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Helen leaned forward, her eyes pleading. “Whom have we missed in our inquiries?”
He set down his own tea, then lifted his hands as if to show that they were as empty as their options. “Verily, Mrs. Gray, I included on my listanyonewho met your strict requirements. Everyone who buys tea from China is doing so on the back of the opium trade!”
Helen frowned. “Are there truly no British or American goods that tempt the Chinese? Anything we might trade for the tea leaves?”
“I’m afraid not. It’s as Elijah has said, Mrs. Gray. China has a monopoly on growing tea and will accept no form of payment but silver.”
Helen watched starkly as Mr. Hughes tilted a spoonful of sugar into his cup. Plantations in the colonies produced vast amounts of it; tea was the perfect place to dump it. Elegant get-togethers were the least of Britain’s national tea consumption. The masses—including factory workers—relied on sugary tea as inexpensive fuel.
She ran through any remaining options she could devise, no matter Elijah’s dismissal of them. “Couldn’t our timber tempt the Chinese? It’s very valuable.”
His gaze dropped before answering. “China has its own timber, I’m afraid. Trading in it is illegal, yes, but opium is your answer. It’s why the British grow poppies in India—opium,the sole product for which the Chinese will part with silver.”
“Only because they’re addicted! It’s abominable!”
“I do not disagree, Mrs. Gray.” His eyes were tired, but his voice was strong. “Let us try once more. Think on everyone you’ve met from my list. Who, pray tell, was closest to considering the venture?”
Helen looked up at the ceiling.
“I see,” he said, his voice threaded with more defeat. “The meetings didn’t seem promising at all?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Some listened quietly to our proposal and sent us on our way. Those are their letters of rejection.” She indicated the stack of folded parchment on the writing desk against the wall. “Others voiced their rejection on the spot.”
“Ah.”
She raised her chin. “Four firms never responded to our initial inquiry. It may well be a waste of ink, but there’s nothing else left to try. I’ll write to them again.”
“Who are they?”
Helen retrieved the list from the desk.
His lips flattened as he looked it over. “I should think a second letter is unlikely to elicit a favorable reply.”
“But what if the first letter was lost or missed its mark? We cannot risk leaving anything to chance!” Mr. Hughes’s nod was unenthusiastic, but she pushed forward. “Of the four, who is the most inclined to invest?”
“They all avoid the China trade.” He looked at the list again, then tapped it. “David Chadbourne’s firm.” He rubbed his chin. “Perhaps. I included it because the owner is a man guided by principle. He’s voiced opposition to the opium trade, whatever the profits.”
“That’s encouraging!”
“He’s known to accept some measure of risk. He has funds, but could he access silver? Yet another question. The chances are slim, I’m afraid, but of the four remaining, Chadbourne is your last hope.”
“Where might I find this Mr. Chadbourne?” Helen asked, her tone dark.
Mr. Hughes looked at her with near pity. “LordAnterleigh. He’s an earl.”
Helen refrained from rolling her eyes. “Where might I find this Lord Anterleigh?”
“He’s not to be found—not on matters of trade. Nicholas Irons is director of his firm. Whathisbeliefs are as to opium, I’m sure I cannot discern.”
“Where might I find this Mr. Irons?”
Mr. Hughes sighed. “In the City. On Gresham Street, near Noble Street, if I’m not mistaken.”
She smiled. “On second thought, why waste ink? Elijah and I shall call on Mr. Irons.”
Two hours later, Elijah’s arrival home was announced by his vigorous use of the boot scraper on the porch, followed by stomping. It did not surprise her in the slightest when he muttered to himself coming in the door.
A maid appeared almost immediately with a basin and cloth, and Elijah wiped his face and hands unceremoniously. Accustomed to her brother, Helen was unfazed when his tongue loosened as soon as the maid was out of earshot.
