The Secret Mandarin

by Sara Sheridan

  We pulled in under a strangely shaped rock with an outcrop, bundled out of sight. It was a very small space and we were jammed in tightly.

  ‘Quiet!’ Robert motioned as the riders came closer and we froze, hardly breathing, listening as the horses passed on the road, catching only a flash of military uniform and the smell of the stables as they pounded past.

  When they had gone the sound of galloping receded into the blackness. Neither of us moved. That night things changed quickly and forever in the cool air of the Bohean Hills. I have no idea how long we stood, Robert and I, closely packed against each other. My heart was pounding, not from the soldiers or the murder, nor the brandy, come to that. Or even my silly plans. For time seemed to stand still and I was lost. Close all of a sudden, I could smell him. I could feel him. And we were looking straight at each other, eyes bright in the darkness. Completely still.

  For sometime now I had known that I cared for Robert, of course. But here, in this very small space, I realised that my emotions were those due to one who was not only a friend or a brother, but a man. Someone who listened to me, helped me, inspired me and guided me. Who’d saved my life.

  After an agonising time, Robert took my hand, and I gasped. He ran his fingers down my face. And I knew that it wasn’t only China, or the freedom or the adventure I had fallen in love with. All these months it had been him. The revelation was more shocking to me than any murder. I thought of the night I had woken to find him sitting against the tree or the evening after I had first shaved my head and our hands had touched, sending sparks of electricity through my body. The realisations came fast and there were many of them. The way Robert had watched over me as I slept through the first days in Bohea, the joking and the kindnesses. My mind was crowded with tiny signals I had not even registered at the time and yet, here, I could see and feel him and I knew that this had been coming, even if I had not known it was on its way. Now he leant his forehead against mine and all thoughts disappeared. I so longed to kiss him that I could hardly breathe. Everything else was gone from my mind except his heartbeat and my own. I searched his eyes to see if he felt it too.

  He nodded.

  I brushed my lips against his, slowly, and I felt myself melt. He took a long, agonised breath and pulled me closer before kissing me hard. Passionately. For a long time. Over and over. His hand cradled the small of my back and I could feel how strong he was. I brushed my fingers over his cheek and then he kissed my neck, sending shivers coursing through me.

  ‘My God. My God.’

  At length he pulled back. And only then we realised what we had done. We were caught, both of us, between ecstasy and horror.

  ‘For months now,’ he started, but could go no further, his agonised face lit up in the moonlight. ‘I think you are the most beautiful woman on earth.’

  I could feel my skin flush, still tingling from his touch. My heart was leaping somersaults. I knew Robert. I trusted him. My whole body was quivering with desire. What is there in the world if love is not possible? And yet, how could we?

  ‘We will never speak of this,’ I decided, pulling back. It was impossible.

  Robert nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. He knew it was wrong as much as I did. ‘Quite right.’

  But I would have given anything, that moment, for him to have been free.

  As we walked towards the road I saw him reach out and touch the side of the rock where we had been pressed as if he wanted to take the sensation with him. I could not meet his gaze. I always thought of love as it had been with William. Flowers. Baubles. Promises. The glamour of a title and a string of private carriages. My world had been shallow, I admit it. China had brought me greater depth. And now I had, for once, no stomach for adventure, though I was already pining to touch him again despite the shame of it. In truth, I was afraid even to look at him. God knows where that might lead us. I was walking on air, stunned. This would change everything, and I knew I had to be strong. Already the thought of lying in the bedroom next to his had me half-terrified, half-elated. Robert had taught me so much, brought me so far and set me free.

  ‘I must ignore it,’ I swore to myself.

  But all I could think of was the pounding of my blood and the way I had melted, looking into his beautiful eyes.

  Along the road, acutely aware of each other and only a foot apart, we tramped in sullen, agonised silence. The pearl he had given me for Christmas seemed hot against my skin now. I could not look to my right at all—could not as much as turn my head towards him. Oh, Jane! The shame! That night, I swore, I would pray. I would get on my knees beside the open window and beg for the strength to make everything as it had been before. All the months, we had had so much together. Surely that would be enough. For what had happened with Robert, even a glimpse of it, was an adventure too far.

