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“The Chinese were furious, their losses humiliating. It all happened in the blink of an eye.” He looked away into the trees. “Everyone fled for Macao, the Portuguese colony, where we could be safe. Sing Hoo was with me when the Factories were overrun. We made it to a boat, but they wouldn’t take him. I wouldn’t leave him.”
Helen gasped.
“There was no place to hide. The mob made it into the buildings—breaking dishes, slashing paintings. Then the fires started. I told Sing Hoo to go blend amongst the Chinese, but the fool wouldn’t leave me.”
Helen smiled. “Asyouhad been a fool earlier.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Your brother’s was the last boat. The greedy scamp was loading cargo! He ignored the others’s objections and took Sing Hoo aboard. We made it to Macau and later to England. Together.”
“Oh!”
“The world knew him as my servant. An exotic specimen I collected from the Orient. But he was my sun, moon, and stars. He died last year.”
The breath drained from Helen’s lungs. “My sincere condolences, Mr. Hughes.”
Despite her inner turmoil and the vast uncertainty in her own life, Helen was profoundly touched by the poignancy.Such loss, but such happiness.
Suddenly, her mouth fell open as she caught sight of waist-high white birds with massive bills and long beaks, some of whom ambled toward them. Most were mingling with the visitors next to the lake. “Whatarethose?”
Mr. Hughes chuckled. “Pelicans. Sometime in the 1600s, the Russian Ambassador made a gift of them, and they and their descendants have lived here since. Come meet them.”
The size of large dogs, the pelicans waddled closer, making Helen giggle. The wispy white feathers on their small heads made them look as though they’d just roused from bed. Their pale-peach beaks looked to be a foot long, and the nearest raised his head as if in greeting, the voluminous pouch under the bill rippling, translucent in the sun.
“They’re acting as if they know you!” she observed after three pelicans surrounded Mr. Hughes.
Nodding fondly, he didn’t take his eyes off the birds. “It was Sing Hoo they favored the most. He loved it here. We used to say the animals in the parks were the only Londoners who didn’t treat him differently because he was Chinese.”
“He was so far from home,” she whispered.
“Yes.” Tears glazed his eyes before he blinked them away. “But he always said that home is whereIwas.”
She squeezed his arm. “Oh, Mr. Hughes!”
“I’m at home, but without Sing Hoo, I might well as have no anchor,” he said philosophically, gazing out sightlessly across the water.
She sought any words that could comfort him. “The two of you risked your lives together in China. Coming here was another great risk, especially for Sing Hoo. He must have been very special.”
“He was indeed. I pray he believed it was worth it. ThatIwas worth it.”
“It was to you, wasn’t it? All the risks? The trouble?” she asked quietly, taking in his tremulous smile.
“Yes.” Mr. Hughes inhaled, then exhaled deeply. “I pray you’ll find your own Sing Hoo. Perhaps even in London of all places! When you do, don’t waste time. Hold onto him. Enjoy it. Whether it’s one year you have, or thirty, I promise it shall feel too short.”
No, it was unimaginable; impossible to believe—Helen Gray was not meant for such a love. She had to agree with Mr. Hughes, however, that it was important to seize upon whatever happiness and pleasure one could. She knew how fleeting they were.
Nicholas.
It would only be temporary, but Nicholas Irons wanted her. He was already part of her journey to financial freedom. Perhaps for a time, she could discover what it felt like to explore passion with someone who appreciated her like he did apricots.
