All the Tea in China Page 5

  Teapot in hand, Flora stood frozen. Uncle Toby as well, until a smile lit his face. “I cannot discount any message from the Lord, but you are prone to spontaneity, Isabella. I must wonder if your deduction has been reached in haste.”

  “I cannot believe it has been. I feel such a . . .” I drew in a deep breath. “A rightness about this.”

  Flora set the teapot on the table and fled the room, apron at her mouth.

  “Why, what is wrong with Flora?” I said.

  Uncle reached across the table to take my hand. “It is not every day that a gently bred young woman announces her intentions to give up civil life for that of a missionary. In a country halfway around the world, no less.” His expression softened. “I have my own doubts, Isabella.”

  My resolve crumbled. I thought they would be pleased. “But . . . it is a worthy calling.”

  “Indeed it is. For someone like Phineas Snowe. He is a single man with no encumbrances of family.”

  “As am I! . . . Except that I am not a man, of course.”

  “Of course. But my dear, have you forgotten Flora and me? Your sister Frederica and her family—Lewis, your nephew?”

  I doubted that, of all people in Britain, little Lewis would mind my absence. “I would miss you all, Uncle, but my religious duty must come first.”

  “God and king, Isabella?” Uncle smiled.

  I nodded. “Please, would you speak to Mr. Snowe on my behalf to ask if I might sail with his missionary group? He told Flora and me that they are to leave in two days. Surely it is not too late for me to join them.”

  “Well . . .”

  “Please, Uncle.” I tried to signal my earnestness with my expression. I would never resort to the lowly feminine trick of tears, but to my surprise, moisture welled in my eyes.

  Uncle Toby, who could spare me little and knew that I seldom asked for much, sighed. “I will ask him, Isabella. Your agreement must be that you will abide by his decision if he says no. I will warn you in advance that I believe that will indeed be his answer.”

  Joy lightened my heart. Of course he would say yes! Had he not complimented me today on my patience as I held squirming, squalling children and fed feeble elderly mouths? His answer would be yes just as surely as it was already God’s!

  3

  You may think me insane to have wanted a future with Phineas Snowe, since he was most peculiar. I marveled at my decision as well, but I can recount with all honesty that Snowe was a different man when he was about the Lord’s work. He spoke gently with the poor, offering comfort and aid.

  His assistant, Julia Whipple, also did the missionary society proud. I did not care for the dark brown clothing she wore, but I supposed it was necessary for the required physical labor of a missionary and as good a detriment to a lady’s vanity as anything. Miss Whipple spoke little but dispensed food and medicines and bandages with a shy, cheerful demeanor that greatly lifted the spirits of the destitute, I am certain. I longed to serve beside her in China.

  Besides, surely Snowe and I would not have to work in close proximity.

  Uncle sent word to him that very night, at my insistence, of course. I am happy to report that I did not resort to tears; indeed I was ashamed that they had manifested themselves earlier. I choose to believe that Uncle Toby thought them merely strong evidence of my sincere desire to serve the Lord in China.

  I knew that no answer would be forthcoming from Snowe that evening, yet I waited with keen impatience. One of Uncle’s friends, a dean from another college at Oxford, called on us after dinner. With no family of his own, Erasmus Howe often warmed himself before our fire and exchanged intellectual conversation.

  I tried in vain to work at an embroidery Flora had insisted I begin, but the threads refused to lie flat. My fingers, representatives of my inner being I am certain, trembled with eagerness for Snowe’s answer. Normally I enjoyed Mr. Howe’s visits, for he was too old to disapprove of my joining the discussion with Uncle Toby. Tonight, however, I found no pleasure in even their spirited argument about the philosophy of Jean-Jacques Rousseau.

  “The development of the sciences and arts have contributed to society’s moral corruption,” Howe said, wagging his finger.

  Uncle Toby shook his head. “Old friend, I am afraid you overlook the inherent evil of man himself. His academic and aesthetic reaches are only reflections of corruption, not the root cause.”

  “Bah!” Howe crossed his arms. He turned to me. “What say you, Isabella? Will you not side with me?”

