The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure (42 page)

‘Then, sir, there's method in his madness—but, Doctor, Doctor, he is clearly deranged. What disturbs me is that this personal tragedy of his seems, if anything, to have intensified his missionary zeal. His compound, filthy as it is, is full of orphan children and infants, playing in the mud among the dogs and chickens. There must be a hundred of them. And when I was there I saw his wife return with two new infants in her arms. Apparently she'd just discovered them abandoned outside the Buddhist monastery where she had gone for alms. Imagine. Somehow they all survive there. God knows how they sustain themselves. There are adults too. Cripples and beggarly types, whom he tells me he has baptised. He says he is teaching them to speak with tongues. Yes, tongues. And he is planning a new evangelical campaign to bring the Word of God to the Palace of Babylon itself. I fear he means the Mandarin's
yamen
. All this motley crew will march there in a procession and after that, when the evildoers have been cast down, the Lord will consider returning him his son. Don't laugh, Jesus has personally commanded him to do all this in a vision.'

‘He seems to have been very open with you.'

‘He was affability itself. He saw me as the commander of his order to whom a report was due. I suppose it's true. He does technically report to the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. It leaves me in a quandary. I cannot criticise his saving of orphans or his conversion of beggars but his approach is very dangerous. His compound is unhygienic. If any of those orphans were to take ill and die…'

‘The old accusations would surface that we Christians rear orphans to steal their body parts for our rituals…'

‘Exactly. And this march he is planning … Can you imagine anything more provocative at this time?'

‘Can you order him to return to America?'

‘Not really. This is only a fact-finding visit. A removal would have to be a decision of the whole board, perhaps of the bishop himself. And enforcement is … well, difficult. Good Lord, it would probably have to involve the civil authorities. But I have to do something, for his own sake.'

‘And the sake of his children,' said the doctor quietly.

‘Well, let us pray nothing untoward happens for the next couple of months. It will take that long for our bureaucracy to get in motion. At least Shishan is linked to the railway now, so you and I can communicate with more ease. I hate to burden you with a matter that should not be your concern, but I would be obliged if you were to keep me informed. And I promise that I will return to deal with the poor man in one way or another as soon as I can.'

‘My dear fellow,' the children heard their father exclaim, ‘I am as anxious as you are that the troubles of this sad family are resolved.'

‘The tragedy is that Septimus Millward once showed such promise. I've seen the reports from Oberlin. He was an inspiration in his class, you know. His knowledge of the scriptures was exceptional, and he showed a greatness of heart that commanded respect and devotion. There was not a person who knew him who did not love him. There was much rejoicing when he and his family decided to come to China. A David was going to do battle with the heathen. He embraced the most difficult postings in the hardest conditions, and the letters he wrote back were always joyful, enthusiastic, full of compassion … It was after he came to Shishan … Something possessed him here. Demons. Fancies…'

‘Come, come, Fielding, I thought we had dealt with possession by demons when we were talking about the Boxers. Next thing you'll tell me is that poor Millward has taken up the martial arts.'

‘Give him time.' The American's laugh boomed and his falling hand shook the crockery on the table. ‘Give him time.'

As the two children scurried back to their room, George whispered to Jenny, ‘Did you hear that? Mr Fielding thinks that Mr Millward is possessed! Like the Boxers!'

‘He's a Christian. He can't be.'

‘No, but he can be by Christian spirits. By angels, like—like St Michael. Ah Lee said that if we're to fight the Boxers we've got to match their magic with ours. Maybe Mr Millward is our secret weapon! Only nobody realises it.'

Shortly after the departure of Mr Fielding, Helen Frances returned to stay with them. She had surprised everyone by suddenly taking up the old invitation to work in the hospital. This delighted the children at first, but it did not take them long to realise that Helen Frances had changed in an undefinable way.

She was still kind and good-natured, and smiled at them dreamily when she saw them—but she did not romp and play with them as she used to. There was something distant about her. In the evenings, after work, she would sit for hours at a time, with an unread magazine dangling from her hands, gazing into space. She no longer rode horses, or took any exercise. Tom and her father would sometimes visit, but she did not look excited to see them and her smiles, when she talked to them, seemed forced. Mr Manners never came to see her, and that perhaps disappointed the children most of all.

