Chapter Twenty-Six
“Do you really think she’s ill? Or are you just making up to her?”
Yihui looked at Max. She didn’t understand the words, exactly, but she comprehended the meaning. He thought his mother exaggerated, and maybe she did. But her illness was real.
“Her channel moves badly. My tea will help, but she must do the rest.”
They were walking outside again, moving quicker than their earlier stroll. She could already tell she would be sore from sitting atop this pony for so long, but it was worth it to finally do something that she was trained to do.
Meanwhile, Max glanced at her, his expression troubled. “I will be sure to take care of you. You need not worry—”
“I am not lying. Neither is your mother.”
She was not insulted by his attitude. Well, not insulted very much. Men never took women seriously until it was too late. It was to his credit that he was considering her words.
They walked in silence until interrupted. Twice they were stopped by couples curious about her, but he kept the encounters brief.
“Those four are obnoxious people,” he grumbled. “Steer clear of them. Toadies to anyone who has money. They’ll bleed you dry with a smile, then move on the moment the tap is cut off.”
Then after another interruption, he visibly shuddered. “Terrible lech that one. Don’t ever be cornered by him.”
He commented on the people they encountered, but in so doing, he revealed a great deal about himself.
Regarding the lecher—a word he had to explain—he said he’d tried to get the man banned from the highest levels of society, but that there were too many such men for his protests to make any difference.
Still, he made sure any women under his care was aware of the man’s proclivities.
Then he went on about the toadies. “They don’t protect the people who rely on them. They don’t think of anything but their own pleasure.” He shook his head. “It’s a reprehensible abuse of their position.”
She let him ramble. It was a good opportunity to practice English. And she liked hearing his voice. But after another five minutes, she turned to him.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you will meet these people soon enough. You should know their tricks.”
She shrugged. “I always look for tricks.”
“I suppose you do.”
They walked on a bit more, long enough for her to think deeper about their conversation.
“You are telling me how to behave,” she suddenly realized.
“What?”
“You are telling me the kind of people you approve and those you do not.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I was showing you that I am not completely blind to those around me.”
“But you see faults, not illnesses.”
“And you see illnesses, not faults.”
She would say that they were arguing about tiny things, but the difference was significant when one addressed treatment. An illness implied that the victim wanted to change, that they longed for health. He was suggesting that his mother enjoyed her illness too much to let it go.
That, too, was a possibility.
“I will listen to your guidance,” she said.
“Be careful,” he admonished with a chuckle. “My thoughts often differ from other people’s.”
“That makes you intelligent.”
He looked at her. Because she was on the pony, they were of a level together. Eye to eye and nearly nose to nose. She saw the interest in his eyes. How could she not? She had learned to read a man’s lusts when very young.
What a surprise to return the interest a hundredfold. She had thought these emotions long since destroyed. Her father had made it clear when she was very young that she would not sully herself with anyone or he would kill her. So she had kept herself away from interesting men…until now.
“English men do not take concubines?” she asked.
His brows rose. “Not as such. But mistresses are common among those who can pay for them.”
“Are they well treated?” How odd that she could ask these questions so openly.
“Mistresses have a difficult life, subject to the whims of their consort. How they are treated depends upon the man and on the situation.”
She already knew Max would be kind. He would treat his woman well. But before she could do more than imagine such a fate, his brows drew together with a frown.
“You do not need to think of such things,” he said firmly. “I will see to your needs. You will not need to sell yourself.”
She had not thought about the money aspect.
Only about his mouth on hers, his body entwined with hers.
She knew the specifics, of course. She had helped her grandmother bring medicine to the whores in Canton.
Indeed, her grandmother ran a lively business in cursing men who hurt women.
By the time Yihui was ten, she had heard details that left her with no illusions about love or tenderness.
And yet, somehow her fantasies lingered whenever she looked at Max.
So they stood close to one another, walking slowly and focused only upon each other. Until he was jostled from behind. They were in a market area, and even he could not take up so much space and not be touched.
“Right,” he said, as he cleared his throat. “The apothecary is through there.”
“I will be fast. Your mother’s needs are small—”
“No,” he interrupted as he set his hand upon her knee. “You have caught the prince’s attention with your medicines. I’d like you to buy what you need to treat many ailments.”
That could be a very long list indeed. “What illnesses?”
He shrugged. “Many. I should like to see you work.”
Was this a test? To see if she was able to do as she said? “Will you report to the prince? If you think it is nonsense?”
“Yes.”
