City of God (6 page)

As for the rest, Samuel was prepared to bide his time.

“H
AVE YOU CONSIDERED
my suggestion, Carolina?”

“What suggestion is that, Mrs. Devrey?”

“About the baby’s name,” Celinda said. “Calling him Lansing.” Bastard had not turned out to be the sort of husband a woman wanted to memorialize, but it was important that Samuel and his wife recognized their duty. Not to the memory of Samuel’s father. To her. “I can understand that you might be thinking of naming a boy Wilbur, but your dear papa is still alive. Surely the next wee one can be named for him. You don’t look comfortable, Carolina,” leaning forward over the sofa but not making any effort to alter things with her own hands. “Shall I summon Dorothy to adjust your pillows?”

Comfortable? With her mother-in-law paying two visits in as many days? And soon to be one of the very few people she was permitted to receive? “I’m fine, Mrs. Devrey. Though I thank you for paying me such mind.”

Celinda Devrey held an embroidery hoop in her left hand and a needle in her right, but she hadn’t taken a stitch in ten minutes. “Of
course I’m mindful, my dear. It is my duty. Particularly since you have no mother of your own.” One thing she had found to celebrate when Samuel announced his choice of bride. Because Carolina’s mother was long dead, there was no other woman to contest the role of family matriarch. On the other hand, she’d known at once that being the indulged child of a wealthy widower had imbued the girl with more independence of spirit than was desirable in a daughter-in-law. Nonetheless, she would cope. Celinda had been coping since the first day she herself became a wife. Or put more accurately, the first night. A dreadful business at best, made worse by Bastard seldom actually managing to make a job of it—too drunk most of the time. No wonder they’d had only the one son. “Does your Mrs. O’Brien at last agree you must begin your lying-in?”

“Not quite yet, Mrs. Devrey. I believe I told you she says start of the eighth month. I calculate there are two weeks to go.”

Celinda raised an eyebrow, remembered the embroidery and took a stitch, then held the hoop a bit away to admire the result. “Calculate,” she said, as if it were an extraordinary notion. Then, before Carolina could start discussing the unpleasant details of what she would probably call, in the manner of young women these days, monthly visits from grandmother, “No matter. I’m sure Samuel is taking special care of you just now.”

“Samuel is always most considerate.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. I do know he works very long hours.” At least that was the situation according to Barnabas, Samuel’s stable boy, whom Celinda tipped handsomely whenever she left her little chaise and pony in his care. An encouragement to pass on household gossip. “Such a great responsibility,” she said with a ladylike sigh, “managing all of Devrey Shipping. Samuel must be very tired much of the time.”

“A very great responsibility indeed,” Carolina agreed. And what had his mother done to protect Samuel’s legacy so that today he would be owner of the company rather than simply its manager? Nothing. All New York knew Celinda Devrey’s expensive tastes were as much
to blame for the loss of the Devrey fortune as were Bastard’s wastrel ways.

“Well,” Celinda said. “I imagine these days you don’t so much mind how frequently he is away from home.”

“I always crave my husband’s company, Mrs. Devrey.” She could have bitten her tongue off the moment she spoke the words.

“Do you, Carolina? Quite natural, I’m sure, in one wed less than a year. But after the wee one comes, you’ll be preoccupied. It won’t matter so much.”

“What won’t matter?” God! Was there no end to her folly?

“The evenings Samuel is late home. The ways of men, my dear. We women must understand and seek to gently enlighten their baser nature with our sweet example.” Stupid of the child to turn her head away as if she didn’t want to hear. Her daughter-in-law, Celinda thought, must be made to see that her most important task was to allow nothing to disturb the household or change Wilbur Randolf’s plan to leave the tannery business to Carolina and thus to Samuel. Celinda’s husband had not provided for her old age; it was her son’s responsibility to do so. “It is our cross to bear as women, dear Carolina. I wouldn’t mention it—I’m sure you know your duty—except that with no mother of your own…”

By the time her mother-in-law left half an hour later, Carolina was finding it hard to breathe, much less quiet her beating heart. “Dorothy! Come here at once!” She shouted rather than ring the bell. A terrible breach of etiquette, but she could not control herself.