  I set my embroidery in my lap, sighing. “I am afraid I have no worthwhile opinion tonight at all, Mr. Howe. If I were to choose sides, however, I would say that each of you possesses a modicum of truth in that your belief is so fervent.”

  “So then belief is all that is wanted for truth?” Howe twisted further toward me, settling in for further discussion.

  “Isabella, would you please ask Flora for some more tea?” Uncle Toby asked softly, gesturing toward the doorway with his eyes.

  I gratefully laid the embroidery aside altogether and rose. I would have hurried off to find Flora right away, but something told me to tarry. I was not given to eavesdropping, but Uncle Toby’s dismissal had been extraordinarily abrupt.

  “What is wrong with Isabella tonight?” Howe said. “She does not seem quite herself.”

  Uncle Toby sighed. “She wants to go to China.”

  “China! Whatever for?”

  “She has a notion that God intends for her to become a missionary. Because of Phineas Snowe and his fellow servants of the Lord, she is convinced that is her calling, as well.”

  “But perhaps it is!” Howe said. “Admit it, Fitzwater. You would welcome the chance to travel again.”

  A long pause ensued. “I would,” Uncle finally said. “Even at my advanced age, I wish I could travel to the Continent. With the war on, it would not be safe to take Isabella. But, oh, to visit France again. Germany. Italy.” He sighed. “So many places of historical interest. So much literature to be read in their original languages.”

  “Can you not let Isabella decide about the risk for herself?”

  I shamelessly moved closer to the door.

  “Even so, she would be a burden,” Uncle Toby said. “I would be obliged to look after her welfare to the point that my research would be impeded. No, Howe, I am afraid it is a dream that will remain unrealized.”

  I shivered as though someone had pushed me outside into the cold. Poor Uncle Toby. I was apparently an impediment to his resumption of the life he had lost so many years ago when Frederica and I were thrust upon him. Oh, how the reality of my spinsterhood these recent days must have rankled.

  “Isabella!”

  I started. “Flora. You gave me a fright.”

  “Whatever are you doing away from the fire?” She wrapped her shawl closer about her shoulders. “It is a chill night.”

  To be certain.

  “I . . . I was looking for you, Flora. Uncle Toby has requested more tea.”

  “I was on my way into the study to see if more was needed. I am sorry you were indisposed.”

  Hearing Uncle and Howe’s chatter in the room beyond, I drew Flora away, whispering, “It is well that I was, for I have learned an unsettling truth.”

  Flora clapped a hand over her mouth. “Phineas Snowe will not take you.”

  “No!” I glanced over my shoulder to make certain we had not been overheard. I lowered my voice. “At least, I do not yet know his answer.”

  “Then what?” Flora took my hands in hers and rubbed them. “Lord love you, child, you are chilled. Tell me about this dreadful truth you have learned.”

  I repeated Uncle Toby’s exact words. Flora ceased rubbing my hands yet still held them. “You know that he did not mean for you to hear that, Isabella.”

  “Of course he did not. Uncle Toby would not hurt my feelings for the world. But I cannot ignore his own desires and dreams.”

  “His desires and dreams are your well-being. They
have been such since the day you and your sister arrived in this home.”

  “I heard his words, Flora,” I insisted. “If he would not hurt my feelings, I would not hurt his.”

  Flora gave my hands a final pat and released them. “It will all be well, dear one.”

  I repeated her words to myself as I lay in bed that night. Just before sleep overtook me, I reminded myself that God had called me to be a missionary in the Far East. Phineas Snowe would send an affirmative answer that I could join his group, and both Uncle Toby and I would have our lives laid out for us. Why did I worry when both our problems would soon be solved?

  The letter arrived the next morning. Flora showed it to me, and we examined it together. Addressed to Uncle Toby in florid handwriting and sealed with the wax impression of a cross, it could only be from Phineas Snowe.

  I clutched the letter between my hands. “Oh, Flora, this is my future life. Where is Uncle Toby?”

