The China Bride (Bride Trilogy)

by Mary Jo Putney

  He swallowed, then stepped back and laid the scarlet robe across the table. “Thank you for your opinion.”

  As he completed his purchases, she retreated to a corner of the showroom. He had not given away her identity—yet the fact that he knew she was a woman had changed everything between them.

  She could not be sorry.

  After the shopping expedition, Troth returned to her desk to complete her translating tasks, though she would have preferred to go home after a day that had been tiring in more ways than one. Shadows were darkening the office when she finished her work. She had just cleared her desk when Maxwell appeared and handed her a bulky paper-wrapped parcel. “For you. A small thanks for your help.”

  Startled, she said, “I deserve no special gift for doing my duty, sir.”

  His voice dropped so that no one else in the room could hear his words. “Last night you saved my life. Can I not give you a token of gratitude?”

  Understanding his desire not to be under an obligation, she said, “As you wish, my lord.”

  “I wish. Good night, Jin.” He gave her a private smile, then left the office.

  Though she burned with curiosity, she could not open the package in front of others. Expression carefully blank, she left the hong and crossed the river with a boatman who often transported her. Only the tightness of her grasp on the parcel revealed her excitement. She hadn’t felt such anticipation since she was a child awaiting her father’s return from a journey.

  Now that she was grown, she realized that what she’d felt was not only desire for the gift itself, but delight in the knowledge that her father had been thinking of her. It was equally warming to know that she had been in Maxwell’s thoughts.

  Finally she was safe in her room and could open the package. She folded the paper back, then gasped. It was the splendid scarlet robe he’d held up to her in the silk showroom. Reverently she touched the sumptuous fabric. He had seen how she looked at the garment and recognized her longing.

  She lifted out the robe and discovered that the parcel also contained the crystal vial, now filled with the most intoxicating perfume from the scent shop. There was also a long necklace of carved jade beads, a set of golden combs, and the most elegant of the ivory fans. He’d noted every item that had particularly appealed to her, and that was the sweetest gift of all. No one had paid such attention to her wishes since her father died fifteen long years ago, more than half of her lifetime.

  With luxurious deliberation, she removed Jin Kang’s male garments and put on her female undergarments and silk trousers. After her hair was brushed out, she used the golden combs to arrange it in the style of a Portuguese woman rather than in Chinese fashion. Only after applying her cosmetics did she don the scarlet robe.

  By standing on the opposite side of the room, she was able to see most of herself in the mirror. The robe was sized just right and contrasted well with her dark hair. She was an exotic, surprisingly attractive blend of East and West.

  It was the robe, of course. Any woman would look striking in it, but the knowledge did not diminish her pleasure. She was pleased with her appearance for the first time since she was a child. Laughing softly, she whirled around the small room, feeling deliciously female.

  What would it be like to be a woman all the time?

  She halted and looked into the mirror again, suddenly sober. The Fan-qui were more diverse in their appearance than the Chinese, and if she lived among them she would not be as conspicuous as she was in Canton. Her skin was smooth, her hair thick and glossy, and if she lived in Britain with a suitable Fanqui wardrobe, her appearance would be passable. Her height would be unremarkable and her unbound feet would be blessedly normal, not the mark of a servant or a peasant.

  Slowly she sank onto her bed, her mind spinning. The dream of going to Scotland had vanished with her father’s death. She had been twelve when Chenqua had come to the hillside house in Macao to give her the news of her father’s death.

  At first she had refused to believe that he was truly gone, until Chenqua explained that Hugh Montgomery’s ship had been seen to founder on the rocks, and his body had been washed ashore and identified. She’d collapsed into hysterical grief until Chenqua had told her that such a display was unseemly. Dazed, she did her best to please him, saving her tears for the night.

