Chapter 12
There wasn’t a single flower arrangement out of place or crystal wall sconce that didn’t sparkle. Caroline had ordered masses
of floral decorations, so gorgeously painted porcelain planters of jasmine, ginger lilies, orchids, and gardenias rested on
tall stands at eye level, making their beauty and fragrance easier to admire. Tropical plants and flowers filled the rooms,
commandeered from the hothouse as well as florists in Shanghai. Niches held huge vases filled with out-of-season flowers and
spring bulbs, some forced into opening early. A round table at the center of the foyer held a magnificent arrangement of purple
orchids. Yao had fixed each stem to thin bamboo supports so that the purple blooms stood upright. Caroline had been thrilled.
Lisan knew the flowers were to draw people’s eyes away from the walls, where damp patches were starting to show on wallpaper,
where wooden panels had warped from the humidity. She understood Caroline’s concerns over the state of the house.
But enough of that, she thought. Just get through today. Everything is perfect. The foyer looks beautiful.
On the second-floor mezzanine, Caroline had instructed the servants to set two large porcelain planters at either side of the landing.
Each planter held a blooming lemon tree, a miracle Yao had wrought.
The flowers’ fresh, clean fragrance lightened the air, and like sentries, the lemon trees impeded access to the hallways that led to the east and west wings, a subtle hint to guests that they should continue up to the ballroom on the next floor.
Using ornamental trees as barriers had been Lisan’s suggestion, but just to be on the safe side, Chin had stationed Da Wu on the landing.
There, he would bow to guests and wave them upstairs just in case anyone missed the hint that the Stantons’ private rooms were off-limits.
“Perhaps I’m too careful,” Caroline had remarked, “but in New York, sometimes guests went into rooms and pilfered things.
Imagine. Some of the richest people in the city and they’d ‘accidentally’ wander into private chambers and bedrooms.”
All the servants were aware that this event had to establish Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stanton as worthy members of Shanghai society.
Lisan knew the servants felt the household’s honor was at stake. Caroline had hosted a few small gatherings, but this evening,
there would be seventy guests, the elite of Shanghai society.
Once she was satisfied with the state of the house, Caroline returned to her chambers, where Lisan helped her finish getting
dressed. Caroline had styled her hair simply as usual, but with hair ornaments of gold set with precious stones instead of
her usual tortoiseshell combs. All she needed was some help from Lisan to fix a few more jeweled hairpins to the twist at
the back.
“It’s far more than a little welcome party, of course,” Caroline murmured, opening a box of bracelets. “I didn’t need Mrs.
Easton’s lecture to know what this means. It’s a chance for Shanghai society to judge whether or not I’m worthy of being one
of their leading hostesses. If not for Thomas, I wouldn’t care at all.”
Caroline touched the collar of pearls and jade, the jade beads at her throat the same pale green as her new dress. She smiled
at Lisan’s reflection in the tall glass. “Now, Lisan, are you ready for our guests?”
“Are you sure about this, Mrs. Stanton?” Lisan said. Caroline had decided Lisan would help Little Liao take the guests’ coats and put them in the cloakroom.
“You want to get a good look at the guests, don’t you?” Caroline said. “And afterward we can compare notes.”
There was a knock on the dressing room door and Thomas entered; he smiled with pleasure as Caroline stood up and twirled to
show off her gown. “Our first guests will be here soon—we should head down,” he said, kissing the inside of her wrist. “Your
perfume is delicious. Something new?”
“Created for me especially,” she said. “Ginger lily. Lisan knows a perfumer who specializes in custom fragrances.”
“Delicious,” he repeated, “and we’d better go downstairs to greet our guests, side by side, wearing our most welcoming faces.”
“A united front against the barbarian hordes,” Caroline said, taking his arm, “or like the guards at Buckingham Palace.”
After Caroline went downstairs, Lisan lingered a bit longer in the dressing room and used the full-length mirror to check
her own appearance. She had put on a plain woolen skirt and blouse, a change from her usual Chinese clothing, and had wrapped
her long plait around her head like a crown, a hairstyle that suited her Western clothing better than a single braid down
her back. She made sure her white shirtwaist was tucked neatly into the navy blue skirt and touched the modest pearl studs
at her ears, a graduation gift from Master Liu. She looked tidy and, more importantly, inconspicuous.
In the foyer, Lisan joined Little Liao in the cloakroom. She murmured words of welcome as guests arrived, helping them take
off coats and hanging them up. Most of the arrivals paused for a moment to straighten hair and jackets at the tall mirror
by the cloakroom door before continuing on to greet their hosts.
“Were you ever here when Charlie Burnett was still alive, Freddie?” a young woman asked her husband, as she brushed a speck of something off his shoulder. Little Liao took away the man’s coat. Lisan loitered for a moment to hear the man’s reply.
“A couple of times,” Freddie said. “He gave wild parties. Too wild for my taste. Then he got serious about Rosalie and worked
hard to clean up his act. He wanted to be respectable so that respectable society would accept her.”
“If his father hadn’t abandoned him, it might’ve come right in the end,” she said. “Money takes care of most problems.” They
moved off and another group of guests arrived.
Lisan hoped the Stantons were pleased. Everything was going smoothly. Seated just inside the open doorway of the drawing room,
a trio of musicians played a lively medley of popular tunes. “To the End of the World with You.” “I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now.” The three were very good, Thomas’s contribution to the party, a touring American group he had heard at a restaurant. Her gaze
moved across to the Stantons.
Caroline, Thomas, and Mason stood at the foot of the staircase. Caroline stood beside Thomas, a pretty picture of confidence
in her green silk gown. Lisan thought she looked beautiful, her dress elegant and well suited to both her complexion and her
slim figure.
Lisan realized that Caroline was smiling at her. When she saw that she’d caught Lisan’s eye, Caroline gestured at the musicians.
Lisan nodded. It was time to move the trio upstairs.
Stepping away from the cloakroom, Lisan crossed the foyer and stood between the staircase and the drawing room door. When
the musicians finished playing the set, she would show them upstairs to the ballroom. In the meantime, she had a good view
of the arrivals, and if she moved away slightly from the musicians and tilted her head just right, she could hear the Stantons
greet their guests as well as keep an eye on the front door and cloakroom, in case Little Liao needed her again.
Hushed whispers filled the foyer. She saw the woman enter. Everyone did. There were avid stares on every face, a name on everyone’s lips. It couldn’t have been anyone else but Princess Masako Kyo.
It was clear that Masako Kyo liked making an entrance and it didn’t matter if her audience consisted of two or two hundred.
Sweeping into the marble-tiled foyer, she threw back the hood of her cerise cloak as though oblivious to the gaze of the Stantons’
guests. The last thing this crowd of white foreigners expected was this petite, exquisite Asian woman. Kyo’s face was dusted
with white powder, eyebrows darkened to the shape of a willow leaf, lips a perfect crimson bud. When she slipped off the cloak,
she revealed not a beribboned and ruffled gown but resplendent Japanese robes with wide, long sleeves, royal blue watered
silk embroidered with purple and silver irises. Her hair was slicked back, pulled into a high rolled bun at the top of her
head secured with a pair of jade pins.