Chapter 5 #2
“And the new gardener,” Lisan reminded her. “The main thing, ma’am, is to think of Chin, your head servant and Number One
Boy, as the equivalent of a butler. His command of English is basic but for most housekeeping chores he is completely able
to convey your instructions to the other house servants. If you have any problems with the house servants, he will replace
those who don’t meet your standards. House servants, cooks, kitchen help, and so on. Remember the other day, when you mentioned
hosting a party? He offered to borrow some extra servants. He has good connections.”
“All right. But another thing—except for our youngest houseboy, the servants are all grown men,” Caroline said. “But we call
them ‘Boy’ and by number. Number Two Boy. Number Three Boy. Don’t they mind?”
“It’s very kind of you to ask if they mind,” Lisan said, looking startled.
“I’m not sure they believe there’s a choice.
Westerners have a difficult time learning Chinese names and find it easier to call servants by number.
It’s been going on since . . . oh, ever since foreigners first hired Chinese servants.
” Her voice and expression were deliberately very polite.
And indeed, when Caroline looked into it, the house servants were quite affordable. The cost of keeping them was minuscule
compared with the cost of restoring the house to good condition. If Mason wanted Thomas to pay for that, she would at least
compile a list and get some idea of the expense. It would also be a good way to start a conversation with Thomas about Mason.
They had to be careful. His uncle was not a benevolent father figure even though Thomas wanted to think of him that way.
Thomas and Mason would be in the city all day, so it was a good time to make a thorough tour of the house and all its rooms.
Caroline had Lisan accompany her with a notepad. Their first task was to inventory the food and supplies stores in the kitchen
and pantry. Rice and beans, flour, sugar, salt, oil, vinegar, potatoes, and apples. Hams and tinned kippers for Mason’s breakfast.
Lamp oil, candles, soaps, various polishes, tea towels, and brushes.
Zhao the cook and his son shopped at the market every day for fresh food, and vendors delivered supplies such as lamp oil.
There was no existing list to work from as far as she could tell.
“Lists are so important.” Caroline sighed. “At school we were taught to make sure the pantry never ran out of essential food
and supplies. For example, there’s eight metal jerry cans of lamp oil and I’ve no idea how long it lasts.”
“You’ll know in time, Mrs. Stanton,” Lisan said, “just ask Chin to keep an eye on things. What matters is that you’ve made
a list.”
“Let’s take a tour of the house,” she said.
“I’ve a feeling it’s been neglected for too long.
” She paused, looked more closely at Lisan.
There was a bruised look around her eyes, and her shoulders slumped slightly, as though she was tiring.
But her secretary’s smile was bright and her responses immediate.
“Let’s work our way from one end of each floor to the other,” Caroline continued, deciding not to show concern. Not yet. “Top to bottom.”
The house’s foundations were stonework, the house itself timber. It had been built for luxury, no doubt of that. The ballroom
was on the third floor, along with powder rooms for guests and a salon where female guests could rest and freshen up. On the
second floor, the entire west wing was reserved for the Stantons. Their suites faced each other across the hall, each suite
consisting of bedchamber, bathroom, and dressing room; Caroline’s dressing room was much larger, lined with shelves and wardrobes.
She had claimed another room, the one closest to the main staircase, to use as her private parlor and office.
Her parents’ house had been in poor condition too, so Caroline knew what to look for. At first glance the house seemed solid,
especially the rooms for entertaining. But upon closer inspection, she saw that rain had seeped in through warped window frames,
too many floorboards creaked, and the plumbing was erratic. Caroline ran her hand along the wallpaper in her dressing room
and felt something give underneath. Kneeling down in a corner, she picked away at an edge and realized that wallpaper had
been recently and hastily applied to conceal crumbling plasterwork.
Mason’s quarters were in the smaller east wing. Caroline knew she shouldn’t enter his quarters unless invited and expected
the same from him when it came to the west wing. But she felt no compunction about taking a look around to assess the state
of the house.
In the rooms that Mason used, fireplaces and stoves kept the air warm and relatively dry.
But in rooms where sheets covered furniture, evidence that they were not used, the air was dank, condensation dripping down windowpanes and mirrors.
They found strips of wallpaper that showed signs of mildew.
One window frame was starting to rot. Clearly Mason had made superficial improvements to dress up the Stantons’ rooms and the public rooms. But his own quarters revealed the true state of Lennox Manor.
It was making her head ache. “Let’s go outside now,” she said to Lisan, “I really need some fresh air.” She had examined the
property from various upstairs windows and now it was time to descend into the gardens.
It was clear to Caroline what a huge amount of work it would take to care for these five acres if they were to be returned
to beautiful condition. She shuddered to think of the effort needed to revive the derelict shrubs and flower beds. The parklike
setting held south-facing lawns and a small orchard. A beautiful grove of birch trees had been planted by the western perimeter
of the park, and a formal French garden grew below the terrace. Behind the formal gardens a flat expanse of ground contained
the croquet lawn and tennis court, then sloped up on the south side to meet an earthen berm topped with a row of poplar trees,
marking one edge of the property.
Then there was the shimmering oval beyond the croquet lawn, a man-made lake rimmed with banked turf and a stand of willows.
