“You’re off home, out of Asia.”
“Asia is my home.” Her brow furrowed and her eyes seemed to soften. “Please leave me as I am. Nothing has changed. Two days ago we met on the street and you were kind and gentle. I’m still the same Mary.”
“You’re na the same. You call all this nothing?”
“We’re all different people at the same time. This is one me, and the other girl—the sweet, innocent virgin nothing, who makes silly conversation and adores the Church and the harpsichord and singing and needlework—is also me. I don’t know why, but that’s true. You’re Tai-Pan Struan—devil, smuggler, prince, murderer, husband, fornicator, saint and a hundred other people. Which is the real you?”
“I’ll na tell Horatio. You can just go home. I’ll give you the money.”
“I’ve money enough for my own passage, Tai-Pan. I earn many presents. I own this house and the one next door. And I’ll go when I choose in the manner I choose. Please, leave me to my own joss, Tai-Pan. I am what I am, and nothing you can do will change it. Once you could have helped me. No, that’s not honest either. No one could have helped me. I like what I am. I swear I will never change. I will be what I am: either secretly, and no one knowing except you and me—or openly. So why hurt others? Why hurt Horatio?”
Struan looked down at her. He knew that she meant what she said. “Do you know the danger you’re in?”
“Yes.”
“Say you have a child.”
“Danger adds spice to life, Tai-Pan.” She looked deeply at him, a shadow in her blue eyes. “Only one thing I regret about bringing you here. Now I can never be your woman. I would like to have been your woman.”
Struan had left her to her joss. She had a right to live as she pleased, and exposing her to the community would solve nothing. Worse, it would destroy her devoted brother.
He had used her information to immense profit. Because of Mary, The Noble House had almost a total monopoly of all opium trade for a year, and more than made back the cost of their share of the opium—twelve thousand cases—that had ransomed the Settlement. And Mary’s information about Brock had been correct and Brock had been stopped. Struan had opened a secret account for Mary in England and paid into the account a proportion of the profit. She had thanked him but had never seemed interested in the money. From time to time she gave him more information. But she would never tell him how she started her double life, or why. Great God in Heaven, he thought, I’ll never understand people . . .
And now, on the beach, he was wondering what Horatio would do when he found out. Impossible for Mary to keep her second life secret—she was sure to make a mistake.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Struan?” Horatio said.
“Nothing, lad. Just thinking.”
“Do you have a ship leaving today or tomorrow?”
“What?”
“Going to Macao,” Horatio said with a laugh. “To take Mary to Macao.”
“Oh, yes. Mary.” Struan collected himself. “Tomorrow, probably. I’ll let you know, lad.”
He shoved his way through the merchants, heading for Robb, who was standing near one of the tables, staring out to sea.
“What’s next, Mr. Struan?” Skinner called out.
“Eh?”
“We’ve the island. What’s the next move of The Noble House?”
“Build, of course. The first to build’ll be the first to profit, Mr. Skinner.” Struan nodded good-naturedly and continued his way. He wondered what the other merchants—even Robb—would say if they knew he was the owner of the
Oriental Times and that Skinner was his employee.
“Na eating, Robb?”
“Later, Dirk. There’s time enough.”
“Tea?”
“Thanks.”
Cooper wandered over to them and lifted his glass. “To ‘Struan’s Folly’?”
“If it is, Jeff,” Struan said, “you’ll all come down the sewer with us.”
“Aye,” Robb said. “And it’ll be an expensive sewer if Struan’s has anything to do with it.”
“The Noble House does do things in style! Perfect whisky, brandy, champagne. And Venetian glass.” Cooper tapped the glass with his fingernail, and the note it made was pure. “Beautiful.”
“Made in Birmingham. They’ve just discovered a new process. One factory’s already turning them out a thousand a week. Within a year there’ll be a dozen factories.” Struan paused a moment. “I’ll deliver any number you want in Boston. Ten cents American a glass.”
Cooper examined the glass more closely. “Ten thousand. Six cents.”
“Ten cents. Brock’ll charge you twelve.”
“Fifteen thousand at seven cents.”
“Done—with a guaranteed order for thirty thousand at the same price a year from today and a guarantee you’ll only import through Struan’s.”
“Done—if you’ll freight a cargo of cotton by the same ship from New Orleans to Liverpool.”
“How many tons?”
“Three hundred. Usual terms.”
“Done—if you’ll act as our agent in Canton for this season’s tea. If necessary.”
Cooper was instantly on guard. “But the war’s over. Why should you need an agent?”
“Is it a deal?”
Cooper’s mind was working like a keg of weevils. The Treaty of Cheunpi opened up Canton immediately to trade. On the morrow they were all going back to the Settlement in Canton to take up residence again. They would take over their factories—or hongs, as their business houses in the Orient were called—and stay in the Settlement as always until May when the season’s business was over. But for The Noble House to need an agent now in Canton was as foolish as saying the United States of America needed a royal family.
“Is it a deal, Jeff?”
“Yes. You’re expecting war again?”
“All life’s trouble, eh? Is that na what Wolfgang was trying to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“How soon will your new ship be ready?” Struan asked abruptly.
Cooper’s eyes narrowed. “How did you find out about that? No one knows outside our company.”
Robb laughed. “It’s our business to know, Jeff. She might be unfair competition. If she sails like Dirk thinks she’ll sail, perhaps we’ll buy her out from under you. Or build four more like her.”
“It’d be a change for the British to buy American ships,” Cooper said tensely.
“Oh, we would na buy them, Jeff,” Struan said. “We’ve already a copy of her lines. We’d build where we’ve always built. Glasgow. If I were you, I’d rake her masts a notch more and add top ta’ gallants to the main and mizzen. What’re you going to call her?”
“
Independence.”
“Then we’ll call ours
Independent Cloud. If she’s worthy.”
“We’ll sail you off the seas. We beat you twice in war, and now we’ll beat you where it really hurts. We’ll take away your trade.”
“You haven’t a hope in hell.” Struan noticed that Tillman was leaving. Abruptly his voice hardened. “An’ never when half your country’s based on slavery.”
“That’ll change in time. Englishmen started it.”