Burning Tigress

by Jade Lee

  "Yes, your father's inherited the title. He's a baron now. I'm a baroness." She leaned forward to touch her forehead to her daughter's. "And you, my dear, are the daughter of a baron."

  Charlotte waited a moment. She allowed herself precious seconds to enjoy her mother's tender gesture, but eventually the woman pulled away. Meanwhile, Charlotte had to ask, she needed to know what the future would bring. "What does it all mean, Mama?"

  "It means, my dear, that we must return to England. We can finally leave this heathen place and get you a real English husband. None of these foreign transplants, my dear, but a real, honest-to-goodness English gentleman—someone who's never heard of a rickshaw or seen chopsticks."

  Charlotte blinked, her thoughts whirling. "But I like rickshaws and chopsticks."

  Her mother patted her cheek. "Yes, I know. And that is all my fault for letting you take on so much. I should have insisted on returning home long ago. But everything will right itself once we're back on English soil, you'll see."

  "But—"

  "Elizabeth!" It was Father's bellow. William must have run through all of the man's patience.

  "Tch," her mother said, rolling her eyes. "He must learn not to do that. He's a baron now." Then she pushed up from her seat on the bed. "Finish getting dressed, Charlotte. Fix your stockings, then take William to the park. You know he can't wait much longer."

  "I know, Mama."

  "There will be a great deal more to discuss tonight, but for now—"

  "Elizabeth!" Another of Father's bellows.

  "I must rescue your father. Hurry now. I'll make sure the carriage is waiting." Then she was gone, leaving Charlotte to mind her tasks.

  She cleaned her face, dressed, and then took William to the park. She helped her brother raise his dragon kite. She clapped when he got the streaming ribbons into the air. She even held it for him when he became bored and went off to play in the dirt. She did all the things she normally did as if nothing extraordinary had happened today. As if her entire world hadn't changed this morning only to return to exactly how it was by afternoon. How could the world feel completely disorienting and yet painfully familiar at the same time?

  She didn't know and she couldn't think, so she didn't. She simply played with William as usual. She even planned next week's meals in her head. Then, when William grew hungry, she packed him back into the carriage and headed home.

  He complained on the drive, just as he always did. Charlotte nodded her head and pretended to listen, just as she always did. Then she opened the carriage door and let him run ahead of her as they both always did. Until he stopped dead in the center of the front door, a strange frown on his face.

  Charlotte speeded up, wondering what could possibly go wrong now. Then she reached the step and stopped as well. Looking around her brother's shoulder, she saw her trunk in the center of the hall, right in front of her parents.

  "Father?" she asked, gently prodding William into the house.

  "Say your good-byes," he answered coldly. "You're going to the convent."

  Charlotte blinked, sure she could not have heard correctly. But one look at her mother's tearstained face, and she knew it was true. Her next words were out of her mouth before she could think. "You promised," she hissed. "You swore everything would be like it was."

  "I most certainly did not!" he returned, his voice even harsher than before. "How could anything be the same after what you did? I promised to take care of you, and I am." He motioned to a pair of footmen, who deftly lifted her portmanteau over everyone's head and carried it out to the carriage. "Your mother thinks this is best," he added sternly.

  "This isn't Mother!" Charlotte cried. "This is you, Father, unable to—"

  "She feels a good dose of God will straighten you out." He shrugged. "It could hardly hurt."

  "Of all the hypocritical—"

  "You are leaving, Charlotte, and let that be the end of it."

  And right then, William began to understand what was happening. He had been staring wide-eyed in the middle of the hall, unable to follow the conversation. But his father's words were clear enough for even him. "Leaving?" he cried, his voice rising in pitch until it became a wail. "Noooooo!"

  "Stop it!" Father roared, as if yelling at the boy had ever helped anything. "Stop it this instant!"

  "Thomas!" cut in Mama. "You can't just scream at him. He doesn't understand."