  It was a mark of great friendship for a merchant as powerful as Chenqua to personally settle her father’s affairs, assuming responsibility for a penniless half-blood child. The storm that destroyed her father had also taken most of his trade goods and the profit that would have supported the household through the coming year. Troth had learned from her father’s comprador, the highly skilled steward who ran the household, that Chenqua used his own money to settle her father’s debts so Hugh Montgomery’s name would not be dishonored.

  Even so, in later years she’d sometimes heard Fanqui traders mention her father’s name with disdain. Not leaping hotly to his defense had been her greatest test of self-discipline.

  After closing the household, the Cohong merchant took Troth onto one of his great trading junks, and they sailed the eighty miles up the Pearl River to Canton. On the voyage, he had explained that Troth’s language skills would make her a valuable addition to his household, but that she must assume the role of a male. Too young to feel female stirrings and wanting to please, she had obediently done as Chenqua requested.

  By the time she arrived in Canton, Troth Montgomery had been replaced by Jin Kang, who was useful as Mei-Lian never would have been. She’d accepted her life in Canton without question, grateful for the security of Chenqua’s household. Though he was a distant master with high standards, he had not been unkind to a penniless orphan. He’d been the anchor of her existence ever since, and he treated her differently from any other member of his household.

  Spending so much time with the Fan-qui traders had allowed her to keep her English language and nature alive, yet her life was narrow and had few rewards beyond security. Did she want to stay Chenqua’s sexless spy forever? As a child she had thought in English and considered herself more Scottish than Chinese. Though she’d spent more than half of her life in Canton and now thought in Chinese, her Scottish nature endured. It might not be too late to seek a place in her father’s land.

  Starting over in a strange country without friends or money would not be easy. Even finding the fare would be difficult, though she would probably have enough if she sold all of her possessions. Could she bear to sell her mother’s jewelry and the beautiful robe Maxwell had just given her? The thought was wrenching.

  Even if she could book a place on a Fan-qui ship, leaving Canton would be difficult. Chenqua would not willingly allow her to go as long as she was useful to him.

  Might one of the Fan-qui traders help her, perhaps hire her to do translation in Britain? She frowned. Possibly one of the East India Company men might find work for Jin Kang, but she doubted they would be pleased to know she had deceived them all these years. Yet she could not bear the thought of continuing as Jin Kang when much of her reason for going to Britain was so she could live as a woman.

  She sighed as she thought of all the problems that would have to be overcome if she traveled to her father’s land. Perhaps the freedom to live as she wished was within her grasp. But did she have the courage and wisdom to reach for it?

  She feared she did not.

  Chapter 10

  England

  December 1832

  Exhausted from tears and troubled sleep, Troth was dozing when a tap on the door heralded a maid with a breakfast tray. The pearly light in the bedroom indicated that it was another dreary, overcast morning.

  The maid crossed to the bed, her expression uncertain. “Lady likee-likee tea?”

  Where had the girl learned such an absurd parody of pidgin? Troth said rather dryly, “Tea would be very nice, thank you.”

  The maid flushed scarlet. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’d heard you were a foreigner.”

  “T
rue, but some foreigners do speak English.” Not wanting to embarrass the girl further, she asked, “Your name is…?”

  “Sally, ma’am.” She set the bed tray over Troth’s lap, trying to conceal her fascinated gaze. Troth had received many such glances—and blatant stares, too—on the voyage and after her arrival in Britain. Had there ever been a Chinese visitor to Shropshire? Even in London, she had been an oddity.

  “Would you like anything else, Lady Maxwell?”

  “No, thank you, Sally. This should suffice.”

  The maid bowed and left Troth with a breakfast tray that included bacon, eggs, and sausage, plus warm bread, butter, and marmalade. She’d become accustomed to such British breakfasts, though a meal still seemed incomplete without rice. Hungry, she ate everything and emptied the teapot, which contained quite a nice Young Hyson variety.

  Ready to face the day, she rose from the bed and found that the dress she’d worn the day before had been brushed and laid out on a chair. The rest of her paltry possessions were folded in the clothespress. Warfield Park took good care of its guests.

