China by Edward Rutherfurd (latest novels to read TXT) 📗

heard of young Mr. Gladstone? A man of increasing importance. I have it on good authority that he is going to oppose you and your foul trade in Parliament, and that he will carry many members with him.”

Trader gazed at his kinsman. This was the trouble with being unworldly, he thought. Imperfect information. “You consider Mr. Gladstone a moral gentleman?” he asked.

“I do.”

“He occupies the position he does in public life, which allows him to make his moralistic speeches, because his father made a great fortune. Do you know what this family fortune comes from?”

“I do not.”

“The slave trade. His father made his fortune trading slaves. It’s illegal now, of course. And it’s only a few years since young Mr. Gladstone defended the slave trade in Parliament and won a huge monetary compensation for his father when that trade was finally abolished. So I really don’t want to hear Gladstone preaching morals to me.”

He watched. Whiteparish sagged, the wind quite taken out of his sails. “What you do is still evil,” he muttered.

It was just then that Trader noticed something. A fleeting expression on the face of Shi-Rong’s companion. What was it: a flash of amusement, a trace of irony? A second later, the face was impassive again. But did it mean that the fellow had understood what they were saying after all?

He couldn’t take a chance. For the common good, his tiresome cousin must be sacrificed. “And now let me tell you something, Whiteparish,” he said fiercely. “You have already acquired a reputation here on Macao. Your misdeeds in the past—I will not embarrass you by naming them—dishonesty, unnatural vices, they are known to the whole British community. And realizing that your past has been uncovered, you seek to revenge yourself upon us all by spreading infamous lies. Yes, sir, your true character is known. You are an unmitigated liar, sir. A liar. And we all know it.” Whiteparish had started by looking stupefied. Now his face was going red with anger. “Well may you blush, sir,” cried Trader. “Well may you blush.”

“I have never, in my life…” Whiteparish stuttered.

“You are confounded. You are exposed as the villain you are. You have invented this illicit opium dealing just to take revenge upon your betters. I may even report you to Elliot. I shall sue you for slander, and so will anyone else whose reputation you attempt to sully with your lies.”

He turned upon his heel and began to walk away. As he hoped, Whiteparish stuck at his side, protesting and expostulating all the way. He kept him at it until they were halfway down the hill and safely away from the commissioner’s secretary. He hoped his ruse had worked.

And he was far out of hearing when Shi-Rong turned to his interpreter and demanded: “Tell me everything they said.”

◦

“Perhaps it’ll be a boy,” Second Son reminded Mei-Ling. But she shook her head. “I’m so afraid it’ll be a girl,” she said. How many times had they had this conversation? At least a hundred.

Nobody in the village thought Mother had smothered Willow’s baby anymore. Willow never said so. Second Son never imagined such a thing in the first place. Mei-Ling didn’t think so, either, and didn’t want to. Indeed, Mother had shown her nothing but kindness all through her pregnancy.

Of course, Mei-Ling knew she wouldn’t be so popular if she gave birth to a girl. She wouldn’t blame Mother for that. It was just the way things were. She could imagine what people in the village would say if, after the eldest son had twice failed to produce a male heir, Second Son had a girl, too. They’d say the Lung family was unlucky. Mr. Lung might have money, but the family would surely lose face.

If only Willow’s second baby had been a boy. Mei-Ling wished it had been—not only for poor Willow’s sake, but because that would have put Mother in such a good mood she mightn’t care so much whether Second Son’s child was a boy or not.

Meanwhile, her mother-in-law was being nicer to her than ever. Sometimes, while Willow was working about the house, the older woman would sit and talk to Mei-Ling, telling her things about the family in the old days, just as if she were the daughter-in-law she’d always wanted.

“You’re the favored daughter now,” Willow said to her sadly. “The one who’s going to have the baby boy.”

“And if I don’t?” asked Mei-Ling.

Willow said nothing.

—

It was a month before the baby was due that the nightmare returned. It came in the small hours of the morning. It was the same as before. She’d had the baby. It was a girl. Mother had scooped the baby up in her arms and left the room. And then suddenly Mei-Ling was in the courtyard, looking for the baby, going from room to room. The baby had vanished.

She woke with a start. She knew it had been a nightmare, yet she couldn’t get free of it. She was shaking, panting…She took some deep breaths, made herself calm down, told herself not to be foolish.

Then she turned to look at her husband. She could see Second Son’s face by the faint light of the lantern that they kept in their room in case she needed to get up in the night. He was smiling in his sleep. Was her sweet-natured husband dreaming a happy dream, or was it just the natural smile of his kindly face in repose? She wanted to wake him, to tell him her dream and feel his comforting arms around her. But he’d been so tired after his long day’s work, she couldn’t bring herself to disturb his rest.

So she bided her time as best she could and told him in the morning. And again he assured her that no such thing would happen, and that he would be there to defend the baby in any case.

A week later the dream recurred, and again he comforted her.

But when, some days later, the nightmare afflicted