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

satisfied. No one has ever impugned my character, sir, and I should defend my honor if they did.”

A swordsman had spoken. They both understood. It could be bluff, of course. Still, at least he talked like a man.

There remained one embarrassing issue. Lomond told himself it would be a test of Trader’s sincerity. “One day Agnes will inherit something. In the meantime…”—Lomond was obliged to confess—“her dowry will not be large.”

“Whatever it is, large or small, it will be received with gratitude,” Trader replied politely.

Colonel Lomond surveyed the battlefield and considered the campaign still before him. “I have one concern of a more general kind, however,” he continued. “Even though you have been made an equal partner and cleared your debts, the China trade remains uncertain. I’m speaking not only of the compensation for the lost opium, but of the continuance of the whole business with China. Everything will depend on the outcome of the hostilities which are clearly coming. I should like to see that issue resolved before any marriage. Even if all else is in your favor, therefore, you may have to accept a long engagement.”

A play for time. How would the enemy react?

“For Agnes, sir, I will wait as long as I have to.” It was said with surprising fervor.

The colonel gazed at him. Either the fellow was a devil of an actor or he was actually in love. He hadn’t thought of that.

—

When they emerged, under strict instructions that he was not to reveal his intentions yet, Trader was allowed to rejoin the ladies while the colonel signaled to Charlie that he wanted to talk to him. The moment they were alone in the library, Lomond turned on him. “Your friend wants to marry my daughter. Did you know?”

“He hasn’t said so in so many words, sir, not even on our way up here, but I did suspect it. When he said he wanted to see you alone…”

“I’m glad he saved your life and all that, but I don’t like him.”

“I know, sir. So does he.”

For a long moment Colonel Lomond was silent. “If only it was you,” he said at last.

“I should think you wanted something better than me, sir,” Charlie replied amiably.

“Oh, you’re all right,” said Lomond affectionately. “I just wish to God,” he cried plaintively, “that I could have a son-in-law that I actually liked.”

“He’s a strange fellow,” Charlie answered, “but even if you don’t like him, you might come to admire him. I think he’s going to succeed, far beyond what I could ever do.”

“I don’t like the opium trade.”

“Her Majesty’s Government is quite determined it shall continue, sir. We’re about to fight for it.” Charlie paused. “The thing about the opium trade is the amount of money to be made. If I may say so, it’s no secret that Agnes likes Scotland. The big opium men are already buying up Scottish land. In ten years’ time, I can see Trader setting himself up on a substantial Scottish estate.”

“I know all that,” said Lomond quietly.

“Might I ask what Agnes feels for my friend?” Charlie ventured.

“Don’t know yet.” Lomond gazed at him earnestly. “Is there anything else that I ought, as her father, to know about this man?”

Charlie considered carefully. “No,” he said finally. “Nothing important.”

—

They all had a walk together—except Colonel Lomond, who’d retired to his lair. Mrs. Lomond pointed out the many delights of the view. Trader could name some of the mountains in the distance. How the devil did he know that?

When they returned, the servants had set out a table on the lawn, prepared for afternoon tea, under a large parasol.

Mrs. Lomond sent word to her husband that tea was ready, but the servant came back with a message that the colonel would join them later.

Over tea, they talked of this and that until Mrs. Lomond turned to Trader and in the kindest way inquired, “I know that you were orphaned at an early age and that you had a guardian. So what was your childhood like?”

John Trader allowed himself to lean back a little in his chair and, as though recalling pleasant days, smiled easily. “I suppose the loss came so early in my life that I felt it less than I might otherwise have done. It’s not very interesting, I’m afraid, but I was fortunate enough to have a very calm and happy childhood.” And he said a few words about his kindly guardian, his happy schools, and that sort of thing, while Charlie Farley watched in silence.

◦

John Trader was seven years old when he was sent away to boarding school. Nobody knew he was a murderer. Except his uncle Adalbert, of course.

It was a nice enough school for small boys, in the country. He’d been there only a month, however, when he got into a fight.

There was nothing wrong with that: Boys were expected to fight now and then. One of the older fellows had shoved him because he was a new boy, but he’d banged his head against a tree, and it hurt. Fighting back against the bigger boy might have gone against the pecking order, but it showed pluck—anyone would have said so.

When little John Trader squared off against the older boy, he hardly noticed the pain, and he wasn’t afraid. He knew only a deep, black rage. And it must have been impressive, for when the other boy saw it in the little fellow’s eyes, he was so taken aback that he almost fled, except that he would have lost too much face.

And so they fought and John was knocked down—not once, but many times. Each time he got up to rush at the older boy again. And who knows how long this might have gone on if the headmaster had not suddenly appeared, seized John by the ear, and hauled him to his study.

There was a thin dark cane on the headmaster’s desk with a curled handle. When John saw the cane, he trembled a little, because he had