Jane Orcutt - All the Tea in China

I did not have to wonder long, for that afternoon I again retreated to the garden. This time Little Sister joined me. She often followed me around like a shadow when I first arrived, quiet, but once I had been there a few days, she apparently felt free to ask a multitude of questions. When she learned I spoke Chinese, no matter how halting, she peppered me with questions about England, about the Dignity, about fashion and books… She was hungry for knowledge and conversation. I often said a thankful prayer that she had somehow managed to survive. Many Chinese parents murdered newborn girls because they would only grow up and marry into another family.

Little Sister sat beside me on the bench, tucking her feet carefully under her skirt before I could see them. “Why are your feet so large?” she said without preamble. “Did your parents not want your feet to be small?”

“Foot binding is not something that is done where I come from,” I said, then paused. “Are your feet bound?”

Little Sister shyly pushed her feet out from behind her skirt. To my relief, they seemed normal. “Mother would have bound my feet,” she said, “but when I reached the proper age, Elder Brother would not allow it. It was right after Father died, so Elder Brother’s wish was followed.” She looked wistful. “Mother says my chances to marry have been reduced.”

She was so young to be concerned about such matters! “They are still very small next to mine, are they not?” I said, holding out my own feet.

“Yes, Tai Soi.” Little Sister called me Eldest Sister-in-law, giggled, then immediately sobered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed.” She tucked her feet back under her skirt.

I did the same. “It’s all right, Little Sister.”

“Are you and Elder Brother going to stay here forever?”

I did not know what Nai Nai had told the girl, but I determined to tell her the truth. “We will be leaving soon.”

“Will you return?”

“I do not think so, Little Sister.” The truth was that I was not certain what would happen to Phineas and me once we arrived in Hupei. After all, his plan was to find the golden tea leaf then use its sales to put the East India Company out of business. Which would, of course, mean eventually returning to England.

That, however, was not in my plans. Neither was staying at his mother’s house much longer!

“You will return with me, naturally,” Phineas said when I asked him about it that night when we were alone at last, preparing for bed.

“I have not thought of returning to England.” I fluffed my pillow and burrowed my head into it. I yawned, exhausted. “My calling, I believe, is to stay in China.”

Phineas laid his head on his own pillow, beside mine. “Even missionaries sometimes return to their homeland,” he said.

“But-”

He put his fingers over my lips. “I know what you are about to say, Isabella. You do not want me to attempt to find this golden leaf tea and bring it back to England.”

“I still do not fathom how your plan will work. I cannot believe you can compete with the East India Company.”

“Perhaps not, but I must at least attempt it.” He paused. “Lives are being ruined in this country, Isabella. People are dying. Surely you must understand the urgency.”

I raised up on one elbow. “I do, Phineas, but I am not certain this is the best way.”

“My mother also does not wish me to go to Hupei.”

“Of course not. You are her only son.”

“There is more to that than the relationship between Mr. Gilpin and his mother. In China, a son, even once married, lives in his parents’ house. He is expected to take over the household, with his wife caring for the home.”

“Then I should think her pleased that we were leaving so that she need not fear my usurping her authority,” I said. No wonder Nai Nai had resented my presence, even before we met.

“You have read her fears, which are not uncommon to Chinese mothers of sons. That she has all but begged me to stay is an indication that she is willing to accept that fear instead of the alternative.”

“And what is that?”

Phineas touched my cheek. “Being alone for the rest of her life. One day Little Sister will marry and move into her husband’s home. Then who will care for my mother?”

“Can she not remarry?”

“It is possible but not likely. Widows generally stay widows in China and are not encouraged to take another husband. Their chastity is highly prized. I think, too, that she is not willing to face heartbreak yet a third time.”

He blew out the candle and took me in his arms. After only a few days, I had come to rely on his physical presence, particularly at the close of day. In such a short time, I had learned what it meant to share my life with another. I was certain it was not something one could easily abandon, even after death. Lately the thought of losing Phineas, after all we had endured to gain one another, had hovered like a specter during my every waking moment. I could not shake it no matter how I tried to remove it from my thoughts.

“I am looking forward to our journey,” I whispered. “Tell me about the Mo Tong Mountains. When did you first go there?”

“The mountains are home to many monasteries, as you know. I learned martial arts there several years ago when I first returned from England-as a man. My mother and stepfather were dismayed that I had embraced Christianity, so they sent me there, hoping the Daoist monks would influence me.”

“And did they?”

“I am not fully Chinese, so I was not allowed in the temples or monasteries. However, one man became my sifu, my martial arts master, and I met many other students. My time there did not sway my beliefs. If anything, it reinforced them. The Mo Tong-the mountains themselves-have breathtaking valleys and cliffs and much vegetation and rocks on tall, steep peaks. Sometimes the mist shrouds the ancient buildings and stairways that seem to reach to heaven.” He kissed the top of my head. “I felt very close to God there. I hope you will too. It is a beautiful place.”

I shivered. We could not leave this home soon enough. I had wanted adventure for so long, and Phineas and I were near to realizing our dreams. In the darkness I held him closer as though I could hold him to the earth, our relationship a sapling threatened by a coming wind.

To prepare for our journey, Phineas insisted that we practice martial arts together in the grassy area of the garden. I smiled every time I thought of the expression on Flora’s face if she could see how I had learned to kick at an opponent’s head or punch much like one of the prizefighters at a boxing salon in London. Somehow I imagined that Uncle Toby would be pleased, for he had always indulged my hoydenish nature. Anything that allowed me to protect myself could only be good, in his eyes.

I wore the inexpressibles and loose top that Phineas had given me aboard the Dignity, and it felt good to have such freedom of movement. Such freedom was not without cost, however. Phineas refused to spare me from a harsh accounting, challenging my kicks and blocks in rapid progression. He spoke not a word, but I knew from the expression on his face that he meant to push my abilities. When at last he must have realized I was winded and spent (which indeed I was), he knocked me to the soft grass by sweeping his feet behind my knees. I dropped like a winged bird-unhurt, save for my pride.

He helped me up. I, grim-faced, assumed a defensive position. “Be prepared to counter that move,” he said. He did not allow me the quick, heated retaliation I desired but slowly, patiently demonstrated several kicks and distracting arm movements. I forgot that I wanted to bring him to the earth the same way he had me and practiced the moves until he nodded his satisfaction. Emotion had little place in martial arts, I was learning, but I did not always heed the lesson.