The Secret Mandarin (37 page)

Sing Hoo by contrast, lingered. He too had been paid but it was clear he had nowhere to go. With no duties he inspected the tea gardeners’ quarters and double checked the arrangements for Robert and Jane’s passage on the
Lady Mary Wood,
due to sail within a fortnight. Each morning for the next few days I saw him sitting on the kitchen steps and each evening he took his place in the servants’ quarters. Between times I suspect that he frequented the brothels at the dockside.

‘Perhaps you should take him to India, Robert?’ I suggested.

‘So he can vomit the whole sea voyage and steal a percentage of my supplies once ashore?’

‘He is good with the men.’

‘Why do you think he stole all that money if he had no purpose for it?’ Robert pondered.

But then, of a sudden, after perhaps three days, Sing Hoo simply disappeared without even saying goodbye. In due course we heard he had departed on McFarlane’s ship once more, taken on as a hand and bound this time for
Shanghae. I expect he intended to make his way home at last from there. Perhaps he had decided on the spur. Who knows?

Jane was silent with me all the while. Each day we welcomed visitors and each night we all dined out. Robert and I laid not a single hand on each other. It would not have felt right. He told me that he had made it plain to my sister that she was free to do as she pleased, but all he could offer her was a marriage on his terms, which, he pointed out, were not much different from the marriage they had had all along. He would support her and the children, love them all, and dedicate his time to his work, which now meant spending much of his time in China, building their rising fortune. Jane had ranted, he said. She had screamed and cried, but there was no measure in that.

‘You can be a scandal,’ he had told her, ‘if you wish it. Or you can be a rich man’s wife and no one will know. I will support you either way, Jane, but the latter will be better for our children.’

In her temper, I wondered if my calm, practical, usually compliant sister might lash out, consult a lawyer, scream it from the rooftops or worse.

Meanwhile the dinners and afternoon teas continued. I visited my old lady and promised to recite, I gave a short talk to the ladies of the colony on the subject of our adventures and answered interminable questions about the ways of the natives in the interior and how awful it must have been for me. Jane emerged only for the larger social functions. She had some lovely new dresses, I noticed, and a fine collection of fans. Often congratulated on her husband’s success and her sister’s unusual character, I could see that she found her time in Hong Kong wearing. I would have found it so myself. I tried to talk to her several times, but she continued to ignore me, on one occasion rapping
my fingers with a closed fan when I reached out to take her by the arm. She spoke to our society friends, of course. Once, when someone had congratulated her on having such a spirited sister, I overheard her say ‘Yes. Most masculine. Mother always said that Mary took after our father, you know.’

From Jane, this was an unheard-of insult. I hung back then. If she did not wish to talk to me there was little I could do.

My time with Robert was now pitifully short. The passage to Calcutta would be five weeks or so, and from there the journey on to Ahallabad and the Valley of Deyra had been organised. To get to the Kaolagir tea plantations would take several weeks. Jane would not make the journey with her husband, but would stay in Calcutta and wait. Mr Gerard knew the city well and organised lodgings for her and introductions. With Robert now a luminary, she would spend her time lavishly among the company’s wives. Meantime Robert wrote ahead to Dr Jamieson at the plantation once more so that he would know the men were set to sail.

One morning a closed carriage was sent and Robert proposed we take a trip together, out of the blue. It was pleasant to be alone and we held hands, side by side.

‘I feel like your betrothed,’ he admitted.

‘Don’t be shy,’ I told him. ‘We will be together again.’

As the horses trotted on, I noticed we headed towards the new houses at the base of the Peak. Here as the carriage drew up Robert gave me a key, which he drew from his inside pocket. Understanding dawned upon me.

‘A whole house,’ I breathed. ‘Robert, I have no need of that!’

‘It is not so large. Besides, I have taken it for you. If you are lonely you must take a lodger! I hope you do not mind me moving you, but I thought a fresh start…’ he stuttered.

I unlocked the front door. Inside the air was cool and I could see a beautiful garden to the rear. I ran through the rooms like a child at Christmas. A small kitchen, a dining room, a drawing room and a sitting room. Upstairs three fine bedrooms with balconies and dressing rooms besides. To the side there were some maids’ quarters. Robert was proud of himself. He strolled behind me pointing out the features.

