Instead, he stood immobile while Charlotte crumpled before him. She did not sink to her knees; she had too much power for that. But her face lost all heat and her eyes became vague with fear. "You said I was your Tigress," she whispered.
At last he felt the pain. Simple and deep, it cut into the lowest recesses of his belly. "You are my Tigress," he said, not because it would help her understand, but because the words would not be denied. "There will be no other." Her knew that without doubt. Theirs had been a synergy unlike any other. Most spent their lives searching for such a thing to no avail. He had found it and now must throw it away. "As my wife, you would have to leave William. He would be miserable with my family, as would you."
She gasped, her greatest fear voiced aloud. But then, to her credit, she straightened her spine and fought—for him, for a life together. "We will live in a house in Shanghai," she said. "You, me, and William. No other relatives. Just us."
The pain burrowed deeper this time, in a long line starting from his heart all the way down to his yang seat as he shook his head. "I cannot afford such a life."
"But there's a way. There has to be a way."
He stepped forward, but he did not touch her. He no longer had the right. In truth, he'd never had the right. "You wish there was a way. You dream of possibilities, but in your heart you know it is impossible." He looked down at his hands as they fell uselessly to his side. "We knew this would happen if we were discovered; be grateful that it is not worse. Joanna and her monk are likely dead."
"No!" She spoke in defiance, but he saw the way her hands trembled. She knew she was defeated.
Ken Jin said nothing. He had no more words, only the silent plea that she understand. She would hate being a Chinese wife, and he could never become English for her. Her friends would never accept either of them, and without money, he could not give her the life she wanted. But she didn't see it even when her father explained.
"Don't be stupid, girl," the man spat from where he stood behind Ken Jin. "No one would accept you; neither his kind nor ours."
"I don't care." Brave words, but her voice wobbled and her shoulders were beginning to slump.
"Our children would," Ken Jin whispered. "I have no wish to give you up, Miss Charlotte." No truer words had ever been spoken.
"Then don't!"
"You cannot live without wealth, Charlotte, and I cannot afford you."
Her head snapped up, and her eyes flashed with fury. "You don't know what I can and can't do."
He dipped his head in acknowledgment—not of her words, but of her pain. "And William? How would he live in a poor man's house?" When she didn't speak, he stepped forward to press his point. "You could not manage as a Chinese wife; I cannot be an English husband. Without money..." They both knew he would never work as a white man's First Boy again. Her father would see to that. "I must return to my family." And their charity. The very thought made his legs go numb. Could he face that? He didn't know. But he certainly wouldn't bring Charlotte into such a situation.
"There must be a way!"
Her anguish touched him. He felt it in his chest as a deep burning ache. How strange, that he would feel her pain when his own body was slipping away from him, growing more and more numb as each moment passed. Unable to stop himself, he reached out for her face. His fingertips brushed away her tears: hot, wet, each drop a yin blade that cut at his spirit.
He made his decision. "Unless we can find another way, I will make my bargain with your father."
She straightened, and he felt her withdrawal like ice on his skin. "I will not be bartered like a cheap toy."
"An' what would ye be instead, ducks?" asked Maggie in a surprisingly tender voice. "Ye're not married, and ye can't work. Ye're trained to care fer a rich home. He ain't rich. Ye'd just be a burden." She stepped forward and gently tugged on Charlotte's arm. "Let's get you home and into some decent clothes. Let the men find a way out o' this coil."
"No." Charlotte said the word, but there was little fire in it.
Mr. Wicks moved around Ken Jin, the gleam of greed clear in his face. "Every groat, Chinaman."
Ken Jin bowed. "And she will be cared for? As if this never happened?"
"She's my daughter," the white man growled in response. "I look after my own."
"I will get all in order and give it to you in the morning."
"But it did happen!" Charlotte bellowed. The words beat at Ken Jin's temples and trembled through his chest, but there was nothing more he could say. Even her father ignored her except to grab her arm.
