Spending so much time with the Fan-qui traders had allowed her to keep her English language and nature alive, yet her life was narrow and had few rewards beyond security. Did she want to stay Chenqua's s.e.xless spy forever? As a child she had thought in English and considered herself more Scottish than Chinese. Though she'd spent more than half of her life in Canton and now thought in Chinese, her Scottish nature endured. It might not be too late to seek a place in her father's land.

Starting over in a strange country without friends or money would not be easy. Even finding the fare would be difficult, though she would probably have enough if she sold all of her possessions. Could she bear to sell her mother's jewelry and the beautiful robe Maxwell had just given her? The thought was wrenching.

Even if she could book a place on a Fan-qui ship, leaving Canton would be difficult. Chenqua would not willingly allow her to go as long as she was useful to him.

Might one of the Fan-qui traders help her, perhaps hire her to do translation in Britain? She frowned. Possibly one of the East India Company men might find work for Jin Kang, but she doubted they would be pleased to know she had deceived them all these years. Yet she could not bear the thought of continuing as Jin Kang when much of her reason for going to Britain was so she could live as a woman.

She sighed as she thought of all the problems that would have to be overcome if she traveled to her father's land. Perhaps the freedom to live as she wished was within her grasp. But did she have the courage and wisdom to reach for it?

She feared she did not.

Chapter 10.

England December 1832 Exhausted from tears and troubled sleep, Troth was dozing when a tap on the door heralded a maid with a breakfast tray. The pearly light in the bedroom indicated that it was another dreary, overcast morning.

The maid crossed to the bed, her expression uncertain. "Lady likee-likee tea?"

Where had the girl learned such an absurd parody of pidgin? Troth said rather dryly, "Tea would be very nice, thank you."

The maid flushed scarlet. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I'd heard you were a foreigner."

"True, but some foreigners do speak English." Not wanting to embarra.s.s the girl further, she asked, "Your name is... ?"

"Sally, ma'am." She set the bed tray over Troth's lap, trying to conceal her fascinated gaze. Troth had received many such glances-and blatant stares, too-on the voyage and after her arrival in Britain. Had there ever been a Chinese visitor to Shropshire? Even in London, she had been an oddity.

"Would you like anything else, Lady Maxwell?"

"No, thank you, Sally. This should suffice."

The maid bowed and left Troth with a breakfast tray that included bacon, eggs, and sausage, plus warm bread, b.u.t.ter, and marmalade. She'd become accustomed to such British breakfasts, though a meal still seemed incomplete without rice. Hungry, she ate everything and emptied the teapot, which contained quite a nice Young Hyson variety.

Ready to face the day, she rose from the bed and found that the dress she'd worn the day before had been brushed and laid out on a chair. The rest of her paltry possessions were folded in the clothespress. Warfield Park took good care of its guests.

After dressing, she emerged from her room to find Lady Grahame curled up in a chair opposite the door, reading a book. This morning the countess wore a simple green gown, and her silver-blond hair was braided into a loose queue. She was as stunning as she'd been the night before in formal dress. Though about Troth's age, she had the kind of self-possession found only in older women in China.

Lady Grahame looked up from her book when Troth stepped into the hall. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Reasonably so. Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Grahame."

"I am Meriel." The countess uncoiled from the chair, leaving the book behind. "Would you like to come with me to the orangery? It's a peaceful place."

Grateful for the friendly overture, Troth said, "Peace is always welcome."

Together they descended the stairs to the hall where she had entered the evening before. Kyle had said his sister-in-law was as pet.i.te as a Cantonese woman, and he was right. "Your husband-how is he?"

Meriel sighed. "A part of him has died. Kyle had promised to come home one day, and I think Dominic always believed that would happen despite the risks of travel."

"I wish there were something I could have done," Troth said wretchedly.

"My husband told me your story, and it's obvious that you were lucky to escape with your own life. By your coming here, at least we know what happened." Meriel swallowed. "That's... better than waiting and hoping forever."

"Did you know Kyle well? "

"We met only a few times, but through his letters to Dominic, he became my brother as well."

Meriel fell silent, leading the way through the house until she opened a door into wonderland. Troth gasped when she stepped into the large gla.s.s-walled orangery, feeling as if she were back in Canton. The air was tropically warm and scented from the flourishing citrus trees. There were shrubs and flowers, too, and winding brick paths and benches. Most magical of all, snow was falling outside the windows, coating the world outside in lacy white.

"This is my favorite retreat in winter," Meriel said. "A place to dream and wait for spring."

"How beautiful." Troth crossed the orangery to a paned-gla.s.s wall so she could stare out at the drifting flakes.

"Have you ever seen snow before?"

Troth shook her head. "Never. I had no idea it was so lovely." She turned to her hostess. "When I told Kyle that my master Chenqua's garden was the most beautiful in the world, he said yours was its equal. I see why."

