Jade

by Jill Marie Landis

  “Hell,” Jason muttered. Not only had he been up with the sun, but he’d had a long day in the saddle. He threw the stump of the cigar on the ground, crushed it with his heel, and headed for the house.

  Tao was still working in the kitchen. The house servant glanced up, his hands covered with bread dough, and watched Jason as he passed.

  As he strode along the upstairs hall, intent upon getting some much-needed sleep, J.T. could not help but notice the light streaming from beneath Jade’s door. It drew him like a magnet until he stood in the hallway, his hand on the doorknob.

  He opened the door slowly and warily moved inside. She was sound asleep on a chaise near the window, a heavy book open on her lap. He looked around the room and noted the way Jade was reflected in everything he saw. Her desk was a mountain of papers, books, pens, and brushes, all in organized disarray. Quietly he entered and paused beside the chest of drawers. Her hairbrush and button hook lay atop a thin piece of colored silk. He reached out to touch them. When Jade stirred, he nearly jumped, but then she quieted and he went on to peruse the rest of her things.

  He paused at the desk and shook his head at the jumble it was in. The rest of the room was orderly, but it seemed his wife preferred to work amid disarray. He picked up one sheet and looked at the strange markings on it. Would he ever understand her? Jade didn’t seem to need anything but her studies. That and the Chinese pieces downstairs. He paused at the foot of the bed and saw the low box almost hidden on the other side. Jason frowned. She had ignored his orders and carried it upstairs anyway. He rounded the foot of the bed, carefully lifted the lid, and stared down at the box. Unwilling to disturb her and be caught openly snooping through her things, he closed the lid.

  Then J.T. walked over to the chaise where she slept. He gently slipped the book from her limp fingers and set it aside. Her hair was down, spread out wildly about her shoulders the way he liked it best. It looked as if she had just brushed it to life, it was so glossy and rich. With a feather-light touch he reached out and took a lock in his hand. It curled around his fingers. Unwilling to resist, he bent and breathed in the scent of her.

  Jade moved in her sleep again, unconsciously trying to get comfortable. Without stopping to think, he reached down and picked her up, held her to him, and carried her to the bed. Unbelievably, she did not stir. He carefully pulled back the bedclothes with one hand and then lay Jade in the center of the bed. Tenderly he tucked her in and then straightened. He was halfway to the door when he stopped and turned around.

  Jason stared down at her for a moment, wrestling with his own will—determined not to touch her again.

  He lost the battle. Bending over her, he placed a light kiss on her forehead.

  Before he turned out the light, he returned to her desk and picked up one of the books scattered there. The Oldest and Newest Empire: China and the United States. He opened the flyleaf and read the title again and then the author’s name. William Speer, D.D., 1870. It wouldn’t hurt to learn a little about the subject that occupied all of Jade’s time. Besides, he thought, it would be a long time before he fell asleep now.

  As he pulled the door closed behind him, he noticed Tao Ling walking toward him, carrying a bundle of blankets in his arms. His expression was grave.

  “You were in Mrs. Harrington’s room?” Tao asked, his tone crisp.

  “I don’t see how that’s any business of yours,” Jason whispered. He watched, dumbstruck, as Tao spread out the makeshift bed on the floor outside Jade’s door.

  “My mistress bid me sleep here when you are in the house. Please excuse.” He turned his back, and much to J.T.’s amazement, prepared to lie down right there in the hallway.

  Jason reached out to touch Tao’s shoulder. Before he knew what had happened, J.T. found himself facing the other direction, as Tao twisted one arm high against his back. As the man continued to apply pressure to J.T.’s shoulder by raising his arm inch by inch, Jason managed to say between clenched teeth, “You’re fired.”

  “I work for Mrs. Harrington. She pays me. When she fires me, I will go. Until then, I am to sleep here whenever you are home.”

  He let Jason go.

  Jason stepped back, anxious to put space between them and asked, “Just when I’m home?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I guess she means it,” Jason mumbled, as he rubbed his shoulder and stared at the unshakable Chinese.

