The White Jade Fox Page 3

  "Time—" Jethro shook his head. He had pulled his large watch from his waistcoat pocket, snapped open the case, to frown at the dial. "Never enough time. I will have to be going, a long, long day for me. Must make sure all is well before I leave. My dear, Honora has an excellent plan which she suggested to me only this morning, one which I think you will 'find most advantageous in every way. She will explain it all to you—"

  He was already on his feet, heading for the door. As it had been the evening before, her half brother gave Saranna no chance at all to answer or protest. She watched the door close with a finality which definitely left her in Honora's dubious charge.

  "Poor Father—before he sails it is always this way." Honora shook her head, sending the long lace streamers of her cap floating gently beside the most carefully arranged curls of massed hair. "There are so many matters he must make sure of that he is quite fatigued when he finally goes aboard. The voyage will give him the rest he needs. Now— Saranna," she spoke more briskly. "As you are in deep mourning—" her eyes flicked at that white chemisette as she spoke, "you will want peace and quiet. Father has certain social obligations which I have agreed to carry on during his absence. Thus, I do not think you would be comfortable here where there will be a goodly amount of entertaining.

  "But at Tiensin, it will be very different. It is most quiet there, and Mrs. Parton is an excellent housekeeper and will make you very comfortable. She is a quite genteel sort of female, and one in whom I have placed a good amount of trust. You see—" Honora hesitated, "I do not know what you may have heard of my own obligations, Saranna, but I do have one which is enough to make anyone heavy-hearted.

  "I was Richard Whaley's second wife. His first wife, Laura, died when poor Damaris was born. Laura was a Hampton, and, unfortunately, there is a weak strain in that family— an excitation of nerves which has affected several of the women. In the past, it has been necessary that at least two of them live in seclusion with suitable companions. Do you understand—?"

  That she must be hinting delicately at some type of mental derangement, Saranna guessed. And she nodded.

  Honora apparently accepted that as encouragement for greater confidences.

  "Richard's father doted on Damaris—he would not ever acknowledge that, young as she then was, she showed already some signs of this nervous disorder. And after Richard's death, his own followed within a year. It was then we discovered just how blindly foolish Captain Whaley had been, how he had refused to accept those signs which were so plain to us. He had left Tiensin and most of his other wealth to Damans. Luckily, he had appointed a guardian, of course— my father. And I have the overseeing of her upbringing and education. But, poor thing, that she has any future, we doubt —nothing beyond a very quiet life, well supervised, at Tiensin. We must make very sure that she is not taken advantage of as she grows older, and that she is guarded from a world in which she would be utterly lost.

  "Now you have planned to be a teacher—and Damaris has no governess at present. The woman on which we have been depending proved to be a superstitious fool, listening to slaves' gossip. It was necessary to get rid of her on very short notice. Thus I am deeply concerned about the poor child. If you would be obliging enough to be her companion until we can find someone able to give her the care she needs—"

  "I have had no experience as a nurse." Saranna took advantage of the first pause in Honora's flow of words to object. Like her father, Honora apparently cultivated the art of talk to the exclusion of any real give and take of conversation.

  "Oh, I have given you the wrong impression," Honora shook her head as if aghast at her mistake. "Damaris is not ill. She is only one who needs to be talked out of the strange fancies which she clings to. She has a very odd belief about a derelict portion of the garden which we try not to allow her to dwell upon. In fact, if you can keep her from roaming about there and persuade her not to believe in her own imagined people, then you will succeed mightily. Who knows, perhaps you may even work the miracle we have so long hoped for and banish Damaris' fancies entirely.

  "Much of her difficulties I truly believe is the fact that her early upbringing was too much under the control of Captain Whaley. He had lived in China for many years as a representative of a large shipping interest there. When he rebuilt Tiensin—“ Honora actually shivered a little, "well, he brought in all sorts of queer heathenish things. He even imported servants from China—though he sent them back again years ago when the house was finally completed. Richard always said the Manor was full of what he called treasures—

  "Unfortunately, Damans believes, too, that these strange old things are precious. She has become very upset on occasion when some have been moved, or stored away. And it has been necessary to watch her if this happens, for she flies into an actual screaming rage. But I know that you will be most careful, now that you have been warned.

