All the Tea in China by Jane Orcutt Page B

the lines, reading aloud. “. . . flattered that she envisions herself . . . however . . . gently bred . . . certain she will make a fortunate gentleman a caring wife . . . sail tomorrow . . . wish you both God’s blessings . . . your generous contribution will not go un-rewarded . . .”
    Dazed, I let the paper fall to my lap. This rejection was far worse than David Ransom’s. Or Catherine’s, for that matter.
    “I am sorry, Isabella. Surely it is for the best.”
    I glanced up. Uncle Toby’s eyes were filled with sadness. Did he mourn my loss or his own?
    “This belongs to you,” I said, handing him the letter. Half of the broken seal pulled away from the paper and dropped to the rug. When I bent to retrieve it, I saw it was the half with the top of the cross. I clutched it in my palm to dispose of later.
    Uncle Toby peered at me. “It is for the best, Isabella,” he said again. “Do you understand that?”
    I nodded woodenly, unable to speak. Perhaps later I would comprehend what he said, but at that moment only shock and disbelief were my companions. I had been so certain of Snowe’s answer, so certain of God’s call . . .
    Uncle accepted my farewell, seeming to understand that I needed time alone. I contemplated seeking Signor Antonio. It would feel good to have a sword in my hand and an obstacle that I could face. Then I remembered that I would have any number of days to practice my fencing and decided instead on a long walk to think matters through.
    “Where are you going?” Flora met me at the door.
    “I need a walk. Phineas Snowe has refused my request.”
    “Has he?” I could tell Flora was trying her best to keep the joy from her expression, but she was not wholly successful.
    I headed for the rack and grabbed my pelisse. “I’ll go with you, Isabella,” Flora said, retrieving hers, as well.
    “I need to be alone, please.”
    Flora set her mouth. “Wounded heart or not, you cannot leave this house unattended. I pledge to walk beside you as quiet as a mouse.”
    I could not help smiling in spite of myself. “A mouse who will try her best to give me counsel.”
    Flora placed my bonnet on my head and tied the ribbon under my chin, as she had done when I was a girl. “You have always sought my advice,” she said calmly. “Would you cease now, even when you are in such haste to leave me forever?”
    I thought about her words as we headed outside. We passed through the quad and Tom Tower, the college’s main entrance at St. Aldate’s Street. A light wind blew, and I wrapped my pelisse closer. Flora and I locked arms, and we headed down the street—toward what, I did not know. They had paved the streets at Oxford when I was a baby, and some said they were as fine as any of the best in London. Not that I traveled even so short a distance with great frequency!
    Oxford is a university—and town—with unique architecture. Many of the buildings have spires that reach skyward, nay, toward the heaven of God himself. I longed to raise my arms in mutual supplication. Why was I not chosen to do your work?
    As we walked together, silent, I thought long and hard. Flora had often called me impulsive, but my destiny, I was certain, lay in the Far East. Surely this was only a test of my resolve to answer God’s calling. Did he not challenge his children in the Bible? If I were to accomplish my task, however, I would have to evade Flora. She was loyal to a fault, but she would not, I feared, hesitate to alert Uncle Toby if she felt my plans endangered my life. I would have to strike a balance between telling the truth and withholding pertinent points of my plan. It was not exactly lying, I reasoned. Merely omitting some of what Flora might perceive to be an unpleasant truth.
    “I do not want to leave you or Uncle Toby,” I said at last. I gestured at the buildings of the university as we passed. “But look around us, Flora. What are behind these walls but men striving to learn?”
    “Is that not a