Meriel smiled, pleased, as she seated herself on a wooden bench that looked out toward a parterre, whose geometric hedges made subtle patterns in the snow. "I'm glad he thought so. At this season the outside gardens are sleeping, but come spring you'll be impressed, I think."

Troth sat on the other end of the bench. "Forgive my curiosity if this is not a proper question, but I do not understand how your husband and Kyle can both be lords when they are brothers."

"The Grahame t.i.tle was in my family and would have become extinct when my uncle died," Meriel explained. "My father-in-law thought it a waste of a perfectly good t.i.tle, so he pet.i.tioned the king to have it recreated on behalf of Dominic and me."

What mother wouldn't want that for her son? Kyle had told Troth about Dominic and Meriel's children, a son and a daughter born after their uncle had left England. He'd been looking forward to meeting them for the first time...

As Troth swallowed against the tightness in her throat, a huge marmalade tomcat appeared. It gazed at her a.s.sessingly with luminous golden eyes, then suddenly leaped onto her lap. After circling several times, the beast flopped down and made itself at home. As Troth cautiously stroked the sleek fur, Meriel said, " You are now officially part of the family. Ginger likes you."

"You are too kind, Lady Grahame," Troth said helplessly. "Kyle and I knew each other only a matter of weeks, and I'm not sure the marriage would be considered valid. I came only to give your husband news. I don't deserve to be part of your family."

Meriel touched her hand, her gentleness soothing. "Tell me."

Troth took a steadying breath, then described the circ.u.mstances of her marriage. Meriel listened thoughtfully, with no trace of shock or judgment. When the account was finished, she said, "Unconventional, but real. As to whether the ceremony is legal..." She sighed. "A moot point with Kyle dead. There was no marriage settlement, of course, but your dower rights and his personal property will give you a comfortable independence, which he clearly wanted."

"I can't accept a fortune from him! He didn't love me. I was just someone he felt responsibility for."

"Did you love him?"Troth sucked in her breath. She should deny it, but she couldn't.Reading the answer in Troth's expression, Meriel said, "I'm glad that at the end he had someone who loved him. No one will challenge your rights of inheritance."

Troth pressed a hand over her eyes, on the verge of tears. She'd be a fool not to welcome financial security, but the acceptance of Kyle's family meant even more. She had not felt this sense of belonging since her father's death. "You are... so kind. How can you accept someone like me, who is so alien to your world?"

"For many years, I was an alien in my own home. It is love that binds us to the world, and you loved Kyle," Meriel said softly. "Our home is your home for as long as you want to stay."

The tears came again, and with them the beginning of healing.

Chapter 11.

Canton, China Spring 1832 "More wine, Lord Maxwell?" Chenqua leaned toward his guest attentively.

"Yes, please. Your wines are very fine." Kyle took a small sip after a servant replenished his gla.s.s. Gavin, another of the guests, had warned him to expect at least thirty courses spread over five or six hours, so moderation was essential.

Kyle had welcomed this banquet at Chenqua's palace, since he was unlikely to see the inside of any other Chinese residence. The merchant's home was a sprawling, magnificently airy structure of curved roofs, courtyards, and marble floors. The meal was equally magnificent. Musicians played from a gallery while French, English, and Chinese dishes were offered, each course served on a different set of exquisite porcelain dinnerware. Yet by Cohong standards, Chenqua was considered rather austere.

Curious as always, Kyle selected from the Chinese dishes. The textures and flavors were sometimes odd, but interesting and often delicious.

Noticing that his guest had requested chopsticks, Chenqua said, "You are interested in our ways, my lord?"

"Very much so. Your culture is the most ancient on earth. A barbarian cannot hope to truly understand the depths of Chinese society, but I must make the attempt."

Chenqua nodded at such a proper sentiment. "Better understanding between our nations will benefit us all."

Deciding the time would never be better, Kyle said, "Would it be possible for me to see more of your country? Perhaps accompanied by guards to ensure that I will cause no trouble, or traveling with the Jesuits who already know your ways?"

Chenqua's eyes darkened. "That would be... difficult. Very difficult."

Kyle had learned that Chinese hated to give a direct refusal, so the merchant's "very difficult" was equivalent to an Englishman saying, "Not b.l.o.o.d.y likely!" To avoid embarra.s.sing his host, he said, "Perhaps at some future date, when our nations have developed stronger bonds, such travel might be possible."

"Yes," Chenqua said, relieved. "Some future date." He turned his attention to William Boynton, taipan of the East India Company, who sat on his other side.

Kyle had hoped to see Troth, but there was no sign of her. He wondered if she lurked behind the carved screens that const.i.tuted one wall of the dining area. He'd heard occasional feminine giggles from that direction and guessed that the ladies of the household were watching their lord's guests. Of course, Troth was not considered a lady.

There was a pause after the fifteenth course while a stage was erected for the performance of a play. As dishes were cleared away, Kyle asked Chenqua, "Is it permitted to stroll in the garden for a few minutes? I should like to see more of it."

"Please do. A garden refreshes the soul as surely as a banquet refreshes the body."

