People nodded and called greetings to Charlotte as they made their way across the room towards a round table beneath one of the large chandeliers. Jeremiah noticed that she had a smile and a word for everybody, even those who stared openly at him and then whispered loudly behind their hands that Miss Freely had found herself a young man.
He wondered how she could ignore such gossip and felt annoyed on her behalf. He turned to glower at one particularly loud-mouthed lady, but Charlotte tugged at his sleeve, and he was forced to follow after her.
Ahead of them was the table, a group of men seated around it. Some were a few years older than he, while others looked as old as his father. Expensively dressed, smoking cheroots without exception, they lazily discussed the problems of holding tonnes of opium in hulks moored along the Bund.
"It's just not viable to continue storing it there," said one man in irritation.
"I find it eminently suitable," declared a man who lounged indolently against the table. "But then, it's only Indian opium. The natives are making their own faster than we can import it. Who the hell cares as long as we keep getting paid?"
There were sounds of agreement from around the table, and then the indolent man glanced up to stare at Charlotte and then at Jeremiah.
"Hello, my dear," he said. "Isn't he a little young for you?"
Laughter broke out. Jeremiah gave Charlotte a questioning glance, but her face remained impassive.
"Edward, I'd like you to meet Mr. Jeremiah O'Brien of Oxford University," she said calmly. "I believe he has a business proposition for you."
Jeremiah looked between brother and sister, perplexed. They were not at all alike, obviously two children from two different mothers. Where Charlotte was dark-haired and pale skinned, Edward's hair was a faded ginger colour that some people might call strawberry-blond, and his skin was pink from time in the sun and alcohol intake. Even sitting down, Jeremiah could tell that Edward was significantly taller than Charlotte, and that he had a rangy, long-limbed body. And while Charlotte had gentle eyes, Edward's were sharp, his expression edged with the cynicism of an opium addict.
Edward sat up straight as Jeremiah stepped forward to offer his hand. "A business proposition? Tell me, are you going to make an offer to my sister?"
His words provoked more hilarity around the table.
Jeremiah smiled politely, holding out his hand for a moment longer before it became obvious that Edward was not going to shake it. He smoothed down the front of his jacket instead and said, "No, sir. Your sister and I have only just met. She was kind enough to allow me an introduction..."
Edward waved a hand at him dismissively. "Oh, do shut up. Listen, are you in banking? Opium? Silk? No? Then don't bother me unless you're going to ask for my permission to marry my sister."
Jeremiah was flustered into silence. He had met plenty of ill-mannered people in his time but none quite so disagreeable as Mr. Edward Freely. He glanced up at Charlotte who indicated with a roll of her eyes and a tilt of her chin that he should press his case regardless of her brother's rudeness.
"Do forgive me, sir," he tried again, accentuating his Oxford drawl, "but I believe you should at least listen to my business proposition before you reject it out of hand."
Edward took a puff of his cheroot and exhaled, almost blowing the smoke into Jeremiah's face. He half-turned in his chair to look up at the young man. "Go on, then. Tell me your proposition. Then I'll reject it."
Jeremiah ground his teeth. He was inclined to walk away and find another potential benefactor, but he reasoned that most of the men whose patronage he sought were seated around Edward's table. He said, "Mr. Freely, I would be delighted to tell you ... but only in private."
This provoked a murmur and some mocking laughter. Edward sat still and stared at him with hazy blue eyes. "In private."
"Yes, sir." Jeremiah leaned closer. "What I have to say is advantageous only to one man, sir, if you understand my meaning. If others were to hear about it first..." and he straightened up a little to cast a brief, but suspicious, glance around the table. "Well, if anybody else heard about it, everyone would want a cut."
"Hmm." Edward's gaze narrowed thoughtfully, and then he pushed back his chair and stood up. "I'll give you five minutes."
Jeremiah nodded in acknowledgement and stood aside to let Freely lead the way. He winked at Charlotte as he followed her brother, and she smiled at him with what seemed like genuine amusement and mouthed 'good luck'.
They left the ballroom by means of a walnut-wood door leading into a corridor hung with small, bland oil paintings. The carpet was thick and springy, its shade a soothing cream colour. The walls were papered in eau de nil and pale aqua. A little further on, through another door, there was a suite furnished in dark rosewood with deep crimson cushions. Fine dark Turkish rugs lay scattered on the carpet.
Jeremiah could believe he was no longer in China but in an elegant Mayfair residence. Clearly, he thought, Freely had money and taste. He hoped that Edward had enough discernment to accept the proposal he was about to make.
Edward sat down in an armchair and steepled his hands, looking at Jeremiah. "Right then, Mr. O'Brien. These are my private apartments. You may speak without fear of anyone overhearing." He stared at him. "But first, are you sure you're not interested in my sister?"
Jeremiah wasn't sure what his answer should be. "Miss Freely is a lovely, amiable woman," he began carefully, "but I'm afraid I'm not looking for a wife just yet."
"Too old for you, eh?" Edward chuckled and sat back.
"It's not that, sir. Why, she doesn't look a day over..." Jeremiah hesitated, not wishing to guess at Charlotte's age in case Edward took offence. "Twenty-five," he ended, lamely.
Freely snorted. "You're a bloody awful liar. She's thirty-one. She would have been safely married off two months ago, but her damned fiancé decided to put a stop to the wedding when he met someone younger and richer." He jabbed a finger at Jeremiah savagely. "Not that Charlotte is poor, you understand! Her husband would be well set up. I have to be careful of fortune hunters, Mr. O'Brien."
Jeremiah eyed him askance. He hadn't come here to listen to family problems but thought if he humoured Edward, then he might be more conducive to a business deal. "Your sister..."
