02 Shanghai Dreams (The Earl’s Other Son #2)

by Andrew Wareham

  “I much prefer the colour of rubies, but scarlet is said to be unlucky in an engagement ring. A diamond it really should be.”

  “Well, you know that sort of thing. I don’t! Suppose I ought to find out – there’s a baronetcy in line, I can tell you now. I shall be a ‘sir’ within the month. Pity it don’t go down to a daughter – but you’ll have a greater handle than that to your name, after all!”

  Sia, who was naturally acquainted with the gossip of Shanghai nodded in the background, noticed only by Magnus who risked a quick smile and received a fractionally deeper inclination of the head.

  Why? Sia is unknown to me, Magnus mused… Perhaps I am not to him. Ping Wu’s influence? The triad?

  Magnus kept his thoughts to himself. If Mr Sia wished to say anything to him, he would make the opportunity.

  “What do you think to this one, my lord?”

  Magnus thought it was better suited to be a knuckleduster than an engagement ring. A large brilliant, very large indeed, in a cluster of smaller stones, sparkling in the electric lights.

  “Magnificent, sir. I doubt I have seen its match outside of Mayfair. What say you, ma’am?”

  “I should love to wear it, my lord.” She took her cue from him, perfectly formal in the presence of lesser mortals.

  “Then, ma’am, why look further?”

  Blantyre took his cue.

  “Best you should place it upon your lady’s finger, my lord.”

  “With all my love, ma’am. A very public announcement that you are mine now – and that I am yours. I am more delighted even than I had expected. A symbol of a life that has taken a very different direction in recent months, to my amazement, and solely because of you.”

  An embrace was normal following the placement of the ring, but it could hardly be appropriate in the presence of a Chinaman. Certain intimacies were not to be shared with lesser mortals.

  Blantyre stepped into the breach before they could seem awkward.

  “You do not wear a ring yourself, my lord?”

  “No, sir. I had not as a younger man and now I should not. I shall inherit my father’s signet in due time and must wear that, preferably alone in honour.”

  “Ah! That I had not thought of – you know these things, of course.”

  Magnus suppressed the sigh of relief; he was sure he had seen Blantyre’s eye lingering on a star ruby, a fine stone but far too ostentatious for a naval officer to display on his hand.

  Blantyre turned to Sia.

  “Account as normal, Sia. A quick word about business while I am here. Ellen, do have a look at the silks for a few minutes.”

  The couple did as they were told, accepting that business was not for them to know about. Magnus had a shrewd suspicion that his lady might well receive the star ruby as a wedding gift – one of her wedding gifts in all probability. He had resigned himself to being smothered by the wealth of the Blantyres; he could live with it.

  “A wedding gown, perhaps, my love?”

  She shook her head, grinning.

  “Not at all, sir! Far too important to be left to my taste and judgement. There is a Russian lady, a countess, it is said, of long pedigree and little money, resident in Shanghai following the exile of her husband who indulged in Russian politics and offended the Tsar. He is dead now and rather than go back to Russia and insignificance deep in the provinces, she makes her living as the arbiter of taste in Shanghai. My good papa has already enlisted her for the preparations for the wedding, at a very steep price, though I am not thought to be aware of the fact. She is to give ‘friendly advice’, he tells me, and I shall do as I am told. So, I am given to understand, will you, my lord…”

  “Dress she cannot alter, my dear. I must appear in front of the altar in best ceremonial attire – frockcoat and scraper to enter the church, bicorne then laid aside, as one must stand bareheaded before the Lord. That is the demand of the Admiralty, and they undoubtedly outrank any Russian countess. Other than that, I am hers to command in all ways.”

  “I must explain that to her. I believe that in Russia the demands of admirals are subordinate to those of fashion. She must be told that England obeys its own laws.”