Grateful for the chance to stretch his legs, Kyle went outside, though actually the dining area was so open that the difference between indoors and out was somewhat arbitrary. When he and the other Fan-qui had arrived, Chenqua had personally guided them through a portion of the stunning gardens. Several acres had been shaped into hills and grottos, with water from the Pearl River channeled in to form a web of streams and lily ponds. There wasn't a straight path anywhere.

After exploring the farthest reaches of the gardens, Kyle was returning to the house when he looked across a pond and saw two figures enter an octagonal pavilion built over the water. Sure the taller one was Troth, he circled the pond and went after her.

He'd almost reached the pavilion when a small, brightly garbed female flitted out of the structure, swaying gracefully on impossibly small feet. Just before vanishing behind a decorative boulder, the young woman glanced back, masking her lower face with a handkerchief. She giggled, black eyes mischievous, then disappeared.

Startled by his first sight of a highborn Chinese lady, he was gazing after her when a voice said, "Ling-Ling is very lovely, is she not? She is Chenqua's Fourth Lady."

He turned to Troth, who was regarding him austerely from the doorway of the pavilion. "I hope I haven't violated some taboo by seeing her."

"No harm done. I suspect that Ling-Ling greatly enjoyed having a near-encounter with a barbarian."

"I do my best to entertain." He studied Troth's face. With her hair drawn back in a queue, the sculpted planes had a cool beauty that intrigued him far more than the highly polished young woman who had just left. He reminded himself that he had no business thinking amorous thoughts about Troth. She was not a joy girl to be casually bedded and forgotten. Their lives lay half a world apart. "You haven't been at Elliott House since our shopping expedition. Did I exhaust you?"

"I have been needed at the English Factory, my lord." Troth dropped her gaze. "Many thanks for your gifts. They were well chosen."

"I'm glad you enjoyed them." Wondering how she looked when dressed in feminine finery, he followed her into the pavilion. It was a teahouse, the walls like carved lace. A low octagonal table stood in the center, the shape echoing that of the building, and a padded bench was built around the walls. "What a lovely place. Is this a favorite spot of yours?"

She settled onto the bench. "I meditate here sometimes. This is the most beautiful garden in the world, I think."

He took a seat himself, deliberately choosing the opposite side of the teahouse. "My sister-in-law's garden is its equal. The styles are very different, but it would be impossible to say that one is superior to the other."

"I've never seen a real English garden."

He studied the line of her throat, elegantly defined by the dim light. "The gardens at Warfield Park, where my brother and his wife live, were begun six or seven centuries ago, and each generation since has added and refined."

"Really? I think of England as a new country compared to China."

"There is nothing as old as the Temple of Hoshan," he said experimentally.

"They say the Buddha himself built Hoshan. That's just a legend, of course, for he was of India, not China, but the temple is surely very ancient."

"Have you been there?"

"My master, Chenqua, has. In his study hangs a scroll with pictures of the temple."

Since Kyle's inquiries about official travel into China had been futile, perhaps it was time to see if he could arrange an unofficial journey. "I've dreamed of visiting Hoshan for more than half my life. Do you know of anyone who might take me there? "

"The idea is absurd. You would be stopped if you even tried to enter Canton, much less if you traveled into the countryside."

"And Fan-qui are as conspicuous as giraffes," he said impatiently. "I've heard all that-yet surely there must be a way. Perhaps traveling in a palanquin, so no one could see my ugly face?"

She stared at him. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Completely." He leaned forward. "If you gather information for the Cohong, you must know many people in low places as well as high. Surely there are men who would be willing to help me if the price is right."

She rose and began pacing around the pavilion, back and forth like a tense tiger. "It would be very dangerous. In the Settlement you are protected, but in the country, anything might happen. You would be detected very quickly no matter what your disguise, for you smell like a foreign devil."

"My smell is wrong? " Kyle was taken aback.

"Fan-qui eat too much meat. And you are too tall, and your face is impossible."

"What if my face and head were bandaged, as if I've been injured?"

She said thoughtfully, "The Temple of Hoshan is known as a place of healing."

Controlling his excitement, he said, "Perhaps a few weeks of eating only Chinese food would make me smell right. What else would need to be done?"

"Why is this so important to you? Do you want to go where no Englishman has gone so you can boast to your friends? Do you wish to sneer at pagan superst.i.tions?"

"Never that," he said slowly. "The Temple of Hoshan was included in a folio of Chinese drawings that I bought not long after my mother died. It seemed like a vision of heaven-a holy place of incomparable beauty, floating in the mountains on the other side of the world. I... I imagined that my mother's spirit had gone there to rest. I knew it wasn't true, but there was comfort in the thought." Especially since he and his brother were becoming increasingly estranged at that point, and he'd badly needed comfort.

"There are safer ways to find beauty and holiness."

Wondering how to explain the intensity of his desire when even he didn't fully understand it, he said, "Haven't you ever had a dream that captured your heart and soul?"