Flowers in the Blood (75 page)

“In what way?”

“With other people's money.”

“That’s a relief, because if he had another sort of reputation, I could not risk mine with his company.”

“How wise you are, my dear. Pity your husband could not accompany you this time. Ah, and here are the gentlemen now.”

As promised, the commodore ushered Mr. Troyte my way. “Mrs. Salem, what a pleasure. I believe I have known every Sassoon to pass through this port. Even your Grandfather David once kissed me when I was a boy.”

“He was my great-grandfather.”

“Certainly.”

“Then you knew my father.”

“We were acquainted.” His bright blue eyes shifted from side to side. “May I say how much you remind me of him?”

I gave a little shiver.

“Are you cold?”

“A bit. Calcutta gets chilly, but it doesn't seem to penetrate the bones quite as thoroughly.”

“That's the dampness.” He steered me toward one of the three fires that blazed in the massive drawing room. “Winter on the island is always like this. Two months earlier would have been ideal.” Perceptively, the man noticed impatience in my expression and quickly ceased the small talk. “The commodore said I might be of assistance to you.”

“Possibly.” I gave a nervous laugh, since Lady Robinson's warning had put me on guard. “I feel abysmally ignorant about Hong Kong, almost as if I'm adrift without flotation.”

Godfrey Troyte threw back, his head and laughed heartily. “What an original allusion!” His wispy long hair settled long after his head stilled. “Because my father was an old sailor, I have many safety lines around. Shall I toss you one?”

“Please.”

“Where should I begin?” He leaned against one of the stone lions carved into the face of the hearth and cocked his head.

“I suppose you know that I, along with my brother, am here in my father's stead. What it took him a lifetime to know must be assimilated by us more quickly if we are to represent the Sassoon interests to the Chinese opium dealers this season.”

The sharp blue eyes darted from side to side, almost like mechanical attachments to the man's thinking gears. When they steadied, I knew he had made a decision. Had he realized we were in some difficulty? Did he already know about our need to raise the prices sharply? Even if he did, all he replied was: “Opium is not my field.”

“Lady Robinson thought you had historical perspective,” I said, pronouncing “historical” in the same exaggerated manner as our hostess.

Godfrey Troyte's amused expression let me know he caught the mimicry. “I imagine your father told you that most of the Chinese merchants descend from the original Cantonese Co-Hong traders. They form ten guilds licensed by the emperor in Peking to trade with foreigners, a situation forced upon him against his better judgment by the results of the opium wars. Just as yours is a family trade, so is theirs.” He paused and looked around. Nobody was paying any attention to us. In fact, the room was emptying.

“Go on,” I urged.

“Caught in the middle of a trade they find difficult to control, these merchants have banded together to resist those who do not share their interests.”

“Who would that be? The Indian opium dealers?”

“Yes, but there are others, including the Mandarin import-export officials, who impose the traditional Cantonese bribery ritual—not affectionately known as the 'squeeze.' Also, Peking regularly punishes the merchants whether they go along with the squeeze or fight it. Thus the trade is in perpetual disorder, for one never knows if one's associates are currently in or out of favor.”

“Now I understand why my father had nightmares over the business.”

“Telling family secrets?” Jonah asked pleasantly, having come to collect me. We were almost the last guests in the room.

“I believe Mr. Troyte already knows them.” I introduced the two men.

“A pity it is time to leave,” Godfrey replied to Jonah. “Monday-night suppers always end early, for most of the guests have to work tomorrow. This week will be especially busy because the new year begins on Saturday.”

“Is it an important holiday?”

The two men exchanged bemused smiles. “Your sister is in for a proper welcome to Hong Kong, isn't she?”

“There I go floating out to sea,” I said as we three walked over to the governor and his wife to say our farewells.

Gulliver handed me my cape, which Godfrey helped settle around my shoulders. “My offer of a line extends past the evening.”

“Would it be presumptuous of me to invite you to call?”

“I was hoping you would ask.”

“Would tomorrow be convenient, or do you also have a great deal to accomplish before the holiday?”

“Hardly,” he chuckled. “Tomorrow around four?”

“Perfect. Do you know . . . ?”

