Chapter 5
When Thomas had first told her about it, Caroline was excited at the prospect of living in China. “Your uncle Mason is very
generous, offering to let us live with him,” she said, “and he’s promised to leave his house to you. Do you know why he quarreled
with your mother?”
“My mother never said much,” Thomas said, “only that he’d wanted her to marry someone else. She wrote to him when I was born,
but he never replied. The only reason I contacted Uncle Mason last year was to let him know she’d died. He wrote back saying
he regretted falling out with her. Then he told me that his son, Charles—who I didn’t even know existed—died a few years ago.
I’m Uncle Mason’s only surviving family now and he says he wants to make up for lost time.”
“I suppose he’s hoping you can replace Charles,” Caroline said. “He wants an heir and business partner. He won’t be disappointed,
my darling. Without even knowing Charles, I’m sure you’re every bit as clever and astute. How did he die?”
“I’m not sure,” Thomas said. “Uncle Mason didn’t want to talk about it.
Who can blame him? I do know that the house once belonged to Charles.
That is, Uncle Mason bought it for him, and after Charles died, Mason moved in.
It’s called Lennox Manor. Uncle Mason said he’d be happy for us to take over the house.
He wants you to run it as you please, entertain as you like.
He’ll just live in a suite of rooms there. ”
She recalled her first excited views of Shanghai, of sunrise gilding the ripples of water on the horizon, the distant and
tantalizing view of its waterfront coming into focus as their ship neared the port. She and Thomas had rushed to stand on
deck with the other passengers, some eagerly taking in the sight of the city, others sighing with relief at the familiar skyline.
They descended the wharf to a scene of chaos: disembarking passengers and the people welcoming them, swarms of porters and
coolies, rickshaws and carts, uniformed sailors threading their way through the crowd, red-turbaned Sikh police keeping beggars
and vendors away from the arrivals area.
And then there was Mason Burnett. Thomas’s uncle, the man who would make her husband heir to the Burnett fortune, including
the mansion. She noticed him even before he put up his hand to wave, a large solitary figure who stood out from the clusters
of families and friends waiting on the wharf. Not because he was alone, but because of the look on his face, anxious rather
than joyfully expectant; he broke into a wide smile as they descended the ramp.
“Welcome, welcome to Shanghai, the Paris of the East!” He kissed Caroline’s hand and shook hands vigorously with Thomas. “The
heavens will open soon, let’s get into the carriage. Is that your luggage?” He snapped his fingers and a Chinese man in a
dark green uniform hurried up to direct the porters. Soon two coolies were loading their steamer trunks and other belongings
onto carts that would follow them to Lennox Manor.
They climbed into a large horse carriage and Mason gave Caroline a woolen lap robe to drape over her legs. “I know you’re
wearing a warm coat,” he said, “but the damp here makes the cold air sink into your bones.”
“I’ve brought over a motorcar, Uncle Mason,” Thomas said, leaning back, “so I need to come back to the wharf tomorrow and make sure it’s been unloaded.”
“A motorcar, well, well,” Mason said, “yes, of course. I’ll have the carriage come around to the house tomorrow morning and
we can go together.” He turned to Caroline. “And you, my dear, I suppose you’d like to spend tomorrow resting and looking
at your new home. I’d be happy to take you around Shanghai once the rain stops.”
The two men dived straight into a discussion about railways and investors while Caroline stared out the window, avid and curious.
China was exciting, noisy and full of life. She had never seen such traffic, never even imagined such a mix of conveyances.
Motorcars and horse-drawn carriages of all sizes shared the road with rickshaws and donkey carts. There didn’t appear to be
any traffic lanes; people simply made their way along the street in whichever direction suited them. Warning shouts and cries
of exasperation mingled with horns and bells as vehicles of all kinds nudged each other along the rain-covered streets.
It was another world. She had never seen people of so many nationalities within a single city block. Laborers pushed wheelbarrows
piled high with sacks of goods, vegetables stacked for delivery, furniture, and, often as not, half a dozen passengers whose
legs dangled over the wheelbarrow’s platform. Other workers carried heavy loads in baskets swinging from the ends of bamboo
poles hefted across their shoulders, the men nearly bent over from the weight but still threading their way deftly through
the crowds.