Maggie patted Charlotte's left hand. "You'll grow up, ducks. We all do, one way or another."
Charlotte stared at the woman. Ken Jin could see the war inside his fierce Tigress. He recognized the hot denial, the boiling anger, and underneath it all, a churning confusion. How barbarian of her father to have raised her with the illusion of choice. She'd had the responsibility of her brother and their household from a very young age. It had made her believe she could manage her own destiny.
Her glare slid to her father, who matched it with equal determination and fury. Then her eyes cut to him. Ken Jin did not bow; his body was too numb to move. "We would have gone to Heaven together," he said. He didn't know where the words came from, only that they were true.
Her eyes widened. He saw surprise and anger there, plus more besides. He knew she felt too much to express, while he felt nothing. Even her pain could not reach him anymore.
He was empty.
"I hate you," she hissed. Then she jerked away from the other two, breaking their hold as she ran out the door. Mr. Wicks cursed then and followed. Maggie remained, sighing as she jingled the coins in her purse.
"I guess they won't be needing me, then." She glanced his way. "Tough luck for you though, ducks. 'At's why me mum told me never to fall for the rich ones. They don't understand the basics o' life. An' who pays? It's us." She slanted him a look. "You do have something hidden away—right, ducks? Just in case?"
He looked down at the floor, still too numb to even kick at the debris.
"You don't, do ye?" she realized. "Ye're really giving it all up. The girl, yer job, and all yer money." She shook her head at his folly. "Guess the Chinese can fall in love."
His gaze cut sharply back to her, but the woman didn't notice. She was carefully counting out English coins. Two pounds, one shilling, and four pence. She pressed it into his hand. "Take this. It'll hold you until you get back to yer family." Then she carefully tucked her purse into her bodice. Patting him lightly on the cheek, she turned to leave, chuckling all the way. "A Chinaman in love. With a rich chit, no less. Ah," she added as she winked at him. "Ye've given me a story for me grandchildren. Ta, love!"
She left. Ken Jin stood without thought, without sensation, Maggie's laughter echoing in his head. A Chinaman in love, she'd said. Was that what had happened? Had he lost everything for love? Or was he merely cursed, his fortune perpetually given to the whites? Wasn't that the curse of a man who thwarted the natural order of things, that all his endeavors would turn perverse? Money to the barbarians, love to hate, fullness to nothingness.
Did he love her?
Yes. With her, he could go to Heaven. With her, his yang ran thick and strong. With her, he felt all things as a whole man should. Of course, he loved her.
But in China, such feelings meant less than nothing. Family, responsibility, honor—all these things superseded love. And he could not regain them by embracing a perverted love—a love for a barbarian woman—no matter how his body trembled in her presence. No matter how strong their yin and yang combined, such a relationship was doomed from the beginning. His entire life from his eighth birthday had been doomed.
It was time for him to return, to begin again where he had left his life's proper path. It was time for him to do what he should have done as a child.
He would be of value to the Emperor, he realized, broken vessel that he was. He spoke English well. He understood how the barbarians thought and
what they wanted.
He would likely rise quickly to some form of power, and his last two decades would not be a total waste if he aided his troubled country.
His family would honor him again, and his name would once again be written on the family altar. He might even still marry Jan Wan, assuming she would accept her status as an honorary wife. Plus his dragon and its power would no longer consume his thoughts. Neither would a barbarian woman with yin that burned as bright as her golden red hair.
It was decided, then. He knelt to gather up the scattered threads of the Dragon cushion. Tomorrow he would leave for Peking and enter the ranks of the Emperor's most esteemed servants.
He would become a eunuch.
Triple happiness! Heaven's fortune!
The dowager Emperess Cixi blesses her most faithful servant Wen Gao Jin.
The most honored Sung Ling Yi requests your presence at the wedding of his most precious daughter Mei Bing to Wen Gao Jin.
The divine Empress blesses the union with her presence at the Forbidden City on April 13,1895. Triple happiness! Great fortune!
