“Oh yes, he does, don’t you, dear brother?” Mary broke in.
“It’s—you’re very . . . very young and—”
“But you do approve, don’t you? And we’ll be married three days before Christmas. If that would suit you, George?”
Glessing was chilled by the blatant animosity between sister and brother. “Is that satisfactory, Horatio?”
“I’m sure the Tai-Pan would appreciate your approval, Horatio.” Mary was glad that she had decided to marry George. Now she would have to get rid of the baby. If May-may could not help, then she would have to ask the Tai-Pan for the favor that he owed her. “I’m accepting George,” she said defiantly, hiding her fear.
“Be damned to both of you!” Horatio stalked off.
“What in God’s name’s the matter with him? Does that mean he approves? Or that he doesn’t?” Glessing asked irately.
“He approves, George dear. Don’t worry. And please forgive me for being so abrupt, but I wanted it said now.”
“No, Mary. I’m sorry. I had no idea that your brother was so bitterly against it. If I’d thought for a moment-well, I wouldn’t have been so precipitate.” His joy at being accepted was twisted by the pain he saw in Mary’s face. And by his ever-present fury at not being with the fleet. God damn the admiral! The pox on this cursed shore berth and the pox on Sinclair. How the devil could I ever have liked that bastard! How dared he be so rude?
“I’m so glad you’re here, George,” he heard her say.
He saw her brush away some tears and his happiness returned. Without the shore job he would never be able to spend so much time with Mary. He blessed his luck! She’d accepted him and that was all that counted. He put his arm in hers. “No more tears,” he said. “This is the best day in my life and we’re going to have lunch and celebrate. We’ll dine together tonight—and every lunch and every dinner from now on. We’ll make the announcement next month. From now on I’ll look after you. If anyone troubles you, he’ll have to answer to me, by God!”
Struan and Culum were having brandy in the factory office. The room was vast, stone-floored. In it were a polished teak desk and ships’ lanterns, a barometer in gimbals near the teak door, Quance paintings on the walls, well-oiled leather chairs and sofa, sweetly smelling.
Struan stood at the window and stared at the harbor. The calm expanse seemed empty without the fleet and troopships. Of the clippers, only
China Cloud and the
White Witch remained. There were few merchantmen which had not yet found full cargoes for home, and several incoming ships that had just arrived with stores ordered last year.
Culum was studying the painting that hung over the mantel. It was the portrait of a Chinese boat girl wearing a cloak; she was startlingly beautiful. She carried a basket under her arm, and was smiling.
Culum wondered if the rumor were true—that this was his father’s mistress who lived in his house a few hundred yards away.
“I canna leave now as we planned. I’ve decided to stay,” Struan said, without turning from the window.
Culum felt a shaft of disappointment. “I could manage. I’m sure I could.”
“Aye. In time.”
Culum marveled again at the wisdom of his friend Gorth. Last night on the quarterdeck of the
White Witch, Gorth had said, “You mark my words, old friend. He’ll never leave now. I’ll wager wots you like, but he’ll be acalling you in and he’ll say he’ll not be leaving. It be a terrible thing to say, but you and me’s to wait for dead men’s shoes.”
“But I couldn’t manage, Gorth, by myself. Not as Tai-Pan, not alone.”
“O’ course you could. Why, if you needs help, which you won’t, I’d help you all you needs. And so will Da’. After all, Culum, you be family now. Of course you could manage, by God. But if you says that, the Tai-Pan’ll say, ‘Sure you can, Culum.
In time.’ ”
“You really think I could?”
“No doubt on God’s green earth. Wot’s so hard, eh? You buys and sells, and yor compradore takes most of the risk. Ships is ships and tea’s tea and opium’s opium. A Tai-Pan makes decisions, that be all. Just common sense mostly. Why, look wot you did over the knoll! You decided right clever.
You did, no one else. And you forced him to talk to Da’ about Tess, and Da’ forced him to give you and Tess a safe harbor.”
“Perhaps I could manage the house if all was quiet. But not Longstaff and a war and Jin-qua.”
‘Them’s unimportant. The war be out of our’n hands, howsomever your Da’ would like to pretend otherwise. An’ as for that old fox Jin-qua, I can helps you keep that monkey in place. No, Culum, we’s to wait till they dies, and that be terrible when we’s young with new ideas and wot not. An’ even if they gives us reins now, wot’s so wrong with that? Our Da’s protects our back at home and we seeks their help at the drop of a bowler. Not like we was casting they out. It be their house, o’ course. But they’d never believe that. They both be having salt water for brain. They’ve to keep all to theyselves, and then and only then’ll they be happy. He’ll sluff you off with ‘You be needin’ experience—two or three year,’ but that mean forever. . . .”
Culum stared at his father’s back. “I could manage, Tai-Pan.”
Struan turned to him. “Longstaff? Jin-qua and the war?”
“The war’s not in your hands, is it?”
“No. But without guidance Longstaff would have wrecked us years ago.”
“If you were to leave, well, it’s not like you’d be washing your hands of the house, would it? If there was anything I couldn’t handle, I’d ask you at the drop of a bowler.”
“When I leave, lad, you have to be in total charge. The mails take six months home and back. Too much could happen in that time. You need experience. You’re na ready yet.”
“When will I be?”
“That depends on you.”
“You promised I’d be Tai-Pan a year after—well, a year after Uncle Robb.”
“Aye. If you were ready. And you’re na ready for me to leave as planned. Brock and Gorth’ll eat you up.”
Yes, Culum told himself, Gorth’s right again. It’s dead men’s shoes. “Very well. What can I do to prove I’m worthy?”
“Nothing more than you’re doing, lad. You need more experience. Two years, three—I’ll tell you when I’m sure.”
Culum knew that nothing could be gained by arguing at this time. “Do you want me to take over Uncle Robb’s departments?”
“Aye. But for the moment order nothing and sell nothing and sack naebody wi’out my approval. I’ll give you a specific letter of instruction. Help Vargas to assess our loss in the Settlement and put the books in order.”
“When do you think it would be all right to announce our engagement?”
“Have you discussed this with Brock?”
“Only when I saw him at Whampoa. He suggested Midsummer Night.”
Struan suddenly remembered Scragger and what he had said about Wu Kwok: that Wu Kwok could be ambushed easily at Quemoy on Midsummer Night. He knew that now he had no alternative but to gamble that Scragger had been speaking the truth and to go after Wu Kwok. Wu Kwok dead would mean one less hazard for Culum to worry about. What about the other three half coins? What Machiavellian “favors” would they require? And when? He looked at the calendar that was on his desk. Today was June 15th. Midsummer Night was nine days off. “Leave it for Midsummer Night. But only a small party. Just family,” he added with thin irony.