My relationship with Bok Fu Ying was complicated. When I had first met her five years before, I had been intrigued with her, but Barker told me in no uncertain terms that he did not want me to be her suitor, even before the idea had actually occurred to me. Also, I was not yet certain that I was willing to consider a bride who would forever be outside of society, beautiful though she was. The unanswered question was whether she had foreseen my interest, as women tend to do, and how she felt about it.
It is not my intent herein to discuss my relationships. It would be jarring to introduce them in the middle of an account of the first embassy of Japan and I would not do so, save that two unrelated elements suddenly became related in a way I could not have foreseen. The first element was Bok Fu Ying herself. The second was Rebecca Cowan, to whom I was affianced. I had not foreseen that these two would meet. It was never my wish, but Fate does not always take what I prefer into consideration.
It was Saturday and Barker had told me he had nothing particular for me to do, knowing this was the time I visited Rebecca every week whenever possible. At one time we had discussed the difficulties of being both a husband and a private enquiry agent, but he hadn’t discussed it lately, probably because it would sound hypocritical. He was very near an understanding with Mrs. Philippa Ashleigh, the woman whom he had followed here from China years before.
I was done with work, and out the door as soon as possible, walking toward Trafalgar Square to find a hansom cab willing to take me to the City. As I was walking I noticed a young woman coming from the other direction in a maroon dress and heavy veil. To be truthful, I didn’t give her a second thought until her elbow snagged mine and we were both arrested in our movement.
Lifting my top hat, I said, “Excuse me, miss.”
She laughed. “You know perfectly well I am no miss now, Thomas.”
“Fu Ying?”
She pulled back her veil. “Some enquiry agent you are.”
“Are you looking for Mr. Barker?” I asked.
“No, I’m not,” she said.
“I’m on my way to an appointment.”
“I know, Thomas. I’m going with you. As your elder sister. I declare the right to examine anyone interested in joining the family.”
Were we in our antagonistics school, she would have the right to call herself my elder sister. The problem was she saw that relationship as no different from the rest of the world.
“I’m perfectly capable of choosing my own bride.”
“Mrs. Ashleigh sent me. I’ve been deputized. Something must be wrong with her if you won’t bring her to meet us.”
“There is nothing wrong with her. She’s perfect.”
“I’ll decide that for myself, thank you.”
“You’re not coming with me.”
“Then you’re not going. If I start a fight I promise it will be you who is arrested. You’re well acquainted with jail cells.”
“Mrs. Ashleigh is a fine and noble woman, but she has no right—”
“Oh, she’s not the only one. Mac sent me. And Etienne, and Jeremy Jenkins, and Ho.”
“Don’t tell me Ho gives a damn if I live or die.”
“If you are preoccupied you might not be there when Sir needs you.”
“It’s not you we are hiding from. It is Mrs. Cowan’s relations. Some of them don’t approve of me.”
“What? Someone does not approve of you? Then they do not approve of me. What are their addresses? I will answer for you.”
“I’m not trying to see them beaten, I merely wish them to approve of me. Rebecca—Mrs. Cowan’s late husband was a Jewish politician famed throughout the East End. Beside him, I don’t amount to much.”
“You are young, Thomas. We all expect great things from you.”
“Anyway, you aren’t expected.”
“Fine. I’ll wait in the drawing room until you leave. I would rather speak to her alone, anyway.”
“Really, you can’t do that!”
“I can. Do I have to summon a policeman?”
“No, don’t bother.”
“What’s the matter?”
“You look stunning. It would be better if you had chin whiskers or baggy eyes.”
She smiled. Every girl likes to hear a genuine compliment, even if it is not intended.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you. Now, will you summon a cab, or do you intend for us to walk?”
Soon we were in a cab heading from Whitehall on the way to the City. My fiancée lived in Chamomile Street, hard by the synagogue.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said.
“So, tell me,” Fu Ying went on, ignoring the remark. “Does your family know? Have you informed your mother?”
“Not yet. We’re estranged. I was going to tell her.”
“When? Afterward?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Thomas, you cannot keep your life divided into so many compartments, like an express train.”
“I prefer it that way. It’s simpler.”
We arrived in Chamomile Street and were shown into Rebecca’s house by the maid, who was slightly disturbed that there were two guests when one was expected. There was a small flutter of activity before Rebecca came downstairs to see what the fuss was all about. She raised a brow slightly when she saw that I was not alone, but her manners are impeccable.
“Mrs. Cowan,” I said, “allow me to present Mrs. K’ing. She is the former ward of my employer. Mrs. K’ing, Mrs. Cowan.”