  "Nooooooooo!" William threw himself onto Charlotte and tried to climb up into her arms, but his size and weight were too much for her and she stumbled backward. She nearly tripped over the door frame, but managed to steady herself on the front railing.

  Her father continued to bellow. "Cease this instant! You are a young man now! A future baron!"

  "William, dear. William, come upstairs," called Nanny from the top of the stairs. "Nanny has new game for you to play."

  "Nooooooo!" The boy didn't even know what he was protesting anymore. His sobs were loud, his distress overwhelming, especially as Father reached over and grabbed him. William screamed, of course. He hit and kicked and fell down in a proper tantrum, but Father was still larger, especially with the assistance of the two returning footmen. Soon, William was dragged into the house while Mother hovered helplessly on the side.

  "Do be careful!" she fluttered. "He's still a boy. He doesn't underst—"

  The door slammed, with Charlotte on the outside.

  * * *

  "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been eight days since my last confession." Charlotte frowned. Had it been so short a time? Barely more than a week for her whole life to change. And yet, she had been anxious for something to happen for so long now.

  "And what is the nature of your sin?" Father Peter pressed when she remained silent.

  "Yesterday, I lay with a man who was not my husband." How few words to encompass so much.

  "Fornication is a grave—"

  "We didn't—I mean, I'm still a virgin," she rushed to add. Then she stopped. Why exactly was that so important?

  "That is excellent news," he intoned.

  She frowned. "Why?" Father Peter remained silent, but she could feel his confusion. "I mean, why does it make a difference? If we've done everything else, why would the simple act of... Well, why does it matter?"

  "That is an interesting question—"

  "We've done everything, Father, and it was wonderful. He has this strange philosophy about energy. Yin and yang and qi. I don't—"

  "That is a heathen religion." The priest's voice was hard.

  Charlotte hadn't expected anything different, but she was still surprised by the hatred in his tone. She paused, then turned to the window and wished she could see better in the darkness.

  "So you know about it?"

  "I know that the devil has many forms of deception, of luring the unwary into the gravest of sins."

  "But it wasn't the devil, Father. I even went to Heaven."

  The priest released a snort. "I'm sure the experience felt most interesting."

  She shook her head. "More than interesting, Father. It was spiritual. Holy."

  "Only the Church is holy. Only God—"

  "But I was there in Heaven." Her voice was gaining in volume. Why wouldn't he understand? "My spirit went up there, and I saw William."

  "Your brother was with you?" Alarm vibrated through his voice.

  "No, no, I saw William's spirit. Father, he was normal and beautiful and so perfect."

  Father Peter sighed. The sound of his disappointment filled the small chamber. "Opium dreams cannot be—"

  "There was no opium, Father. Some incense to clear the air, but—"

  Father Peter cleared his throat. "Charlotte, you have been deceived. Opium was in the smoke. Try to think clearly, child. Our souls go to Heaven through Jesus Christ our savior, and only through—"

  Her hands clenched in her lap. "It was real."

  "Satan's deceptions are real, Charlotte."

  "He is not the devil!" She knew she
was losing control, but she couldn't help herself.

  "Oh, Charlotte, it is good that you have come to me." His voice modulated softer, more filled with comfort. "I can see now that you are deep in the clutches of Lucifer. Tell me who this instrument of Satan is. Tell me who leads you astray."

  She felt her eyes burn with tears, but she would not shed them. Charlotte had shed too many on her tiny cot last night. "He's not the devil just because he doesn't worship as we do."

  "Who is it, Charlotte?"

  "I'm not going to tell you," she snapped, "because he isn't evil."

  "You must!" the priest ordered. "I cannot allow a lost soul to wander further into the wild. I must rescue you both, return you both to God's holy embrace. Do not leave a man to suffer in—"

  "Stop it!" she cried. Father Peter's impassioned speeches were well known throughout Shanghai. He could fire the blood, stir the soul, and have a person believing anything just by the power of his voice. Charlotte didn't want that. She didn't want to believe that everything she'd done with Ken Jin was a devil's trap. "It's not true!" she cried. "It's just not true."

