Bless the Bride

get past him?”
    But somehow she had either managed to escape or been taken by a clever kidnapper. I thought about the latter.
    “If she was indeed kidnapped by your rival tong, then this isn’t a task I could undertake. As an outsider in your community, there is no way I’d want to stick my nose into a Chinese tong’s affairs. And I’d have no way of finding out anything, not speaking your language.”
    “Of course,” he said, dismissing this with a wave of his hand. “I have taken this fact into consideration. Already my spies have looked into the possibility most carefully, but so far they have learned nothing. If she has been kidnapped, then she is either well hidden or has been spirited far away.”
    “When exactly did she go missing?”
    “Five days ago now.”
    “That’s a long time. She could be anywhere.”
    He shook his head. “How far could she get on her own, huh? She would have no money—nothing but the jade, and no Western clothes. A woman in Chinese dress would soon be noticed if she ventured outside our community. And she knows nothing of New York. Where would she run?”
    “I don’t suppose she speaks much English, does she?”
    “As a matter of fact her English is good. She was educated by Western missionaries. It was for this very reason that I selected her—I thought that it would be good that she has some knowledge of Western ways if she is to be useful to me here in the future. Now I fear that she has run looking for church people and is being hidden by them.”
    “Ah.” I nodded. We were finally getting to the point. “You want me to visit the missions for you.”
    “Exactly. This is a job for a white woman, a Christian woman. You will know the right questions to ask. You will bring my bride back to me. You will tell her that she now belongs to me and obeys me. Her behavior disgraces her family in China.”
    “Which denomination were these missionaries?”
    “I do not know one type of Christian from another. They are all equally annoying—and interfering with our people, trying to convert them from our religions to yours. But you will find no shortage of mission houses near Chinatown. They try hard, these Christians.”
    “And if your bride won’t come with me?”
    “Then you will come to me and I will have her brought back. But it must be done discreetly. Word of this must not reach fellow Chinese. I should lose face in their eyes. They would say Lee Sing Tai cannot even control his woman—how can he control powerful tong? This must not happen, you understand. It is important beyond anything.”
    I wanted to say that the happiness of his bride should be important above everything, but he obviously didn’t see it that way. To him a woman was the same as a piece of jade.
    “Find her and I will make it well worth your while,” he said. “It is for her own happiness as well as mine. If she does not return to me, then there is no hope for her. She cannot stay at mission forever. She cannot return home to China, even if she had the money to do so. Her family would not take her back after this disgrace. So where would she go? Only the houses of low women would welcome her. Tell her this. Make sure she understands that she is being foolish and childish. If she returns to me and behaves as a good wife should, then no more will be said and she will lead a happy life.”
    I had been feeling no enthusiasm for this assignment, but I did see his point. Much as I disliked his calling her his possession, she was his wife, and as such he had legal rights over her. And how would she survive? I had tried to survive alone in New York City when I first arrived and had nearly starved and frozen to death. How much harder would it be for a Chinese girl? It was all too likely that she’d be lured or snatched into prostitution.
    I got to my feet. “Very well, Mr. Lee. I will do my very best to find your bride and bring her home to you.”
    He almost smiled. At least his face twitched in what could be interpreted as a smile. “I am pleased to hear this, Miss Murphy. I look forward to your returning to me soon with good news.”
    He was about to clap his hands when I picked up the photograph in its leather case. “May I take this with me? It might help jog people’s memories.”
    “Take care with it, and return it to me safely,” he said.
    “I will.”
    He clapped his hands. The houseboy and Frederick Lee appeared and I was escorted from the room. I couldn’t help looking across