Victoria Holt - The House of a Thousand Lanterns

The more I thought of the idea the less impossible it seemed. I asked him to tell me more about this house of the lanterns. He tried to explain it but it defeated my imagination.

I knew that it was an old house, that it had been built on the site of an ancient temple, that it was in the center of several walled courtyards which extended all round it. “It is rather like a Chinese puzzle,” said Sylvester. “You go through one gate into the first, then through another and another. There are four of these walled courtyards and in the center the house itself.”

I longed to see it. I had fought hard over the last few years to forget Joliffe but I had not succeeded. I often thought of Bella and pictured her living in the house which had so briefly been my home. Was it true that they had lived their separate lives? How much had Joliffe withheld from me? I did not entirely know Joliffe. No, I told myself fiercely, that was why he excited me. There would always be so much to discover.

My absorption with my child had saved me perhaps from running away with Joliffe, for I did not believe I could have endured the barren years if I had not had my beloved child.

Now the thought of going to a new land, to see that house which had deluded my imagination filled me with excitement.

Jason’s fifth birthday was celebrated and, soon after, the decision was made. Sylvester’s doctors thought that the journey was possible and no harm could come through it; in fact one of them thought the stimulation would be good for him.

Mrs. Couch was horrified. The thought of taking little children among heathens was something beyond her comprehension. She was indignantly tearful and I knew it was because, as she said, her kitchen wouldn’t be her kitchen without Master Sly Boots in and out of everything.

She was sullen for some time. I said I did not think the visit would be prolonged but she continued to shake her head. She brought out the cards and saw disaster there. There was even the ace of spades which kept turning up. The teacups gave due warning. There was a journey over water and no good would come of it.

In spite of these prognostications of evil we made our plans.

And on an autumn day when Jason was nearing his sixth birthday we sailed from Southampton for the Far East.

The impact of the Hong Kong scene upon me was tremendous. I was expecting something exotic, entirely different from what I had ever known, and having steeped myself in Chinese history, manners, customs, and art, I had believed myself to be in some measure prepared. But I could never have pictured anything so varied, so colorful, and so mysterious.

The center of life was the harbor, one of the finest known to man, I believe. Ships came in from all over the world and there was constant activity along the waterfront. A strip of sea about a mile long separated Hong Kong Island from the mainland and ferries constantly plied back and forth. From Kowloon one could look across to the steep mountain ridge and the island’s capital city of Victoria. The junks and the sampans crowded the waters; these were the homes of thousands of families, many of whom rarely came ashore. These people fascinated me. I would see women sitting on the little boats, babies in slings on their backs while they prepared the men’s fishing nets; it seemed incredible that these little boats with their wicker mat sails were the only homes they had.

Perhaps more even than the harbor life the streets intrigued me. They were like colorful paintings with their banner-like shop signs, and because of the artistic formation of the letters they were quite beautiful; reds, greens, and blues mingled with gold and fluttered in the breeze. I was enchanted by the steep byways which they called ladder streets and which were lined with stalls containing various kinds of food—vegetables, fruit, and dried fish. There were vendors of all kinds of articles including birds in cages and exquisitely painted paper kites.

The letter writers interested me. They were usually seated at a table with writing material on it. I often looked with pity on those who had brought a letter to be read to them after which they would dictate the answer. They struck me as so pathetic as they watched the lips of the reader as he read, and his pen as he wrote the characters on the paper.

The fortune tellers were always in demand with their containers of sticks which were shaken before the sticks were selected and the future told. I was amused by the one who used a trained bird to select a card from the pack which would be closely studied by the seer who would then proceed to tell the future.

Everywhere there was teeming life and dire contrast. Here were the beggars with their begging bowls and the lost hopeless look in their eyes which haunted me long after I had dropped my coin in the bowl. I was astounded by my first glimpse of an imperious mandarin being carried in his sedan chair by six bearers while his train of attendants walked in two files on either side of him. Two of the members of his party carried gongs which were struck at intervals as the procession passed in order that all might know what majesty was in their midst. A placard was carried on high and on this was inscribed all the titles of the mandarin. It was interesting to see the awe with which shoppers and passers-by regarded this procession. Humble in the presence of such glory they stood eyes downcast and when one boy stared in frank amazement and forgot to bow his head he received a cut from one of the canes carried by two men in the party whose sole duty appeared to be to chastise those who failed to show the required respect.