  “She must indeed, for Admiral Seymour will undoubtedly be present and must not be upset. Captain Erskine will also be there, very willing to be censorious. I am afraid that I trod on Erskine’s toes as a younger man and he has not forgiven me and will not except there is a great effort on my part. I am inclined to, as they say, bury the hatchet – these feuds are amusing but they are not really the thing, you know. The Navy has enough divisions already without others being created and maintained unnecessarily.”

  She thought Erskine’s storing up of a grievance to be very petty minded of the gentleman and recalled that she had never liked him.

  “I am afraid I was responsible for his service nickname, which is not of the most polite. The name will not go away, and neither will his rancour.”

  She laughed, wondering whether she might enquire just what the name was. No matter, she would discover one day.

  “That does leave us with the question of a wedding day, my lord.”

  “It does, my lady-to-be. For me, the sooner the better. I wish to be your husband, to find a house for you and dwell with you there. The earlier I am wed to you, the happier I shall be.”

  “Ah… that raises another possible difficulty, my lord.”

  She turned away to peer at a bolt of silk, Imperial brocade, heavy and rich in colour, avoiding his eye.

  “’Finding a house’, you said…”

  “Well, yes, they don’t quite grow on trees. I must locate a place and, presumably, arrange a lease if we…”

  He realised as he spoke that she was upset, embarrassed perhaps.

  “Your father?”

  “Yes. He has ‘happened upon the ideal little house for me’. He has bought it and is busily engaging a staff. I discovered what he was doing last week, too late to say anything to him. It is being refurbished for us, by the countess, of course, in the best of taste.”

  That Magnus had not expected; it seemed to him to encroach too far upon his privileges as the man of the house. If he was not the master of his house then he became just a little too subordinate to his new family. He could, he thought, put his foot down and refuse to be humiliated – but the man was motivated by kindness and generosity. It would be churlish to accept an engagement ring that might have cost more than the house and then throw his next gift back in his face.

  “A surprise, indeed, something out of the ordinary way, one might say… But your father is no ordinary sort of gentleman. We shall not live in Shanghai for too many years – let us wallow in luxury while we may.”

  She gave an exhalation of relief.

  “I had much feared you would find that particular expression of generosity a little too overbearing, Magnus. You are very good to me.”

  “Your father is very good to us both – and if his ways are not always mine, well, he is the senior man – and I like him!”

  “I say again that you are very good to me, Magnus. As for a date, if it suited you, then it would be possible to avail ourselves of the Anglican Cathedral in some five weeks from today.”

  “Excellent! Has your father already made the booking?”

  “Only provisionally, he assured me.”

  Magnus laughed, having little alternative.

  “There may be a difficulty if duty supervenes. I do not expect sailing orders, but if they arrive, I cannot refuse them, short of sending in my papers. I shall speak to Captain Erskine and give him his invitation verbally, prior to the card reaching him; I shall ask him to stand with me, as groomsman. He will then have the opportunity to be obnoxious, to refuse, if he so desires. I suspect he will not be awkward, purely because malice would be obvious to Admiral Seymour, who is, at the moment, much on my side. Erskine is a Beresford man, like Admiral Seymour, and will take his cue from the Admiral.”

  She knew nothing of the politics
of the Navy, or of the subtle, and sometimes blatant, manoeuvring for promotion and favour that marked its upper ranks.

  “I must explain all in detail, one day. For the while, there is open conflict between Fisher and Beresford; between big gun men and the torpedo and mine people; and especially between what could be called the sail tradition and the steam iconoclasts. There are some of us, you see, my love, who actually believe that not only is Nelson dead, but so are his tactics! That is to be spoken only in whispers, by the way, it is so shocking a concept.”