‘Look, Mary, such a large bath. And won’t you like this view? You do like the view?’

I couldn’t say anything. He had tried so hard to please me. I never dreamt I’d have such finery to myself. And yet he was leaving.

‘I thought you would want to engage your own servants,’ he said.

‘You are right. Thank you.’

I stood before him and reached out my hand, trailing my long fingers down the front of his shirt.

‘I will wait for you here,’ I said.

He bit his lip. ‘I will hurry.’

The next day we dispatched most of my boxes of clothes from one house to the other and Robert set up a line of credit. It was more money than I had ever imagined. These new-found riches were a boon. A home is a rare kind of pleasure and, after so many months at berth in one boat or another or quartered in provincial inns, it was time to be a woman again.

‘You will have a porcelain service,’ Robert promised, eager to please. ‘Oh, Mary, what of this linen? You do like it, don’t you?’

‘I do. I am happy,’ I told him.

‘And you will stay here? You will wait?’

I smiled. He was as nervous as I was.

The days passed regardless. Then, almost at the end, I was
packing the last of my things before I finally moved myself over to my own little mansion, when I came across a box in the study. Robert’s correspondence was piled up, being catalogued. The Royal Horticultural Society would inherit it, in due course, I had no doubt. I fingered the pages, reading a line here and there. And then I noticed there was a small pile of unopened letters. I lifted one. It was addressed to me in Jane’s hand. I realised these were the missives that had been sent to await my return, before she knew what we had done, what had happened. My sister had written over twenty letters until some eight months before we arrived back, when the correspondence had abruptly ceased. I sank into a chair by the empty fireside.

The sound of the wax seal breaking on those letters was agonising. She had written to me of Henry, of course—his first words, his first steps. He had been teething. She described the sunny nature of a happy infant and said that William had called on his son twice and sent gifts at Christmas. She loved my son, there was no doubt of that. In another of the letters she thanked me for the consignment I had chosen—recognising my eye in the gifts and writing at length how the children had played dress up. She told me of the seasons in London—a wet spring, a glorious summer and John, her eldest, who had returned from school for the holidays. Should she plant laurel in the back garden or a clematis—which would take longer to grow? The later letters sounded worried and contained less news—only that Thomas had begun his Latin and that she had had the drawing room redecorated. Robert was silent and I had not written in so long that she was afraid, she said. It was a lonely business, being in London, her companions abroad. Please, please, she entreated me, would I send some word? She was worried. The words resounded—an echo of the sister I had lost, the love and care that I had gambled.

I sat silently. The staff moved through the house. I could hear them. The letters lay on the side tables to the left and right, like an abandoned meal. I kept thinking of those last few weeks, of Robert and I riding together on our way to Foo Chow Soo. Of the golden countryside and our lovemaking in the fields. And then the clear image of Robert taking aim at the pirate junks and the day we had had chocolate again, the sweet, rich texture. I wished I had kissed him afterwards, the taste still on our lips. I loved Jane very much. We both did. And we had hurt her.

As if floating, I left the study and climbed up the stairs towards my sister’s room. I knocked on the door and entered. Jane was sitting alone by the window and looked up as I came in, her enquiring look turning to a withering glance instantly when she saw it was only I. I crossed to her chair and sank down onto the floor beside her.

‘Jane,’ I said, ‘I just read your letters.’

She remained silent, her small fingers fluttering to the collar of her gown, thinking through, no doubt, what she had said in each note.

I continued. ‘You are angry, I know. You have every right to be so. But…’

I got no further.

‘Don’t! Don’t!’ she shouted. ‘I do not want an explanation. I do not want your pity either.’

‘Listen,’ I entreated her. I had to take her on. ‘I have been looking forever for something that I want. All that time in London, all those plays, that silly house near Soho Square, damn William and his wooing. I was searching, Jane. And quite by chance I have found what I was looking for. Here.’

‘My husband,’ she sniffed.