  "Really, you have nothing to fear. Mrs. Parton has reported that Damaris has been very settled and docile since the governess left, and I know that you will find her eager to learn. She does have a quick mind. Too quick at times— especially when she builds upon something she hears or thinks she sees and then swears that her dreams are true. Now—very luckily, I have been able to arrange a way for you to reach Tiensin with the least trouble. Mr. Fowke is going upriver on his private sloop taking some supplies and workmen for the rebuilding of his own manor which is next to Tiensin. He very kindly offered to let you travel with him. I believe he plans to leave at ten. I am giving you Millie— she has not settled down well here in the city. I think it is better that she be under Mrs. Parton's supervision for a while again—"

  As she spoke, Honora rolled her napkin and inserted it into the silver ring near her plate.

  "Such a busy morning—I have shopping to do—“ Once more her gaze rested for a deprecating second or two on Saranna's dress. "By the way, you have said you can sew— there are some of my dresses in storage. Mrs. Parton will show you—feel free to make good use of them. You will have time in plenty on your hands upriver."

  "But—" To have her immediate future so finally and abruptly settled had left Saranna astounded. However, Honora was already on her way out of the room. If she heard that first word of intended protest, she was not going to admit it or wait for any refusal Saranna might utter.

  And how could she refuse, the girl admitted glumly to herself as she was left alone to face a now fast-chilling plate of far too heavy food. She had to depend on the Stowells, and both Jethro and Honora knew it. She had now no choice at all. Moodily she cut off a small bite of ham and chewed it relentlessly, wishing she had an efl&cacious way of dealing with Honora.

  3

  LU- TREADING CAREFULLY

  Afterward, Saranna thought that the cottony fog into which Gerrad Fowke's river sloop plunged had been, in a way, a warning of the murky paths which lay before her. The thick tendrils gathering about the small boat were like a spider's web meant to entangle them past escape. And with the coming of that fog, the warmth of the spring vanished. The day was darkly chill. Moisture beaded the deck planking and the rail against which she stood, dampened her shawl, made her bonnet veil hang limp and heavy. Yet she shrank from going into the cramped cabin below.

  The deck, save for a very small portion through which the crew moved, was piled high with stacks of lumber, barrels and boxes, as was the hold, so that the sloop rode low in the river. Since the sails could not be used, the crew were out with sweeps, three men to a side, walking back and forth to give them a very slow headway. While Mr. Fowke himself took the wheel post.

  Millie, her eyes swollen from crying, huddled on one side of the boxes, a small figure of misery. The maid had shown such fear ever since Honora had decreed that she accompany Saranna to Tiensin that Saranna had not been able to get anything coherent out of her. Now Millie appeared as if facing a doom from which she had no hope of escape, displaying no interest in her surroundings.

  For all Sararma's relief at escape from the house over whic
h Honora had full command, her own uneasiness grew. And the heaviness of this fog did not dispel any forebodings. Though Mr. Fowke showed no signs of being aware that anything out of the ordinary was happening, his complete air of self-confidence and self-assurance drew her now to edging past the deck cargo and approaching his place of command.

  The blacks at the sweeps chanted in rhythm with their swings of the sweeps. She could not understand a word and there was a strange, eerie note to that song (if song it was) which disturbed her so much she wanted to cover her ears with her hands. When she peered into the heavy mists, she could imagine that something or some things lurked within its folds, ever watching them evilly—

  Saranna forced a rein on her imagination. Of course, there was nothing there! And Mr. Fowke knew this waterway as well as she knew the lanes of Sussex. Unlike its neighbor Virginia, since the earliest days of settlement, Maryland had used as roads those rivers which cut and sliced into its lands. The manors had their own wharves and landings, their own sloops. Neighbor visited neighbor via the water, and it was only since the beginning of this century that roads had come to link town and city. Still, the many rivers remained the easiest transportation by which to reach most of the manors.