  Chapter Eleven

  The moment I woke the next morning it seemed like any other day until the memories flooded back. I could hear Robert moving in the room next door to mine, and I pulled the cover tightly around me, my eyes darting. I felt a deep yearning for him, just as much as the night before, only as the pale light fell in streams through the window my shame was even greater than it had been in the dark.

  I was determined to ignore what had happened. Trying to hold onto my memory of what it had been to wake on any other morning of our journeying together, I jumped out of bed to the small mirror on the table and desperately attempted to arrange my features into a cheerful countenance. I imagined blithely discussing the route overland to Foo Chow Soo, or enquiring after a consignment of pretty lacquer boxes I had chosen to dispatch to the auction house. It was useless. All I could think about were the kisses. They were vivid in my memory. Divine—or rather, satanic. I cursed myself and once more threw poses in the tiny mirror of the easy intimacy we had enjoyed for so long. Each made my heart sink further. The longer I dwelled on what had happened between Robert and I, the more I realised that we had had a great deal more than a mere friendship for a long time. I had been a fool.

  ‘Whatever I feel, I must mask it,’ I swore, reaching for my clothes.

  As I completed my dress I was startled by a rapping at the door so urgent it made the hinges shake. My brother-in-law was clearly not for ignoring what had happened and was in some kind of passion. My heart beat faster.

  ‘Oh, Robert,’ I whispered, intent immediately on composing myself.

  I swore inwardly that I would say as little as possible.

  ‘Come in,’ I called nervously, my voice high.

  Such was my relief when it was Wang alone who entered the room that I sank onto a little chair behind me. Wang bowed very low. He had left the door wide open in his wake and through it I glanced into the hall for any sign of Robert. I was on such tenterhooks that I neglected to ask poor Wang where he had been all this time, or welcome him back from his weeks of absence. After a moment or two, Wang realised that he would have to commence any exchange and, I suppose, took my silence for fury. He fell to his knees and kowtowed at my feet.

  ‘Please, Master,’ he started. ‘So sorry. Please.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Wang,’ I motioned him to rise. ‘Of course. Get up. Get up.’

  He did so sheepishly.

  ‘You are late returning to Wuyi Mountain,’ I said without feeling. ‘It has inconvenienced us greatly. Where have you been?’

  In truth, I couldn’t have cared less. My eyes were fixed on the door of Robert’s room—I could not tear them away. Wang looked as if he might fall once more to his knees.

  ‘Bridal celebration,’ he murmured shyly, his shoulders rounding in.

  ‘Ah. Blessings on your clan,’ I replied, as was the custom.

  Wang smiled.

  ‘Master,’ he said. ‘It was a celebration for my bride.’

  ‘Oh,’ I exclaimed in surprise.

  It occurred to me that there was perhaps something in the Bohean air that had ignited romance.

  ‘Oh, Wang. Gong-tsi.’ Congratulations.

  I took my eyes
from the hallway for a mere second in surprise and, of course, it was then that Robert emerged from his room and, seeing Wang bowing down in thanks to me, he burst into a rage.

  ‘Where have you been, Wang?’ he shouted as he advanced into my bedchamber without so much as a glance in my direction. ‘You have held us up intolerably! You are over three weeks late.’

  ‘Robert,’ I smiled, though it felt as if my heart had stopped at the sight of him. ‘The man has married. Wang is in love.’

  This took the wind out of Robert’s sails and he glanced awkwardly at the floor.

  ‘Oh, very well, Wang,’ he mumbled. ‘But your private affairs,’ here he paused, suddenly gauche, ‘your private business can hold us up no longer. We are packing to leave. You must be about it, Wang.’

  Wang nodded and made for the door, only halting as I called him to enquire, with seeming lightness.

  ‘What is your lady’s name, Wang? Where is she?’

