Chapter Twenty-Three
Yihue stared at the missive in her hand.
She was very slow at reading English, but was able to sound out the large, dark letters.
Usually, Emma would help her, but the lady had been absent since yesterday afternoon.
And the maid who brought the paper had been unable to read, so that left Yihui to sort through Max’s handwriting like a child exploring a favorite toy.
MAX
She did not know what the word clothes meant but guessed when that same maid delivered a pair of breeches made of blue silk.
“He wants me to wear this?” she asked the girl whose name was Millie.
“Coo, but isn’t it soft? But why give you boy’s clothes?”
“This is for a boy?” Yihui had been wearing pants since her earliest days. Gowns were for ladies who did not work.
“Yes, but yer a foreigner. Everybody expects you to act odd.”
Apparently, Max did. She looked at the fancy clock on the mantle. One of the first things Emma had taught her was how to tell time. She had very little of it left before she was supposed to be ready.
“Millie, will you help me? It will take the hour.”
The girl hesitated. She’d been the only servant bold enough to dare help the foreign killer.
Yihui had tried to reward her with things, but she had nothing of her own to give.
So she gave the girl time to rest from her labors.
She invented excuses for Millie to sit with her.
And in that time, the two had discovered something else in common.
They both wanted to learn to read, so they practiced together.
“Aye,” Millie said as she pulled over the primer. Together they sorted out words until it was time to pull on the pants as if she were a boy. And though Yihui tried to hide it, they both knew she was nearly bouncing with excitement over Max’s gift. What kind of surprise would it be?
The clock had just struck the hour when Max knocked on the door. Millie opened it, and he stepped in, his eyes bright as he looked at her sitting with her hands clasped before her.
“Aren’t you looking lovely, Miss Wong? Are you tired of these four walls? If so, I’ve come to take you for a walk.”
“My lord,” she began, wondering exactly how to express her confusion. “I cannot walk yet.”
“I know. That’s where my surprise comes in.”
He didn’t leave her time to object. Within moments he had surrounded her with his arms and lifted her up.
She had no choice but to wrap her arms around him, to revel in the feel of his hands on her body, and sigh as he effortlessly carried her out of her room, down the stairs, and out the front door.
He moved so quickly and with such happy enthusiasm that she was still deep in his warmth when he stopped—outside—as he held her above a small horse.
A small horse?
“Spread your legs,” he said. “Careful. I don’t want to knock your feet. I’m sure breeches feel strange, but it is the safest way.”
“I have often worn my brother’s clothing,” she murmured as she stared down at the creature.
“Truly? I see we have a topic of conversation.” Then he tried to set her down, but she gripped him too tightly. “Come, come,” he chided. “You’re healthy enough now that this will work. Won’t be confined to your bedroom so much.”
“But I have never ridden a horse.”
“Never?” He seemed startled. “Surely someone put you on one as a child.”
“I ran when I needed to go somewhere. And twice, I have ridden in a rickshaw.” She shook her head. “I don’t know anything about horses.”
“You must tell me about rickshaws. Perhaps as we begin our walk.”
“Uh…” She clung to him, refusing to leave the strength of his body. But he was firm as he gently settled her on the creature.
“Grip here,” he instructed. “You can steer the pony with your legs and with the reins. No need to use… Oh my. What did you do to your feet?”
Too much to understand so fast. Or maybe not because as she sat there, things began to get a little easier. She could balance and breathe. That was the first step. Then she began to notice things.
First, he and the creature were dressed to match herself. His waistcoat was the same robin’s-egg blue of her dress which she wore above her pants. The animal, too, had a fresh straw hat with bright blue flowers on it.
Max patted the horse’s neck. “She’s named Blue for her hat.
I had to order her special from the country, and she arrived yesterday.
And now she’s here for you.” He beamed at her, clearly pleased with himself, but she could only stare.
How was she supposed to manage a horse? “Don’t you have ponies in China? ”
“We have horses in China.” She didn’t know the word pony.
“Blue is of a very small breed. Small enough that she can maneuver inside a house. She can go through doors and up and down stairs.”
“You want me to ride her inside?” She couldn’t imagine that.
“Only if I’m not around to carry you. This way you don’t have to stay cooped up in your room. You can see visitors. The entire ton wants to meet you.”
“On a horse?” she gasped. “Inside?”
“Not if you don’t want to. For today, let us just take a walk, yes?”
What could she say to that? It was glorious to be outside again. And wonderful to be by his side. And so she smiled and tried not to fall off the creature.
“Excellent,” he cried. And then he frowned as he looked down at the stirrups. She hadn’t put her feet in them, but the raised skirt showed the bindings on her feet.
“They are wrapped,” she answered. “Not bound as they do in China, but for proper healing. Mr. Torres helped me.”
In China, the bindings were tightened as hard as possible to make the foot smaller than a man’s fist. With Mr. Torres’s help, Yihui had set boards around her feet.
One beneath with a rag for the arch, and two on either side, to hold the shape of a proper foot.
Then she’d wrapped all of it in cloth and stiffened it with plaster.
It took a very long time to dry—nearly two days—but the fabric had been given shape by the wood boards and now would serve to keep her safe from the normal bumps of moving about in the world.
Eventually, she hoped to take off the bindings and walk again.
But for now, she could totter a little on her heels without rebreaking the bones.
“Looks fragile,” Max said. “Did it hurt?”
“Not once it was done.” The maneuvering of it had been difficult, but in the end, she was pleased with the result.
“Very good then,” he said with a nod. “Shall we go?”
She looked at him, her heart beating in her throat. She felt incredibly precarious up here. She had no idea what to do. And worse, he was clearly surprised by her lack of understanding.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he took hold of the reins. “I shall lead. You just stay seated.”
She cast her eyes down, unable to find the right words to voice her discomfort.
“Yihui,” he said quietly, gently lifting her chin. “Trust me?”
“I am frightened,” she finally confessed.
“Blue is as gentle as a spring rain.”
She wasn’t nervous about the horse. Well, not completely about the horse.
He took her clenched fingers into his own. “Be honest with me. This is meant to divert you. I thought it a grand plan.”
She knew that, and usually she would be excited for her first ride upon a pony. But this wasn’t just a ride. He was taking her out in public in boy’s clothes and on a tiny horse.
“You are showing me to the world in a way that everyone will notice.”
He nodded, his expression serious. “You are a Chinese woman engaged to a future duke. Everyone will take note of you regardless. I thought it best to show them that you are delightful.”
She bit her lip, trying to find the right words to explain. “I have lived by being small, by doing my work. I did not upset anyone.”
“I have done the same, you know. Not in the way you have, I expect, but I have done everything everyone else wanted as much as possible. It made me a good son and good lord, but I have recently discovered something shocking.”
“What?”
“Everyone gets upset anyway. I cannot please them. So I shall please myself. That means—if you will agree—that you ride a pony while I ask about rickshaws and Chinese clothing. It is a fine day and be damned to anyone who talks. They mean nothing to us.”
She heard a sharp kind of freedom in his words and saw a defiant lift to his chin. It pleased her.
“You will keep me safe?” she asked.
“Always.”
She looked down at the creature who stood placidly in front of the door. Blue did not seem overly large between her thighs. She could manage the pony, couldn’t she?
“Teach me how to ride this beast,” she said.
He laughed. “It’s a pony, Yihui. Barely larger than a big dog.”
“To a woman who cannot walk, a dog, a pony, or a horse are all the same.”
He was silent for a moment, then agreed with a gentle smile. “Of course, you’re right.” He took the reins from her hand. “Hold the pommel with your hands, grip Blue with your thighs, and smile, Yihui. This will be fun.”