“Mount Gough, the White Chalet,” he filled in.

“I didn't realize that's what the house was called.” I climbed into the waiting sedan chair and gave my new friend a wave.

“My, you move quickly,” Jonah commented. I looked to see if he was upset with me. If anything, he seemed delighted.

“Someone needs to explain what is going on. Ever since we arrived, I have felt in a fog.”

“That is because the fog has barely lifted.”

I cuffed my brother's shoulder. “You know what I mean.” He shrank back playfully. “And you, did you have a pleasant evening?”

“Not especially.”

“A pity your dinner companions were both married.”

“That sort of woman is of no interest to me.”

“I could see that,” I said lightly, even though I felt a sudden twinge and thought of Silas. No, not Jonah! He had never met anyone he cared for, that was it. When we returned to Calcutta, I would attempt to find him a few good candidates for a wife, I mused.

“What sort of girl would you like?” I asked in the foyer. Jonah's tense expression caused me to back off. “Or haven't you given the matter much thought?”

“On the contrary,” he replied, but did not clarify further.

If I had not been so tired or if his face had registered an invitation to press forward, I might have continued. All I said was, “That's a start.”

P A R T  V

 

 

Flowers in the Blood

 

The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do.

—Chinese Proverb

50

 

I
already scheduled a meeting with the compradore,” Jonah said, “so I shall not be able to greet your latest conquest.” “Mr. Troyte is hardly that.” I grimaced. “I wonder why the gentleman does not cut his hair properly. He looks quite extraordinary.”

Jonah idly fingered an ivory letter opener on the desk where I was working on some preliminary figures. “That is probably why.”

“Here is our version of the reports you may give to the compradore.” I handed him a packet of papers. “Remember, though, do not discuss firm prices yet. We need to gather more information before we present our case to Mr. Ming.”

“Why don't you want to confide in him? He works for us, not the Co-Hong merchants.”

“I have a feeling these Chinese stick together as tightly as the Baghdadi Jews.”

“Father trusted him implicitly.”

“Father trusted no one implicitly.”

“I do not care to argue with you, Dinah.”

“Good, then do as I say and be discreet with him. Only offer these figures for now.”

“As you wish, taipan,” he said with an exaggerated bow. He backed out of the room.

Promptly at four, Godfrey Troyte arrived, soaked from the late-afternoon downpour.

“It is you who need the lifeline this afternoon,” I said, shaking my head. “Come, sit by the fire and I will pour some tea.” The man's lips were blue. “Would you like some brandy added?”

“Please” was his grateful reply.

By the time he was warmed in body, Godfrey had also come up to steam as far as his tales went. “What many newcomers find hard to comprehend is that while European nations have thrived because they settled near the sea and ventured out, the Chinese believe they prospered because they discouraged sea trade. They take pride in being the Inner Land. Only the Cantonese, perhaps because they are so far from the center of imperial power in Peking, have ever relished trading. Why, then, did the emperor allow them to indulge in this dangerous intermingling? Because we barbarians had developed a passion for tea. Once our tongues had been tempted with the noble leaf's brew, the Chinese found we would pay ludicrous prices to satisfy our craving. This is why they licensed the original ten Co-Hong families to control the trade and agreed to keep the Pearl River open so tea could flow out—not realizing that traffic would soon flow the other way when the barbarians tired of dumping vast amounts of bullion and not finding the Chinese willing to take anything in exchange.”

“Why opium?” I asked.

“Opium was the single product that did not exist in China and for which there was not only a demand but also an increasing urgency.” Godfrey went on disgorging a prodigious amount of knowledge on the conflicts between the Cantonese dockworkers and the tea merchants, the Co-Hong guilds and their handling of foreign currency exchanges, and the blow-by-blow details of the two opium wars. “. . . Curiously, nobody knew what happened once the opium chests were brought into Canton's port. The keepers of the Heavenly Empire jealously guarded the secrets of the Inner Land. Nevertheless, what the Jardines, Sassoons, and their compatriots realized, was that a considerable number of the three hundred million Chinese harbored a bottomless appetite for opium.”

“The situation is different nowadays, isn't it?”