  After dressing, she emerged from her room to find Lady Grahame curled up in a chair opposite the door, reading a book. This morning the countess wore a simple green gown, and her silver-blond hair was braided into a loose queue. She was as stunning as she’d been the night before in formal dress. Though about Troth’s age, she had the kind of self-possession found only in older women in China.

  Lady Grahame looked up from her book when Troth stepped into the hall. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

  “Reasonably so. Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Grahame.”

  “I am Meriel.” The countess uncoiled from the chair, leaving the book behind. “Would you like to come with me to the orangery? It’s a peaceful place.”

  Grateful for the friendly overture, Troth said, “Peace is always welcome.”

  Together they descended the stairs to the hall where she had entered the evening before. Kyle had said his sister-in-law was as petite as a Cantonese woman, and he was right. “Your husband—how is he?”

  Meriel sighed. “A part of him has died. Kyle had promised to come home one day, and I think Dominic always believed that would happen despite the risks of travel.”

  “I wish there were something I could have done,” Troth said wretchedly.

  “My husband told me your story, and it’s obvious that you were lucky to escape with your own life. By your coming here, at least we know what happened.” Meriel swallowed. “That’s…better than waiting and hoping forever.”

  “Did you know Kyle well?”

  “We met only a few times, but through his letters to Dominic, he became my brother as well.”

  Meriel fell silent, leading the way through the house until she opened a door into wonderland. Troth gasped when she stepped into the large glass-walled orangery, feeling as if she were back in Canton. The air was tropically warm and scented from the flourishing citrus trees. There were shrubs and flowers, too, and winding brick paths and benches. Most magical of all, snow was falling outside the windows, coating the world outside in lacy white.

  “This is my favorite retreat in winter,” Meriel said. “A place to dream and wait for spring.”

  “How beautiful.” Troth crossed the orangery to a paned-glass wall so she could stare out at the drifting flakes.

  “Have you ever seen snow before?”

  Troth shook her head. “Never. I had no idea it was so lovely.” She turned to her hostess. “When I told Kyle that my master Chenqua’s garden was the most beautiful in the world, he said yours was its equal. I see why.”

  Meriel smiled, pleased, as she seated herself on a wooden bench that looked out toward a parterre, whose geometric hedges made subtle patterns in the snow. “I’m glad he thought so. At this season the outside gardens are sleeping, but come spring you’ll be impressed, I think.”

  Troth sat on the other end of the bench. “Forgive my curiosity if this is not a proper question, but I do not understand how your husband and Kyle can both be lords when they are brothers.”

  “The Grahame title was in my family and would have become extinct when my uncle died,” Meriel explained. “My father-in-law thought it a waste of a perfectly good title, so he petitioned the king to have it recreated on behalf of Dominic and me.”

  What mother wouldn’t want that for her son? Kyle had told Troth about Dominic and Meriel’s children, a son and a daughter born after their uncle had left England. He’d been looking forward to meeting them for the first time….

  As Troth swallowed against the tightness in her throat, a huge marmalade tomcat appeared. It gazed at her assessingly with luminous golden eyes, then suddenly leaped onto her lap. After circling several times, the beast flopped down and made itself at home. As Troth cautiously stroked the sleek fur, Meriel said, “You are now officially part of the family. Ginger likes you.”

  “You are too kind, Lady Grahame,” Troth said helplessly. “Kyle and I knew each other only a matter of weeks, and I’m not sure the marriage would be considered valid. I came only to give your husband news. I don’t deserve to be part of your family.”

  Meriel touched her hand, her gentleness soothing. “Tell me.”

  Troth took a steadying breath, then described the circumstances of her marriage. Meriel listened thoughtfully, with no trace of shock or judgment. When the account was finished, she said, “Unconventional, but real. As to whether the ceremony is legal…” She sighed. “A moot point with Kyle dead. There was no marriage settlement, of course, but your dower rights and his personal property will give you a comfortable independence, which he clearly wanted.”

