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Chapter Five
Helen was grateful when Elijah departed their interim London residence to return to Alacrity for a spell; it left her to meet with Nathan Hughes in peace.
This morning, Elijah had softened when Helen reminded him that however dismal their luck so far in obtaining silver, they could take comfort in other good fortune. The attentionAlacrityhad attracted upon arrival to the West India Docks meant Elijah could negotiate swift unloading of her cargo. That was no small feat; many ships waited weeks at the busy docks. The proceeds from the mail transport alone covered their London expenses—for the time being.
Elijah had spent the last dollar to his name procuring structural timber of the highest quality before leaving Boston. He and Helen had inspected it personally, making selections of different species. As hoped, the goods were in high demand here. They awaited sale to the highest bidder after being transported by wagon to a warehouse, and the offers climbed higher daily. America still knew an abundance of forests; Britain’s had been decimated centuries earlier.
Alacrity’spointed hull had nosed into a prime spot at the docks and, remarkably, there she remained. Rather than mooring at some distance like other ships in London’s crowded waterways, the dockmaster granted special permission toAlacrity,considering the great public interest. Visitors still flocked to glimpse her tall masts, especially after the article inThe Times.
The day after arriving, before their gaits had even readjusted to land, Helen and Elijah traveled to the American Legation to meet President Taylor’s Minister to Britain. Minister Abbott Lawrence was also from Massachusetts and a successful merchant in his own right.
After hearing of their plans and identifying common acquaintances, he had even arranged their current accommodations. They had a few more weeks in the comfortable house near Russell Square before the Vice-Minister returned from Washington and would need his home.
“The pastries look tidy and delicious, Jenny. Well done,” Helen praised. She’d sent the housemaid out for treats, knowing of Mr. Hughes’s penchant.
The young woman smiled as she arranged them prettily on the tray. When the front bell rang, Helen dispatched her to the kitchen for the tea itself and waited impatiently for the butler to admit their visitor.
After exchanging greetings, she explained, “Elijah had business at the docks, but I hope that you and I may still speak.”
“Very well, Mrs. Gray.” Nathan Hughes bowed, then sat after she did.
Elijah had remarked that save for his gray hair, the man looked the same as when they last saw each other in China nearly a decade before. Now in his forties, he was a trim, sober-looking and meticulous clerk, still working for one of Britain’s greatest merchant firms.
As Elijah predicted, the bond forged in their days in China remained strong. As ever, Mr. Hughes extended every courtesy—and if he was taken aback at meeting Helen alone, he hid it well.
Helen hid her impatience while they exchanged pleasantries, waiting politely for him to open the subject.
“Have you reached any agreements?” he finally asked.
“No. I know you’ve done your utmost to share information on anyone suitable for our endeavor. But I’m afraid no one has been willing to invest.”
“I see,” he said blandly but not unkindly.
After his last visit—during which Elijah had detailed his outrage about his treatment by the English so far—Mr. Hughes could not be surprised. Perhaps spurred by Elijah’s absence, he voiced a question he hadn’t yet dared. “At this juncture, might you be willing to…reconsider your exclusion of firms dealing in opium? I fear that the restriction is proving rather more difficult than we’d hoped.”
Helen sat up straighter. “It remains out of the question. No opium.”
Under his tailored coat, his shoulders raised as he took a breath in, then sank as he released a long, silent sigh. “I’ve exhausted my leads, Mrs. Gray. I’m sorry. If you wish to make it to China on time, I’m afraid you’ll need to look past the opium problem.”
The maid entered to pour the tea, and Helen closed her eyes, grateful for the moment to gather herself.
She hadn’t realized how much false hope she’d pinned to today’s visit. Part of her had believed Mr. Hughes was harboring a secret list of promising leads, or that he’d arrive grinning, bearing grand news of being approached by an interested party with mountains of untainted silver.
She fought to maintain her posture as disappointment threatened to bow her. She had kept her fears at bay, but she had to face them now.Alacritybelonged to Elijah, and there was other freight to sell, in other ports around the world.
But what of her? Would she simply accompany him?
The gnawing ache in her abdomen intensified until it felt cold. She didn’t want to be a burden without end—to Elijah or to anyone else. It was unfathomable to imagine life at sea in perpetuity.
The faces of likely suitors in Boston appeared in her mind. They were one means of survival, but she opened her eyes to make them disappear.
After the maid served Mr. Hughes, Helen accepted her own dainty cup, and after a perfunctory sip, set it on the table. Unabashedly, she pointed to it. “How doesthatcompare to the fresh tea you knew in China, Mr. Hughes?”
He winced. “Please don’t remind me, lest I abstain forever. This is dismal,dismalcompared to the fragrance and flavor of the leaves we steeped in Canton.”
“Help me bring you fresh tea.”
“You’ve little time.” His quiet voice was grim. “The ships ride anchor in Whampoa by June, ready for the westward monsoon winds to blow them home.”
