Ch.2.

-London turned and silently left the room she was sure to hit every door and wall in the hall as she marched toward escape—wherever she might find it. As she walked she realized she had no desire to leave but nowhere to hide while she was in her own home.

-She unconsciously stumbled into her own room and closed the door.

-She threw herself onto her bed. She lay there, fully immersed in her European bed, her European room, her European furniture. She caressed her embroidered comforter. In her soft, comfortable seat she gazed painfully at the Westminster clock tower which stood proudly in the view of her window.

-"Just kick me out of my own home!" she shouted sarcastically. A teary sigh heaved deep in her chest. She felt nothing now; she was hollow, unsure of which emotion to trust. A stream of tears flooded from her eyes and a deep cleansed feeling washed through her body. Though her stomach ached with each trembling breath, the relief that came from the tears was liberating. She cried freely for immeasurable time until she heard a soft knock at her door.

- She wiped away her tears and sat up in case anyone entered. Arthur stepped in, holding open the door with one hand, and a tea tray in the other. He closed the door with his foot and gingerly stepped to the bed. There was a regretful look in his eyes.

-"I was worried you may be crying," he whispered, laying the tray on the end of the bed.

-London sniffled. "How long has it been?"

-"An hour. I brought you tea," he offered.

-London glanced uninterestedly toward the tea. Arthur took the small, pointed tea pot in one hand and titled it over the delicate cup lying on the ray. The harsh herbal aroma swirled in the air as the steamy dark tea filed the cup. He took the cup and saucer in his hand, but London refused to take them. He put them back.

-"London?" he asked, "you always want tea. I even left it black, because you were upset." London said nothing.

-She felt more miserable than ever. She wanted to be grateful that he made her tea, that he remembered she took it black when she was upset. She wanted to adore the horribly strong scent of the tea her brother always steeped too long. But it was his fault that she was in pain, and she couldn't excuse him.

-"Do you want something else?" he asked.

-Again, nothing.

-"London," Arthur's tone changed, he was speaking frankly, " I really think you'll understand. You'll love him. Yao is a close friend."

-London scoffed.

-"Not as close as Francis or even Mathew," he finished taking up the framed photo of Francis, London and himself that she kept beside her bed, " but I knew him quite thoroughly. He's a nice man, and he's generous. I know you'll be happy."

-"I don't want to marry Wang," she replied tonelessly.

-"It's been arranged. He's preparing as we sit here this moment!"

-"Tell him it's over."

-"I can't. That the thing about this sort of wedding. Unless both sides want to cut it off, you can't change anything in a Chinese wedding."

-"Arthur, I've never been so far—"

-"You'll love it in China."

-"I want to stay here!"

-She was almost calm now. Crying had exhausted all her energy. "Arthur, I want to be home."

-Arthur took her hand roughly and kissed it in apology. His breath shuddered sadly. He looked her in the eyes, his own sparkling with hears. "London, my worst regret was that I didn't tell you. Maybe you wouldn't hate me if I had told you. I was just so afraid you'd be angry, I never said anything. It's been quite a while since I hadn't said anything. I'd promised I'd inform you," he coughed as tears slid by this throat," when the first gift came. But I couldn't. I promised I'd wait until the second came, but I took that one to. I think I pretended that if you didn't know, you couldn't leave. I'm so sorry."

-London felt the blood drain from her face. "how many gifts am I to receive?"

-Arthur kept his head lowered, "well, you found the fifth. You should receive, nine in all," he coughed more, "the next four you will receive in China."

-London's heart stopped. She almost wanted to disappear.

-"When am I supposed to go to China?"

-"You leave on Monday."

-It is Monday." Had he made a mistake? She longed that he made a mistake.

-"Next Monday."

-"Arthur!" she cried in agony of sorrow, fear and anger.

-Arthur pulled the red silk bag from his jacket.

-"He's a wonderful man."

-With that, he left her room.