  Father Peter fell silent. She knew the trick. Indeed, she'd seen it often enough when she'd accompanied her mother and the good Father on his clerical rounds. He waited in silence for the petitioner to see the error of his own ways. Eventually, guilt forced whomever into a confession. Rather than do that, Charlotte turned her thoughts a different direction. "Is it a sin to love, Father?"

  "You think you love this man, Charlotte? This one who would indulge your most depraved fantasies of the flesh without offering marriage? This man who takes you from your family into a den of iniquity for his purposes? This is the man you love, Charlotte? This is the man—"

  "No!" She swallowed. Put that way, Ken Jin did indeed appear heinous. He was well known for his relationships with white women. He had burned some sort of incense when they were together in the gardener's shed. And, worst of all, he had absolutely refused any suggestion that they be married. Weren't those the acts of a reprobate? Of a deceiver of innocents?

  "But I'm not an innocent," she said firmly. "I pursued him. I insisted—"

  "I never said you were innocent, my child."

  She closed her mouth with a loud click. She raised her eyes to the crucifix and wondered exactly what was true and what was a lie. "I don't think I'd make a good nun, Father Peter. I know it's what my parents want, but I don't think—"

  "Let God do the choosing, Charlotte. Our task is to follow."

  She shook her head. Nothing made sense. Or perhaps it all made too much sense. They both seemed real: Ken Jin's Heaven, and Father Peter's Satan. But they both couldn't be true, could they? Ken Jin couldn't be both the devil's instrument and a man searching for enlightenment, could he? "I have to know, Father. I have to know which is the lie."

  "Then pray, my child. Listen to what God—"

  She groaned. "I've never heard anything when I pray."

  "Sometimes God's voice is very quiet," he countered. "Perhaps you could try for just today. We will speak again tomorrow."

  Charlotte nodded, even though she had no intention of doing as he asked. "I will take this day to find the truth, Father. And if you are right..." She took a deep breath. "Then I will come back here tomorrow and devote myself to God." She reached forward and touched the crucifix before her. She needed a physical connection with the God of her heritage. "I will become a nun."

  "That is a wise decision, Char—" She heard Father Peter's voice stop as he caught her full meaning. "What do you mean, come back here? Where are you going?"

  But Charlotte had already stepped out of the confessional and was heading out of the church.

  * * *

  March 9, 1895

  Dearest brother Gao Jin:

  What happiness flooded my spirit at the news of your marriage. Of course the Empress has realized your greatness. You were always the most clever, the most handsome, the most skilled of all of us. I never doubted that you would do the Wen family great honor in the Forbidden City.

  Alas, but I cannot escape Shanghai in time for your wedding. My barbarian employer will allow me no absence despite the promise of Imperial favor.

  Fortunately, we have another brother who, I am sure, will happily join you at the consummation of this most wondrous occasion. But please accept this most humble gift in celebration of your most excellent news.

  In exceeding joy,

  Wen Ken Jin

  (Attached, two gold bars wrapped in red silk and delivered by an armed escort.)

  B27-B34 Sacral Points—Located on the base of the spine, in the hollows of the bone, these are used for sexual reproduction problems, such as impotence, vaginal discharge, and genital pain.

  Acupressure for Lovers

  Michael Gach, Ph.D.

  Chapter 14

  Ken Jin wasn't home. He was probably still giving over all his money to her father without even realizing that she'd been tossed out on her ear. Charlotte sat down at his door, prepared to wait all day if necessary. She had to see Ken Jin again. She had to know if it had all been a lie. Besides, where else did she have to go?

  It was midafternoon before a familiar voice woke her out of a doze. "Miss Charlotte? What are you doing here?"

  Ken Jin! Charlotte was on her feet and rushing toward him even before she'd fully opened her eyes. He caught her, of course; he always did. But he was slow to embrace her.

  "Why are you here now, when you wouldn't see me at..." His voice trailed away. "You weren't at home this morning, were you?"

