience
for us both. Primarily . . . Probably . . . Possibly . . .

I cleared my throat. “Speaking of dresses, perhaps we had best return to the
Dignity
. I should help Julia arrange for her own wedding.”

“I believe Mrs. Akers has taken it upon herself to help Julia. At least, I believe that is what I heard when we were disembarking.”

His eyes seemed far too intent, signaling his desire to spend more time with me alone. Nevertheless, I had to discourage such emotions for they could only be detrimental to both our futures. “Perhaps that is so,” I said, “but we should return at any rate.”

“Very well.” I could see the disappointment register on his face. I almost felt sorry for him, but then I recalled that one of us had to remember our ultimate purposes!

Back at the ship, we learned that Mrs. Akers had indeed arranged all things for Julia Whipple, from her dress to the location of the wedding. It was to be a civil ceremony performed aboard ship, with Mr. Gilpin asserting that his mama would probably prefer to see them wed in church back in England when they returned. Until then, a civil license would make things at least legal, if not elegant.

As for her dress, somehow a lovely white satin with tiny embroidered roses had been procured from a dressmaker in Macao, with the promise that it would be hemmed to fit by the ceremony. Julia described it to me in great detail, and it occurred to me that perhaps it was the most elegant dress she had ever owned. That was as it should be for any lady, of course, as it was her wedding day. Still, I wondered at Mrs. Akers’s insistence on it being a fancy dress, as I doubted its serviceability for Julia after the ceremony. I could not imagine that she would have many occasions to wear such a lovely dress back home. Living with Mr. Gilpin’s mother, she would have few occasions to dress formally since he would be at sea much of the year.

Julia looked as though she wished to speak to me, but every time she approached, Mrs. Akers seemed to recall yet another ceremony question. At last the younger woman gave herself completely to the older woman’s care and let herself be led away. It was probably for the better, as I might be tempted to speak to her of my own impending marriage and thus reveal the secret.

I had no notion about what Phineas planned by way of a ceremony. I knew it would be Christian, for he was such, of course, but he consulted me on no matter whatsoever. Despite my expressed desire to find a dress, the issue seemed oddly unimportant now. My chief desire was to be wed and move into the interior of China where I could at last begin to be of some use. When I asked Phineas how we would slip away to be wed, he smiled.

“It is all arranged. As soon as Julia and Mr. Gilpin’s wedding is over, we will slip away during the celebration afterward. I have already informed the captain and Mr. Harrison and Mr. Akers that I have business for the company to attend. They think that you will stay aboard ship, of course, as foreign women are not allowed outside Macao.”

“But I will leave with you?” I said anxiously, envisioning his abandonment of me at the final minute.

“Yes, of course. But, Isabella, you must be certain this is what you want, for you cannot return to the
Dignity
without a full accounting for your whereabouts.”

“It is what I want to do,” I said, setting my lips firmly together. “This is what I have hoped for all along, and I will not turn back.”

“Even if the accomplishment of that dream includes an unexpected husband in the bargain?”

“Even so.”

He turned away but continued to speak, as if he did not want to look at me. “You cannot take anything with you, so if you have acquired anything during the journey that you wish to keep, give it to me for safekeeping in my trunk. They are expecting me to disembark, but not you.”

I laughed. “The sword you have given me is still in your trunk, as are the gospel tracts. Otherwise, the only items I have acquired during this long journey are the very dress I wear and the horrid gray one besides.”

He turned back to face me. “What sort of frock would you hope to wear for our wedding? You avowed that you wanted something special.”

“Oh, Phineas. Truly, it hardly matters. I am resigned to wearing one or the other of my normal dresses. Mrs. Akers has carried on so over Julia Whipple that I have not the strength to seek a dress of my own. I am sure that they scoured the Macao shops that cater to European ladies.”

“Will you trust me with the procurement? I think you will be pleased.”

“Very well. You can hardly do worse than my cotton dresses.”

He grinned. “I pray that I will not disappoint. Now would you care to hear how we will leave the ship?”

I nodded. When did this man ever lack for a plan?

I must confess that Julia Whipple’s wedding dress was every inch as lovely as any I had ever seen, and I was near green with jealousy. Still, I reminded myself, clothes were nothing compared to the kingdom of God, and it was a passion I needed to forsake if I wanted to truly become one of his workers.

Naturally the ceremony was lovely as well, with the ship’s deck decorated most festively with lengths of white tulle and as many flowers as possible. Julia Whipple flushed the most becoming pink, as did Thomas Gilpin. Perhaps their disparate natures would balance one another in one of those odd marriages of opposites that frequently seemed more companionable than those whose spouses had known each other for years.

Mrs. Akers managed to weep at all the appropriate moments, trumpeting loudly into her handkerchief so that I was certain it was past all future use, even with a thorough washing. She was also heard to announce rather loudly that the scene reminded her of her own dear wedding and that if the newly married enjoyed half the serenity and tranquility of her own marriage to Mr. Akers, they should consider themselves more than duly favored.

Mrs. Harrison leaned against her husband’s shoulder the entire time, but I believe I saw her eyes flutter open briefly during the blessing of the ring.

The crew had been given shore leave, so only the captain and the most major officers were in attendance. Mr. Calow looked much older than his young years, dressed in his best uniform. I hated that I would not be granted a chance to say a proper farewell, and I hoped that he would remember me kindly.

After the ceremony, I kissed Julia Whipple—nay, Julia Gilpin!—on the cheek. I longed to bid her a proper farewell but settled for the deepest sentiment of my heart. “I am pleased for you both,” I said. “May God grant you every happiness.”

Love may not have been a companion to this marriage, but something certainly shone in her eyes as she glanced at her new husband. “I am certain that we will be most happy indeed.”