The servant appeared in the doorway almost instantly. “I was just seeing Mrs. Devrey out the door, ma’am.”

“Where is Barnabas?”

“He helped Mrs. Devrey into her chaise, ma’am. Same as always. I expect now he’s gone round the back and—”

“Yes, well I don’t care where he actually is. Tell him I want him. I must talk to him about shoeing the riding mare. Bring him here.”

“To the parlor, ma’am?”

“Yes, I can’t—Oh, never mind. I shall go out back and talk to him there.”

It was hard to lumber out to the mews in her condition and would probably cause a scandal if any of the neighbor men happened to see her now that it wasn’t possible to disguise the bulge. But at least it meant Dorothy wouldn’t hear her mistress questioning the stable boy about whether Mr. Samuel had that day ridden horseback to his business or taken the buggy. Once she knew that, Carolina would know whether her husband was to be late home, as he was most nights, or perhaps—as rarely happened—he might arrive back in time to take supper with her.

Market Street. Very too much bad name. Very too much tell you nothing. Ah Chee mumbled the complaints under her breath as she hobbled along on her seven-inch golden lilies.

Not really golden lilies at all. Must be she was an ugly baby from the first minute. So no one think she will maybe be a rich man’s wife and don’t do a good job and give her golden lilies that will fit inside a man’s hand. Never mind. This
yang gwei zih
place had rock streets. Not smooth like the wood decks of sampans on the Pearl River or like sand streets on the shore. Three-inch golden lilies could easily break your neck in this foreign devil place.

Market Street. Very too much stupid name. Chicken Street. Rice Street. Street of green peas and cabbages. Those were names that could help a civilized person do her shopping. Never mind. She had anyway taught herself to say it. “Mar-ket-str-eet,” she practiced.

Ah Chee’s mouth made the sounds, but they had a foreign taste like all the lumps of words she had been storing up for so long. Since back on the Pearl River, since the day when she first bent the big toes of three-year-old Mei-hua toward the balls of the little girl’s feet and tied the cotton wrappings that would keep them in place.

Not too very much tight that first time, though the plum blossom screamed and screamed as if worst thing had happened. It had not happened yet. Also not worst thing next night, when she made the wrappings tighter. Worst thing was when the heavy stone smashed down
and broke the tiny bones so the girl’s golden lilies would be straight, not arched.

First one foot, then the other. Smash. Smash. While Ah Chee cried and her plum blossom screamed.

Smash. Smash. Tears and screams. But not until the
yang gwei zih
had gone away. Dog turd pirate father of plum blossom told Ah Chee to wait. “
Yang gwei zih
want to watch,” he said, “but not want to see.”

That was one way
yang gwei zih
and civilized men were alike. Making sons with clouds and rain, very terrific good. Having sons almost as good. Getting born part? No men wanted to see that. Same thing with making golden lilies. Men cared only about the result, tiny little feet, swaying steps—make jade stalk get big and hard. Make clouds-and-rain-best-part of bed stuff be terrific good. How did it happen?
Mei won ti,
little sweet thing. No problem. Not for men.

So why was it that the first time she bound Mei-hua’s feet there was a
yang gwei zih
watching from the other deck, thinking Ah Chee did not know he was there? Ah Chee knew.

Had to be that Di Short Neck, whom the women secretly called Short Stalk because his jade appendage was said to be as tiny as a courtesan’s golden lilies, this dog turd pirate Di had promised the little girl to the Lord Samuel
yang gwei zih
as part of their business dealings. If so, Ah Chee needed to begin preparing to protect her tiny treasure. The first step was to acquire
yang gwei zih
words and never let on she knew them.

It was not so hard to learn such things on the sampans of the Pearl River, where foreign devil men of business were as thick as maggots on rotting meat. Even easier once the pair of them were shipped to New York with furniture and china and clothing. Enough for a grand mansion, though when they arrived Ah Chee discovered it was all to be crammed into three rooms on the top of what she right away thought was a not so special house, and got too much angry when she found out how many very terrific better houses there were in this place.