  “I believe he’s in the study with one of the students—” I hurried down the hallway.

  “Though I do not think he would care to be disturbed!” Flora called after me.

  Outside the closed study door, I drew up short. I raised my hand to knock, then took a moment to straighten my skirt, pat my hair, and compose myself. Then I knocked. When Uncle Toby gave me entrance, despite my best efforts, I fairly flew through the door. I am not sure who looked more startled—Uncle Toby or his student, James Beatty. Beatty was an overly anxious young student who often turned red in the face, particularly in my presence. My impression of him was as a large puppy with feet still too big for its bearing.

  Uncle Toby adjusted his spectacles and closed the book he and Mr. Beatty studied. “Here,” I said without preamble. “It must be my answer.”

  Uncle Toby accepted the paper. “Mr. Beatty, we have studied enough for the day.”

  “Yes, sir,” Beatty said. “Thank you, sir.”

  Uncle Toby waited until the young man had presented us with a fumbling bow, then stumbled his way from the room. I took the chair he had vacated and leaned toward Uncle while he used an opener to unseal the wax. His expression never betrayed his emotion as he read. How long could the missive be?

  “Well?” I finally asked.

  Uncle Toby removed his spectacles, rubbed his eyes with one hand, then put the spectacles back in place. “He says no.”

  Hope dashed, stomach churning, I reached for the letter. “He said no?”

  Uncle handed the paper to me, and I scanned the lines, reading aloud. “. . . flattered that she envisions herself . . . however . . . gently bred . . . certain she will make a fortunate gentleman a caring wife . . . sail tomorrow . . . wish you both God’s blessings . . . your generous contribution will not go un-rewarded . . .”

  Dazed, I let the paper fall to my lap. This rejection was far worse than David Ransom’s. Or Catherine’s, for that matter.

  “I am sorry, Isabella. Surely it is for the best.”

  I glanced up. Uncle Toby’s eyes were filled with sadness. Did he mourn my loss or his own?

  “This belongs to you,” I said, handing him the letter. Half of the broken seal pulled away from the paper and dropped to the rug. When I bent to retrieve it, I saw it was the half with the top of the cross. I clutched it in my palm to dispose of later.

  Uncle Toby peered at me. “It is for the best, Isabella,” he said again. “Do you understand that?”

  I nodded woodenly, unable to speak. Perhaps later I would comprehend what he said, but at that moment only shock and disbelief were my companions. I had been so certain of Snowe’s answer, so certain of God’s call . . .

  Uncle accepted my farewell, seeming to understand that I needed time alone. I contemplated seeking Signor Antonio. It would feel good to have a sword in my hand and an obstacle that I could face. Then I remembered that I would have any number of days to practice my fencing and decided instead on a long walk to think matters through.

  “Where are you going?” Flora met me at the door.

  “I need a walk. Phineas Snowe has refused my request.”

  “Has he?” I could tell Flora was trying her best to keep the joy from her expression, but she was not wholly successful.

  I headed for the rack and grabbed my pelisse. “I’ll go with you, Isabella,” Flora said, retrieving hers, as well.

  “I need to be alone, please.”

  Flora set her mouth. “Wounded heart or not, you cannot leave this house unattended. I pledge to walk beside you as quiet as a mouse.”

  I could not help smiling in spite of myself. “A mouse who will try her best to give me counsel.”

  Flora placed my bonnet on my head and tied the ribbon under my chin, as she had done when I was a girl. “You have always sought my advice,” she said calmly. “Would you cease now, even when you are in such haste to leave me forever?”

  I thought about her words as we headed outside. We passed through the quad and Tom Tower, the college’s main entrance at St. Aldate’s Street. A light wind blew, and I wrapped my pelisse closer. Flora and I locked arms, and we headed down the street—toward what, I did not know. They had paved the streets at Oxford when I was a baby, and some said they were as fine as any of the best in London. Not that I traveled even so short a distance with great frequency!

  Oxford is a university—and town—with unique architecture. Many of the buildings have spires that reach skyward, nay, toward the heaven of God himself. I longed to raise my arms in mutual supplication. Why was I not chosen to do your work?