  Making such an enquiry felt better than having to face Robert. I was keen to calm my nerves and let him relinquish his passion and anger before we had to speak. The best way to achieve this was polite small talk, though I could not think of a single pleasantry I could direct towards Robert. Now, by the door, the man looked flustered at my question. In China there are many superstitions regarding pride in achievements or family. Parents often demean their children so the evil spirits will not take an interest in them. To a European such reticence denotes gaucheness, but for the Chinese it is self-protection. Wang did his best to shield his bride’s identity.

  ‘She is a simple woman. She was widowed and when we were children we knew each other. She is at my home village still.’

  ‘Good, good. What is her name?’

  He paused for a second, glancing to his left as if checking for a malevolent Chinese sprite who would bear the news away to the underworld.

  ‘Soo-yi,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘May she bring you great happiness and many sons. I expect you would like to know we will have only a few more months together. You will be dispensed of your duties at Hong Kong once everything is embarked. You will be able to return then to your village and you will be a rich man.’

  Wang could not contain the grin that broke out on his face.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said gratefully, and quit the room to turn his attention immediately to the caravan of boxes and packing cases that was forming in one of the stables.

  Robert and I were alone. We stared at one another. I hid behind the mask I had composed.

  ‘Mary,’ he started. ‘It is I who should be on my knees before you, not Wang. I am sorry. I apologise absolutely for my dishonourable behaviour.’

  He regretted what had happened. My stomach sank.

  ‘For many weeks,’ he continued, ‘many months, in fact, my regard for you has grown.’

  He was short of breath and I could see tears in his eyes. This was sheer torture.

  ‘The truth is that what we have shared is something I do not wish to be without. Ever. And yet…’ His voice trailed.

  ‘Please,’ I cut in on him frantically. To see him moved so made me panic. I had to stop him. The truth was that in my heart I regretted what we hadn’t done as much as what we had. Now I had given vent to my feelings, I did not want to let them go, even though I knew I must. I would. But the words were too difficult and I did not want either to hear them, or say the cursed things myself.

  ‘Please. Stop.’

  I gesticulated and as I did so I knocked the mirror behind me and it crashed to the floor, shattering and making me jump.

  Robert smiled. His shoulders relaxed and he laughed.

  ‘Look at us,’ he said. ‘We are both so nervous and you look like a frightened child.’

  ‘How can you?’ Tears of shame filled my eyes.

  I felt so foolish. So exposed. Though I knew the affair was impossible, it still felt like a rejection to have him here, apologising for loving me, and jolly at my expense. My emotions were in a jumble and suddenly I was angry as much as guilty or repentant or desperate for his touch.

  ‘How can you laugh?’ I snapped.

  Robert was beside me before I could protest and took my hand. I pulled it away again, though my temper was subsiding into a morass of self-pity. Why did everything I touch turn into such a mess?

  ‘This whole thing is impossible. We have spoilt it all,’ I murmured.

  ‘I am sorry.’ He tenderly wiped the tears from my cheek.

  ‘I just don’t know how to bear not having you,’ I whispered.

  We weighed each other with our eyes. It felt as if I had lost everything. I realised now that the intimacy of our journey together could never be the same as it had before. Everything was changed and in its place a dangerous depth we were forbidden.

  ‘I have nothing worthwhile to offer you,’ Robert breathed.

  I sank back onto the chair.

  ‘Robert, you have given me the greatest freedom and adventure I have ever known. I cannot regret that gift. Coming to know you, well, I have never had such a friend.’

  ‘And then I dishonour you,’ he berated himself.

  ‘It is no dishonour.’

  ‘But I cannot marry you.’

  That he had thought of this caught my breath. No one before had ever wanted to. My eyes fell to my ring finger. If he had been unmarried, would he have slipped a ring onto my hand?

  ‘But Henry,’ I whispered. ‘Even if you were free…’

  Robert shrugged his shoulders at the disgrace of a child born out of wedlock.

  ‘I do not care what you have done, only who you are.’