The Lord Samuel promised the plum blossom would be a princess in his faraway country. Why else learn music stuff and writing stuff and speaking like supreme first lady stuff? Super-special big important princess supreme lady
tai-tai.
Big lie. A princess would live in the best house, not three rooms on top of a not so good house with no garden and no wall. Never mind. Didn’t matter as long as the plum blossom did not know. And how would she find out? A rich man’s supreme lady
tai-tai
would never go outside in the Middle Kingdom. Same thing here, Ah Chee told Mei-hua. In reality, maybe yes, maybe no, Ah Chee wasn’t sure. But only she went out most days to stupid name Market Street, and walked along the stalls, and did business as she would have done at home in the land between heaven and earth.

“Not good. Not fresh. More hard. More hard.” And when at last a pumpkin was produced that had the right ring when she knocked on it, “How much?” And inevitably, “Too much. Too much. You think this old woman have so much money?” Followed by the half turn away from the stall and the pumpkin seller’s agreement to lower the price by two pennies.

As always, Ah Chee counted out the agreed on price with care and put the coins she calculated she’d saved by clever bargaining in a separate purse.

The Lord Samuel gave Ah Chee three American dollars every week to buy food for herself and the
tai-tai.
By comparing what things cost here with what they would have cost at home she had carefully worked out that it was equivalent to half a string of copper cash. Half a string, to feed herself and one small female. The lord ate with his
tai-tai
only very occasionally, when, Ah Chee suspected, he longed for the tastes of the Middle Kingdom and was sickened by the slabs of meat and huge lumps of vegetables which according to Taste Bad and Leper Face and the rest it was customary to serve in this foreign devil place. For only that much food, half a string of copper cash? Who would spend so much on so little? Was she a wicked servant as well as an ignorant one that she could
not get good value in any market, even this one full of foreign devils? No, she was not. She knew her duty was to protect the child who was as much hers as if she had squeezed her out between her own two legs. Her exquisite Mei-hua, given to the foreign lord, which was only a little better than being blinded or crippled and sent out to beg, as were the daughters of even some rich men in the Middle Kingdom. Never mind. That’s how life was for women. Ah Chee did not expect things to be any easier here than they were there. Store up coins that you do not need now, because you will need them later.

The secret treasure purse was hidden below the quilted tunic she wore over a long narrow skirt of sturdy homespun slit on both sides to accommodate walking. Ah Chee pulled her hair into a bun and wore a conical straw hat tied firmly under her chin. It kept the rain and the snow away in winter and in summer protected her from the sun.

Plenty
yang gwei zih
this-place people looked at her and pointed and laughed. Sometimes little boys threw stones, bad stink things. Never mind. There was plenty of food to eat in this place. And even the house that was not terrific best house kept out the rain and wind and sun. Also, according to what the plum blossom told her, the Lord Samuel had a terrific big jade stalk that could go in very terrific deep. Make a son for supreme lady
tai-tai
, whatever he think.

The Lord Samuel had plans. Ah Chee knew that. Ah Chee also had plans. And very terrific best thing in this place was no mother-in-law to also have plans. She had burned twenty joss sticks in thanksgiving to Fu Xing, the god of happiness and good luck, when they arrived here and did not find a waiting mother-in-law.

But then she made Leper Face show her where Lord Samuel did his business and eventually found out he had taken a concubine, and that she lived in a very too much better house than the one where the lord kept Mei-hua and her Ah Chee.

Concubine not such a bad thing. Dog turd pirate Di Short Neck have plenty of concubines, even other wives. Her plum blossom was the Lord Samuel’s supreme lady first wife
tai-tai
. But terrific hard to understand
that he never bring yellow hair concubine to kowtow and serve the
tai-tai
to show she knew who was supreme lady. No respect for the
tai-tai
was very too bad business. Very important plum blossom have son to secure her position.