“And how will you know if it is false teaching?”
“The same way everyone does. Do those you treat get better?”
That was a tall order for even the best healers. Many patients never improved. “I have studied this all my life, but even the best cannot guarantee a body heals. Surely your own medicine men can do no better?”
“You already expect to fail?”
No, she expected to be judged unfairly. But if she believed in her training, then she would need to stand by it.
“I understand,” she said quietly, though her belly quivered in fear. It was so easy to blame the medicine for whatever ill occurred.
“Yihui, I need to know if it’s a lie. Prinny likes to chase new things. Chinoiserie is his newest hobby.”
“Then I am to teach him?”
His denial was swift. “No. You will teach me.”
If it were possible, she would willingly share everything she knew. She wanted to prove herself to everyone around. How else was she to gain customers? But not everyone was capable of learning these medicines. Her own brothers were thickheaded when it came to the subtleties of their profession.
“Max, is your mind open enough to learn?”
“I should think so,” he said as they crossed the street to the apothecary’s door. “You’ve already spent the day schooling me.”
He thought that was schooling? “I have not even begun.”
And so her task was set before her. She would fail miserably, of course. She could not imagine any powerful man who would stoop to learn from a foreign woman. But Max had proved himself surprising in so many ways already. Perhaps white men were different.
She entered the shop with hope, but the apothecary inside was not different.
He was exactly as obnoxious, insulted, and pompous as she feared.
Indeed, he matched her own father for arrogance.
Fortunately, she knew he’d be well paid for whatever herbs she took from him, whole jars of ingredients some badly stored, some prepared too coarse, but serviceable nonetheless.
Then she saw a book on the table, one clearly meant as a recipe guide. She couldn’t read it yet, but she could figure it out. If she had a copy.
She pointed to it and asked, “How much?”
The proprietor was outraged. She didn’t understand all his words, but his meaning was clear. This was his livelihood, and he would not give such important knowledge into the hands of…
Whatever he said was insulting. She could tell from the tightening of Max’s jaw and the flash of fury in his eyes. As if knowledge should be hoarded to the few who could profit from it. Medicine was for all, or so her grandmother had taught her.
Yihui held up her hand in a placating gesture. She would learn if he were a true healer by his response to her next words.
“I will trade what I know from China for the knowledge of England.”
As expected, the man blustered with arrogance.
She had expected no less. But she was watching the old woman in black clothes huddled near the fire.
That woman looked up with interest and indeed, she reminded Yihui of her grandmother.
Immediately her heart softened to the woman.
It was to her she addressed her next words.
“When I am free, I will come back,” she said. “We will teach one another.”
The woman nodded but the man huffed.
“As if I have anything to learn from a Chinese woman.”
She ignored him, already seeing in him all the faults of her father. For Max’s benefit, she swept a hand over the large pile of supplies.
“I do not know what this should cost in England.”
“What quality is it?”
“Medium. I believe the grandmother has skill.”
“Then he shall get a medium payment.”
While Yihui supervised the packaging of her supplies, she watched in awe as Max pulled out coins and set them on the counter.
The amount looked hefty to Yihui, but she had little understanding of English money.
She did see the proprietor’s eyes light with greed, though he was in a precarious position.
He could not barter with a man of Max’s status.
He could also not allow anyone to think his wares were anything less than perfect.
That left him both protesting and obsequious at the same time. It was tedious, which was why Max didn’t engage. He ignored the coins the moment they left his hands, helped with collecting the wrapped packages, and then gathered Blue’s reins as they departed.
She was very impressed.
Max used simple expedience without pompous display.
She sighed. She didn’t need more reasons to be attracted to him.
They spoke little as they returned, being interrupted every few feet. She was introduced to a dozen people who all merged into a formless mass in her mind. Max was cordial to them but moved on as soon as possible.
When they finally returned to the house, she discovered he’d had a table in the library set for her use. Apparently, he meant to watch everything she did.
“This is not the best place to mix teas,” she told him.
“I’m aware, but it is where you will work for now. I cannot crowd into the kitchen with you, upsetting all the servants there. At least here, I can listen and learn.”
He was serious. He meant to attempt an education.
“Very well,” she said. “First I will prepare your mother’s tea.”
She began to speak about a body’s winds, about chi energy, and where the channels flowed.
It was the most basic instructions she had given to her brothers, day after day.
But her English words were not adequate, and he had no understanding of life force.
It should have been a frustrating, miserable experience.
And yet, somehow, it was not.