Mary Putney: The China Bride

"But my life is a lie!" She lashed out at him but misjudged, giving Chenqua the opportunity to jab her upper arm. "I hate pretending to be an interpreter while secretly listening to their private words and studying their papers." Her father, as honest a Scot as had ever lived, would be appalled at her life.

"There is not another person in the world who is equally fluent in Chinese and English. Watching the Fan-qui is your duty." Chenqua tried to shove her off balance.

Fluidly she evaded his movement, grabbing his arm and adding her own momentum to his. He fell, rolling onto the soft turf. Immediately she regretted her loss of control. Chenqua was very skilled, but she was better. Usually she took care not to overcome her master in the sparring.

He recovered and was on his feet swiftly, a spark in his dark eyes. Abandoning the sticking hands, he dropped into a watchful stance, slowly circling her and waiting for an opportunity to engage. "I have fed you, housed you, given you privileges unlike those of any other female in my household. You owe me a daughter's gratitude and obedience."

Her rebellion crumbled. "Yes, Uncle."

Distress had unbalanced her energy, so it was easy for him to punish her for forgetting her place. He feinted, then struck her with one hand and one foot together in a double blow that explosively combined strength and chi . She hit the ground with bruising force. Instead of instantly leaping up, she lay gasping for a moment, allowing him the victory. "Forgive me for not thinking clearly, Uncle."

Mollified, he said, "You are only a woman. It is not to be expected that you should act with logic."

Troth Montgomery, a Scotswoman, would dispute that. But Mei-Lian only bent her head in submission.

«^»

The final approach to Canton reminded Kyle of the port of London, only twenty times as crowded and fifty times more raucous. Foreign trading ships had to be moored a dozen miles downriver at Whampoa, with cargo and crew transported the final distance on a ship's boats. The vessel carrying Kyle and Gavin Elliott sliced boldly between giant lorchas and junks with huge eyes painted on their prows to watch for demons. Gangs of rowers sent some boats flying across the water, while others were propelled by paddle wheels turned by men on treadmills. Often collision seemed inevitable, but their craft always slid away in time.

A gaily decorated flower boat glided by, primped and pretty Chinese girls hanging over the railings as they called and beckoned to the Fan-qui with unmistakable gestures. "Don't even think about going aboard a flower boat," Gavin said dryly. "They may be the most attractive brothels in the China seas, but they say that Europeans who sample the girls' wares are never seen again."

"My interest was purely intellectual." The statement was true. Though Kyle found the dark, slender women of the East very attractive, for the most part he'd been celibate during his years of travel. He had loved once, and when his desire for the touch and taste and scent of a woman overcame his better judgment, he was always reminded painfully of how inferior lust was to love.

Nonetheless, his gaze lingered on the girls until the flower boat disappeared behind a junk. It was easy to understand why many of the European traders who had homes in Macao kept Chinese concubines.

"There's the Settlement."

Kyle turned to study the narrow, bustling strip of land between the river and the city walls that was the only place in China where foreigners were allowed. A row of structures lined the riverbank, European and American flags snapping in the wind overhead. These were the hongs, huge warehouses where the foreigners stored and shipped their wares, living on the upper floors during the months of the winter trading season. "Strange to think that most of the West's tea comes through those warehouses."

"A trade that creates enough wealth to make men kings." Gavin squinted against the brilliant tropical sun. "We've a reception committee waiting at the water gate. The fellow in the embroidered silk tunic is Chenqua."

Kyle had heard of Chenqua, of course. The man was the chief merchant prince in Canton, perhaps the greatest in the world. Besides being head of the Cohong guild, he personally handled the affairs of Elliott House and several of the largest British and American trading companies. A spare man, tall for a Chinese, he had erect posture and a wispy, gray-streaked beard. His immense dignity was visible even across the water. "How did he know that we were arriving? "

"Information flows down the river swifter than water. Chenqua knows everything that involves a Fan-qui trader. In fact, he has one of his spies with him."

"Good Lord. Do the infamous Eight Regulations say that Europeans have to accept being spied on?"

"No, but I can't say that I blame Chenqua for wanting to keep an eye on us. You British lot are particularly rowdy, often breaking the regulations from sheer contrariness."

"Don't blame me for the sins of my countrymen!"

Gavin grinned. "I'll admit that you're fairly well behaved for an English lord. When you feel the urge to be outrageous, remember that Chenqua and the other merchants are the ones who will be punished for your sins. Heavy fines if they're lucky, and it's not impossible that they and their families could be arrested and tortured or strangled to pay for Fan-qui crimes."

Kyle stared at him. "You're not joking, are you? "

"I'm afraid not. This is China. They do things differently here. The Cohong merchants are probably the most honest men I've ever met, yet they can lose everything they possess because of Fan-qui shenanigans."

The information was sobering. Kyle scanned the group of men clustered on the water gate they were approaching. "Which one is the spy? "

"Jin Kang is the rather spindly youth to Chenqua's left. Technically he's an interpreter who works for the Cohong. They call them linguists, though none are very competent-it's beneath their dignity to actually study the language of barbarians, so few of them know more than the pidgin English spoken by most of the people who work regularly in the Settlement. Just enough to handle basic trade questions." Gavin's voice dropped as they came within earshot of Chenqua.

A barefoot sailor jumped nimbly from the boat and moored it by the steps that led up to the water gate. As the passengers disembarked in the walled area called the English garden, Kyle saw that Chenqua was even more impressive up close. His dark blue layered tunics were of the finest silk and decorated with embroidered bands around the wide sleeves, while ropes of beautifully carved jade beads hung around his neck.

His rank was indicated not only by the richness of his garments, but by an embroidered panel on his chest and a blue button on top of his cap. The button was the mark of a mandarin, with the color denoting the official's importance. A mandarin who offended his imperial masters risked losing his button. To a Westerner, it sounded amusing. Here, the matter was deadly serious.

Gavin bowed. "Greetings, Chenqua," he said with pleasure. "I am greatly honored that you have come to welcome us."

"You have been too long from Canton, Taipan," Chenqua said, using the term for the head of a trading house.

Gavin introduced Kyle, who added his best bow to the formalities. "It is an honor to meet you, Chenqua. I have heard much about you."

"The honor is mine, Lord Maxwell." A shrewd, black-eyed gaze ran over Kyle before the merchant turned back to Gavin. "Forgive my rude haste, but there is a matter of some seriousness. Can you come to Consoo House now? "

"Of course." Gavin glanced at Kyle. "With your permission, Chenqua, could Jin Kang escort Lord Maxwell to my hong and see him settled?"