THIRTY-ONE

You didn’t bring your children today, Mrs. Chapman?” Miss Howe sat across from me at one of the large round tables in the King Yen Lo restaurant, where we had gathered for a party to wish her, Mary, and Ida a bon voyage. They were about to head back to the West Coast, where they would board the boat that would finally take them home to China. “Your son looked so happy at the fireworks last week,” she added innocently. The huge fireworks display that ended that terrifying night had been enough to fill the minds of Jack and Delia, even after their kidnapping. I had been so much in shock I barely noticed the explosions in the skies. For the remainder of the night, I couldn’t take my eyes off my son as he lay in my husband’s arms.

“The children are safely at home with Delia,” I explained. I shivered at the thought of Jack being present today. I knew he would try to crawl across the table just to prove he could do it, and I was sure Lizzie would only have shrieked her displeasure at being taken away from home. No, it was a good thing to leave them at home with Delia. And they were not alone there. Somehow, the experience had convinced Stephen (in a way that I never could) that he needed to spend more time with his children. Since the night of the banquet, not only had he returned to Dr. Jamieson’s laboratory, where they were preparing for the fall quarter, but he also made a point to return home at least once a day to check on the children and Delia. I was amazed at how much that had satisfied me. “And my husband is busy preparing for fall classes, otherwise he would have come.” I remembered my fears that Stephen’s affection for me and the children had somehow diminished and felt how very, very foolish I’d been.

“Dr. Chapman is a brave man,” Fitz announced. He joined our party, followed by Wong Chin Foo and Hip Lung. The women had visited Hip Lung’s wife and her sister-in-law earlier in the day, to thank them for their help and to part from them. Mary and Ida had promised to send them delicacies from China. I thought the two young women locked away in that apartment were rather homesick for their country and I promised to visit them in the future.

“Mr. Fitzgibbons, exactly who were those men at the banquet? And why did they kill Old Lo and try to blame it on Mary?” Miss Howe asked.

“They were assassins sent by some in the Manchu court who thought Li was too liberal, as I understand it,” Fitz replied.

“Young Lo was not really a son of the herbalist who was poisoned,” I explained. “He was a ‘paper son.’ He was an assassin who needed to get into the United States. But he couldn’t buy his way in through the normal channels because the people who controlled them, like Hip Lung, wouldn’t approve of the plot to assassinate Li. Young Lo found out that some of the old herbalist’s relatives were about to come to the United States under the current rules. He must have paid one of them off, in order to take their place. Since Old Lo had not seen that particular relative in many years he was not suspicious when Young Lo arrived. Mary and Ida told me that Old Lo had sponsored a number of men in the past few years. But it was only relatives or people from his village. It was not a business for him, right?” I looked at Hip Lung.

“That’s correct,” he said. “Once Young Lo got here, he sent for the other three men. They also claimed to be related and they had papers. But Old Lo got suspicious about so many ‘relatives’ arriving who he didn’t recognize.”

“He would have known that you would not approve of this, as usually men who come over needed to make arrangements through your family, isn’t that the case?” I asked.

Hip Lung ignored my question and applied his chopsticks to a steaming plate of meat and vegetables that had been placed before him. As the rest of our plates were delivered, Fitz answered for him. “It’s the case that most new arrivals work out an arrangement with the Moys to find employment and get started. They get all kinds of help with the authorities, loans to tide them over, help finding work. Hip Lung and his brothers have helped many a man get a start here.” For which I had no doubt there was a fee, but it didn’t seem worth bringing that into the discussion.

“In any case,” I continued, “when Old Lo objected to the arrival of the three men who were part of the assassination plot, the man we know as Young Lo had to get rid of him. He was aware that Dr. Erickson had complained to the herbalist about the concoctions his daughter had used when his wife died, and that Old Lo had often argued with Dr. Stone, so he arranged to poison the old man and to accuse Dr. Stone of the murder. He played on my ignorance, encouraging me to believe he was the true son of Old Lo. Of course, everyone in the local community knew that was not the case, but I didn’t. It didn’t matter to Young Lo. He had no intention of trying to inherit the old man’s property. He only needed to get his co-conspirators into the country in time for Viceroy Li’s visit. They planned to assassinate the official and then disappear.”

