The Captain's Pearl (8 page)

He laughed shortly. “He's
the
butler, blue eyes. A servant.” He pulled on her arm again. “Keep your mouth closed. I don't want you telling the captain the wrong way about his son's death.”

“I understand.” She was glad to admit that, finally.

Giving her no time to stare at the odd furniture and rooms surrounding a staircase, Captain Trevarian drew her to a wide door edged by richly stained wood. He whispered something, but she did not hear what as she stared into the large room, which was filled with furniture. She guessed some of the pieces were for sitting, but was unsure why there were so many tables covered with items.

Again Captain Trevarian's hand against her back pushed her forward. Near a hearth, three men in dark coats were bending toward a man sitting in a chair with wheels attached to the sides. Suddenly four pairs of eyes riveted on her.

She had no time to ask Captain Trevarian which one was her father, for her gaze was caught by the white-haired man in the chair. He was little more than a skeleton covered with skin and fine clothes. Across his time lined face, his skin was loose on his high cheek bones. Blue eyes regarded her with astonishment above his golden mustache.

Was
this
the Captain Catherwood Mother had spoken of with love? Lian's eyes grew heavy with tears. Was Mother still alive? One thing was certain. Mother would want her to show reverence to her father. Dropping to the floor, she pressed her head to the rug.

“What's this?” The voice was scratchy. “Young lady, rise.”

Slowly she obeyed, as Captain Trevarian said, “Good afternoon, Captain Catherwood.”

The man in the odd chair
was
her father. Keeping her face blank, she stared at the old man. If she could see nothing of herself in him, she saw much of Davis.

“And who are you, child?” Samuel Catherwood asked kindly.

She whispered, in English, “I am Lian, honorable sir.”

“Lian? The willow?”

“Yes.” It should not have surprised her that Captain Catherwood knew the meaning of her name. If he had lingered in Canton long enough to teach her mother to speak English, and to persuade her to fall in love with him so deeply that she had never married, he must know much about China. That thought was comforting.

Captain Catherwood smiled. “You show excellent taste, Bryce. I assume, because you brought her to Stormhaven, that she's your bride.”

“No, sir,” he said quietly.

Lian glanced at Captain Trevarian. His voice did not match the arrogant shout she had heard on the ship. Her family's wealth and prestige intimidated even Captain Trevarian? No, the captain was not intimidated. He offered respect to her father.

Captain Catherwood's mouth tightened. “Your mistress? Do you think this is wise?”

Captain Trevarian's stiffness disconcerted Lian. She wished he would be honest. When she dared another look at him, she saw he was struggling to speak. She longed to touch him, to let him know she shared his grief, but that would embarrass him. She could not imagine what would infuriate him more than that.

“Sir,” he said, “it was Davis's wish that Lian be brought here. He—”

“Davis?” The old man grinned. “Then it's my son who must be congratulated on his excellent taste in ladies. I should have known he'd inherit the Catherwood talent for finding the loveliest rose in the garden. Where's the young rascal?”

“Davis is dead, Captain Catherwood. Killed in Canton.” He glared at Lian. “Murdered, I should say.”

The old man gripped the arms of his wheeled chair. His smile vanished. “Lieutenant Trevarian, if this is your idea of a jest—”

“Captain Catherwood, honorable sir,” Lian said, “Davis died trying to rescue my mother.” She sensed rather than saw Captain Trevarian's anger. Over and over, he had warned her to remain silent.

“Your mother? What is this nonsense?” demanded Captain Catherwood.

Captain Trevarian snapped, “Why don't you tell him everything as heartlessly?”

Lian wanted to beg both men to forgive her. All her English fled, as she sought the words to explain that Davis had died bravely and with honor. In Cantonese, she whispered, “I don't know how.”

Captain Trevarian growled something under his breath, then said, “According to her mother, Lian is your daughter.”

“My daughter?”

“Honorable sir—” Lian began.

“Your mother's name,” ordered Captain Catherwood, but his voice shook.