"Stepsister," Edward corrected with a sardonic life of his pale brows. "I must find a husband for her before very much longer. Everyone at home expects it, you know. I must find a replacement. It doesn't matter whom. Just someone who won't mind the shame."
"Shame, sir?" Jeremiah frowned. "Miss Freely is a pleasant, intelligent woman. There would be no shame in any man marrying her, regardless of a broken engagement in her past."
Edward sighed and let his hands flop to his sides as he sprawled out in the chair. "She's an impetuous bitch who was so eager for a man that she slept with her fiancé before their wedding night. It might not be of any import to you, Mr. O'Brien, but in the circles I move in, it's a disaster when one's sister behaves like a loose woman so damned blatantly."
"But she thought she was going to marry him," Jeremiah said in small protest. "I fail to see what's wrong with that."
Edward gave him a cold look. "He didn't marry her. That's what's wrong."
"Well, I say it doesn't matter." Jeremiah shrugged, bored with the entire affair.
Edward looked at him a moment longer, then threw back his head and laughed. "Are you sure you don't want to marry her? I think you would get on famously."
Jeremiah thought of Charlotte and the wealth she supposedly owned, and felt not a flicker of temptation. "No, thank you. I prefer to earn my money in a different way."
Edward snorted. "You are amusing. Tell me about your business proposition."
Jeremiah had been wandering around the room until then, but now he came to a halt directly in front of Edward. Fixing him with his gaze, he said, "In all honesty, Mr. Freely..."
Edward gave a wry smile and interrupted, "It is always better to be honest when asking for a favour, Mr. O'Brien."
Jeremiah nodded. "Quite so. Let me speak plainly. I am in search of a benefactor while I stay in China. Please, hear me out," he added as Edward stifled a sigh and began to rise to his feet.
"Two minutes," Edward said, glancing at his watch.
Jeremiah pressed on. "I'm an anthropologist, and a damn good one at that. I also have some training in archaeological methods and the removal of ancient items. For the past few months I've been travelling through Malaysia, collecting fine pieces and rare treasures from temples and caves unknown to the majority of men. When I got to Hong Kong I made a fortune selling these pieces to investors and collectors..."
Edward tapped his fingers on the side of his chair. "And yet now you're here, and if you're looking for a benefactor then presumably you have very little money left."
Jeremiah winced. "That's correct. I ... I lost my money. Almost all of it, in fact, indulging in vice."
"Opium?" Edward guessed, raising his eyebrows mockingly. "Women?"
"Gambling." Jeremiah blushed when he admitted it. "I judged it best to leave Hong Kong as soon as possible."
"I see." Edward's amusement was smug. "How much money did you lose, Mr. O'Brien? How much money did your anthropological and archaeological skills net you before you threw it all away?"
In reply, Jeremiah reached into his pocketbook and produced a handful of receipts. When Edward made no move to take them, he tossed them into his lap.
Edward picked them up one at a time, reading the dates and figures written on each. He frowned as he made the calculations, and then he folded the receipts together, crushing them in his hand. "Ten thousand Hong Kong dollars."
Jeremiah nodded.
"From just a few months' work? And you worked alone?"
"I know my subject."
"But not your cards." Edward uncurled his fist and examined the crumpled receipts again. "How the hell is it possible for a man to lose that amount of money so quickly?"
Jeremiah averted his gaze. It was the one area of his life where he truly felt shame. "It's all too possible," he said, the edge of bitterness creeping in.
Edward held out the receipts. "And you could do the same here in China? Minus the gambling, of course. I won't go into business with a gambler who loses quite as badly as you."
"I can guarantee that I'll find more treasures here than I did in Malaysia," Jeremiah said. "I can make you twice that amount of money in a matter of weeks, but I need an initial outlay for travel and living expenses."
"And the gambling?" Edward's stare was sharp and probing.
Jeremiah sighed. "There will be no danger of that once I'm outside Shanghai."
Edward leaned back and was silent for a long moment. "I'll think about it."
"May I ask how long you need to consider my proposition?" Jeremiah asked.
"A week or so. Maybe longer."
Jeremiah could not hide his disappointment. More than a week and his finances would be depleted. He did not want to return to gambling in order to keep himself fed and housed. But he had to abide by Edward Freely's decision. It would do him no good to cross such an eminent member of the Shanghai ex-pat set.
He glanced up with a faint smile, ready to make polite thanks. He saw Edward studying him, eyes narrowed, as if assessing him for some future purpose.
"Tell me, Mr. O'Brien, can you speak Chinese?"
Jeremiah nodded warily. "A little. Enough to make myself understood away from civilisation."
"Good." Edward got to his feet, his tone indicating their meeting was almost over. "My sister likes to think that she can communicate with the locals, but I hardly think it appropriate for a man to rely on the word of a woman, even if she is his sister, when doing business. I have to travel into the provinces in the next few days to meet a prospective business partner. You can come along as my translator."
"But..." Jeremiah began, but then he thought better of it. Acting as Edward's translator was better than a kick in the teeth, which was probably the lightest punishment he'd receive if the Cantonese officials ever caught up with him.
He nodded instead. "Certainly, Mr. Freely. Can I ask where it is we'll be going?"
Edward lit a cheroot and took a drag before answering. "A place called Hangzhou," he said. "Ever heard of it?"
"Yes, I have," said Jeremiah, brightening. "It was on my list of places to visit in search of antiquities. It's supposed to be one of the most beautiful cities in China."
"Is it, now? Two birds with one stone, then, and Charlotte might enjoy it, too." Edward flicked ash onto the antique carpet with blatant disregard, giving Jeremiah another hard stare. "But regardless of how pretty this place is, the only thing that interests me about Hangzhou is its silk. I want a good deal from this meeting, Mr. O'Brien. I want exclusive rights to the best silk in China, and you're going to get it for me."
)
