Fanatical determination smoldered in his eyes. “Innocents shall suffer as recompense for the suffering of innocents. I shall take them hostage to my cause and bring the British Empire to its knees. For six years I have been gaining the influence of the right people and planting my allies in strategic places. The time is almost at hand.”
This was the closest I had come to learning Kuan’s intentions, and excitement reverberated through me; but still he spoke in only vague terms. In my entranced condition, I couldn’t fathom his meaning. A question surfaced from amidst the whirl of sensations that possessed my mind. “What innocents?” I whispered. “Who are your hostages?”
“Be patient, Miss Bronte. You will know soon enough,” said Kuan. His secretive smile teased me. “In fact, you will play a role of the utmost importance in my scheme. It is the role I once intended for our mutual friend Isabel White. You will take her place.”
Across my vision flashed the image of Isabel’s murder in that London alley. I heard the words from her diary as if she spoke inside my head: How could I allow myself to be used as an instrument to shake the foundations of the world? Should I refuse to comply with Kuan, I would share her fate. Should I obey him, I would share her sins. I must free myself of Him, or consign my soul to eternal damnation. A heart-pounding fright stirred in me an urgent desire to run for my life. I tried to stand, but my limbs were as heavily inert as sacks of flour.
“Why have you chosen me?” I whispered.
Kuan rose, moved behind my chair, and leaned close to me. “You, Miss Bronte, are a woman of intelligence, honor, and righteousness.” His warm breath hissed the words into my ear. “Together we will triumph over evil.”
His strange magic combined with the effects of the wine, subduing my urge to resist. It blurred my ability to distinguish between justice for Isabel White and Kuan’s other victims, and justice for Kuan’s family and China. Now Kuan caressed my cheek. To my horror, I felt my skin tingle alive under his fingers, and the heat of desire spread through me.
I thrilled to the touch that I’d longed for, said Isabel’s voice in my memory.
“Your face is as beautiful as your spirit,” Kuan whispered. “You enchant me.”
His words fed a lifetime’s hunger for such praise, even if it was false. How much I had yearned to hear it from Mr. Slade, who had never expressed such admiration for me. Kuan raised me to my feet, easing me so slowly and smoothly away from the chair that it seemed to vanish. He held me with my back pressed to him. The room faded from my perception; we were afloat in some alien place where lights flickered and eerie noises sounded through black shadows. Kuan’s lips grazed my neck; his hands moved over my breasts. No man had ever touched me thus. Intoxicated and dizzy, I moaned as pleasure overwhelmed me.
I wanted to flee in terror, but… I could only submit.
Mr. Slade had instilled in me this desire, but had not fulfilled it. Now I responded against my will to Kuan, craving from him what I couldn’t have from Mr. Slade. The animal in me was a blind, lusty creature, unable to distinguish one man from another. I hardly knew what I felt for Mr. Slade and what for Kuan.
But how could I commit such a sin as enjoying a man outside the bonds of holy matrimony? Should feminine virtue have not restrained me? Alas, I cared nothing for God nor propriety, nor anything except Him.
My mind pictured Mr. Slade holding and caressing me, as real as life. I sighed with rapture. His very presence reduced me to a state of hot, quivering need… The image of Mr. Slade and myself dissolved into a shocking, obscene picture of Kuan with Isabel White, naked and entwined. But at that moment I didn’t care that Kuan had been Isabel’s lover. I didn’t care that he wasn’t Mr. Slade. I forgot he was a murderer. All I was aware of was his power to satisfy my desire.
“Will you do my bidding, Miss Bronte?” Kuan murmured. I heard Mr. Slade’s voice echo his. “Will you help me achieve justice?”
When He said, “What would you do for me?” I answered with all my heart: “Whatever you wish.” He was my master, the source of all the meaning in my life. I was His devoted slave.
“Yes,” I whispered, not knowing whether it was Mr. Slade or Kuan to whom I was pledging my loyalty.
32
I awakened to find myself lying on my bed, fully dressed, my spectacles askew on my face. Pale daylight shone through the white curtains; gulls screeched outside. My head ached, my stomach was queasy, and there was a sour taste in my mouth. My wits stirred sluggishly to life. I sat up with a cry of dismay as I recalled how Kuan had begun to seduce me. Yet I couldn’t recall anything else, for the wine must have rendered me unconscious. Panic clutched my heart. What, in my inebriated condition, had I allowed that madman to do?
I made a hasty inspection of my clothes and person, and found no evidence that Kuan had maltreated me. It seemed that he’d conveyed me to my bed and left me to sleep. I was vastly relieved, but also shamed and horrified that last night I had succumbed to Kuan. Was it only poisoned wine that had undermined my will? With its effects worn off, could I still resist him? Or was I his creature, over whom he would always exert control? I moaned at the thought that here was another day to face. How many more must I pass in Kuan’s company before I could learn who were his intended hostages and what were his plans for them?
When fortune gives us no alternative but to go on, we somehow manage. I rose, washed, and tidied myself. This took a bit of time, as my stomach kept heaving, and dizziness spun the room around me; I frequently had to stop and lie down. Finally I tottered downstairs.
I was surprised to find Kuan, Hitchman, and T’ing-nan in the dining room: This was the first time I would have their company at a meal. Kuan and Hitchman bade me a polite good morning, to which I replied with as much composure as I could. T’ing-nan only glared at me: He was still angry that I had given him up to his father last night. I perceived the echo of a conversation that my arrival had interrupted.
“Please join us, Miss Bronte,” said Kuan.
I sat at the end of the table, opposite him. Ruth served me tea, bread, and eggs. Hitchman was eating the same meal as I, but Kuan and T’ing-nan had bowls of what appeared to be gruel with fish and strange herbs. T’ing-nan held his bowl up to his mouth and shoveled in the food with chopsticks, never once taking his hostile gaze off me.
“Did you sleep well last night?” Kuan asked me in a tone that hinted at the drama we had enacted together.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, although my face burned.
Hitchman regarded us with suspicious curiosity. I lowered my gaze to my plate, but the food turned my stomach. I sipped the strong, bitter coffee, which somewhat restored my health and courage.
“I beg permission to go into town,” I said. I must tell Mr. Slade what Kuan revealed to me last night, and here I presented my excuse: “I wish to go to church. I’ve not been since I left home.”
“You can wait awhile longer,” Hitchman said.
“No,” Kuan overruled him. “Miss Bronte must be allowed to observe her religious rites.”
“Very well,” Hitchman said, though clearly disgruntled.
I wondered whether Kuan thought the spell he’d worked upon me last night had secured me in his power and he’d come to trust me enough to let me go, or whether he wished to assert his superiority over Hitchman. Whatever the reason, I was glad to climb into the carriage. To escape Kuan’s frightening presence, if only temporarily, was a boon. As Nick drove me towards town, a storm commenced. Rain battered the carriage; lightning seared the deluged coastline and sea. Between cracks of thunder I heard hoofbeats following us. I looked out the window and saw what appeared to be a farmer riding a horse. He tipped his hat at me, and I recognized Mr. Slade, who must have been secretly watching Kuan’s house in case I should come out. Relief swam over me.