“Honorable sir, she is called Ch'en Mei.” From under her
ch 'eÅ­ng shaam
, she pulled out the thousand stories box. “She told me you gave her this.” She gasped as Captain Catherwood's face became as gray as Davis's had just before his last breath. Whirling to Captain Trevarian, she cried, “Help him! He's ill!”

He caught her arm as a swarm of servants surrounded the man in the chair. “Be quiet, you little fool!”

Lian tried to sort out the cacophony of voices. When someone shouted, Captain Trevarian jerked her backward, as servants pushed the wheeled chair from the room. She started to follow, but his grip on her arm tightened.

“Stay here!” he ordered.

“I must—”

“Your brother is dead because of you. Do you intend to kill your father as well?”

In horror, Lian stared at him. Repeating his order not to move, he walked to the door. She wavered between obeying and going to stand where she could see what was happening.

Captain Trevarian stamped to the hearth and clasped his hands behind his back. The seams of his coat strained at his shoulders, but he seemed unaware of it or the increasing clatter of rain at the windows.

Lian hesitated. If she spoke, he would lash out at her in anger. If she said nothing, she would be labeled as callous.

A shadow appeared in the doorway. When she saw the man named Hyett, she inched toward him and bowed.

“No, no, Miss Lian,” he murmured.

Looking up, she regarded him with dismay. How many more mistakes could she make? “If I have offended you—”

“No, no,” he repeated. “Miss Lian, you're wanted upstairs immediately.”

Captain Trevarian turned from the hearth. “Hyett, you must be mistaken. She caused the captain's heart palpitation.”

The butler tried to smile. “Sir, this request is from Captain Catherwood himself.”

“All right.” Crossing the room, Captain Trevarian put his hand on her arm. “Take us up.”

“Lieutenant—er, Captain Trevarian, the request was solely for Miss Lian.”

“She speaks very little English. I doubt if the captain remembers much Cantonese after all these years. They'll need me to translate.”

The butler nodded and urged them to follow. Lian twisted her arm away, but Captain Trevarian caught it again before she had taken two steps. Whirling her to face him, he put his nose so close to hers that she was surrounded by the emerald seas of his eyes.

In an intense tone, he whispered, in Cantonese, “Don't do anything to endanger the captain more, you little fool. You are a jinx. Give me one more reason to rid this world of you, and I gladly shall.”

Her chin rose. “
My
father awaits me.”

Lian heard Captain Trevarian's heavier steps behind her, but did not look back. If she did, he might make some cruel comment. She wondered how he could believe she wanted to see her father dead.

Her hand quivered on the curved bannister. When they reached the dusk at the top of the stairs, Hyett motioned toward an open door. Taking a deep breath of the musty air, she entered the room.

This room was crowded with people. They stood around tall cabinets and a variety of tables and chairs that concealed most of the scarlet carpet. A massive bed was set by the hearth. A row of windows offered a view of the harbor, but was blocked by the wheeled chair.

“Come here, child.” From the bed, Captain Catherwood added in a weak voice, “Don't be afraid.”

“I am not afraid,” she whispered.

“Good.” He smiled, deepening the creases in his face. “It proves Catherwood blood is in your veins.”

Glancing at the servants, she stepped closer to the bed. She began to drop to her knees.

“No, do not kneel,” he ordered. “This isn't China.”

When Captain Catherwood held out his hand, she put hers on it. His skin was as dry as paper, but she hid her reaction behind the mask she had worn during years of taunts. He told her to sit on a chair beside the bed. Furtively she glanced at Captain Trevarian, who was standing behind her, frowning.

“Your name is Lian?” Captain Catherwood asked.

“Yes.”

“It's a good one, for you are like the willow, blowing with the winds of chance which I'm sure have been unkind, child.” His smile returned. “You may call me ‘Father.'”

“Yes. Yes, Father,” she answered dutifully, but tears trickled into her eyes. How happy Mother would be to witness this!

Mother! Was she alive or had Mother's Younger Brother taken out his fury on her? Lian clenched her hands. She was happy and she was sad and she was confused and she wanted … She did not know what she wanted.

Her father said, “Do not look so sad, for that reminds me of how your mother looked when she came pleading for me to protect her from his cruelty.”

