All the Tea in China (27 page)

“I will.”
Oh yes. Yes. I am not certain when it happened, but
I love this man.

There was no one to give me away, so Glory himself clasped Phineas’s right hand to my own. Then Phineas repeated after Glory. “I, Phineas, take thee, Isabella, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

I was certain he could see right through my red head covering, for his gaze seemed focused completely on mine. Tears formed at the edge of my vision. I had dreamed of being loved and cherished by a man, but never one like Phineas.

Glory loosened our clasp, then bade me take Phineas’s hand and repeat after him. I did not think I would be able to say the words, for a lump of joy lodged in my throat. “I, Isabella, take thee, Phineas, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

Glory asked for a ring. I turned to Phineas, certain he would be embarrassed at his lack. To my surprise, he laid a lovely green ring on the book Glory held, as I had seen countless grooms do. Glory took the ring and handed it back to Phineas, who placed it on the third finger of my left hand. “With this ring I thee wed,” Phineas repeated after Glory, though the words sounded as though they were written just for us, “with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

The rest of Glory’s final words were a blur: “. . . God hath joined together let no man put asunder . . . consented together in holy wedlock, I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Though it was not in accordance with a Chinese wedding, after the Christian portion of the ceremony was concluded, Phineas lifted the red head covering to reveal my face. He looked at me as though it were the first time, then smiled. He kissed me sweetly, a soft touching of our lips, and when he straightened beside me—my husband now—I realized the enormity of what I had done.

Glory and Precious Spring laid out a great deal of food for us to eat: chicken, fish, a special soup that, naturally, was to bring us good luck. (I believe someone said it contained lotus seeds—whatever those were!) I ate it all in enjoyment, only afterward feeling much guilt. Glory and Precious Spring obviously did not have much money. I hoped we had not eaten a month’s worth of their food. It certainly seemed as though we had.

While we were dining and laughing, I noticed that Precious Spring disappeared for a while. I assumed she was tending to Honor, who had slept peacefully through the entire ceremony. At last she returned and nudged Glory, who had just said something that made Phineas and me laugh.

“Glory, it is late.” Her voice carried just a hint of scolding.

Glory rose. “Yes, of course.” He motioned for Phineas and me to rise. Somehow he and Glory got behind us, maneuvering us toward the room where I had dressed. Smiling, Precious Spring opened the door. The bed had been changed to red linens, and a dragon and phoenix candle glowed on an adjacent table. Next to the candle sat two goblets filled with wine, attached to one another with a red string.

Still smiling, Glory and Precious Spring herded Phineas and me forward, forcing us to sit on the bed. Phineas may have understood this apparent tradition, but I did not. Surely my face reflected my mortification!

Glory and Precious Spring smiled fondly at us, as though we were two children. “You know that we would normally tease you both, but instead we will simply say good night,” Glory said.

I rose. “But . . . but this is your room. We cannot take it.”

“It is our only room for sleeping, so tonight it is yours,” Precious Spring said, then winked. “Would you rather sleep on a mat?”

“Thank you,” Phineas said, acknowledging the gift. “You have made this a wonderful day. A wonderful wedding.”

Retreating, Glory and Precious Spring smiled, softly closing the door behind them.

I continued to stand, unnerved. “We have been alone together many nights,” Phineas said softly, touching my hand, rising beside me.

“But not like this,” I said. Tonight there would be no canvas sail between us. To change the subject, I gestured at the wine glasses. “What is the significance?”

He lifted one and handed it to me. “Can you not guess?” He took the other, then crossed arms with me. He drank from his glass, and I drank from mine. Then we drank from each other’s glass, smiling as we tried not to tangle the string between them.

We sat down again, side by side, and Phineas took my hand. “A Chinese legend says God ties a red string around the ankles of the man and woman who are destined to become husband and wife.” He touched my cheek, his voice husky. “No matter how far apart they are, they will eventually get married.”

