Mary Putney - The China Bride

Troth was enjoying herself, just as Maxwell had wanted. She found vicarious pleasure in helping Maxwell to spend large amounts of money. Though Chenqua was surely far richer, she'd never had the chance to spend any of his wealth.

As they left a shop where Maxwell had purchased a dizzying number of fans in painted silk and carved ivory, she asked, " Your homeland is so small that you can buy gifts for everyone in England?"

He laughed. "No, but I want a stock of trifles suitable for friends and servants. For a person who has never been more than twenty miles from his place of birth, a fan or perfume bottle will be rare and special. A reminder of what a wide world we live in." He fingered the only bottle he'd carried with him from the first shop, a lovely little vial carved from crystal shot through with dark veins. "And of course I want to buy the affections of my young nieces and nephews, whom I've never met."

She doubted that he'd ever had to buy anyone's affections, but he would certainly be a favorite uncle with the showers of presents he would pour over those unknown children. Her father had been like that. Every time he returned from a trip, she had danced with excitement as she waited to see what treasures he had brought.

Despite her enjoyment, by midday she was flagging. She'd known it was tiring to shop when one had little money, but had not realized that it was equally fatiguing to buy everything in sight. "Are you ready to return to the hong for luncheon, sir?"

"Not particularly. What do Cantonese eat?" Maxwell's gaze went to a noodle stall on the opposite side of the street. "People are getting food there. Let's have some."

"Sir, you cannot eat from a noodle stall!"

"Why not? Are Fan-qui and Cantonese stomachs so different?"

"It… it is not dignified," she said uneasily, knowing this was not how Chenqua and Elliott expected her to care for Maxwell.

"What is the point of dignity when it deprives one of interesting experiences?" He purposefully crossed the street to the stall.

Resigned, Troth ordered them two bowls of noodles in broth. Then she had to instruct her charge in the use of chopsticks. He didn't do badly for his first attempt.

Finishing the noodles, he said, "Excellent. What do other vendors sell?"

Troth introduced him to fragrant rice congee, dumplings, and sweetmeats, followed by a visit to a teahouse for a relaxed cup of tea. Everywhere Maxwell was watched with amazement by people who'd never seen a Fan-qui eating street food. He ignored the stares, apparently used to drawing attention wherever he went.

Troth studied him covertly, intrigued by his interest in the daily routines of Cantonese life. His enthusiasm was contagious. He had been right to say she was gloomy. For many years, her life had been defined by duty and service. Now his presence was causing her to see her world with new eyes.

She sipped her tea, sadly aware that soon he would go back to his English world and her life would once more be drab routine and loneliness. But there was a kind of friendship between them, and she would be left with a few bright memories.

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After the teahouse they stopped at a shop specializing in perfumes. Under the pretense of offering advice, Troth had an intoxicating session of sniffing and enjoying. If she were allowed to be a woman, she'd always wear scent.

The next visit was to a dealer in spices and flavorings. Maxwell bought samples of many, frowning when he reached the final jar. "Dried bergamot peel, I think."

Troth had never heard of it. "Bergamot?"

"A fruit something like an orange." Maxwell added it to his substantial order, and they moved on to the last stop, the grandest silk showroom in the Settlement.

The owner had heard of Lord Maxwell's expensive passage through Thirteen Factories Street and waited with deep anticipation for their arrival. When Troth brought Maxwell into the showroom, the owner bowed low. "You honor my humble shop, my lord. Pray allow me to show you my poor wares."

At his nod, assistants began unwinding bolts of silk. Yards of shimmering fabric cascaded to the floor until the showroom was a festival of brilliant colors. After Maxwell chose two dozen bolts of the finest material in the shop, he said, "I should also like to purchase ladies' garments made in the Chinese style. Do you have any made up?"

"A few." Another order, and a dozen finished robes were brought from the back of the shop and laid reverently across a table.

The garments would not have disgraced the ladies of the imperial court in Peking. Trying to conceal her longing, Troth stroked an exquisite peach-colored robe made from kesi , a brocade with patterns woven into the fabric. "The quality is acceptable," she murmured, as if her only interest were in its value.

Maxwell said, "That looks as if it might fit my brother's wife, and the color would be good on her."

"A Fan-qui lady is so small?" Troth asked, surprised.

"Meriel is, but my sister is tall." He lifted the largest garment, a brilliant scarlet splashed with embroidered flowers and butterflies. Probably it was a bridal robe, since red was a fortunate color and always worn for weddings. "Lucia is about your height."

He held the robe up to Troth's shoulders. "Would a woman like this, Jin?"

As soon as his fingers brushed her shoulders, a wave of energy pulsed through her, even stronger than when she'd shown him how to hold a calligraphy brush. In his eyes she saw the same shock. After a frozen moment, she said, "Your… your sister would surely be well pleased with such a magnificent gift, my lord."

He swallowed, then stepped back and laid the scarlet robe across the table. "Thank you for your opinion."

As he completed his purchases, she retreated to a corner of the showroom. He had not given away her identity-yet the fact that he knew she was a woman had changed everything between them. She could not be sorry.

After the shopping expedition, Troth returned to her desk to complete her translating tasks, though she would have preferred to go home after a day that had been tiring in more ways than one. Shadows were darkening the office when she finished her work. She had just cleared her desk when Maxwell appeared and handed her a bulky paper-wrapped parcel. "For you. A small thanks for your help."

Startled, she said, "I deserve no special gift for doing my duty, sir."

His voice dropped so that no one else in the room could hear his words. "Last night you saved my life. Can I not give you a token of gratitude? "

Understanding his desire not to be under an obligation, she said, "As you wish, my lord."

"I wish. Good night, Jin." He gave her a private smile, then left the office.

Though she burned with curiosity, she could not open the package in front of others. Expression carefully blank, she left the hong and crossed the river with a boatman who often transported her. Only the tightness of her grasp on the parcel revealed her excitement. She hadn't felt such anticipation since she was a child awaiting her father's return from a journey.

Now that she was grown, she realized that what she'd felt was not only desire for the gift itself, but delight in the knowledge that her father had been thinking of her. It was equally warming to know that she had been in Maxwell's thoughts.

Finally she was safe in her room and could open the package. She folded the paper back, then gasped. It was the splendid scarlet robe he'd held up to her in the silk showroom. Reverently she touched the sumptuous fabric. He had seen how she looked at the garment and recognized her longing.

She lifted out the robe and discovered that the parcel also contained the crystal vial, now filled with the most intoxicating perfume from the scent shop. There was also a long necklace of carved jade beads, a set of golden combs, and the most elegant of the ivory fans. He'd noted every item that had particularly appealed to her, and that was the sweetest gift of all. No one had paid such attention to her wishes since her father died fifteen long years ago, more than half of her lifetime.