“Not really. To them, we are but a new breed of
Huang-Maou
, redheaded barbarians.” He gestured to my hair, which from the days at sea had streaks of ruddy gold around my face. “Literally, in your case.”

“And the Chinese appetite for opium has not dimmed, has it?”

“The business will never be curtailed unless the young reject it and the old addicts die out. Nevertheless, customers are not your problem.” Godfrey's strange blue eyes roamed the room while waiting for me to comment.

“I see . . .”I said, not wanting to rise to the bait.

He stood and stretched. “I must be going. If I stay any longer, your fine brandy and mesmerizing fire will conspire—against my will in such splendid company—to put me to sleep.”

I leaned back in my chair. “What
is
my problem, Mr. Troyte?”

A nuance of triumph registered on his face. “The districts of Yunnan and Szechuan are being blanketed in poppies. Word has it the Szechuan is turning up a higher morphine content than premium Patna.” He reached into his vest pocket. “I brought you this article by the Shanghai correspondent for the
Times
of London saying the Chinese plant is 'all but universal' in the central regions.”

“I had not realized that.” My concern must have shown on my face, for he came over to me, took my hand in his, and patted it. “Your saving grace is that Indian opium is considered the finest by the wealthiest users. There will always be those who prefer to pay a steep price because it makes them think they are getting a superior product. The common people might be swayed to accept the cheapest version.”

Gulliver, seeing the strange man holding my hand, edged forward. Godfrey acknowledged his concern with a nod of his head, but did not let go. Because I did not feel in the least bit attracted to or threatened by the man, I did not withdraw. “You have been most helpful. I do hope we shall meet again.”

“Tomorrow, then,” he said without any query in his manner. He bent forward and kissed my hand, then left before Gulliver could open the door for him.

That evening, after I had told Jonah about my encounter, he seemed uninterested. I suppose I had expected him to be disapproving, and when he was not, I decided it was more satisfactory having a brother as a companion than a father, a mother, or even a husband. Not that Godfrey was the slightest rival for Edwin. The man's pallor, darting eyes, and exotic mannerisms were intriguing, but held no romantic charms.

“What did the compradore have to say today?” I asked next.

“I
approached the matter of prices—without mentioning specifics, as you desired—and he was resistant to anything but last season's figures.”

“I expected he would be. After all, when we are gone, he will have to live with the wrath of the merchants.”

“That brings another matter to mind,” Jonah slipped in silkily. “I have been thinking that a Sassoon should remain in Hong Kong year-round. Perhaps our father might have found the Chinese less confounding if he had become a resident.”

I stared at him with a fresh regard. His point was well taken, but who would want to live on this rugged ridge of lofty granite? “Are you volunteering?” I teased.

“Perhaps I am.” His expression was unflinching.

“You cannot possibly decide that now. What if your wife would not want to leave Calcutta? It is harder for a woman to adjust to a new society. I know, I was miserable in Cochin.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Every time marriage or women were mentioned, he shut himself off from me. Since he had not provoked me about Godfrey, I extended him the same courtesy and changed the subject.

 

The next afternoon Godfrey began our conversation with a discussion about the upcoming festivities. “This week the Chinese will begin the Year of the Dog and the twenty-fourth year of the reign of the Emperor Kwang Hsu.”

“Why is it called the Year of the Dog?”

“Chinese astrologers base their calculations on a cycle of twelve lunar years. The signs follow each other in the same order. Each year is represented by an animal, which influences the lives, destiny, and character of the people born that year. For instance, the rooster has to scratch about to find food, the rat is destined to be trapped, the cat always lands on his feet.” He went on to explain that the actual choice had been made by Buddha, who had summoned the beasts in creation to visit him, and only twelve turned up. “To each he offered a year to bear its name. The animals accepted and now the years run in the order of their arrival at the party.”

“Will the Year of the Dog be a productive one?”

“Actually, it's an unsettled period in which we'll be pessimistic, anxious, and worrying about our future. How this affects the individual depends on the year of the person. When were you born?”

“In 1872.”

“A monkey. I might have guessed! This year the monkeys will wait patiently for the end of their difficulties, particularly in the arena of finance and romance. May I ask when your husband was born?”

