Jane Orcutt - All the Tea in China

“Aren’t you afraid that I will sully your name when I relate around Oxford what you have done?” I paused, giving vent to the cry of my heart. “Why did you seek money from my uncle? Were you given funds by others as well?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Only your uncle was charitable enough to contribute. Though I said as much, I truly did not seek funds, but he was so taken with my work that he insisted no matter how strong my protest. I had heard of his interest in missionary work, particularly among the Orient. I managed an invitation to Sir Ransom’s party with the express purpose of meeting your uncle, to spread the truth about China… I did not plan on meeting you.”

“Nor I, you,” I said, refusing to squelch the bitterness in my voice. “I had been forewarned that there would be an eligible man in attendance, but I had no notion…”

I trailed off, thinking back. Flora had labored so diligently on my new dress. She had been so pleased to find the perfect pink slippers to match. Slippers with Chinese writing. I had been so certain…

“Why?” I said in a low voice.

“Why did I pose as a missionary?”

My eyes filled with tears. Uncle Toby and I had both been duped. Dear Uncle Toby…

Snowe let out a long sigh. “Do you remember that I was to attend the party with a husband and wife who sought to become missionaries? The Tippetts?”

I nodded.

“In truth, they are interested in further tea exploration, as am I. I believed that posing as missionaries would ameliorate our acquaintanceship. Mr. Tippett does not work for the East India Company, and I did not want to appear to be in collusion with any competition.”

“But you are! You work for Britain’s finest trading company, Mr. Snowe!”

“I have not forgotten,” he said in a low voice. “But I seek new tea to sell and new methods of its purchase. The East India Company needs silver for trade. The Chinese are not interested in anything else.” He paused. “Not much, anyway.”

“Tea! You would deceive a lovely old Oxford dean, me, and all the people at the Ransoms’ party for tea?”

“It is the lifeblood of the English,” he said quietly. “Can you deny it? Do you know how much tea is imported on a yearly basis? The latest figures I have seen are over two hundred million pounds.”

I pictured Uncle Toby’s dear face. Did he linger, heartbroken, in his study at night? It was one thing to know that I had left him for a great calling, quite another when I realized what a sham it had all been. “You said you were with the London Missionary Society. You asked me if I had heard of Robert Morrison, the famous missionary to China.”

“And you said that you had. I did not say that I knew nor worked with him or the Society directly. You believed only what you wanted to hear, Isabella Goodrich. For that, do not fault me.”

“I can fault you for deception. I can fault you for playing the part only too well,” I said. “I have not noticed you wearing your spectacles since we have been aboard ship. I suppose they were part of your charade?”

“Yes, I borrowed them from a friend. They were devilishly difficult to see through.”

I could not believe what I heard. Not only did he seem to have no remorse for his scheme, but he was letting me in on his secrets as though I should be sympathetic. Or worse yet, impressed!

“Miss Goodrich, I will do everything within my power to make your stay aboard ship as pleasant as possible until we reach the Cape. That is all I can offer at this point.”

Why was he being so congenial? Oh foolish girl, he had selfish motive indeed. His smooth talk had slowed me from realization, but I could comprehend it now. “You are afraid I will tell Captain Malfort about your deception, aren’t you?”

“The thought had occurred to me, yes.”

I shifted in my hammock, feeling a strange sense of power. “He could have you dismissed from the Company, I suppose, or at least send word to the proper persons in authority.”

Snowe hesitated. “Yes.”

I crossed my arms over my stomach, pleased. I could not believe my good fortune. “What, exactly, do you think you can do for me?”

“I have promised to see to your safety and comfort. Is that not enough?”

“And I have already informed you that I can care for myself.”

He laughed. “With a sword, I suppose.”

“If need be. I should like to have one, since that is the one possession I had the most difficulty leaving in England.”

“Where would you find one here at sea?”

“Oh, come, Mr. Snowe, you are a man of many designs and persuasions. Surely you could procure such an insignificant item.”

“Insignificant?” I heard him raise up in his hammock. He sighed then lay back down. “Very well. It is certainly an odd request from a woman, but I will try. If I find you a sword, will it barter your silence?”

“That and your assistance in proceeding to China beyond the Cape.” I smiled into the darkness.

“What? No! It is unconscionable. Why do you desire to travel that far when you know that I work with no mission?”

“I have every confidence that I can find one. Robert Morrison himself is there with the London Missionary Society. They must need assistance.”

Snowe sputtered. “China is not the size of Oxfordshire nor even the whole of England, for that matter, Miss Goodrich. We could not find him.”

“You are no doubt a man of influence and intelligence. I am certain that you can help me.”

He groaned. “I should never have taken Tobias Fitzwater’s money,” he muttered.

“But you did, Mr. Snowe. That is my offer.”

There was silence on the other side of the canvas. Surely he could not have fallen asleep!

“I will match your offer with one of my own,” he said at last.

“Proceed. I am listening.”

“I will find you a sword. I will protect you for this leg of the journey. When we reach the Cape, we will revisit our agreement. Frankly, I am of the opinion that a few months at sea may change your mind.”

“I do not think so,” I said cheerfully, “but I can as easily inform the captain of your treachery in Cape Town as I can in the middle of the Atlantic.”

“Then we have a pact?”

I settled into my hammock, suddenly weary. I had no choice. He had no choice. We were bound to each other’s word to fulfill our individual plans.

“We have a pact, Mr. Snowe,” I said grimly, wondering if I had just bound myself to the devil himself.

Our canvas divider was still in place when I awoke in the morning. I thought perhaps Snowe might have already left the cabin, but I could hear a gentle snore from the other side. It occurred to me that my wedding night anticipation of sleeping in the same room as a man had now been dashed. The snores persuaded me that I had probably not missed anything.

I was grateful that I did not have to change clothes but supposed that I would be forced to spend every day and night in the same dress. No, that was unthinkable. It was not even a question of fashion but of nasal condition. A lady must consider such things.

I tiptoed from our room to the deck. The air was brisk, the sun not yet on the horizon, though traces of pink and orange lit the sky. I stood transfixed at the rail, out of the way, wrapping my arms around myself against the chill.

“Good morning, Miss Goodrich.”

“Mr. Gilpin!” I turned, smiling at the first mate.

He touched his cap. “I trust you slept well?”

“Very much so,” I said. “The sea has a peculiar lulling quality that I find most conducive to sleep.”

He smiled. “You may not say such when you have experienced a storm. It will make your early voyage seasickness seem quite mild by comparison.”