Jane Orcutt - All the Tea in China

I nodded. “Until recently it was a well-kept secret that I trained in martial arts.”

“Indeed? Pray continue.”

I could not tell if he mocked me or expressed genuine curiosity. “I have studied with a fencing master for nearly twenty years now, Signor Eco Antonio. He himself studied under the great master Domenico Angelo… but you probably have not heard of him.”

“Actually, I have. Most impressive, Miss Goodrich… if it is true.”

“Believe me, Mr. Snowe, I mention it not to impress but to alert you that I have little fear of caring for myself on this voyage and in China, as well.”

“And yet you brought no sword for the journey.”

So he did mock me! “I thought it best to leave it behind. A missionary should have no need of such training, is that not true? Particularly when it involves violence.”

“Yet even Jesus remarked to the disciples that a man should sell his garment and buy a sword.” He straightened. “Miss Goodrich, you are an enigma to me, yet one thing is clear. You have a heart for helping others, and for some reason, an earnest desire to serve in China. But I must insist that it is no place for the fairer sex.”

“I was led to believe otherwise when I thought Julia Whipple part of your group. Nevertheless, I am determined to convince you that I am quite capable. Surely there are ladies and children in the Orient whom I could reach.”

“You cannot speak their language.”

“But you could teach me! I still possess the Gospel According to St. Luke that you gave me at the Ransoms’ party, do you remember?”

He nodded.

“It is a long voyage,” I pressed. “Could you not teach me even the basics? As my uncle informed you, I am learned in several languages already… French, Italian, German, Greek, Latin-”

He held up his hand. “That is enough, Miss Goodrich. I am familiar with your studies.”

“Then you will teach me?”

He paused for a great while. Why must he deliberate? Was his time so valuable aboard ship that he could not spend it with me? If I failed to learn any Chinese (and of course that was unthinkable!) would it have inconvenienced him so greatly?

“Phineas Snowe, I have been looking for you.” Julia Whipple stood beside him. “And you, Miss Goodrich.”

“Are you feeling better, Miss Whipple?” I said.

She frowned. “Better?”

I tapped my temple. “Your headache? You left earlier to retire to your cabin.”

“Oh yes. That. I am much better, thank you for asking.” She glanced at Snowe, then at me. “I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” Snowe said, smiling. “We were merely having a brother and sister chat.”

I sighed. “Miss Whipple is aware that we are not related. Must we continue the pretense?”

“But I think of you as a sister, Miss Goodrich,” Snowe said. “Are we not related in our desire to do the Lord’s work?”

Miss Whipple coughed delicately into her hand. “Excuse me. Phineas is correct, Miss Goodrich. It is better to keep up the pretense even with me. Dining with the captain tonight will be a good test… won’t it, Phineas?” She brushed his shoulder. “I am rather looking forward to the meal. I am certain the conversation will be interesting. The captain is much concerned with truth and is knowledgeable about many things, is he not?” She gave him a decidedly pointed look.

“As is Miss Goodrich,” Snowe said smoothly. “She has informed me that she is schooled in many languages.”

“She and Captain Malfort will have much to talk about then, I imagine.” Miss Whipple smiled at Snowe, then turned to me. “Miss Goodrich, if Phineas can spare your presence, I thought it might be interesting to show you my cabin. I brought quite a collection of embroidery with me, as I find it helps to pass the time. I would be delighted to share my cloth and thread if you enjoy such arts.”

“I do, Miss Whipple. Thank you. It would be nice to stitch something that might be of use in the Orient, as well. Perhaps a cuff or a handkerchief?”

Miss Whipple smiled at Phineas. “Please excuse us.”

Snowe bowed. “Miss Goodrich, we will speak again.”

“I daresay we will, as we share a cabin,” I said dryly. “Perhaps in the meantime you will consider my request?”

“What is that?” Miss Whipple said.

“I would like Mr. Snowe to teach me the Chinese language during our journey. I want to prepare to help in some manner once we reach Canton.”

She cast a sidelong glance in his direction. “And he has refused?”

“Indeed, he has not answered. But I am sure it is not for lack of opinion.”

Snowe said nothing, his face expressionless. Miss Whipple smiled at him then turned me away. “Come, Miss Goodrich. We will leave him to think, then, for though we have a long journey yet, every second brings us that much closer to our destination.”

Miss Whipple and I admired her embroidery until it was time for dinner with the captain. Informed that this was normally at two o’clock, I proceeded shortly beforehand to my cabin to check my appearance. Dinner was as formal aboard ship as it was on shore, I had been told.

Though I possessed no mirror, I could tell that my hair was not at all to my liking. I supposed I must become accustomed to such since Flora would no longer be available to help me pin it up. Julia Whipple offered to help me, even loaning me several hairpins, but I vowed that I would learn to do it myself. A missionary should not be given to much vanity and should learn to care for herself.

However noble my efforts, I could not work the pins to my satisfaction. The lack of a mirror was one impediment, but the clumsiness of my hands was even more so. I would no more secure one strand of hair, and then another would come loose. Secure another, and the entire pile of hair tumbled loose into my hands. The pins clattered to the floor.

I sat down on the wooden crate, for I needed a moment to think. Flora. Where was she now? Had she made her way back to Oxford to report to Uncle Toby that I was gone? Surely he would not be cross with her for my decision.

The door opened, and Phineas Snowe entered. I rose quickly, startled. “I am sorry,” he said with a bow. “I did not mean to disturb you.”

“I think perhaps you have saved me,” I said, trying to smile as I gestured at the misbegotten pins scattered about the floor.

He gathered them in the palm of his hand. “Sit,” he said, gesturing at the crate.

“But I-”

One look from him, and I realized he would brook no argument. I sat.

“I do not fancy myself a hair styler, but I know that it can be difficult for a woman to accomplish this task with her own hands.” He paused. “I have a younger sister.”

“Indeed? Then you must realize my quandary. I want to appear presentable, since it is my first dinner with the captain, but I should learn to do it myself.” I chattered because he stood a bit too close for my comfort. When his hands touched my hair, I felt my heart beat faster. “I… I do not imagine that there will be many formal occasions in China.”

Snowe said nothing. He smoothed my hair then looped a section, deftly securing a tendril here, affixing another one there. Flora was the only person who had ever touched my hair before; certainly no man had ever done so. His hands, warm and smooth, brushed against my neck. I was aware that he stood just behind me. It was most unnerving…

He stepped back. “There. You may stand.”

I did so, touching my hair lightly, breathing a sigh of relief but feeling curiously bereft of his nearness. “It feels quite secure. Thank you.”

He stared at me-all of me-so critically that I paused. “Is something wrong?” I studied my dress, twisting about to see if I had acquired a spot or a tear.