  He surprised himself with this statement. His face looked shocked as he knelt in front of me.

  ‘Damn it. It is I who is unworthy of you. I am a married man and yet I have never wanted anything for myself as much as I want this,’ he said. ‘And you are the very person I cannot have…’ His voice trailed.

  He gave up trying to explain himself and laid his head in my lap, like a child seeking comfort. I stroked his smooth scalp, winding my fingers through his ponytail. How could I have been so blind with all my worldly ways, not to see it? And if I had would it have mattered—this man was married to my sister. My own, dear Jane.

  ‘I cannot wish away my children, my responsibilities,’ he whispered, ‘but this is my life now. You are my life, Mary. I do not know what to do.’

  At length he rose.

  ‘I must see to business,’ he said brusquely, as if it was an apology.

  I nodded, disappointed. Robert turned and quit the room. I hadn’t the heart to clear up the shattered glass at my feet and instead moved to the window. I positioned myself in sight of the mountain, though I admit my eyes fell and I watched when Robert left the main building and made his way towards the stables where Wang had already put several bearers to work, moving our preparations up a gear. Robert turned and looked up at me as he reached the open wooden doors across the yard. My heart was pounding as he disappeared inside.

  I stayed in my room all morning. There was a great deal to blame myself for. I did not want to feel pulled towards the window in case I should catch sight of him again but I rose every few minutes just to see. I did not want to look at the family photograph I kept inside the front cover of the Ch’a Ching nor did I want to hide it away. I did not want to give up my wonderful adventure and yet it would never be the same again. Things had been blighted, without any question, and yet I had never felt so truly alive. What had happened was no midnight mistake and a night’s sleep had brought no respite from it. I had spent my entire life, I realised, emulating feelings, acting not only on stage but off it too. What had happened up on the hill was a result of my first real feelings. Anything else I had ever experienced shrank in the face of them. I cursed the whole, damned drama of it.

  Early in the afternoon Robert returned.

  ‘Business go to hell,’ he said, ‘I cannot concentrate, Mary. It is as if there is a cord tied between us.’

/>   We stood then for a while on each side of the room, in silence. After a while he moved forwards a step. So did I. Each glance, each unashamed, slow blinking, stare was like a caress.

  ‘We are doing something very wrong,’ I said. ‘Even looking at you, Robert, seems indecent.’

  ‘Jane must never know.’

  I nodded.

  ‘We will never be able to marry,’ he breathed.

  ‘The need for that is all very far away, Robert.’

  ‘I swear I will love you forever. I swear I will never let you down. It is death alone that will part us, whichever path we follow. There is a cord between us, Mary.’

  He did not need to say it, spoken or not, I knew. We were giving ourselves up to this, one way or another, for the rest of our lives.

  We kissed for hours, though it seemed mere moments from the time his lips touched mine, until Sing Hoo knocked on the door and brought in the dinner as the light faded from the sky. Robert was tender and slow in his attentions and this lit a passion in me beyond anything I had ever known. I can truly say we left the world behind and what passed between us in that little room was our own whole universe. Nothing else mattered. His body was strong and I ran my fingers along his arms and down his chest. It felt so different from the softness of my own form—his lines angular and mine curving gently. We were still clothed when we ate dinner slowly and in silence, feeding each other roasted meat and ripe peaches and unable to look away. This passion was unlike any other I had known. My lovers before had been directed towards only the end of their satisfaction. Now, me touching Robert and him touching me was satisfying in itself.

  After the food was gone Robert closed the shutters and fetched thick, satin quilts from his bedroom, which he laid over the mattress, the bright colours shining in the golden glow of the oil lamps. He lifted me up and lay me on the bed he had made, kissing my lips, my eyelids, the crook of my neck.

  ‘My wanton love,’ he murmured.

  I longed to feel his skin against mine, and, enjoying every second, we undressed each other slowly and explored, kissing everywhere till we became so entwined that there was scarce a difference between one body and the other, and I was lost in ecstasy.