A large bowl of rice was circulated to the Chinese in the group, who ate from small bowls and chose meat and vegetables from shared platters, while we Westerners concentrated on the individual plates placed in front of us.

“He very nearly lost his men to the immigration authorities,” Ida pointed out.

“That’s right,” I continued. “That was due to the fact that Hip Lung reported them. Anyone trying to smuggle people in—who didn’t have his approval—would meet with the same treatment. But, when the men appeared again almost immediately, we were all surprised. Detective Whitbread smelled a rat. It turns out Officer Lewis was open to bribes, so the imposter Lo bought their freedom.”

“I hear Lewis is in handcuffs himself now,” Fitz told us. Hip Lung grunted.

“But who was this man who called himself Lo’s son?” Miss Howe asked.

Wong explained. “There is a faction in the Ching court that is against Viceroy Li. They believe he is too intent on change. They are old Manchu families who want to throw all the foreigners out of China and strengthen the emperor and keep to the old ways. They are against the dowager empress and her nephew, the child emperor, who rely on Li Hung Chang’s advice. Being old Manchu families they believe they are in line to succeed the emperor and that they might be able to take over and replace him. But they are the very ones who were unable to keep the Japanese from invading. If they tried to throw out the Westerners they would fail and China would be forced to relinquish even more territory. They hired these men to be assassins and to make sure Sun Yat Sen was blamed.”

“What happened to Viceroy Li?” Miss Howe asked.

I took over the story. “When I learned that Young Lo was not really related to the old herbalist who had died, I realized that was a secret that was important enough to kill for. I went to Detective Whitbread. We suspected that an assassination attempt would be made by Lo, but he and his men had disappeared by that point and Whitbread needed to catch them in the act. Whitbread convinced the Chinese consulate that Viceroy Li was in danger and should change his travel plans. Indeed, there were so many threats against his life that he cancelled all of his plans and has returned to China.”

“But who was in the palanquin?” Miss Howe asked.

“That was just a decoy to fool the assassins into thinking the viceroy was here,” Wong explained.

“Then why was Miss Erickson attacked?” Mary asked. “Was it all about the herbs and the fact that the pretend son of Lo could not deliver the real recipe?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, after swallowing a tasty morsel from my dish. Once again I could not quite identify all the flavors, but I enjoyed it. “I believe she went to the herbalist again just to defy her father. I suspect she saw something there that she wasn’t meant to see. They had the dynamite in those suitcases that were always under their feet. Perhaps she came upon them while they had the materials out. I suspect she left quickly and was going to Hip Lung’s wife to get help. The men had to act quickly, so they followed and beat her, before she could tell anyone. They left her for dead and, if Mary hadn’t come along just when she did, and if she had not treated her so quickly and so well, Charlotte would never have lived. How is she recovering now? Is she still getting better?”

Ida responded. “She’s better every day. She still can’t speak in full sentences but I believe eventually she will be able to tell you what happened. It’s a wonder that she survived and her father agrees that, without Mary’s help, she would not have. He is so grateful he has given us a generous donation to build a hospital in China. It’s amazing.”

“He wishes to have a hospital named for his dead wife,” Mary told us. “The near death of his daughter has brought a great change in his spirit. He no longer blames his daughter, or anyone else, for the death of his wife.”

“Mrs. Appleby helped him to change,” Ida told us. “She explained to him that the herbs they used were harmless. Nothing could have cured his wife, and he has finally come to accept that. He saw that herbs helped his daughter, but Mary explained that they only provided her with a respite that allowed her body to heal itself. It was really her own body that healed her, not so much the herbs. He regrets his harsh treatment of his daughter. He even vowed to honor his dead wife’s commitments to support the women’s hospital here…in addition to the hospital in China.”

I thought of Charlotte and her hatred for the life forced upon her by her father. With such a serious injury I doubted that she would ever have a life of dances and dinner parties. She would have to struggle to regain her powers just to lead an ordinary life. But at least she would do it with the support of her father, and under the kindly eye of Laura Appleby. Despite her awful injuries I hoped she would see some improvement in her life.

