Jane Orcutt: All the Tea in China

“The way to help those who abuse opium is to prevent them from using more of the drug.”

“The only way to do that is to prevent it from coming into the country altogether! Can you not see that? I have to stop the men who profit from its sale.” He shook his head. “You are naïve, Isabella. Do you think that I can stop everyone in China from partaking of the drug?”

“And do you think that you can stop all the tea in China from getting into British hands by way of illegal trade?” My eyes stung with tears. “You and your precious golden tea leaves… You are the one who is naïve.”

He stared at me, hard, and I knew instinctively that I had wounded his pride. “You are not fit to be a missionary,” he said in a low voice. “You cannot care for others when you have doubted, nay, insulted, the one person you should care for most.”

“And you have never said that you loved me,” I said, reacting impulsively to his own wounding blow.

He stared at me again, then he left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

I sank to a teak chair, holding my head in my hands. I could not stay, I could not go. Most of all, I realized, Phineas was right. What had I been thinking? I was not fit to spread the gospel. I could not even please my own husband.

I am sorry to recount that we avoided each other for much of the day. Phineas spent time with his mother, and I entertained Little Sister. She and I sat on the bench in the garden, and I entertained her with tales of England and what my life had been like there. She especially enjoyed hearing about my clothing, and I smiled to remember the pink slippers with the Chinese symbol.

Since we were at odds, it pained me to recount the Ransoms’ party where I had met Phineas, but I thought she might enjoy hearing about the dresses all the ladies wore. She seemed most interested in mine. “You wore white?” she said.

“Yes.”

She shuddered. “What a strange country you come from, Eldest Sister-in-law. We don’t wear white except at funerals.”

Phineas stood at the entrance to the garden.

I smiled at the girl. “Little Sister, you must leave. We can talk more later.”

She returned my smile and left. Phineas walked to the bench but did not take her place. “I have spoken to my mother, and she is sorry for slapping you.”

“I did not mean for you to speak to her about it,” I said.

“Nevertheless, it needed to be discussed. She assures me that it will not happen again.”

Then he sat beside me, though stiffly. “Isabella…” He cleared his throat. “Isabella, I am leaving tomorrow. It is time to travel to Hupei.”

My heart pounded.

“I would like for you to leave with me,” he continued, though I could ascertain no enthusiasm in his voice. “I know we have spoken of this day for a very long time and that you have worked hard to prepare the tracts you wish to hand out.”

I clenched my teeth to stall the tears.

He turned toward me. “Will you say nothing?”

“I cannot go,” I said in a small voice.

His expression did not alter. “I have said that I want you with me.”

I shook my head. “Though I have my doubts about that at the moment, I know that they will pass. I know little of marriage, but I know that any two people who have pledged to share their lives must encounter some argument along the way. That we should find ourselves at such a point after mere days of being wed is disheartening but not, I am certain, the end of our relationship.”

He looked relieved. “Then you are not angry with me?”

“No. Nor you with me?”

He took my hands. “Of course not,” he whispered. “So you will go with me?”

“You know that I cannot countenance this silly tea business, particularly now that I know you are working with Americans.”

He dropped my hands, exasperated. “Isabella-”

I placed two fingers on his lips. “It is more than that, Phineas. No, I cannot countenance it, and so I do not wish to be a part of it, no matter how much I want to be with you and to travel to these mountains. Beyond that, there are higher considerations.”

“Such as?”

“Your mother and your sister. Who will care for them?”

A shadow crossed his face. “Who will care for them when we leave China? Perhaps they should become accustomed to the idea now. They knew I-we-would not stay in Canton for long.”

But Nai Nai cannot be relied upon to care for herself, let alone Little Sister! “Your mother has no one, Phineas. Even the servants show her little respect, have you noticed?”

“Yes, I have. I can speak to them.” He sighed. “If this is about what I said earlier about you not being fit to be a missionary…”

I shook my head. “It is not. But it is about my caring for your sister-and mother-while you are gone. When you return…”

I stumbled on the words because I suddenly felt a wave of apprehension-the old fears-that he would somehow never make his way back to Canton and that we would be parted forever.

“When I return…” he prompted.

I drew a deep breath. “When you return… we will leave together as you have planned. My place is with you, whether in China, Britain, or America. But for now perhaps, at least, I can help your mother to… to establish some sort of order in her home in the meantime.”

He touched my cheek. “I was wrong. You are not naïve, only tenderhearted. How can I leave you here?”

“How can you have any other choice? You have seen that I can care for myself, so you need not worry about me.”

“But I will,” he said softly. “Every minute.”

I smiled, trying to lighten the moment. “Then it will motivate you to gather the leaves and return to Canton as quickly as possible.”

He moved closer, his face only inches from mine. “And will you worry about me?”

I trembled. “Yes, of course,” I whispered. “Every minute.”

He kissed me then, longing welling between us. Later that night we held each other close, whispering to each other in Chinese and English, sharing memories, foolishly planning for a future that we both unspokenly knew might not be. At dawn we awoke, and as I drowsily struggled to awaken, Phineas whispered in my ear. “Isabella, I love you.”

I opened my eyes.

He smiled at me. “I have loved you for a very long time. Have you not known that?”

I should never have let his mother’s words cause doubt to fester in my heart. “I have known it,” I whispered back. “I love you too.”

“Nothing can separate us,” he said. “You know that I will return from the mountains, don’t you?”

“Yes.” I lied to hide my fear. “Though perhaps you will board another ship and try to evade me again?”

He laughed softly. “And you will follow,” he said, joining in the tale. “But this time I will know exactly where to look. You have a fondness for cows, I believe.”

I could not help the smile that curved my lips. My days with Bossy seemed so very far away and long ago.

His expression sobered. “If I had known you to be the kind of woman I know you are now, I would not have wanted to lie about the Chinese symbols of bravery embroidered on your slippers. Your character is evidence enough of that trait.”

“I don’t know if I can be brave,” I said. “Even before you have gone, I find myself already afraid.”

“But you are brave”-he kissed my temple-“and unselfish. You are like Ruth who followed Naomi to care for her.”

“The Bible does not say whether Naomi was lovable or irritating,” I said. “Perhaps she was a gentle companion for the younger Ruth and therefore no burden.”

“My mother will be a burden for you. I am aware of her faults. I have an idea that Julia Whipple will have a much easier time with Thomas Gilpin’s mother than you will with mine. But I love her dearly.” He kissed me again. “And I thank you for caring for her in my absence. Particularly as you are giving up the future you have worked so hard to obtain.”