“The same year.”

“How splendid for you both! Monkeys produce extraordinary people. They are intellectuals with a thirst for knowledge. Also, they are great readers, cultured, with fantastic memories. Some can recall the tiniest details of everything they have seen, read, or heard.”

“My husband can do that.”

“Monkeys are also excellent problem solvers.”

“Are there any negatives?”

“Well. . .”—Godfrey grinned mischievously— “since you asked. They can be independent and selfish, determined that nobody will put anything over on them. A monkey must be in charge, even if it means bending his scruples to get his way. Despite this, people always seek out monkeys for their intelligence and wit.”

“How do we fare in romantic matters?”

“Monkeys fall in love too rapidly, but later may become critical of their partners.”

My heart began to hammer in my chest. I did not want to hear any more about myself—or Edwin. “You seem to know a great deal about this.”

“One of my specialties. The wisdom of the signs continues to confound me.”

“What animal are you?”

“I am a cat. Refined, reserved, ambitious. Nobody ignores cats because we are good company.”

“How true.”

“Now, even though you were too polite to ask, here are the unpleasant aspects. Cats are social yet superficial. The indiscreet cat is sometimes a gossip to the point of scandal mongering. He is conservative, abhorring anything that disturbs his quiet life. In speculations, he is fortunate and he has the gift for nosing out bargains. To others, the placid cat is a formidable entrepreneur, which is to his advantage. Fortunately, the cat is an astute businessman and anybody who signs a contract with one need not worry.”

Lady Robinson's warning came to mind. “Is that something you would agree with?”

“Certainly.”

“Where would you speculate these days?”

“In Hong Kong real, estate. The, crown is about to sign a ninety-nine-year lease with the Chinese for the rest of the peninsula of Kowloon together with seventy-five islands. Once the documents are sealed, real-estate prices will soar.”

I was intrigued by this, especially in light of Jonah's interest in remaining in Hong Kong. “What if the lease is not enough to attract buyers who don't want to lose their investment in a hundred years?”

“In my experience, most people think more about what they will eat tomorrow than their grandchildren's future.”

“I suppose that may be true, however some may not trust a cat,” I dared.

His sharp eyes steadied on me. “I agree. Some believe witches and wizards change themselves into cats. Our mysterious nature puzzles others. What you must remember is the cat's weaknesses can be mutated into its strengths.”

Suddenly uncomfortable with the man's defensive posture, I turned to Jonah. “My brother is four years younger. What does that make him?”

“A rat.”

“Poor Jonah.”

“No, it is a rather good sign, except this year he should pay more attention to his business affairs rather than his love affairs. The rat seems to be calm and well-balanced, but beware! Beneath that placid exterior there is a restlessness that can get him into trouble. Interestingly, the monkey casts a spell over the rat, although the rat will never admit it.”

“What are you saying?”

“The rat will come into his own once the monkey leaves his side. If possible, he should couple with a dragon or a buffalo.”

“Neither sounds very romantic. Tell me, should two monkeys be married to each other?” I asked gently, even though the spike twisted anew in my heart.

“Total complicity links monkeys. Together they should go far, unless they compete, playing 'I'm-smarter-than-you.' “

I gulped at the last, but managed to reply steadily, “How intriguing this is. How could I learn more about it?”

“Tomorrow I will bring you a chart I have translated into English,” he said, standing and stretching.

“Are you leaving already?”

“Not if you would like me to stay.”

“I did have a few more questions.”

“I
expected you would. A monkey is not satisfied until she is versed in what is happening in the world.”

“My interests here extend only to the small yet hidden world of the opium trade.”

“There is some problem you are trying to solve and you think I can help you. Why not get to the point directly?”

“Do I hear the cat speaking to the monkey?”

“Exactly.” He grinned, revealing stained yellow teeth and gray gums.

What did I have to lose? I told him—without mentioning that my own uncle was the culprit—of the problem at the Calcutta auction and the need to raise prices by almost twenty percent. “The compradore is balking at presenting new prices.”

Godfrey paced in front of the windows, which dripped with moisture, blanking out the view. “Mr. Ming did not gain his position by trampling on his customers.”