  “Yes, sir. I believe she does.”

  Nonetheless, Jason gave Tao a look of warning. “I think you ought to know that if and when I really want to be in that room, no one”—he emphasized the words as he repeated them—“no one will stop me.”

  Tao Ling merely bowed.

  Jason stalked down the hall to the master suite.

  Behind the door in question, Jade had been awakened by the sound of voices and listened to the exchange and then Jason’s retreating footsteps. She smiled into the darkness before she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A gem is not polished without rubbing,

  Nor is a man perfected without trials.

  THE NEXT MORNING, wrapped in a plaid wool shawl over a skirt and blouse, Jade hurried to the warm kitchen. The temperature had dropped considerably before dawn. After she awoke, she had been too chilly to brave the cold and light a fire, so she quickly dressed, tied back her hair, and went downstairs. She told herself to slow down, that the pounding in her heart was because she had moved too fast, not because she so looked forward to seeing Jason.

  The scent of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, the results of Tao’s efforts cooling on the table. He came in the back door with a load of vegetables in his hands, smiled, half-bowed, then set them on the worktable.

  “I have tea ready,” he said.

  “Thank you, Tao, I need it. I’m freezing. Would you light a fire in my room for me when you have a chance?”

  “Of course. A storm is blowing in. The clouds are gathering over the bay.”

  “Brrr!” She shivered, then as nonchalantly as possible, she said, “Have you seen Mr. Harrington this morning?”

  “He left very early, dressed for business. He said to tell you he will return tonight, that he has a meeting with Mr. Van Buren today. Something about signing papers.”

  Her heart sank. Jade set down the tea and tried to think of all the reasons Jason might be seeing Matt, but only one came to her—he was ending their marriage. His innocent kiss of the night before had only been a gesture, nothing more. When she had revealed her independent status to Captain Lennox, she had sealed her fate. As she wondered how long it would be before she had to leave, her plans to spend the day unpacking the collection seemed a waste of time.

  Suddenly both Tao and Jade looked up as a carriage pulled in before the stables. At the same time hoping and dreading that Jason had returned, Jade stepped out onto the service porch. Chilled, she clutched her shawl closer and watched as the carriage door opened to reveal Emery Lennox. He stepped out and then extended his hand to someone inside. As Jade watched, a diminutive Chinese girl appeared. The captain helped her down and the girl teetered for a moment on bound feet and then rocked forward, moving with a strange gait.

  The girl, who was little more than a child, wore a costume that was exquisite in detail—an emerald Mandarin jacket, intricately embroidered with lilies and leaves of black, red, and gold. The jacket was so long it covered her wide black pants to the knees, while the sleeves hid her hands to the fingertips. As the girl came nearer, Jade stared at her feet. Shod in gay satin slippers that matched the girl’s jacket, they appeared to be little more than pointed stubs. Jade was so taken with the girl’s clothing that she did not notice the bruises marring her otherwise perfect complexion. When she neared the house, Jade saw that her left eye was nearly swollen shut.

  “Come in,” Jade said quickly as she opened
the door for them both. She gave the girl her hand. The child teetered up the steps, amazingly agile given her handicap. Captain Lennox came in on her heels. Waving them toward the kitchen, Jade followed them inside.

  Tao turned away from his work and bowed to the newcomers, but after the initial greeting, he had eyes only for the young girl. Jade could not fault him for staring. By any standards, the girl was beautiful, even though she had been carefully groomed to appeal to men who sought out the Chinese singsong girls.

  Because a high forehead was considered a sign of beauty, the girls eyebrows had been plucked clean. Delicate lines had been penciled in their place. Her hairline had been plucked back a good two inches, just as the part down the middle of her head had been widened. Drawn back tightly, her hair was wound into an intricate bun in back.

  “Please, sit down.” Jade pulled out a chair, anxious to have the girl off her feet.

  Lennox pulled out a chair for himself, set his cap on the table, and then smiled up at Jade. “I’m glad we found you at home.”