  She shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder.

  "Have they disowned you?"

  She could feel the tension in his body. Joanna had once said that disowning a Chinese was worse than murder. No greater insult, no worse punishment could occur than to be disowned.

  "No. At least, I don't think so," she said. "They want me to be a nun." She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice.

  He frowned, then slowly pulled away from her. "Let us go inside." He unlocked the door and ushered her in. She moved quickly, fully aware of the differences between yesterday's entrance into his private home and today's. "You should not be here," he said. "Your father will be furious."

  "I hardly care what my father thinks," she snapped. "He slammed the door on me, Ken Jin." She blinked away the tears. "No matter what happens now, I will never, ever go back to that house."

  He didn't answer. He simply looked at her, his dark eyes giving nothing away.

  "You were just there?" she asked.

  He nodded.

  "How was... how was William?"

  "Sleeping. He had a very bad night."

  She nodded, chastising herself for feeling a bit pleased by William's unhappiness. She should not be grateful that her brother gave her parents a hard time; but everything would have been fine if she'd been allowed to stay at home. "I've b-been thinking, Ken Jin," she stammered as she tried to clarify her thoughts. "I had a lot of time last night at the mission."

  His eyes darkened. "I did not know. If I had, I would have..."

  "What?" she pressed when he did not finish. "What would you have done?"

  He sighed and rubbed a hand across his jaw. It was an unusual gesture for him. It made him look... lost? The thought was so disconcerting that Charlotte found herself sitting down. There was only one place to sit, of course; all else was bare after yesterday's fight. She sat in the valley of the Dragon chair and tried not to remember how she'd used it before.

  "I don't know, Miss Charlotte. I don't know that I could do anything for you."

  "Char," she snapped. "You once called me Char."

  He merely shrugged, though she thought he looked sad.

  "What are you going to do now?" she asked. "Will you look for another job?"

  He shook his head. "I would not be hired. Not by anyone in Shanghai. Your father will see to it."

  She knew it was true and felt guilt eat at her for what she had done. For what they ha
d done together.

  "What will you do?" he asked. "Will you become a nun?"

  She looked down at her hands. "No." It wasn't a conscious decision, and yet she felt the truth of it deep within her. Maybe Ken Jin had lied to her, maybe he'd sought her yin essence to the exclusion of morality and ethics. But being with him now, she could not believe it. Nor could she imagine him as an instrument of evil. He was merely Ken Jin—servant, protector, brilliant financial assistant. Her Ken Jin.

  She lifted her head. "I don't really know that much about you, do I?"

  He frowned, clearly unable to follow her thoughts.

  "I mean, I don't know anything about you as a person. Your family. Your history. Your plans or hopes. You know everything there is about me, but I... I never looked beyond the surface of you."

  He stared at her. "I am your servant. One does not discuss family with servants."

  She felt her lips curl in a soft smile. "But you're not my servant anymore. Can't we share that now? Like friends?"

  Clearly, the idea confused him. But eventually he nodded and settled cross-legged on the floor before her. She watched him there, his head slightly bowed. He was still acting like her servant, and the sight irritated her no end. So with a huff, she pushed off the Dragon chair to sit on the floor directly before him. She saw his eyes widen in surprise, and she felt herself smile for the first time since... well, since she last used the chair.

  "I want to talk to you as a friend, Ken Jin. Can we please try?"

  He nodded, but she could see he didn't truly understand.

  "Don't the Chinese have friends?"

  "Of course we do."

  "So, who is your best friend?" He already knew hers was Joanna. "Who do you tell your hopes and fears and thoughts to?"

  He tilted his head slightly. "My mother used to talk with our neighbors over mah-jong. I remember the sound was deafening. It would keep me up at night. But when I left home, I missed it."

  "The sound?" she pressed as he fell silent.

  "The clack of the tiles hitting together between rounds. It was like thunder. And they would all be talking at once, laughing or hissing—"