February 26, 1895
Dearest brother, Ken Jin:
I am to be married! The Empress blesses me for great service. Though the deaths of the barbarian missionaries no doubt cause you great distress, I have worked tirelessly to bring such news to the Dragon throne. And at last the Empress recognizes my great devotion.
I am to be wed! To an imperial relative no less! The honor sets my heart to leaping!
Only one darkness shadows my perfect joy. My bride is an older woman of delicate constitution. At twenty-four, she trembles in fear at the childless future. She is understandably nervous at marrying a eunuch and mourns the babes that could have been hers. But again, the Empress has smiled upon my diligent service. She has allowed me a wedding night.
I implore you, dearest brother, to come to my wedding. You will be most honored.
In ecstatic joy,
Your dearest brother, Wen Gao Jin
ANGINA
Pc 6, Inner Gate
This point is located on your wrist at the palm side. It is located two thumb widths above the wrist crease in the center of the arm. According to oriental medicine, the inner point (Pc 6) regulates ch'i as well as blood in the chest. Hence, it is the point of choice for any pain or discomfort of the chest.
Start with applying medium pressure. Build it up gradually. Hold about a minute, and gradually release the pressure. Do it on both wrists.
www.holistic-online.com
Dr. George Jacob
Chapter 13
Charlotte ran. She had no thought except escape, no feelings except hatred and anger. But once outside, reality intruded. She had nowhere to go. She didn't even have shoes and held her torn pants together with one hand. She didn't have money or a clear thought.
The mews. Ken Jin's horse was there. She could ride it... where? Not home. Not yet. But she wasn't dressed decently. Where else could she go?
She hurried to the stable, but her father caught up. He didn't even speak to her, simply wrapped her in a cloak before helping the stable boy with saddle and tack. She stood in silence, stewing. She toyed with the idea of escape, but once again, where would she go? Her father would catch her anyway. So she stared at her dirty toes and tried not to cry.
Ken Jin had betrayed her. He didn't want her. After everything they'd done, everything that had happened between them, he didn't want her. She sniffed back tears. She wouldn't cry for him or for what they might have done together, though his words echoed in her head.
We would have gone to Heaven together.
She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to stomp right back into his tiny flat and rail at Ken Jin until he saw reason. Some part of her knew she was acting the shrew. Some part of her knew that Ken Jin saw reason whereas she was all emotions. And yet, they could have had so much. They could have gone to Heaven together.
"Come on," her father snapped from above her. He had already mounted and now waved an impatient hand in her direction. She was supposed to sit in front of him, just as she'd sat before Ken Jin just a few hours before. Right after he'd rescued her from... She gritted her teeth against a sob. She would not cry for him. She would not.
"Now!" bellowed her father.
"What about your whore?" Charlotte challenged and had the satisfaction of hearing her father curse.
He dug into his pocket and pulled out a couple shillings, then tossed them to Maggie, who had been waiting near the door. "You'll be at the usual place?" he asked.
The woman grinned, quickly pocketing the coins. "Of course, ducks!" Then with a wink and a sympathetic wave to Charlotte, Maggie turned on her heel and sauntered away. Which left Charlotte once again facing her father.
"Now come," he repeated, his voice filled with a low threat.
She knew better than to disobey, so she mounted and tried to sit in stoic silence. She failed. Despite her earlier resolve, she cried the entire ride home, while her father glared daggers at the scenery and did his best not to notice. He held her arm on the walk into the house only to shove her away the moment the door shut behind them.
"Get dressed," he ordered, loud enough for his words to echo throughout the house. "I will await you in the library."
She nodded, too miserable to respond. But before she could mount the stairs, William came barreling out of the parlor and wrapped her in his arms. "You're home!" he cried, his joy sparking a smile in her heart. "We've been waiting ever so long. Mama said we could go to the park as soon as you got here, and I've been waiting and waiting and—"
"Good heavens, what are you wearing?" came her mother's voice. "And, Thomas! You're home early."
