Free The China Bride by Mary Jo Putney

lowest possible prices. In English, she said, "There are better goods elsewhere, my lord."
    Understanding the gist of Troth's comment, the shopkeeper protested in energetic pidgin. Maxwell played along with her as skillfully as if they'd rehearsed this beforehand. Half an hour later, a sizable number of bottles and carved ivory were being packed carefully for delivery to Elliott House. They moved on to shops that dealt in jewelry, lacquer wares, and porcelain. Maxwell had an eye for quality and an impressive ability to bargain. They worked out a wordless system in which he would glance at Troth and she'd give a tiny nod or shake of her head to let him know if he had reached a fair price, or whether he should continue bargaining. He was very good at giving a bored shrug and turning to leave, which always produced a new and better price.
    Troth was enjoying herself, just as Maxwell had wanted. She found vicarious pleasure in helping Maxwell to spend large amounts of money. Though Chenqua was surely far richer, she'd never had the chance to spend any of his wealth.
    As they left a shop where Maxwell had purchased a dizzying number of fans in painted silk and carved ivory, she asked, " Your homeland is so small that you can buy gifts for everyone in England?"
    He laughed. "No, but I want a stock of trifles suitable for friends and servants. For a person who has never been more than twenty miles from his place of birth, a fan or perfume bottle will be rare and special. A reminder of what a wide world we live in." He fingered the only bottle he'd carried with him from the first shop, a lovely little vial carved from crystal shot through with dark veins. "And of course I want to buy the affections of my young nieces and nephews, whom I've never met."
    She doubted that he'd ever had to buy anyone's affections, but he would certainly be a favorite uncle with the showers of presents he would pour over those unknown children. Her father had been like that. Every time he returned from a trip, she had danced with excitement as she waited to see what treasures he had brought.
    Despite her enjoyment, by midday she was flagging. She'd known it was tiring to shop when one had little money, but had not realized that it was equally fatiguing to buy everything in sight. "Are you ready to return to the hong for luncheon, sir?"
    "Not particularly. What do Cantonese eat?" Maxwell's gaze went to a noodle stall on the opposite side of the street. "People are getting food there. Let's have some."
    "Sir, you cannot eat from a noodle stall!"
    "Why not? Are Fan-qui and Cantonese stomachs so different?"
    "It… it is not dignified," she said uneasily, knowing this was not how Chenqua and Elliott expected her to care for Maxwell.
    "What is the point of dignity when it deprives one of interesting experiences?" He purposefully crossed the street to the stall. Resigned, Troth ordered them two bowls of noodles in broth. Then she had to instruct her charge in the use of chopsticks. He didn't do badly for his first attempt.
    Finishing the noodles, he said, "Excellent. What do other vendors sell?" Troth introduced him to fragrant rice congee, dumplings, and sweetmeats, followed by a visit to a teahouse for a relaxed cup of tea. Everywhere Maxwell was watched with amazement by people who'd never seen a Fan-qui eating street food. He ignored the stares, apparently used to drawing attention wherever he went.
    Troth studied him covertly, intrigued by his interest in the daily routines of Cantonese life. His enthusiasm was contagious. He had been right to say she was gloomy. For many years, her life had been defined by duty and service. Now his presence was causing her to see her world with new eyes. She sipped her tea, sadly aware that soon he would go back to his English world and her life would once more be drab routine and loneliness. But there was a kind of friendship between them, and she would be left with a few bright memories.

Chapter 9
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