‘No. No. Robert is incidental. You don’t understand. I found a country that fascinated me. I found something I was good at. I found a vocation, an interest, a calling.
And yes, all right, I found him as well. I hated Robert in London. You know I did. And the truth is, I will never go back there. But here in China, Robert and I, we have this together. It has sparked something that is amazing in every way. And however much I don’t want to hurt you, I cannot regret it. Nothing will make me regret it.’ I was crying. ‘But you and I may never see each other again, Jane. And you are still my sister. I do not love you less than before and I do not want to lose you. Even if you are angry with me, let’s make it up. Let’s cobble together something. Please.’

My breath was heaving. Jane was having none of my sentimentality. She fought back.

‘So you want my love while you share your bed with my husband? That is not possible, Mary. You have made your choice. Take him then! I will not divorce him. But know that you have humiliated me. And that’s what you will have left of me because of this. A façade. A pretence. I will play my part. No one will know. I will be your housekeeper, Mary,’ she spat sarcastically. ‘I will look after your mistakes and back up all your endeavours. I will invest your money. I will auction your goods. I will be Mrs Fortune for you and they can all tell me how marvellous you are. How wonderful. How extraordinary! You show-off ! You have to have everything. You have found what you wanted. Well, bully for you. For in taking it you have got the only thing I ever dreamed of since I was a little girl. He is my husband.’

I felt for her. ‘We will never agree,’ I said sadly. ‘But Robert is hardly gone from you. You did not really have him in the first place, Jane. Everything that you liked is yours still. All that time in London you preached acceptance to me. You told me that I had to do what is best for my family. Well, perhaps things haven’t turned out just the way you’d
like, but now it is your turn to play the hand you’re dealt. And it is not as easy as you thought, is it?’

My sister lashed out. It was a surprise and her blow sent me flying. She jumped up from her chair and kicked me hard in fury when I was down. I grabbed her by the foot and wrestled her to the floor.

‘How could you? You are so like him! You beast! You foul, foul monster!’ she shouted.

Her hair had come loose and fell about her shoulders like a madwoman’s. I held her down.

‘That’s it, isn’t it? It’s Da! He hurt you and he never hurt me. And now it’s not that Robert loves you less that kills you, it’s that he doesn’t hate me any more! You can’t bear that. Because you thought you were his favourite. You can’t bear having to share him!’

The commotion of our tussle had brought a maid from downstairs. The door clicked open and the girl stood there, her mouth open at the sight of my sister and I, hair flying, fighting like street urchins. We both sat up, suddenly well behaved, as if we were children caught by their governess. I laughed.

‘Get out!’ Jane screamed at the girl, who fled immediately.

‘I thought all you wanted was to be Mrs Fortune,’ I muttered. ‘And you are. You hate the part of Robert that I have. I have no desire for the part you like. We can both have him, Jane. It’s not like Da at all.’

‘Convenient,’ she snarled.

‘You have always been good to me but, Jane, I never had what I wanted. I have it now and I won’t give it up. ‘

Jane thumped her hands flat on the floor in frustration.

‘And there is nothing I can do! I just feel so helpless,’ she howled.

All at once I realised that I remembered that feeling. Other people making decisions for me—things I did not
want at all and had no choice in. It was not so long ago that, frustrated, I had hit the floor myself. I stroked the back of her hand.

‘We are family,’ I told her. ‘And we must stick together, Jane. You know that. My son, your husband, all the responsibilities. We are going to share more than most, I suppose. And I know it is wrong. But I will not steal him from you, not like you are thinking, and no one need know. Truly. The only difference is that I am happy here and that Robert, some of the time, will be happy here too. It is not perfect for any of us, but it is what we have.’

Jane’s eyes were hard. There was no resolving things. Not now, anyway. Forgiveness takes time.

‘You are Mrs Fortune,’ I promised her. ‘And I am Fanny Kemble, I suppose.’

On the next night, their last, we dined at the Governor’s mansion. The guests toasted Robert at the table, all twenty of them. During the pudding Pottinger received the news that Foo Chow Soo had been relieved, thank heavens, and we all toasted that as well—both the success and to the memory of the men who fell.