“So Viceroy Li has returned to China, Dr. Erickson and his daughter are reconciled, and we are finally free to return to Jiujiang,” Miss Howe summed up.

“That won’t be the end of it for Li,” Wong told us. “If you think there are plots laid here, there are even more in China. And it’s not a single faction involved, either. There are many.”

Fitz looked up from his plate of chop suey. “We’ve no end of factions here, now, in our country, but they’ve no need of dynamite to make their arguments. Those men had a dozen sticks of it. They were going to blow up the whole building.”

“It’s just this kind of intrigue that is tearing China apart,” Wong told him. “Between the internal feuds, and the incursions by foreign powers, China is in danger of destruction. That’s why we must have change.” He slammed a fist against the table. “We must have revolution.”

Since we were all aware of Wong Chin Foo’s support for the rebels, his announcement came as no surprise, but the ladies who were so soon to depart for China were not inclined to pursue an argument with him. Miss Howe started a separate conversation with the two missionary ladies who sat beside her and Mary excused herself, taking a rolled-up piece of paper with her. Ida stopped eating to watch her go, and Wong watched Ida.

“She goes to say goodbye to Chin,” Ida told me quietly.

“Ah, star-crossed lovers.” Wong rolled his eyes. I wondered again at how educated young women, like Mary and Ida, could bring medical advances back home with them, yet they still would have to live under the constraints of a society with traditions that could oppress people until they could barely breathe. If feelings were so strong between Mary and Chin, how could she turn away from him?

“What would you have them do?” Ida asked. She directed her question to Wong, but I felt as if she were reading my mind.

“Throw caution to the wind and marry him!” Wong told her. “Wouldn’t you? If you loved a man, couldn’t you do it? Won’t you?” To my amazement, and to any who were paying attention, he crossed his hands on his heart and spoke to Ida. “Won’t you leave behind two thousand years of oppression and bound feet to marry me? To have and to hold, to revolt and to finally bring change to traditions that cripple a people who could be great? Don’t you have the courage to do that? Will you?”

Ida did not blush. Her face was stony, as if it would crack if she tried to move it. She said nothing for some moments, which allowed the feeling of embarrassment for Wong’s half-silly, half-serious proposal to grow like a thundercloud. “You flirt and joke, but the rebellion you incite can only lead to bloodshed. People will die to follow your lead.”

“I take that as a refusal, then?” He picked up his chopsticks without blinking an eye. Really, Wong Chin Foo was close to the outer boundaries of civility. “There will be bloodshed but there will also be change,” he told her, more seriously now. “Won’t you lend your healing hands to the struggle? Isn’t it you women, above all, who we need to carry us through the struggle?”

“Mr. Wong, as women, we will need to mop up the blood that is spilled. Of that you can be sure. But to incite the violence, that is beyond my power and against my principles.”

Wong seemed to have lost his appetite. He pushed away his bowl, balancing his chopsticks across it, and sat folding and unfolding his napkin in the space before him. It made me wonder if there was some small truth of feeling at the core of his attempts to bait Ida. I applied myself to my food, since I could think of nothing more to say. Mary returned to her seat and took out another roll of paper.

She handed it to me. “Mrs. Chapman, we are so grateful to you and your husband for all of your help this summer. We wanted to leave you with a token of our thanks. This is not very expertly done, but I hope it will remind you of us.”

I rolled open the sheet, on which were written Chinese characters in black ink. A smaller, typewritten sheet fell out. Wong looked over my shoulder and murmured his approval of the calligraphy.

“It is my writing,” Mary told me. “Ida did the translation.”

Wong took it from my hands, spreading it out on the table. I took up the typewritten sheet and read it out loud.

I built my hut in a zone of human habitation

Yet near me there sounds no noise of horse or coach.

Would you know how that is possible?

A heart that is distant creates a wilderness round it.

I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,

Then gaze long at the distant summer hills.

The mountain air is fresh at the dusk of day:

The flying birds two by two return.

In these things there lies a deep meaning;

Yet when we would express it, words suddenly fail us.

“It is the same poet who wrote the other poem,” Ida told me.