His cruelty
? He must be speaking of Mother's Younger Brother, who had tried to destroy her life, too. “Is that why she—she—?”

“Someday I shall tell you how I took her into my quarters and into my heart.” He touched the box she held, then looked at the mantel where another box was set.

“That is like my box!” she gasped.

“Because I made it the same voyage I gave your mother that box. Once it sat on a table in the back parlor, but I like it here where it reminds me of past voyages.” He ran his fingers along the clipper ship on the box. “It pleases me that Mei kept this small token.”

“She treasured the thousand stories box.”

“Thousand stories?”

“We had no books and little paper, but Mother wrote what lessons she could and stored them in this box for me along with the story of Captain Catherwood.”

“Will you read it to me some day?”

“Yes.”

“Then smile, child. There is no need to be unhappy. You are home.”

“I have dreamed often of the day when I would find my father. My mother told me much of you. My heart is happy, Father.”

“As mine is that you are with me.” His smile faded into lines of pain. “Tell me of Davis.”

Lian obeyed. When her English failed her, Captain Trevarian assisted quietly, shocking her. She had become accustomed to his blustery haughtiness on the
China Shadow
. She was finishing the story just as a rap sounded on the door.

She met the startled eyes of a young man wearing a black coat like Captain Trevarian's. Caramel brown hair twisted across his forehead and fell into his dark eyes.

“Come in, Doctor,” ordered Captain Catherwood impatiently. “Do you know Bryce Trevarian?”

“Yes, yes. How are you, Trevarian?” He continued to stare at her as he walked to the bed.

“This is my daughter, Lian, who has arrived from Canton.”

“Daughter?” he choked. He cleared his throat. Offering his hand, he stated, “It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Catherwood. I'm Dr. Weston Newberry.”

“Shake the doctor's hand, Lian,” Captain Trevarian ordered. When she lifted quivering fingers to obey, he added, “You may find her Chinese sensibilities offended by the commonplace.”

The doctor smiled, but as quickly as possible, she pulled her hand away and stepped back.

Father asked, “Bryce, will you take Lian downstairs while young Newberry pokes me until he's satisfied that I am still alive?”

Lian had time only to smile at her father before Captain Trevarian grasped her arm. He led her out of the room, down the stairs, and into the room where she first had seen her father.

Bryce closed sliding doors behind him. “‘My heart is happy, Father,'” he said in mocking Cantonese. “That was one hell of a performance, Lian.”

“Why shouldn't I be happy to find my father?”

He pointed at a settee covered in rich gold velvet. “Sit.”

“I need not obey you any longer.”

“No, you don't,” he agreed as he stepped toward her. “You don't have to obey me, but you will sit and listen if you have an inkling of sense in your head.”

Lian considered refusing, but sat.

“You should be pleased that you've been welcomed with no questions asked.” He shook his head. “Captain Catherwood is excited to find you, but, one of these days, he's going to start asking questions. Then what will you do?”

“Tell him the truth.”

“The truth?” He laughed. “Why?”

“One always should speak the truth.”

“Always?”

“Yes! Without truth, there is no trust. Without trust, there is—”

“Spare me a lecture on Chinese ethics, blue eyes.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. She was not sure what he found funny. “Tell him the truth, you little fool.”

“Please explain.”

Again he laughed. “You truly don't know, do you? Are you so incredibly lucky or are you playing your role to perfection?”

“I do not understand.” How many times had he forced her to admit that?

He poured a glass of the dark liquid from a decanter. Sitting by her, he leaned forward so his face was too close to hers. She started to rise. His hand on her arm halted her.

“I thought you wanted to understand,” he said. “Things shall not be as you imagined. America has been a distant dream to you, filled with wonders. It isn't that.”

“Can it be more horrible than what I escaped? I have a father who welcomes me instead of Mother's Younger Brother who sold me to buy opium.”

Shaking his head, he stood. “All right, blue eyes, jump in with both feet and try to swim against the tide of reason. Once the
China Shadow
is unloaded, I must take her to New Bedford for refitting. If you are here when I come back next time from Canton, I may do something idiotic like—”