Jane Orcutt - All the Tea in China

At last Phineas stopped outside a thick-walled compound. I could see several buildings past the iron gate, all with heavily tiled roofs and curling corners. Silently he paid the man, who hurried off-in search of another job, no doubt. Phineas glanced around to make sure we were alone. Assured that we were, he took my hand. “This is my mother’s house.”

I trembled. “What will she think of me?”

“She will be delighted that you have gone to such extremes to dress and speak as we do.” He smiled and opened the gate.

“I was concerned more with her thoughts regarding our marriage. You said that she wanted you to marry a Chinese girl.” My feet seemed resistant as we walked on thick stones past a tranquil garden and fountain.

Phineas squeezed my hand. “She will adore you, Isabella. Just as I do.”

“What should I call her? I do not even know her name.”

“Her name is Wong Siu-yin-Little Swallow-but you will call her Nai Nai. It is a term for a mother-in-law.” With a final smile, he pushed through the door.

I believed I knew the answer to my question about her social standing right away. She was neither nobility nor peasant, but somewhere in between. A young girl approached us, and Phineas greeted her as a servant. “Please tell my mother that we are here,” he concluded.

The girl cast a suspicious glance in my direction, then headed into the interior of the home. I glanced around at the home with its gracious display of intricately carved chairs, tables, cabinets, and curiously colored vases. Two pots of peonies sat on three-legged stands. “Your mother does not want, does she?” I murmured.

Phineas seemed about to respond, but his gaze was drawn up the hall. A short lady with an elaborate hairstyle hobbled her way toward us, her green silk dress flowing. I could not divulge her age by her face, but her mouth set hard as though she had once been pretty and now resented advancing age. “Wong Yu-Chung,” she said softly, smiling at Phineas.

I smiled as well, for I had not known his Chinese name. Its literal meaning was “To Take on the World Vigorously,” and its implied meaning was “Success in Life.”

“Leong Tsan.” Phineas addressed his mother, placing his left hand over his right fist and bowed, as he had done when he presented the sword to me. His mother nodded in return.

No embrace? No welcoming kiss? Despite my curiosity at their peculiarly reserved exchange, I stood to the side grinning, I am certain, like an escaped inmate from Bedlam.

“I can’t believe you have returned from that wicked, wicked country,” she said. “I had nearly given up hope.” Her gaze turned to me, and her expression altered like a storm cloud passing across the sun. “Who is this?”

Phineas drew me to his side. “This is my wife, Mother. Her name is Isabella. Her Chinese name, which I have given her, is Wong Si-yan.”

I curtsied. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Nai Nai,” I said. “I-”

She peered at me closely. “She is not Chinese! Why have you given her our family name, Ah Chung?” She referred to Phineas by the diminutive of his full name.

“She has chosen to identify with us. In England it is the custom for a husband’s family name to pass to his bride.”

Nai Nai sneered. “Your bride should have been picked by the matchmaker to make sure you would have luck together.”

“Yes, Mother. She would have studied our birth years, days, and hours to see if we matched.”

“You probably did not even consult the book that would decide whether it was a lucky day,” she accused.

“We married only yesterday,” I said, hoping to help. Surely the day before Phineas’s return must be lucky indeed!

She narrowed her eyes, making no mention of the fact that I had spoken in Chinese. “Yesterday? It was particularly unlucky.”

“Isabella and I do not believe in superstition,” Phineas said. “You know that I am a Christian. Isabella is one too. In fact, she came all this way to-”

“That is your father’s doing. And his family. They do not care that they have ruined my family.”

“That was a long time ago,” Phineas said softly. “Can you not be pleased that I am home again?”

She glanced at me then nodded at him, acknowledging that she would end the discussion. She led him into the house, and I followed in resignation, an obedient wife in borrowed Chinese clothing.

For the rest of the day, Phineas’s mother spoke to me only when absolutely necessary. If I tried to insinuate myself physically closer to them or even into the conversation, she closed up tighter than an oyster. Phineas regaled her with stories of how diligently I had worked at learning Cantonese, how we had had-inasmuch as it was possible for our beliefs-a traditional Chinese wedding. Phineas introduced me to his younger sister, Wong Yu-fai, which means “Splendor of the World.” I, however, would address her as Phineas did-Ku Tzi, which means “Little Sister.” About the age of young Mr. Calow, she was all politeness itself, but underneath, I was certain, lurked a warmhearted girl. She nodded at me, dignified, but her eyes shone. Though she struggled as a young lady for proper behavior, the hint of a smile curved her lips.

Phineas’s mother, on the other hand, sat as silent as a stone lion sculpture. Rather than displaying the power of mighty paws, however, she seemed to keep her claws carefully retracted for just the right moment until she could capture and shred her prey. The thought made me most uneasy…

Precious Spring had told me that marriages in China were not just the union of a man and woman, but the union of two families and fortunes. I could well understand that concept, for in truth many marriages in England were the same. A woman must marry a man who would improve her social standing and provide a good income, while a man must marry a woman with a generous dowry or, at the least, with a social standing that would not detract from his own.

The idea that Phineas’s mother had envisioned an arranged marriage did not surprise me, but I had hoped that she would resign herself to the notion that her son had chosen otherwise. Apparently she would need some persuasion for this to occur, as her behavior the first day did not bode well for my future in Phineas’s family. I consoled myself with the thought that we would no doubt soon leave her home and head inland. There were, after all, a multitude of souls to save, and I was anxious to be about my Father’s business!

“When can we leave?” I asked Phineas that night when we were finally alone in our room.

He laughed, stretching out on the four-poster wooden-canopy bed. “Is it that bad?”

“Worse.” I sat beside him on the edge. “Your mother dislikes me immensely.”

“She has not gotten to know you. Give her time.”

“That is not the answer I had hoped to hear,” I said petulantly. “I thought you were anxious to search for the tea.”

He idly rubbed my arm with his fingers. “I must wait for the right moment in the season, when the leaves are golden and ready to pick.”

“Will you meet your partner there?”

“Yes.” His fingers traveled to my shoulder.

“Have you seen this tea for yourself?”

“Mmm.”

“Will you-”

He dropped his hand in exasperation. “Is it your intention to talk all night, wife? Yes, I have seen the tea with my own eyes. Yes, we will leave as soon as possible. Yes, I know that my mother excludes you from my family, but you must avoid her barbs.”

“Avoid them? Phineas, they already weigh heavily!” I said bitterly. “She will not give me a chance to speak. When you speak of me, she acts as though I were not even present.” I crossed my arms. “I should like to take her to a party in Britain. She could teach the ladies of society a thing or two about delivering the cut direct.”