“Tao Chien,” Wong added. He was staring at the calligraphy.

“‘A heart that is distant creates a wilderness round it,’” I repeated. “What a wonderful line.”

Mary seemed pleased that I liked the poem.

I noticed Fitz watching me from his place across the table. “And how is it with you and your family now, Mrs. Chapman? I hope they are all recovered from the experiences at the banquet. I’d never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to your little one. I’m so sorry for what took place.” He did look very sorry and I remembered Detective Whitbread telling Fitz and me that it was on our shoulders if anyone was hurt. In the end it was the detective who had suffered.

“Jack and Delia are doing well, and Stephen and I are in your debt for helping to save them. Detective Whitbread is the one who suffered the most, but I understand he is recovering well at the women’s hospital and his wife has told me it’s the best place he’s ever been for treatment. She should know, as he has a tendency to put himself in danger and to suffer for it.” I remembered how he had barely recovered, after throwing himself in front of the woman he would later marry, in order to save her from a bullet he took himself. There was no restraining Whitbread when he was bent on doing something or saving someone. I knew that from experience.

“And you yourself, now, I hope you are recovered,” Fitz told me. “I expect that was enough excitement for a lifetime, that was, and you must be glad now to just stay home with the young ones, to keep them safe and sound.” He looked regretful, as if he felt guilty for causing me to retreat from the danger I had found in Chinatown, in the city, and out there in the world. It made me realize that he was yet another person who knew me and expected me to want to go out and challenge the world. It seemed that I would greatly disappoint the people around me, if I chose to retreat.

“You will be surprised to hear that I will be returning to my work at the university,” I told him. “I’ll be employed as a lecturer but I’ll also be directing research into certain aspects of crime in the city.” His eyes opened wide with surprise. But then, I had surprised myself with my decision. After our experience at the banquet I found I did not want to take Jack and Lizzie and retreat from the world. Calling on Dean Talbot, I had confessed my suspicion that I was again with child but I also told her I wanted very dearly to return to my work. In fact, I could not face a future where I would be confined to my home and prevented from taking a hand in what was going on outside.

After all, what if I had not questioned the accusations against Mary Stone? Would she be on her way to a women’s prison, instead of going back to China with the money to build a hospital? And what of Viceroy Li? Would the assassination have been successful? And if it had, what would that have done to Fitz? And would Wong’s group have been blamed? Would Dr. Erickson ever have forgiven his daughter? I had not caused or resolved all those issues, but I’d had a part in the way they finally played out. I could not avoid responsibility, and I no longer wanted to.

I explained to those around the table that we would face some opposition, since there were those who thought a woman with a family had no business pursuing an academic career. I thought Ida might comment on how my dilemma compared to what she and Mary would face as women doctors in their society but, when she spoke, it was of something totally different.

“You must be strong,” she said, putting a hand over mine. She nodded towards her adopted mother, Miss Howe, who was still in conversation with her friends. “Did you know, when my mother adopted me and several other children, the missionaries took away her house. They did not approve of a single woman missionary adopting Chinese children. She was forced to find a smaller place outside the missionary compound. But she would not be cowed by them. She moved us and she continued her work while she raised us.”

I looked across at the homely woman and realized she was still quite content in her choices in life. It gave me hope. I saw Fitz looking at me with concern, though, so I felt the need to reassure him. “I’ll be working with Detective Whitbread again. I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t come to you again for help sometime, Mr. Fitzgibbons, although I believe we already owe you a great deal for helping us to get Jack and Delia back. Both you and Mr. Wong.”

The men were modest about my thanks, but I could see they were pleased. Conversation continued about the women’s plans to travel and how they would settle down in Jiujiang. Finally, when all the food was gone from the plates, they were swept away, along with the crumbs. The tea was cold and we all recognized that it was time to leave. I embraced each of the women for the last time and left with the scroll of calligraphy under my arm. It seemed to me that, while I might never see them again, they had touched me deeply and I would never forget them.

I hurried off to my home and children, and the battles I would need to help Dean Talbot wage, and I found I was more satisfied and more hopeful about the future than I had been in a long time.