  “But…”

  “What has that to do with our wedding, you ask? Simple! Admiral Seymour is a follower of Charlie B, Beresford, that is. Captain Jellicoe is a major figure in the Fishpond, the followers and close friends of Jacky Fisher. Captain Erskine is one of Charlie B’s lesser lights. I am stood on the banks of the Fishpond, begging permission to dip my toe in the water. As a mere Commander, and with no good reputation until recently, I am not to be invited to join the ranks of the acknowledged converts to the cause of Fisher, or not until I have made myself a name. But as I have become known in the last few months, I have set myself up as a target for Charlie B’s people, and that might give Captain Erskine an extra motivation for treading on my toes. However, he has to work with Captain Jellicoe, who could give him such a poor report that he would never be promoted again. In fact, I believe we are safe, for the while, and until I commit an outrageous act, such as showing evidence of thinking for myself, or, indeed, thinking at all. The good sailor has no need to think – Nelson did all the thinking the Navy shall ever need, you know. Official dogma.”

  She considered his speech very carefully for a minute or so.

  “Are you sure you wish to remain a sailor, Magnus? Is there any place for a man of intelligence in the Navy?”

  “Probably not at the moment, but if we push our case, there might be eventually. I may well be forced to leave the sea, one day – much will depend on the demands of the family in London and Scotland, of course. But that should be for the far future. For the while – guardship at Shanghai has much to recommend it, provided China remains within reason tranquil.”

  China showed every evidence of being torpid, not merely tranquil. The poor starved quietly, and kept their misery decently out of sight, while the rich competed to gain the benefits the West had to offer. There was a group of a middle sort of people who were interested in change for the benefit of the whole country, but they attracted little attention. There were rumours still of ‘movements’, of revolutionaries, of the disaffected, but they could be and were ignored.

  Magnus spent a month in dancing attendance on his lady; on supervising the training of his landing parties; on socialising with the other officers on station. The event that finally upset his new idleness was an invitation from Mr Sia to pay a call on him at his premises at his earliest convenience.

  Magnus was indignant at first that the Chinaman should expect him to make the visit, and that he should hurry; thought suggested that there was no alternative. The sight of a known, wealthy local man coming to him would set a great wave of speculation rolling. Mr Sia could have no legitimate reason for appearing on Racoon; Magnus might quite normally go shopping at Mr Sia’s store.

  It was a little more than a week before his wedding day when Magnus took the waiting small carriage to Bubbling Well Road and was set down outside a jewellers a good hundred yards distant from Mr Sia’s doors. He glanced inside the premises, made a show of not finding what he wanted and then wandered apparently idly down the road and into Sia’s entry. A young man, dressed European and speaking perfect English, greeted him and led him to the rear and up a flight of stairs.

  Four more young men sat at desks, not out of place in a London office, apart from the abacus on each, in expert use.

  “Please to enter the inner door, my lord. Mr Sia awaits your convenience.”

  The door was heavy, thick and probably soundproof, Magnus thought. The room was best described as Anglicised, mahogany office furnishings on a rich carpet but embellished with scarlets and gold on the walls and with several jade pieces in the deep Imperial colour. Mr Sia stood as Magnus was ushered in and stepped round his desk to offer a bow of greeting, followed by a handshake.

  “Captain Lord Eskdale! You honour my offices, sir.”

  “Mr Sia – thank you for inviting me to enter your sanctum. It is, I do not doubt, an honour not granted to all.”

  “Lord Ping Wu informed me that you were a man of courtesy, Lord Eskdale. I am pleased indeed to discover again just how wisely perceptive he is.”

  The use of the honorific suggested that Sia was one of Ping Wu’s followers, either through the triad or by way of family connection. Magnus took his cue from Sia.

  “Lord Ping Wu has shown me great courtesy and kindness, sir. He is a man for whom I have the greatest respect. I have been so fortunate as to offer him a little assistance on occasion but still know that I am indebted to him for his generosity.”

  Mr Sia could not imagine that to be so – a captain of a ship of Her Majesty’s Navy could not be indebted to any man, he believed.

  “I know, my lord, that you have provided great guns that enable the port of Hanshan to protect itself from the wicked pirates who unfortunately abound on our coasts. Such being the case, it is impossible that you should feel debt.”

  Magnus had a suspicion that the discussion of just who owed what to whom could last for a long time. He smiled, bowed and said no more. Sia proceeded to business.

