China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

coming. That was good. And then there was Read. He’d sent an invitation for Read to Tully Odstock, asking him to give it to the American.

In mid-September, back in Calcutta, he got a letter from Tully telling him that Read’s invitation could not be delivered.

Our friend Read has gone on his travels again. I believe he plans in due course to return to America. But his departure was a little strange in one respect. I don’t know if you knew—I certainly did not—but before leaving, he told me that he’d received word in early May that his wife had died in America, leaving him a widower, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, a free man.

He has taken another wife. I’m not sure where he married. Not on Macao, certainly. But it seems he has married Mrs. Willems’s niece, the girl called Marissa. Wherever he and his wife may be now, therefore, Read will not be at your wedding. But I look forward to it.

So it seemed he’d been right to wonder about Read and the girl. But he had to admit that as he was going to be living with Agnes Lomond as his wife in the small community of Macao, it was probably just as well that, even if Marissa were ever to return there, she’d be safely married to Read.

—

On a sunny day in October Trader was walking along the Esplanade. It was only a week to go before he was to be married, and he was in love, and it seemed to him that God was in His Heaven and all was right with the world. He passed the mighty portals of the Bengal Military Club, and even that stern building seemed to look on him with a friendly gaze.

The day before, Agnes had told him about a children’s charity that she and her mother favored, and he was thinking about the contribution he would make, in his name and Agnes’s, as a surprise wedding present to her. Something strikingly generous. God knows, he could afford it. And he was so busy with this thought that he did not notice the person coming towards him, who was equally busy with his own thoughts, so that neither of them observed the other until it was too late.

Cecil Whiteparish hesitated, thought rapidly, and then rightly concluded that there was only one decent and Christian thing to do. “Good morning, Cousin John,” he said politely. Friendly but cautious.

“Morning.” Trader did his best to smile. “What brings you to Calcutta?”

“I’m spending a month with the London Missionary Society. They have an office here, you know.”

“Ah. Then back to Macao?” He’d realized that at some point, once he and Agnes were living in Macao, she’d become aware of Cecil Whiteparish’s existence, but he’d thought he could deal with that when the need arose. Was there any chance, he wondered, that this visit to Calcutta might mean Whiteparish was being sent somewhere else?

“Yes, back to Macao. At least for a while.”

“Ah.”

“I hear that I should congratulate you on your forthcoming marriage.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Trader paused, then said nothing more.

Cecil Whiteparish watched him. His expression seemed quite without rancor, perhaps a little amused. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t looking for an invitation. Not my sort of party, you know.” He smiled. “I wish you every joy in your marriage.” He was quite sincere. Trader could see that. “Goodbye,” said his cousin, and went on his way.

—

Early that afternoon, he sat with Mrs. Lomond in her private sitting room. “I’m in a bit of a fix,” he confessed, “and I don’t know what to do.”

“And you’ve come to me?” Mrs. Lomond smiled. “I’m so pleased. We’re family now, you know. Families rally round. Tell me everything.”

So he told her, quite simply and straightforwardly, how Cecil Whiteparish had appeared in his life. “The only time I’d even seen his family’s name was in the note my guardian left me, and I’d actually forgotten it.”

“Did you hate him?”

“No. But we’ve nothing in common, and I certainly didn’t want him as a friend.”

“Not one of us?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Would you feel embarrassed if he was at the wedding?”

“As the only blood relation I can produce?” He paused. “I’m afraid your husband wouldn’t be too pleased.”

“Funnily enough, you’re wrong. He’d roar that the man was a kinsman and that blood is thicker than water. He can get very tribal, you know.” She smiled. “But I have the feeling that your conscience is telling you you ought to invite him. Am I right?”

“It’s mean-spirited of me. I may as well admit it.”

“You judge yourself a bit severely. By the way, you haven’t told me this young man’s profession. Does he have one?”

“He’s a missionary,” said Trader.

“A missionary?” She threw back her head and laughed. “My dear John, your troubles are over. You should certainly invite him.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Firstly, nobody wants to appear discourteous to a missionary. It’s very bad form. The fact you’ve got one in the family is all to your credit. Secondly, people expect missionaries to be a bit peculiar, you know. I remember one of old Lord Drumossie’s sons became a missionary. He was certainly peculiar, not a bit like the rest of the family.” She nodded to herself. “This is good news, not bad at all.”

“He doesn’t approve of the China trade. I just hope he doesn’t start in on that.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s kept on a tight rein.”

“Really? How?”

“My friend the vicar. I’ll ask him to keep a weather eye. He’s very wise.” Her face suddenly lit up. “My dear, I’ve just remembered, he’s got a young curate. We’ll invite him, too. He will be given strict instructions that he is to look after the missionary and never leave his side. We shall all make them welcome. And even if he did tell some of the guests that he didn’t approve of the China trade, they’d hardly be surprised. Everyone will be happy,” she concluded blithely.

“Except possibly the