Fu Ying then lifted her veil before accepting the hand Rebecca offered. I’ll say this for Rebecca: she did not hesitate or flinch or do what other hostesses in London might have done when finding an Oriental woman in their home unexpectedly. She merely smiled.
“Welcome! I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said. “Tea? I’m afraid it’s probably not up to your standards.”
I should have known better than to worry. Rebecca is a master at putting people at their ease. She led us into the drawing room and offered us a seat.
“I’m afraid I have not had the pleasure to meet Mr. Barker yet,” she said. “I’ve only seen him at a distance. He seemed very forceful.”
“He can seem that way at times,” Fu Ying replied. “But inside, he is very gentle. He purchased a house for me in Limehouse, in Three Colt Lane, and would not stop until it was full of the most beautiful furnishings. Most men would not care about such things.”
“Thomas called you Mrs. K’ing. Have you married?”
“I have. My husband is a powerful political force in the East End. He also runs an establishment called the Inn of Double Happiness.”
“Yes, I know the name well. My brother visits there often. So do many of his friends.”
I wondered if Rebecca knew that on Friday nights, the establishment rivaled the synagogue for the number of Jews in it.
“How did you meet Thomas?” Fu Ying asked.
“He came to our house as a Shabbos goy, a Gentile who lights the fires in the house during the Sabbath. We are not permitted to work then, you see. I didn’t know until later that Mr. Barker had sent him to investigate my father. I just knew within about two minutes I wanted to marry him.”
Fu Ying looked up from the dainty cup in her hand. “Yet you married someone else.”
“Yes.”
Both were too formal to ask why, but it was implied. I was watching some sort of subtle jousting.
“My parents did not approve of Thomas, you see, and anyway, he did not ask.”
Both pairs of eyes turned to me. I was suddenly under the microscope.
“I understood that her mother refused to allow me to see her and forbade the marriage,” I said in my own defense. “Also, Barker told me that enquiry agents do not necessarily make good husbands, our work being what it is.”
“Did you not care for her that you didn’t pursue her?” Fu Ying asked with a tone of disapproval.
“I did!” I said. “Very much. But I didn’t know how she felt.”
The two women smiled at each other.
“Mrs. Cowan, I apologize for the thickheadedness of my brother.”
“Call me Rebecca, please.”
“Fu Ying.”
They had finally come to an understanding. They were united against me.
“Why do you think,” Fu Ying asked, “that men cannot see the subtleties of life when they happen right in front of them?”
“I’ve wondered that, myself,” Rebecca answered. “My late husband was no better than most in that regard. I believe my father had to speak to him before he asked for my hand.”
“I live in Limehouse, in a most respectable residence, not far from here. Perhaps you might consider visiting sometime.”
“Dear girl, I should love that.”
The maid arrived with a cart. I noticed in deference to Fu Ying, we both took our tea black.
“So, how came you to be Mr. Barker’s ward?”
“I was a present to Sir from the Empress Dowager of China. He solved a mystery for her and in return she gave him an imperial dog. Every palace dog must have someone assigned to look after him, so I was chosen out of one of the orphanages in Peking.”
“Did you lose your parents?” Rebecca asked.
“They abandoned me on a mountaintop. I was a girl, you see, and they could not afford to feed me.”
“So you were some kind of servant.”
“A slave, madame. I am owned by Mr. Barker’s dog, according to my papers.”
For once, Rebecca lost her composure. “Surely Mr. Barker has given you your freedom.”
“Alas, Xixi still rules, and her word is law. But as Sir says, she is half a world away. How is she to know? I visit the dog, Bodhiddharma, every other day or so. The rest of my time I spend helping my husband.”
“He’s very prominent among the merchants of Poplar,” I said, still trying to dig myself out of a hole.
Fu Ying picked up a morsel of shortbread and ate it daintily. Then she changed tactics.
“Actually, madame, I am here on the behalf of several friends of Thomas. He has been keeping you to himself and we wanted to be certain he is making a wise choice.”
“Oh, ho,” Rebecca said, not batting an eye. “Is that how it is?”
“In particular, I am an emissary for Mrs. Ashleigh, a close friend of Mr. Barker’s. She hopes to meet you soon, either here or at her estate in Sussex. I have stayed with her often and it is a lovely home, not far from the ocean.”
“I would love to meet her,” Rebecca said. “Please tell her to forgive Thomas for not introducing me sooner, and I hope to become better acquainted with her.”
