1898, HONG KONG.
ELIZABETH LEE: Born in Hong Kong as the only daughter of an extremely wealthy man and his concubine, Elizabeth is disposable. A pawn to be bought, sold, and traded - specifically, for the drug, opium, the business in which her fath...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THIS WHOLE CITY REEKED OF FISH AND SALT AND ocean.
The very name, Hong Kong, he had been told, was taken from the locals' dialect and meant 'fragrant harbour'. The only fragrances he could detect in this harbour were the relentless ones of any port city: surf and sailors, the mingled stenches of unwashed bodies and fishmongers peddling their wares. William adjusted his derby hat and tried to look like he knew where he was going, what he was doing.
All he had were the instructions from his father, about the restaurant at which he was supposed to meet his future wife. The senior Lord Fairfax was already installed as governor of this island, and William would join him for dinner later tonight. The problem was, he'd only seen a cameo of his fiancée, not even a miniature, and had no idea where this restaurant was. Or where he himself was. After a miserable almost seven weeks at sea, sailing through essentially every continent save the Colonies across the Atlantic, William Fairfax could scarcely remember his own name.
"Are you Lord William Fairfax?" a heavily accented voice asked as it reached his ears. He spun around and found a thin, wiry Chinese man staring back at him. "Mr. Lee sent me to fetch you, sir."
Despite the accent, his English was impeccable. "Thank you, Mr...?"
"You can just call me Charlie." The man's face, brown and leathery from the sun no doubt, split into a grin that revealed one missing tooth. "I work for Mr. Lee, sir. I am his personal secretary.."
"Well, we had best be going, I suppose. I would hate to be late." He pulled his starched collar away from his neck, already sweating through his many layers that were necessary for an English spring but certainly not in the balmy Hong Kong climes of April.
"Yes, sir." Charlie whistled and hired two rickshaws: one to carry the two of them and another for William's steamer trunks. As they got into one of the rickety things and the wizened but agile rickshaw operator began carting them through the streets, Charlie posed a question. "Have you been out of England before?"
"Only to the Continent, on my Grand Tour." William has gone on the obligatory journey, traipsing through museums and universities and leaving perhaps more than one broken heart in Italy, France and Spain. But he'd never been to the Orient.
Charlie gave him a quizzical look, looking puzzled. He realized that the other man would have no idea of the rite of passage for noble and wealthy British sons of good upbringing.
"I have only been to Europe," he explained, drumming his fingers on his knees.
The older man nodded. "Ah, I see."
"Have you... have you left Hong Kong before?" William inquired, before feeling foolish for asking. The man was doubtless a servant who was accustomed to moving in social circles far smaller and lower than his own.
"No. But I'd like to," he responded, sounding cheerful he leaned forward and barked a command to the rickshaw driver that sounded like, "Fai di lah!" (1)
The driver grunted in exertion before quickening his pace. The rickshaw finally pulled to a stop and Charlie paid the man, and they both got out. William stood, hands on his hips, and took in the scenery around him for a moment: trees lined the steep hills, and buildings with bright signage in foreign characters were clustered around him in haphazard lines.
"This is the farthest the rickshaw will go. We will have to walk the rest of the way," Charlie explained as they clambered up a rather treacherous-seeming road on the way to their destination. "Ah, here is the chaa lau. (2)"
Sweating but thankfully not out of breath, William dabbed at his forehead with a pocket square, walked through the door that Charlie held open for him, and found himself face to face with his betrothed.
☕️
Elizabeth Lee is far prettier than she was in her cameo, was his first thought. A foolish thought, really. It was hard to find anyone who looked good in the carved shell reliefs, especially in profile. The things were too small to get proper detail, and... Why in thunder was he thinking about cameos when he was currently meeting his betrothed for the first time?
"Lord William Fairfax, at your service." He bent low in a bow, taking the hand that she extended and pressing his lips to it. From beneath his fringe of sandy hair, he saw her touch her free hand to her mouth as if scandalized. "And you are...?"
Does she speak English? He wondered for a moment. William liked adventure. But he wasn't sure he could quite handle the entire adventure of suddenly moving to an utterly foreign country, marrying a woman there, and then learning an entirely new language.
"Elizabeth Lee," she replied, taking her hand back and letting it fall to her side. "A pleasure, Lord William."
"Please, call me by my Christian name." He tucked his hat to his chest, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Suddenly like a different creature from his usual cocky, adventurous self. "I pray you will allow me to address you as Elizabeth, Miss Lee."
She nodded, subtly guiding him over to a table. Charlie was nowhere in sight. There was a wariness in her eyes that should have made him stay away, yet it only made him want to get closer. That felt familiar, but intriguing. Were people so similar everywhere? The British sense of superiority to foreigners... it was much akin to the look in her eyes now, of disdain and shock and something he couldn't quite read. "Very well, then... William."
They were both shown to the table. William found himself next to his fiancee, across from a woman who looked of the right age to be Elizabeth's mother, and finally diagonal from Mr. Lee.
"A pleasure to meet you, at last, sir." He stuck out his hand for the man to shake, narrowly missing the teapot that a server was pouring. The aforementioned server gave him a blank look that must have been to disguise his disgust.
"The same for you, Lord William." His voice betrayed only a hint of his heritage; if he shut his eyes he could have been speaking with any British nobleman. Mr. Lee had a firm grip, and William saw flashes of grey hair shining at the older man's temples in the sunlight that flooded the teahouse from the windows. "Please, take a seat. I foresee that we will have much to discuss over tea."