  'This will delay us," Gerrad Fowke's voice broke through the monotonous song of the scullers. "Unless it lifts, you may not reach Tiensin, Miss Stowell, until well past moon rise. I am sorry your introduction to the river had to be so unpromising a one."

  "That you can move at all through this," she ventured in return, "is surprising. What if another boat comes—?"

  He laughed. "We'd hear and so would they. We don't need fog warnings with Jason leading the chant." He nodded to the powerful man at the nearest scull.

  "I can't understand what they are saying—or singing— “

  Mr. Fowke shrugged. "Probably it's some juju petition to the dark powers. They have their own way of thinking and believing."

  Saranna glanced at the sodden lump of misery which marked Millie. Even in the short distance between them now the black girl was half-hidden by the mists.

  "Millie—she's badly frightened. She did not want to come. She claims there is a haunt at Tiensin—"

  He no longer looked amused. There was a firmness about his mouth which reminded Saramia that he had captained ships much larger than this sloop, and that air of command he wore was his by right of experience.

  "They are superstitious, and they cling to old gods. What else have they to give them hope?" That was not quite a question, but he turned a sudden searching gaze at her. “They are slaves in a strange land; much has frightened and left them defenseless. So they have perhaps a right to see menace in shadows, enemies all around them."

  "You do not believe in slavery—" Saranna glanced from him to the men straining at the sculls. She had thought that he would accept the customs of his homeland without question. Men usually did.

  "I have no slaves," he replied flatly. "Queen's Pleasure has its people, these men among them. None of them are slaves. You will discover that that makes me somewhat of a misfit here." Again that expression of assurance firmed his harsh features. "Luckily I am also successful in my undertakings. And since I have come back home with my pockets well lined, I have a measure of acceptance—"

  Now he did smile again. "Gold is a mighty way to back one's opinions, even if they are unpopular ones. And I am not the first to cause talk. Captain Whaley did not own slaves either, at least not until his latter days. He had real heathens —Chinese!”

  "Chinese?" Saranna remembered some of Mr. Sanders’ explanation of what might lie before her.

  "Yes. He was long in Canton, you know, being one of the first to carry our flag to the East Indies. And he settled in his own factory there, had an excellent relationship with one of the Hong merchants. For about fifteen years he was the representative for several American companies. When he came home to Baltimore, he was accompanied by quite an entourage. All Chinese.

  "They helped rebuild part of Tiensin, and lay out the gardens. But after ten years, he bought passage for them and sent them all home again in style. But then Whaley was considered distinctly eccentric. There was the matter of the foxes, too—"

  "Foxes?" repeated Saranna, completely bewildered by the introduction of this new subject.

  Once more Mr. Fowke laughed. "Now I have surprised you. But the subject is somewhat of a serious matter all the same, and it adds to the queer stories surrounding Tiensin.

  You see, some of our back-country squires have delusions of introducing what they consider to be the customs of English aristocracy. Just as their grandfathers fought to break ties with the old country, so do they now think of aping some of the amusements from overseas. In short, they have a hunt, their blooded horses, all the rest.

  "But not over Tiensin land! There is a strict rule there, no fox is to be hunted, shot at, trapped, not at Tiensin. Captain Whaley was determined about that, and he made enemies over his orders. At his death, half the parish was not speaking to him, not that he cared."

  "But why foxes?" Saranna had forgotten the fog now. He had captured her full attention with his story.

  "The odd part about it is that no one knows. But so adamant was his decree that he even left a solemn warning in his will that if his orders were broken in the future, there would be a penalty paid by his heirs for that mistake. And foxes do flourish at Tiensin. Ther are tales of exceptionally large ones walking boldly in the garden, even during broad daylight. The blacks call them haunts and are afraid of them. They will give way as if the foxes were their masters. But there are other things which set Tiensin apart—" he continued as if he wished her to know what might lie ahead and had a concern that she understand.