What was very strange was that her physical appearance had altered. The children remembered her as a ruddy, healthy girl, full of energy and spirit. Now, her cheeks were pale, and there were blue shadows under her eyes. In some ways she appeared more beautiful than ever—her hair burned a brighter red against the whiteness of her skin, her green eyes were somehow even more lustrous than before, though they shone with a sad, pale fire, unlike the infectious brilliance the children remembered. There was a languor about her, however. It was as if she was drained of energy.

‘It can't all be tiredness,' said George one day, after she had gently declined to play the hoop with them in the yard. ‘Mummy and Sister Elena never look tired after working in the hospital.'

‘She's still new,' said Jenny. ‘Maybe she's not used to it yet. And it is gloomy, working with those awful opium addicts. I wonder why she chose them anyway. She spends hours there.'

‘Don't know. They give me the spooks, those addicts, wandering round with their shining eyes and their ribs showing, bumping into things or sitting on their beds like ghosts. Sister Elena said Helen Frances specially volunteered for the opium ward. She told Daddy she didn't want to work anywhere else.'

‘Do you know what I think?' asked Jenny. ‘I think she's suffering from a broken heart and that's why she wants to be with miserable people all day.'

‘Oh, no,' groaned George. ‘Not more boring love-affair talk about Mr Manners. Look, Jen, I promised to stop going on about the fox fairy. Why don't you put a brace on all that love rot? She's marrying Tom.'

‘She's getting so pale she does look a bit like a fox fairy now,' said his sister reflectively. ‘Anyway, I think they were in love. We saw their legs and feet touching under the table last autumn, didn't we? Didn't we?'

‘Shut up, Jen. You really are boring. She's marrying Tom.'

And there the exchange ended, with Jenny sticking out her tongue at George and George chasing Jenny across the yard and pulling her hair. Two nights later, however, they heard a conversation that turned their childish banter into something altogether more serious.

It was the occasion when Tom and Helen Frances's father had come round for dinner. It was their last evening in Shishan before setting off on another expedition to Tsitsihar. The children had looked forward to this dinner for a week. Nowadays their parents never mentioned the Boxers at table and sitting under it every night had become dull. Once they had fallen asleep and woken up with a start to find all the lamps turned down and everyone already abed. The flit through the dark house had been scary. Tonight, however, Mr Delamere was coming and he always had interesting stories to tell.

They were nearly caught on their way to the dining room. Helen Frances was standing alone in the hall, looking at herself in the mirror. She was so absorbed in her own reflection that she did not notice the scuffle as the children backtracked along the corridor. There they stood in the shadows, wondering. They could hear the voices from the sitting room and were curious as to why Helen Frances was not with the others. They watched as she closed her eyes and silently leaned her forehead against the mirror. There was the saddest expression on her face. Then she straightened her shoulders and moved wearily towards the sitting room. At the door she paused, setting her face into a smile before going through the door. They heard the boom of her father's voice greeting her, and her voice trilling in reply. The subsequent general murmur hid the patter of children's feet as they rushed into the dining room and under the tablecloth, just in time. It was only a moment after they settled that Ah Lee came in and began to lay out the soup plates.

It was a cheery meal for a change. Mr Delamere was on good form, boasting about the fortune he and Tom would make when they sold the soap to their new customer, Mr Ding, in Inner Mongolia. They were going there with eight carts and ten armed guards.

‘Of course there're no secrets with you fellows,' Mr Delamere added confidentially, ‘but actually we've had to be pretty close about this trip. My partner Lu suspects that one of the other merchants is in league with Iron Man Wang. I'm not meant to say who, Airton, but let's say it's a respectable general trader we both know.' He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Jin Shangui,' he hissed. ‘He lets Wang know when the shipments are taking place so the bandits can ambush us.'