I covered his hand with mine. “Phineas,” I murmured.

“Do you not know that God has brought us together, Isabella?” He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to my lips. “We were born worlds apart, yet we are here together now. For many men, the first time they see their bride’s face is when they remove the red veil at their marriage bed.” His voice dropped even lower. “I am thankful to have known you much longer than that.”

I nodded, unable to speak. My heart beat faster, then there was no need for words . . .

Later I lay in his arms, full of wonder and joy as bold as the red silk sheets. The dragon and phoenix candle burned lower, and I could barely see my husband’s face. “You have not spoken of Wo-Ping and Mei in a long while,” I said, teasing.

He laughed softly, kissing my temple as he twirled a strand of my hair between his fingers. “Didn’t I tell you? They gave up fighting each other and joined forces to fight for righteousness. They had no need of secrets, and they kept nothing from each other.”

My thoughts turned serious. “And you? Have you any need to keep secrets from me?”

He ceased playing with my hair. “What secrets do you wish to know?”

“Are you still harboring a desire for revenge on the East India Company?”

“That has not been a secret from you for a long time.”

I raised up on an elbow. “Then that is still your plan? Despite that you know my feelings?”

“Isabella.” He eased me back down. “Would I ask you to abandon your dream?”

“Mine is different,” I said stubbornly. “Mine is God’s work.”

“Mine is too. You have seen the people addicted to opium since we have been here, have you not?”

I closed my eyes. Yes, I had seen them. They loitered near buildings with apparently no place to go, their eyes vacant, their feet only good for shuffling without purpose. I had not seen the opium dens where they smoked away their lives—and no doubt the futures of wives and children as well—but I knew they existed.

“You
have
seen them,” he insisted. “Their numbers will only increase. Every year the British bring in more opium even though it has been illegal to import in China for nearly twenty years. The British will not suddenly acquire a conscience and stop the trade.”

“I am British,” I said, my eyes stinging with tears. “My countrymen could not do such a thing. Do you think that Captain Malfort or Thomas Gilpin or Mr. Calow, for that matter, would harm a fellow human being?”

“They do not see this country as you do, Isabella,” Phineas said. “They are not willing to share their true feelings with a lady, but their business—nay, their whole lives—are concerned with bringing Britain her tea. At any cost whatsoever.”

“Then would you have Britain take over China and move here so that she might have the pleasure of
yum cha
?”

“I would not, but there are those in Britain who would gladly annex my country solely for her tea.”

I could not help the tears that pricked my eyes. “Your country, Phineas? You told me you have spent over half your life in Britain. To which country do you belong—England or China?”

He lifted my hand and kissed my fingers. “I want only to belong to you.”

“Then give up this foolish plan of revenge.”

“If I do, it will mean that you give up your dream, for I am headed inland with my partners for the golden tea leaf. Was it not your plan to travel farther into China to spread the gospel?”

“Yes, but—”

“I am traveling to the Mo Tong mountains
,
” he continued. “They are in the Hupei Province where there are many monasteries and temples.”

“Monasteries and temples? No one there would listen to me.”

“Perhaps you do not believe in your mission,” he said.

I said nothing. How could I respond?

“The monks would not even see you—or me—for neither of us are fully Chinese,” he said gently, covering my silence, “but the villagers in the province might. I do not believe any Christians have traveled to that area.”

“What you offer, then, is a chance to fulfill my calling, yet at the cost of seeing you fulfill what you believe is yours. Even though I disagree with it strongly.”

“That is the way of it.”

All the joy of our wedding evaporated like cold water on hot stones. “Blackmail seems to have been the way of our relationship since the beginning.” Moisture gathered in my eyes, despite my effort to stop it. “We have come so far, Phineas. I do not want to lose you.”

“Isabella.” Phineas wiped a tear from my cheek. “Isabella, please do not cry. I would see you happy, not sad. Our love will be well. But I have a duty—a calling—as you have yours. Can we not both be true to that?”