"—waiting. We played cards, and Mama said I was very clever and—"
"You didn't go out dressed like that, did you? You couldn't have!"
"—a bird flew at the window with a big thunk, which scared Mama and she spilled her tea and—"
"Charlotte? Thomas? What's going on?"
"—but I ran to the window. It just flopped around and flopped..." William released her long enough to imitate the dazed bird, but that gave Mrs. Wicks an unobstructed view of her daughter. The woman paled as her gaze slowly took in Charlotte's flyaway hair, torn pants, and bare, dirty feet.
"That will be enough, William!" Mama snapped. "Go to your room!"
Charlotte lifted her chin, diverting some of her misery into defense of her sibling. "You are angry with me, Mother, not William—"
"Don't talk back to me, young lady. I demand to know—where are you going, Thomas?"
Her husband didn't respond. He rarely did. But everyone watched him sidestep the three of them and stomp down the hallway into the library. Within moments, they would hear the clink of the scotch decanter.
"But you promised we could go to the park," William whined. Except his words were deeper than a whine, more like the rumbling prelude to a tantrum.
"I will take you later, love," Charlotte said, "but I am not suitably dressed."
William frowned. "Where are your shoes? Mama says I always have to wear shoes, even when I don't want to—"
"I know, dear, but they got lost."
"Lost?" snapped Mama. "Where? How? What exactly has occurred, Charlotte? Why do you look so... so... disreputable?"
"Because I am disreputable," Charlotte snapped, then immediately regretted it. She was in no position to antagonize her parent. "I am going upstairs. William, why don't you and Nanny decide what toys to bring to the park?" That ought to keep him happily occupied for ten minutes at least.
But he didn't immediately leave, so the three of them stood in the front hallway and waited to see if he would cooperate or not. Until Charlotte remembered something.
"Didn't Ken Jin buy you a new kite?" She was pleased her voice didn't quaver on his name. "Perhaps Nanny could help you put it together..." The ploy worked; William was already moving, his feet thundering up the stairs.
Her mother turned to her. "C
harlotte Anne Wicks, what exactly is the meaning of this?"
Charlotte didn't answer. Wearily, she climbed the stairs. With luck, her mother would simply quiz her father.
"You have been running much too wild, of late," Mama continued as she mounted the stairs in pursuit of her daughter. "I begin to believe you have fallen into disreputable company."
"I have been with Ken Jin, Mama." This time she couldn't stop the pain, and she winced at his name.
Her mother shrugged. "Well, I know he is a servant and all, but standards must be maintained. No one should see you dressed—"
"He saw me—" She bit off her words. She pressed her teeth deep into her lip to keep from spilling out all the misery that might very well drown her. Instead, she forced her thoughts back to her mother. "You are back early from the mission."
Her mother's face tightened into a disapproving scowl. "I'm not at all sure I like the new priest. He was very tart to me yesterday."
Charlotte nodded, barely listening. "But you came home and played with William. That must have been very nice."
"Well, what was I supposed to do with you gone and Nanny complaining of a headache?"
"I know he can be difficult, but if you perhaps stopped trying to correct him—"
"William is maturing quite nicely, young lady. I have no wish to discuss him right now."
They made it to her bedroom, and Charlotte ducked gratefully inside. It had been years since her mother had crossed this threshold, since the day Charlotte had first begun running the menus, in fact. So she had every expectation of privacy now. Except, her mother had apparently decided to be motherly. She not only crossed the threshold, she shut the door behind her and folded her arms across her chest.
"Tell me everything, Charlotte. From the very beginning."
The very idea was enough to freeze Charlotte's tongue to the roof of her mouth. She couldn't possibly begin to express everything. So she rushed behind her privacy screen and prayed that her mother would just go away. But her prayers were never answered, so her mother remained, still talking, still demanding answers Charlotte could never ever give.
The Way of the Tigress 1-4 Page 110