I was looking down at the carpet, trying to work out how to get myself out of this social blunder, when something caught my eye.
“I say—” I began.
“She understands,” Fu Ying said. “What can one do?”
“I think … I believe that your bag just moved,” I said.
Fu Ying was carrying a brown leather bag with her, like a small Gladstone. She now picked it up and opened it. There was a small puffball in it, pure white with bright black eyes like marbles.
“This is Butterfly. She is a descendent of Harm. She goes with me wherever I go.”
“What a beauty!” Rebecca exclaimed. “May I hold her?”
She lifted the little dog to her face, and when their eyes were at a level, the dog licked her nose with the smallest tongue I’ve ever seen. She hugged the dog and set her in her lap.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist,” she said. “You may continue the cross-examination. I am being examined, am I not?”
“You like Thomas. You like dogs. What else is there?”
“I do like Thomas. He is important to me.”
“You realize he is necessary to Sir’s work. If you were to convince Thomas to find different work, it might mean death to Mr. Barker.”
“Is that it?” Rebecca asked. “You fear I might make Thomas quit? I met him because Mr. Barker sent him to our home. One might almost say he introduced us. I would support Thomas in whatever he does.”
I turned to Rebecca.
“I suspect Mrs. Ashleigh is concerned about the safety of Mr. Barker. She would like to get him to the altar someday.”
“One certainly cannot blame a girl for that.”
Butterfly yipped. She had not been adored in nearly a minute. Both women converged upon her and cooed. I made a face, the result of which was the dog being placed in my lap.
“Hello,” I said.
The dog looked up at me. She was a white ball, more head than body, with two black eyes separated by a black nose. She yipped at me again. I picked her up, and she nuzzled against my neck. For some reason the women found this satisfactory. I could barely believe that this puffball had come from the loins of a seasoned warrior like Harm. He was small, but he was mighty.
Rebecca poured some more tea for us all.
“Mrs. Ashleigh said if he has any bad habits which trouble you, you are to let her know.”
“Here now!” I said, as the pup’s fur tickled my neck.
“You needn’t worry on that score,” Rebecca said. “I have experience getting husbands to heel. Tell her if he starts pinching constables’ helmets she will be the first to know.”
“Husbands can be difficult,” Fu Ying said. She had been teasing, but had gone serious for a moment.
“They can be,” Rebecca said. “But you mustn’t knuckle under to them. You must be fearless.”
“And you know,” I said, “that we are your friends here. If you are ever in need of anything.”
Bok Fu Ying suddenly looked down, struggling to keep her composure. I think it surprised her most of all. Butterfly was watching her mistress.
Rebecca stood and turned to me. Then she gave me the first command of our lives.
“Thomas,” she said. “Take the dog for a walk.”
I obeyed her at once. There was a tiny leash of pink leather in the purse. Apparently there was a collar underneath all that fur. I found the ring and clasp and took the ridiculous little toy outside.
One could take a dog, a real dog, around an entire park. To this one a single street was like a mile. When I reached the second corner I stopped. Somehow I had picked up two dozen children along the way. They began cooing over Butterfly and taking turns playing with her.
After half an hour, I scooped up Butterfly amid the children’s protests, and carried her back on my shoulder. She was asleep and snuffling within half a minute. Perhaps she wasn’t so bad, I thought. She was from Harm’s brood after all.
I stepped back inside. Fu Ying was actually laughing, though her face was a trifle red.
“Thomas, you must see Fu Ying home.”
They both stood and Rebecca took her hands. Both wore the most delicate of gloves. Rebecca’s were a sort of black lace, while Fu Ying’s were gray kid leather. She could break boards with those little hands.
“I’m so glad you came,” Rebecca said. “Have you a telephone set?”
“I do. Sir might need me.”
“I’ll give you my exchange number, then. We must have lunch soon.”
“I would like that. But I must look a fright. May I powder my nose?”
“My room is at the top of the stairs on the right.”
Bok Fu Ying bowed and climbed the stair. Meanwhile, Rebecca turned and looked at me. There was an adorable dimple by one side of her mouth. Back then, I hadn’t worked out that two dimples are safe, but one is dangerous.
“Very pretty, Miss Bok Fu Ying,” she said. “It’s a wonder you didn’t marry her yourself.”
“Think, Thomas, think,” I said to myself. I was skating on thin ice.
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “She’s my elder sister.”
“Of course,” she said. Her dimple broadened into two. “You haven’t worked it out, have you?”
“Worked what out?”
“Mrs. Ashleigh didn’t send Fu Ying here. Mr. Barker did.”