‘My dear Delamere, if it's a secret, you shouldn't be telling me,' said the doctor. ‘Anyway, I don't for a moment believe you. I've known Jin for years.'

‘To be truthful I was a little surprised too,' said Frank, ‘but Lu's pretty sure of it. Course, we all remain chummy on the surface—but we don't tell Jin what we're doing any more, or we spin him a yarn sometimes to put him off the track. Quite the secret agents nowadays, aren't we, Tom?'

Tom did not reply. He and Helen Frances had hardly said a word all meal.

‘I don't understand all this talk of secrets and merchants,' said their mother, from the head of the table, ‘but I've heard of Iron Man Wang. Mr Delamere, I hope you and young Tom are going to be careful on this great adventure of yours. Bandits are menace enough, but with all these rumours of Boxers threatening harm to God-fearing people as well, I for one get worried.'

‘You don't have to worry about Boxers,' laughed Mr Delamere. ‘They won't come this far north. At least, they haven't done so yet. And we've faced Iron Man Wang's boys before, haven't we, Tom? Or, rather, you did, you brave fellow. Mind you, it'll be interesting on the way back from Tsitsihar when we're loaded up with all the silver we're getting for the alkali. Helen Frances, my dear, you didn't know that your fiancé and your papa are going to be rich, did you? I expect the board of directors of Babbit and Brenner will vote their hardworking sons of the soil a substantial commission when they hear of the profit we'll be making for them this time. Have you ever seen a wagon loaded with silver, Doctor? It's a beautiful sight. That's why we're taking the armed guards. Not for the outward journey, but for the return.'

‘I think you ought to be more discreet, Papa,' said Helen Frances, breaking her silence for the first time.

‘Nonsense, girl,' said Mr Delamere, helping himself to crème caramel proffered on a tray by Ah Lee. ‘It's all in the family here. Who could be eavesdropping at the Airtons?' The children saw his heavy torso turn in his daughter's direction. ‘You're a bit pale, chicken,' he said to her. ‘Have you been unwell? Or are you sad to see your old father go off on a trip again?'

‘She won't be pining for you, Delamere. It's young Cabot she'll be missing,' said Airton jovially.

‘Yes, now you mention it, we haven't had a word out of Tom all evening either. What a gloomy pair they are. Glad my old skin's too thick for Cupid's darts. They look miserable the both of them. Parting is such sweet sorrow, eh?'

‘I was wondering if it would be impertinent to ask,' the doctor cleared his throat, ‘if a date had been fixed for the wedding?'

‘Yes, Tom,' the children's mother said. ‘It's a pleasure having dear Helen Frances staying and we do value her help in the infirmary, but we wonder from time to time what your ultimate plans are. I daresay she's been missing you immensely. She's lately been very quiet, and I agree with you, Mr Delamere, she has looked a little off-colour.'

The children noticed that Tom was punching his fist softly into his palm under the table, and one of his feet was gently tapping the floor. They had the impression of enormous energy being tightly controlled. Suddenly the large hands vanished from their view and there was a rattle of the table above them.

‘Mrs Airton, Dr Airton, may I trespass on your hospitality?'

‘By all means, Tom,' said the doctor, in the sudden hush this outburst had caused.

‘I wondered if I might have a few moments alone with my fiancée. We can—we can join you in the drawing room a little later.'

‘Why, of course,' he said, after a pause. Then, ‘How stupid of me. Of course you must have some moments alone together. Whatever was I thinking?'

‘Probably of the port and cigars we're going to miss by retiring from the table early,' muttered Mr Delamere.

‘Mr Delamere,' said Nellie, ‘you may have your glass of port, and your cigar, with coffee besides—but in the drawing room. Come. I think these two young persons have much to say to each other.' And chairs scraped, two pinstriped pairs of legs and a bustled dress disappeared, Mr Delamere's grumbling diminished out of earshot, and in a moment only Tom's flannels and Helen Frances's striped skirt remained, the bodies above them unmoving. The children gazed at each other wide-eyed in the unnatural silence as the engaged couple confronted each other across the table above their heads.