  “There is the lost garden—“

  He was watching her closely, Saranna did not understand why. Did he expect her to show some signs of dislike or fear such as Millie displayed since the news of her exile from Baltimore had been broken to her? Was he—could he— be telling some old tale partly born of his own imagination to see if she were one of those easily alarmed females who saw only dark menace in the unknown? If he was, the disappointment would be his. Captain Whaley's attitude toward foxes might be termed peculiar, to be sure, but Saranna could see little alarming in it. And a lost garden—if Mr. Fowke were in some manner baiting her, she was not in any way going to rise to the bait, even by asking a question.

  After a very short pause, he continued. "There is what must be a goodly third of the land first set out for a garden cut away now and well walled off by the hedges which have been allowed, even encouraged, to grow as high as possible. The common notion is that there is no way in—and the ignorant say that it is to protect the captain's treasure."

  Now Saranna smiled. Did he expect her to be moved by that most childish of hints? "There is a treasure, of course?" she asked a little mockingly.

  "Oh, the Captain had treasures all right." Mr. Fowke nodded. "You will see those in plenty at Tiensin. He had a love for China which few of those in the Canton factories ever possessed. Most merchants were content—are content— with their exports to build up their fortunes. But he loved beauty—precious things—not for their value in dollars and cents—but for the pleasure they give the eye. During the years Whaley spent in those waters, he bought many such. Perhaps some not legally. There are coast pirates which prey upon sections of China where the 'foreign devils,' as they so pleasantly term us, cannot ever hope to visit. The loot from those forays comes in time to markets where a canny man may have an agent bargain for him.

  "There are rebellions which even the Banner Princes, those who are near the Dragon Throne, lose. And the price for rebellion in China is grim. Not only does the rebel suffer, but his whole family clan can be sent to follow him into death. Then their possessions are plundered, so bits and pieces find their ways into strange hands.

  "Look well about you in the rooms of Tiensin, Miss Stowell. What you will see there is not the ordinary gleanings of an India merchant�
�but objects of far greater value. However, as to any great treasure laid up in any special place—no, I do not believe that Whaley left that. What may lie behind the growing walls of that garden no one really knows. Just that it is strictly forbidden territory to all. And the blacks fear it even more than they fear those bold foxes. They say it contains a ghost whom the Captain brought home with him—a very potent and heathen ghost."

  Again Saranna smiled. She was sure that Mr. Fowke was trying to tease her a little.

  "A Bluebeard's garden then. But since I am not wedding Bluebeard, I do not think I have anything to fear. And if there are rules at Tiensin, I am fully prepared to keep them."

  "See that you remember that." His tone was so serious that Saranna was a little surprised. Had he really not been teasing at all? Could he have meant that there was some particular danger at the Manor? But such a suspicion was absurd, of course.

  The thick fog was breaking, stirred by a wind which twanged the lines of the sloop's rigging. Within what seemed to Saranna a very short time—sails were raised to catch that wind, and they scudded forward at a pace which suggested that Mr. Fowke's pessimistic estimate of their time of arrival might be wrong.

  But dark had come and they had eaten a cold meal from a basket the master of the sloop provided before the sloop did nose in to a wharf on which hung a pair of lanterns. There was a woman, with a hooded cloak about her shoulders, standing well to the fore, to welcome them; behind her, several blacks, one with an empty wheelbarrow. As Mr. Fowke helped Saranna onto the wharf, and then swung Millie bodily up and over in her wake, the woman moved forward to drop a stiff curtsy of an earlier day.

  "We had word from the headlands you were coming," she said in a low, emotionless voice. "Mr. Hangton's man brought it. I am Mrs. Parton." Again she bowed.

  In the dark, which the lanterns of those about them did little to break, Saranna could see nothing of Mrs. Parton's face, which was hidden in the shadow of her hood. There was something, however, forbidding in her manner—in the stiff way she held herself. Though perhaps, Saranna thought, again she was imagining things.