Yet amidst all this confusion there was enough that was reassuringly familiar to Caroline, especially in the buildings along the Bund.
She had seen postcards and guidebooks about this part of the waterfront, a street where banks and embassies dominated the shore, with buildings that could’ve been transported from a European city.
Farther into the city, inside the French Concession, Chinese buildings and shops alternated with Western-style structures.
Bakeries and nightclubs existed side by side; delicious smells tickled her nose, some familiar, others strange and tempting.
They left behind the noise and traffic to roll along what looked to Caroline like a country road. Wrought iron gates opened
as the carriage approached and through the misty drizzle, Caroline caught her first sight of Lennox Manor. She squeezed Thomas’s
arm in excitement. Her new home. A porte cochere sheltered the few steps up to the mansion’s front door, and when the carriage
stopped, Mason got out and spoke to the lean Chinese manservant who had come out to greet them.
“Welcome, welcome,” Mason said, “welcome to your new home.” The Chinese servant bowed and held the door open. “This is Chin,
our Number One Boy. Anything you want, ask him first.”
A line of house servants, all men, stood by the staircase, dressed in blue cotton tunics with high necks worn over loose black
trousers. Their eyes were alert and inquisitive as they bowed to the new arrivals. They ranged from an older man, whose spotless
apron proclaimed him the cook, all the way down to a boy, a child of perhaps twelve who stared openly at Caroline until Chin
rapped him on the top of the head.
“It’s been a long time since a lady took charge of this place,” Mason said. “It’s good to have you here, my dear.” His accompanying
smile expressed welcome but Caroline glimpsed a shrewd gleam in his eyes that made her uneasy.
Her unease was justified within a few days.
Caroline quickly came to the realization, one she had not yet shared with Thomas, that Mason Burnett wasn’t so much leaving the house to them as ridding himself of a white elephant.
During her first day of exploration, she recognized immediately how expensive it would be to bring Lennox Manor back to good repair; the more she saw of the building, the more worrisome the situation, especially since Thomas had also agreed to take over all household expenses.
Caroline soon realized that if she were to do a good job of running the house, she would have to train the staff, and for
that she needed help to do it quickly. For some reason, the servants were all new except for the head servant. Chin spoke
a little English, the rest of the staff none at all, and the list of things she needed to do grew longer each day.
But now she had Lisan, which made life much easier.
Standing at the window of her parlor, she shook her head at the memory of her first days in Lennox Manor, when the sight of
the sodden lawns and the rivulets running along the gravel driveway had dismayed her. The garden had been left to grow wild
for too long. She suspected Mason had brought in workers before she and Thomas arrived to mow down the tall grass. Lisan said
they now had a gardener, an actual trained gardener, not just some manual laborer, and he was tidying up the hothouse.
Caroline was pleased with her young secretary, whom she found quiet but forthright. After just a few days, Caroline could
tell they would get along very well. There was nothing forced about Lisan’s pleasant demeanor or her deferential manner. She
hoped the young woman would grow more talkative once she settled into the role and the household. During her time living with
the Dominics, Caroline knew that some of the best information came from servants’ gossip.
Lisan unraveled some of the mysteries of domestic help in China for her.
She had trailed behind Caroline, translating and offering suggestions, explaining to her why the servants did things a certain way and explaining to the servants how Caroline wanted some tasks done differently.
She could already tell that the house servants were quick and intelligent.
With Lisan’s help, it wouldn’t take long for them to learn how she liked things done.
Between Miss Fielding’s Finishing School for Young Ladies and living at the Dominics’, she’d acquired a very thorough education in the practicalities of running a large house, but it was helpful to have Lisan vouch for a different perspective. After all, Shanghai was not New York.
For one thing, Caroline felt they had too many servants.
“If you’re worried about the cost, Mrs. Stanton, there’s no need,” Lisan said. “I understand that compared to America or Europe,
in China a large household staff is extremely affordable. You don’t have too many servants, I promise you, not for a house
of this size.”
“But there’s head servant Chin, four houseboys, and two cooks,” Caroline said, “and Uncle Mason has a carriage and driver.”