  “I can’t accept a fortune from him! He didn’t love me. I was just someone he felt responsibility for.”

  “Did you love him?”

  Troth sucked in her breath. She should deny it, but she couldn’t.

  Reading the answer in Troth’s expression, Meriel said, “I’m glad that at the end he had someone who loved him. No one will challenge your rights of inheritance.”

  Troth pressed a hand over her eyes, on the verge of tears. She’d be a fool not to welcome financial security, but the acceptance of Kyle’s family meant even more. She had not felt this sense of belonging since her father’s death. “You are…so kind. How can you accept someone like me, who is so alien to your world?”

  “For many years, I was an alien in my own home. It is love that binds us to the world, and you loved Kyle,” Meriel said softly. “Our home is your home for as long as you want to stay.”

  The tears came again, and with them the beginning of healing.

  Chapter 11

  Canton, China

  Spring 1832

  “More wine, Lord Maxwell?” Chenqua leaned toward his guest attentively.

  “Yes, please. Your wines are very fine.” Kyle took a small sip after a servant replenished his glass. Gavin, another of the guests, had warned him to expect at least thirty courses spread over five or six hours, so moderation was essential.

  Kyle had welcomed this banquet at Chenqua’s palace, since he was unlikely to see the inside of any other Chinese residence. The merchant’s home was a sprawling, magnificently airy structure of curved roofs, courtyards, and marble floors. The meal was equally magnificent. Musicians played from a gallery while French, English, and Chinese dishes were offered, each course served on a different set of exquisite porcelain dinnerware. Yet by Cohong standards, Chenqua was considered rather austere.

  Curious as always, Kyle selected from the Chinese dishes. The textures and flavors were sometimes odd, but interesting and often delicious.

  Noticing that his guest had requested chopsticks, Chenqua said, “You are interested in our ways, my lord?”

  “Very much so. Your culture is the most ancient on earth. A barbarian cannot hope to truly understand the depths of Chinese society, but I must make the attempt.”

  Chenqua nodded at such a proper sentiment. “Better understanding b
etween our nations will benefit us all.”

  Deciding the time would never be better, Kyle said, “Would it be possible for me to see more of your country? Perhaps accompanied by guards to ensure that I will cause no trouble, or traveling with the Jesuits who already know your ways?”

  Chenqua’s eyes darkened. “That would be…difficult. Very difficult.”

  Kyle had learned that Chinese hated to give a direct refusal, so the merchant’s “very difficult” was equivalent to an Englishman saying, “Not bloody likely!” To avoid embarrassing his host, he said, “Perhaps at some future date, when our nations have developed stronger bonds, such travel might be possible.”

  “Yes,” Chenqua said, relieved. “Some future date.” He turned his attention to William Boynton, taipan of the East India Company, who sat on his other side.

  Kyle had hoped to see Troth, but there was no sign of her. He wondered if she lurked behind the carved screens that constituted one wall of the dining area. He’d heard occasional feminine giggles from that direction and guessed that the ladies of the household were watching their lord’s guests. Of course, Troth was not considered a lady.

  There was a pause after the fifteenth course while a stage was erected for the performance of a play. As dishes were cleared away, Kyle asked Chenqua, “Is it permitted to stroll in the garden for a few minutes? I should like to see more of it.”

  “Please do. A garden refreshes the soul as surely as a banquet refreshes the body.”

  Grateful for the chance to stretch his legs, Kyle went outside, though actually the dining area was so open that the difference between indoors and out was somewhat arbitrary. When he and the other Fan-qui had arrived, Chenqua had personally guided them through a portion of the stunning gardens. Several acres had been shaped into hills and grottos, with water from the Pearl River channeled in to form a web of streams and lily ponds. There wasn’t a straight path anywhere.