Today, its waters rippled with gusts of wind and willow branches swayed on its shores like mourners singing hymns.
On some other fine day, she would walk around the property with Thomas and have him take an inventory of what needed repairing
on the exterior. Surely he’d have Mason pay a share of the costs once he saw how much was involved. That is, if Mason had
any money at all.
After the inspection, she felt she needed a cup of tea or maybe a glass of sherry. She sat in her small parlor with Lisan.
The Number Two Boy, whom Lisan addressed as Liao, brought them a tray of tea and biscuits.
“It’s going to cost a fortune to bring this pile of lumber back to its original glory,” she said with a sigh.
“But that is the arrangement, isn’t it?” Lisan said, kneeling by the table to pour Caroline’s tea.
“Yes, it’s our responsibility to fix up Lennox Manor,” she said, thinking of Mason and his infuriating assumption that the
Stantons would take on all the household expenses, the staff as well as repairs. Equally infuriating was that Thomas had agreed.
“Perhaps you could negotiate with Mr. Liu?” Lisan said.
“What do you mean?” Caroline said. “Who is Mr. Liu?”
The girl looked up, flustered. “The owner of this house,” she said. “I was told Mr. Burnett leased Lennox Manor from Mr. Liu.
But perhaps I’m wrong. My apologies.”
“Who told you, Lisan?” Caroline said. She noticed the concern on the young Chinese woman’s features. “Don’t worry, it’s not
your fault if you’re mistaken. And if you’re right, I’m better off knowing. Tell me.”
Her secretary looked down in embarrassment, then, after much coaxing, mumbled that she had overheard talk that a Mr. Liu owned
Lennox Manor, that in fact he had bought it from Mason Burnett, then leased it back to him for next to nothing. Part of the
lease agreement was that Mason would pay for its upkeep and restore it to its original condition.
Lisan’s revelations infuriated Caroline, but she was careful not to let it show. She didn’t want the young Chinese woman to
think she blamed her for anything. Instead, she set Lisan to work addressing invitations for the party, giving her the list
of names that Mason had drawn up, with a few more Thomas had added.
Then she eased herself into the armchair by the tall arched window of her parlor to still her mind. She wouldn’t allow herself
to stew over Mason’s duplicity. She had a party to plan.
The menu, written in Lisan’s flawless copperplate, lay on the side table and she picked it up to review for the umpteenth time. The party would be her first real foray into Shanghai society as a hostess.
Lisan had helped things along immensely by recommending the city’s best French patisserie to supply the desserts. The cook
was exceptional, but she had doubts that he was able to produce the elegant pastries and desserts the occasion demanded. He
had indeed looked more relieved than affronted when Caroline informed him she would be ordering desserts and pastries from
Patisserie Bontemps.
Unfortunately, neither the beautifully written menu nor the memory of sampling delicious pastries the day before was enough
to dampen Caroline’s anger. Even in China, the cost of upkeep for such a property was ruinous, a cost Thomas was taking on
because Lennox Manor would be theirs one day. Except that it wasn’t Mason’s property, according to what she’d learned from
Lisan. And even so, she wasn’t going to tell Thomas or confront Mason, not until she had the evidence to confirm this information;
but she believed Lisan more than she did Mason.
Outside, the wind was picking up. Dull rays of sunset stained the pale yellow wallpaper a dim beige. Even though the fireplace
was burning and the lamps turned on, her little parlor felt dreary. At least she had exchanged that heavy secretaire desk
for a smaller one, a dainty kidney-shaped desk with a veneer of golden walnut burl. With Lisan handling most of the correspondence,
she didn’t need a large desk. She’d put the bulk of her stationery and writing supplies in the secretaire desk, which was
now in Lisan’s room.
She had placed a miniature pine tree on the walnut desk.
It was something she’d found in the hothouse.
There were two other such small trees and she would ask Lisan about them sometime.
Such beautiful little curiosities. Caroline got up from the armchair, moved away from the window.
She really needed to get ready for yet another dinner engagement.
The Stantons were now part of Shanghai’s international society, newest members of the elite, and everyone wanted a look at
them. Invitations had poured in, dinners and charity auctions, the Race Club, musical performances. Thomas was attending almost
every social event right now to meet potential business partners, potential sources of funding.
Caroline began picking out the jewelry to wear that night. Later, she would ring for Lisan to help her into her corset and
dress. She could manage everything else; at boarding school, she’d learned to do without a lady’s maid, and now that she could
afford as many servants as she wanted, she decided she didn’t want one. It would be just another person nosing around. Caroline
had also decided she wouldn’t drink any wine or champagne for the next several days. Alcohol disturbed her sleep and whenever
she woke up, she found it hard to settle down again. There was something about this house, about its location so far from
the city—the nights were utterly and silently dark, no neighboring lights or streetlamps, no music from nightclubs or cries
of farewell as friends parted company. The silence magnified every small noise inside the house: the rattle of a shutter against
its latch, the creak of floorboards, the low whistle of wind blowing through one of the chimneys, a sound like a woman crying.
As soon as she could, she thought, brushing out her hair, she would find out who really owned Lennox Manor. There had to be
a land titles office somewhere in Shanghai.