Perhaps we could, but I wept anyway because I did not believe that in the process we could be true to one another.

Morning brought a fair amount of awkwardness, for though we had spent countless nights in adjacent hammocks aboard ship, we had never been husband and wife. I found myself blushing when, in my early morning grogginess, I threw out my arm and hit Phineas across the chest. I am not certain who was more startled—he, because I woke him from sleep, or I, because he was so close beside me. He smiled at me and pulled me closer yet. It was still nearly beyond belief that I should find myself wed, but our first morning together made me more cheerfully accustomed to our situation.

My old gray dress lay neatly folded where I had laid it the previous day before donning the wedding dress, but Phineas retrieved new clothes for me from Precious Spring, a loose-fitting skirt and long blouse made of dark cotton. He handed them to me, and I ducked behind a screen to dress. He might have thought me overly modest, but he was kind enough to speak to me of practical matters while I donned the clothing. “You must look Chinese if we are to leave Macao,” he said. “Remember that no foreign ladies are allowed to leave here. But with your dark hair styled properly and if you act like a proper wife, keeping her head down, no one should suspect you are not Chinese.”

“How should I act?”

He grinned. “Though it will grieve you, you must obey me.”

“That does not sound so very different from Britain,” I said mildly. “Wives are expected to obey their husbands there as well.”

“Are they expected to walk behind their husbands? For that is what you must do when we are in public, Isabella.”

“Very well.” It
would
no doubt grieve me, but I could act the role.

I emerged from behind the screen, and Phineas studied me as I adjusted the skirt and tunic. His frank gaze made me blush, but he smiled tenderly. “You should have a Chinese name. I cannot very well refer to you as Isabella when we are within the city walls of Canton.”

“Is your family name not Wong? That should be mine too,” I said.

“Names are not the same in China as in Britain. A woman does not take her husband’s name but retains the name of her father’s clan. It would be disrespectful to do otherwise. I only have my mother’s family name because my father was British.”

“But I have no Chinese clan at all,” I said. “May I not take yours?”

He touched my shoulder, then smoothed the length of my arm. Again, I blushed. I was unaccustomed to such familiarity, though I confess I did not find it displeasing. “You may have my family name, for indeed we belong fully to each other now,” he said softly. “I think Wong Si-yan would be a beautiful name for you.”

“Wong Si-yan,” I repeated, trying it out. “And it means . . .” I struggled to put the words together.

“Gracious Thoughts,” he murmured, his fingers caressing the nape of my neck.

I closed my eyes despite myself. “I do not believe that your own thoughts are gracious at the moment,” I murmured. “Perhaps they are of another nature?”

Phineas laughed softly then kissed me . . .

Precious Spring was feeding Honor when we entered the main room of the bamboo house. Her eyes lit like small firecrackers when she saw us, and she served us
congee
— rice porridge—for breakfast. I held Honor on my lap and played with him while Phineas, Glory, and Precious Spring discussed our impending journey. I picked up enough of their discussion to learn the details of our journey to Canton. They could not have been averse to my participation in the conversation, but in truth, I enjoyed Honor’s company. He was a happy baby who gurgled and smiled most obligingly at the silly faces I presented him. I bounced him on my knee, and he squealed with pleasure. I confess that Lewis had never allowed himself to be amused in such a way, and Honor’s reactions delighted me much more, I am certain, than I delighted him.

“He likes you,” Precious Spring said, sitting beside me.

“I like him. He is a cheerful baby. You and Glory are indeed blessed.” Phineas and Glory had finished their discussion and were watching us, so I reluctantly handed Honor back to his mother.

“May you have many sons,” Precious Spring said softly.

“I would gladly have a dozen if they were each like Honor,” I said.

Phineas approached, smiling, evidently having heard my words, though he did not speak of them. “We must leave, Isabella.”