  “I had wondered, Lord Eskdale, whether it might interest you to know that the man known as Hildesheim has recently taken ship from Tsingtao and has been seen upon the river not so many miles to the west of Shanghai. He is said to be paying a visit to the concession of Ebert and Sohn, in fact, examining their new boatyard and workshops associated with it. His ship landed a small cargo there and will remain for a few days loading various trade goods and many tons of grain. The cargo may well have been of rifles.”

  They talked a few minutes more, discussing Magnus’ plans for the wedding and his future stay in Shanghai. Sia thought it only appropriate to make a ‘small wedding gift’ himself and placed a necklace in Magnus’ not unwilling hand. It was the star ruby both had admired, made up in European style, the pendant surrounded by diamonds.

  “Magnificent, Mr Sia! A beautiful stone – I wanted it for my lady the moment I saw it. I knew, sir, that I could not possibly afford it. I cannot express my gratitude sufficiently. To place this around my wife’s neck will be a highpoint of my existence, sir. I shall not be so simple as to pledge my friendship to you – you and Lord Ping Wu already know that I am first a servant of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria. That said, sir, be very sure that I am a man of honour.”

  Sia made an appropriate response – was he not an honourable gentleman, there could have been no state of amity between them.

  “I must go, sir. The matter of the wicked Baron Hildesheim is to be dealt with. Expeditiously, Mr Sia, and hopefully, terminally.”

  Magnus left, giving his thanks again and hurrying to the carriage Mr Sia provided.

  “To the Bund. To the offices of the Senior Naval Officer, Shanghai.”

  Chapter Eight

  The Earl’s Other Son Series

  Shanghai Dreams

  Magnus gave Erskine the background to his interest in Baron Hildesheim, mentioning that Admiral Seymour had expressed a wish to be rid of the man while Captain Hawkins was actively seeking means to have him assassinated.

  “Baron Hildesheim is an important figure in the field of German Imperial expansion, Captain Erskine. He is responsible for all of Berlin’s dirty work in China. You are aware of the business with the Lee-Enfield rifles, sir? He was the one who arranged for the ship carrying them to be pirated and its crew and passengers to be butchered. There were women and children aboard that ship, sir. Englishwomen and children.”

  Captain Erskine had been listening with a bored, supercilious expression carefully set on his face,
the experienced man listening to the greenhorn rant. He sat forward, all pretence suddenly gone.

  “And you say he ordered them killed, Eskdale?”

  “’Disposed of’, I expect he said. No need to actually say the unpleasant words, sir. He would have tried to keep his hands clean, in his own mind.”

  Captain Erskine was self-indulgent perhaps, but he was not stupid.

  “You mean that as long as he did not say ‘kill’, he could keep a clean conscience if they died?”

  “Just that, sir. He could also ignore all that may have happened to them beforehand. I doubt they died easily in the hands of pirates and slavers.”

  Erskine swore, just audibly, dropping into lower deck language in his anger before recovering his composure.

  “Truly a Teutonic swine! What do you intend, Eskdale?”

  “Hildesheim is reported as being at the Ebert and Sohn compound, which is about half a day’s sailing upriver. My sources say he landed a cargo of rifles there. We are to understand that it has fallen to pirates, sir – the compound is somewhat isolated and could be a target for an ambitious warlord or pirate chief. Racoon to sail during the night and to destroy the pirate band in the dawn, sinking their ship and taking back the compound, and in process recovering the rifles.”

  Captain Erskine sat back in his chair, steepled his hands across his belly, stared at Magnus.

  “There could be no white survivors, you know, Eskdale. Something like this could lead to war if it got out, if it became known in Berlin. What if there are families there?”

  “Unlikely that there would be at an isolated place such as that, sir. It is possible, I will admit, though I am inclined to doubt though that Hildesheim would risk running rifles through a compound that had civilian eyes, and mouths, looking on.”

  Erskine nodded agreement, evidently thought it a risk worth taking. Obviously, he was not concerned about Chinese families – only Europeans mattered, because they might be listened to in Berlin, and heard in London.