  As we walked together, silent, I thought long and hard. Flora had often called me impulsive, but my destiny, I was certain, lay in the Far East. Surely this was only a test of my resolve to answer God’s calling. Did he not challenge his children in the Bible? If I were to accomplish my task, however, I would have to evade Flora. She was loyal to a fault, but she would not, I feared, hesitate to alert Uncle Toby if she felt my plans endangered my life. I would have to strike a balance between telling the truth and withholding pertinent points of my plan. It was not exactly lying, I reasoned. Merely omitting some of what Flora might perceive to be an unpleasant truth.

  “I do not want to leave you or Uncle Toby,” I said at last. I gestured at the buildings of the university as we passed. “But look around us, Flora. What are behind these walls but men striving to learn?”

  “Is that not a noble cause?”

  “For men, yes. For me, nothing. I believe God wants me to commit myself to a life of service.”

  “Then why not here in Oxford? There are plenty in want of Christian charity. We saw them yesterday.”

  “That is true, but I feel called to China. After looking at the Gospel According to St. Luke that Mr. Snowe gave me, I felt a peculiar kinship with the strange marks. I have already learned Greek and Hebrew and several other languages. I feel that I could conquer Chinese as well. Surely they need a woman’s touch in that heathen land.”

  “Like Miss Whipple, the lady in Mr. Snowe’s group yesterday,” Flora allowed.

  I nodded. “Yes! And when I inquired, she admitted that she does not speak Chinese. Miss Whipple stared at me as though such thought were folly.” I stopped short in the street. “God has given me a brain, Flora. I am certain that he wants me to use it. Did he not give me three instances of China—the slippers, the Gospel, and the tea?”

  “The tea, I believe, was mere coincidence.”

  “I do not believe it was. Nonetheless, I am determined. I must speak to Mr. Snowe myself.”

  “If he still refuses your entreaty—”

  “He won’t,” I said firmly. “I intend to meet him at dockside tomorrow.”

  “Miss Isabella, no! That is no place for a young lady.”

  “That is why you are going with me,” I said. “I knew that if you would not allow me on a walk by myself that you would certainly not allow me to speak to Mr. Snowe alone. Though heaven knows I should be perfectly safe from him,” I added, mostly to myself.

  “You want me to
go with you?”

  “You said yourself that I could not go alone.”

  Flora raised one eyebrow. “You are only going to talk to him?”

  “I would go today, but I do not know where he is lodging. I am sure to find him at the docks tomorrow.”

  Now it was Flora’s turn to stop dead in the street. “You know that there are no docks in Oxford. He is leaving from London. No doubt he is already there.”

  “Then we must take a coach.”

  “A coach?” Flora recoiled in horror. “Two women alone?”

  “It has been done before,” I said mildly. “Really, Flora. What do you fear? I hardly think we need worry about highwaymen.”

  “But . . . but . . .”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Yes?”

  “But Mr. Fitzwater . . . what will he say?”

  “He will know nothing about this,” I said firmly. “We will go to London, speak to Mr. Snowe . . .” I fell silent.

  “And then what?”

  “And then perhaps he will see that I am in earnest,” I said, trying to sound as positive as possible. I prayed that Flora would not be quick enough to speculate what might happen next, because I did not want to imagine hearing a negative answer from Snowe. Surely my perseverance would please not only him but God, who had called me to a life of mission work.

  “How will we get to London?”

  “Mail coach, I should think.” I breathed an inward sigh of relief. Flora would follow me anywhere. Indeed, I could not live without her companionship. She was old enough to have been a very young mother to me, but she had always been much more.

  “It would be the fastest,” Flora said, thinking aloud. “No stopping to pay tolls along the road.”

  “Then it is settled. We must go home and pack some clothes.”

  “And tell your uncle.”

  “No!” I lowered my voice, aware that we had gathered onlookers. “He would not let us go, Flora. Once we are in London, we will send word that we are well.”

  “Or more likely, we shall simply return, errant, and be chastised.”