  She didn’t tell him she had not left the place for nearly two weeks.

  He ran his hand through his graying hair and dragged it down to scratch at his huge sideburn. His expression sobered. He stared down at the Chinese girl who sat beside him, her eyes downcast. She ignored the cup of tea Tao placed before her.

  “I didn’t know where else to turn,” Lennox admitted to Jade. “I found this girl roaming on the Embarcadero at dawn. From what I can understand, she’s a singsong girl who ran away from a brothel in Little China.”

  Jade remained standing, but she leaned against the table, still clutching her shawl. “She can’t be more than thirteen,” she said, astonished.

  “I think she might be a few years older than that.” The captain looked at the girl speculatively. “Twelve-year-olds are sold into slavery, Jade. This one is no exception.”

  Jade had studied the Chinese long enough to know that women had no status in the culture except to serve men. Parents who found themselves debt-ridden with too many mouths to feed often sold their daughters into servitude or prostitution. Because wives were not permitted to immigrate with their husbands, nearly all of the Chinese females in California were prostitutes, or singsong girls, as they were called. Still, knowing the facts did little to ease their harsh reality. Jade immediately took pity on the frightened girl.

  “I would like to make a potion to take the swelling out of her face,” Tao said, watching the girl carefully.

  “Please.” Jade gave him leave to do so.

  After Tao chose the ingredients he needed and then disappeared into his room to mix them, the captain explained why he had come. “I was hoping you might keep the girl here, Jade. I don’t know what else to do with her.”

  Jade did not know what to say as she looked at the old man. His expression was hopeful, almost expectant, but Harrington House was Jason’s home, not hers. Even she might not be here much longer. If she agreed to shelter the fugitive, her own entourage would grow by one. But there was no way she could turn the girl away.

  “I made certain no one saw me bring her here,” Emery continued. “The Hip Yee tong protects the slave owners’ rights. They charge the owners forty dollars a head for each girl, so the tong is very careful about recouping losses.”

  “She’s a slave?”

  “Most all of the singsong girls are, Jade.”

  “I don’t want to put Jason in danger,” Jade said. She was in enough trouble herself already.

  “No one is looking for this girl,” he assured her. “At least not here. No one saw her this morning and no one saw me. Who would think of looking for her here?”

  He paused for a moment when he heard Tao moving around in his room. “What’s he doing in there? Can you trust your houseboy?”

  Jade was reminded of last night and the way Tao had taken his duty to protect her seriously. Coupled with the fact that he had been staring at the slave girl as if she were a berry on top of a cake, Jade was certain Tao would not give the fugitive away. “It seems to be bad luck to mix any medicine in the kitchen. And yes, I trust him implicitly.”

  “Good. Then as I said, the secret is safe.”

  Tao walked in with a thick paste in a mortar and stopped beside the girl. When he reached out to spread the paste on her cheek, she slapped his hand away.

  He spoke sharply to her in Cantonese.

  “Ask her name,” Jade said.

  The girl looked directly at Jade for the first time. “I Quan Yen, missee.”

  Jade smiled at Quan Yen’s use of Pidgin English. She touched the girl’s shoulder and spoke to her in Cantonese. “Welcome to my home, Quan Yen. No one will beat you here. You are safe.”

  Quan Yen’s expression brightened. She glanced up at the captain, then at Jade before she shrugged and ignored them all, allowing Tao Ling to spread the paste on her cheek.

  THE STORM BLEW in from the northeast, carried by a cold, furious wind until it slammed into the bay. Jade tried to relax as the sky darkened and the day lengthened. By noon they had to light the lamps. The house was built as tight as a vault, but the rain pelted the windows as the wind battered the strong block walls.

  It seemed as if she started numerous projects, only to abandon them, mesmerized by the fury of the storm. Jason was out in the foul weather somewhere—safe and warm, she hoped. He had said he was going to see Matt, and if she guessed correctly, they were probably sipping brandy at Matt’s club or in the smoking room at the Palace Hotel, waiting out the worst of the storm.

  “How many will be here for dinner?” Tao asked, interrupting her reverie.

  She turned away from the window. “At least five.” Jade counted herself, Xavier, Quan, Tao, and Jason. “And Tao, we’ll all fit at the kitchen table, won’t we? Mr. Harrington will be more comfortable there.”

  But suppertime came and went, and Jason still had not returned. They waited, then ate without him. Jade spent the meal trying to talk to Quan, translating for Xavier so that he would understand, and worrying about Jason at the same time. Finally, the hours crept past and Jade decided that staring out into the rain-blown streets would not serve any purpose. Nor did it ease her mind to think that Jason might not be coming home at all tonight. She refused to let herself think of where he might be, not when the storm outside was still raging. Definitely not when she knew that San Francisco was filled with countless ways a man could indulge himself.

  Instead of worrying, she took Quan Yen in hand, gave her one of her own nightgowns, and tucked her safely into the spare servant’s room next to Tao’s. For a brief moment, Jade wondered at the propriety of such an arrangement, until she remembered Quan Yen’s former circumstances. She convinced herself that a word of warning to Tao would suffice. Besides, forcing the girl to climb the stairs on her bound feet was a trial Jade wanted to spare her.

  Not long after her ward was settled, Jade went to bed herself—to bed, but not to sleep. She tossed and turned all night, balling her pillow into a wad and then smoothing it out again. She strained to hear any sound that might signal Jason’s return, but all she heard was the steady downpour of rain off the eaves and wind against the windowpanes.

  The clock on her mantel struck midnight and she groaned. Just as she was chanting to herself, “Damn, Jason Harrington. Damn, damn, damn!” she heard a door bang open downstairs and held her breath.

  Nothing. No other sound followed for a short while; then she heard a man in the throes of agony. At least that was what she thought. Jade jumped out of bed and grabbed her robe, then stopped when she realized what she heard was J.T. trying to sing.

  It was loud—more like bellowing—it was off-key, and he seemed to be making up his own words as he went along. She went to her bedroom door and cracked it open. Tao had stretched out on his pallet in the hallway and as she looked down at him, he shook his head
, his finger pressed to his lips warning her to be silent. Jason’s voice echoed in the stairwell as he tried to sing the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” The tune was almost unrecognizable: the tempo matched slightly, but the lyrics—although creative—were all wrong.

  “My sides have seed the comin’ of the comin’ of the Lord, He is tramplin’ and a tamin’ and a sharpenin’ His sword. Be swift my feet to answer him and don’t forget the seed, dum-dum, de-dum, dum-dum.”

  By the time he shouted the dum-dums, Jade was back in bed with a pillow over her ears and laughing.

  The singing grew louder until it ended just outside her room. Then, when something hit the wall outside her door, laughter turned to fear. She sat up. She had never seen Jason drunk before, not even after he had finished half a bottle of champagne. The only experiences she had to draw on were those of her childhood. Whenever her father came home drunk, she had learned to disappear until the storm was over.

  “Get outta my way,” Jason said, quite loud enough for Jade to hear. “And don’t shush me. I hope my wife is listening. Now move. I’m goin’ in.”

  Tao’s voice was low and controlled. Jade crept to the door and pressed her ear against it, unwilling to miss the exchange.

  If by some chance Jason made it past Tao Ling, she wanted to be ready.

  “I don’t think you really want to try it, Mr. Harrington. You are drunk. You would be no match for me.”

  “Ha!”

  Another thud against the wall followed Jason’s retort. Had Tao hit him?

  “Careful, Mr. Harrington. You seem to have trouble standing. May I take you to your room?”

  “Are you . . . are you always so right? I mean . . . polite.”

  “Yes, Mr. Harrington.”

  “The name’s J.T. But ’snot to you. ’Stoo my friends.”

  For someone whose words were so slurred, Jade was amazed that Jason was even standing.

  “I got lots an’ lots of friends,” he was saying, “lots of ’em. What I don’t got is a wife. Not anymore.”