In contrast to this proud spectacle were the rickshaw men—usually painfully thin and wizened, standing hopefully by their vehicles or running breathlessly through the streets with their burdens.

Each day I found something new to absorb my interest. But more than anything I was fascinated by The House of a Thousand Lanterns.

Since we had left home, each day had been filled with new experiences. There had been the sea voyage which had taken so many weeks and brought us halfway round the world. Other travelers found us an unusual party—myself, my older husband, our small child, and Sylvester’s servant Ling Fu. Jason was of an age to find everything that happened an adventure and yet at the same time to take it all for granted. We suffered the usual discomforts of such travel but I was delighted to find that we were moderately good sailors. Sylvester had made the journey many times and was well known to the captain and crew. It was convenient that this was so, for with his disability the voyage could have been an ordeal but so delighted was he to be on his way to Hong Kong that he seemed to gain new strength.

We dined often with the captain who regaled us with stories of adventure at sea; I was continually watchful of Jason for I was terrified that his adventurous spirit would lead him to some disaster. The voyage might be long but with so much to concern myself I could not call it tedious.

We called at various ports on the way round and to one like myself who had never been out of England except for my Paris honeymoon this was an exciting experience. Sylvester could not easily get ashore but he was determined that my pleasure should not be spoiled and often Jason and I would take a drive round some foreign city in the company of the captain or some of his officers.

By the time we reached Hong Kong the ship had become a home to me and I felt a curious sense of regret to be leaving her. This was soon submerged beneath the new experiences which crowded in on me.

When we landed it was to find Adam Milner waiting to meet us and with him was a rather thick-set pleasant man whom I imagined to be in his mid-thirties. He had a frank pleasant face and I took to him immediately. I guessed him to be Tobias Grantham, the manager of Sylvester’s Hong Kong branch, for Sylvester had told me a good deal about him. “He’s a canny Scot,” he had said. “He was in our Scottish office. His sister Elspeth keeps house for him. She thought she had to come out to protect him from the dangers of the East. A good upright woman, but as so many of her kind, sometimes a bit uncomfortable.”

Sylvester’s pleasure in being in Hong Kong and in seeing Tobias Grantham was obvious. He was delighted too that Adam had come to meet us. He had, I knew, always deplored the rift in the family and was pleased at any sign of bridging it.

Adam was cool to me but Tobias Grantham was most deferential. He remarked that Sylvester would find everything in order at The House. This I was to discover was the manner in which The House of a Thousand Lanterns was always referred to.

Two men in black trousers and tunics, their hair in pigtails with conical straw hats on their heads waited at a respectful distance. When Tobias gave a sign they collected the baggage which was available—most of it was in the hold and would be brought to us later—and put it into a rickshaw.

Jason clutching my hand watched everything with wondering eyes.

It was Tobias Grantham who spoke first to him. He said: “Is this young sir then?”

Jason replied: “I’m not a young sir. I’m a boy. I’m Jason.”

“Could be a young sir too,” replied Tobias.

The idea seemed to please Jason. Tobias knelt down so that their eyes were on a level. “Welcome to Hong Kong, young sir.”

“Are you a Chinaman?” asked Jason.

“No. As English as yourself.”

“Why aren’t you a Chinaman?”

“Because I’m not Chinese.”

Tobias stood up and smiled at me. “I hope you’ll be happy here, Mrs. Milner.”

“You’ll find it very different from England,” said Adam.

“I’m prepared for that,” I replied.

Adam handed me into the waiting rickshaw, then Sylvester was helped in and Jason sat between us.

“We’ll follow you when we’ve seen to the luggage,” said Tobias Grantham.

The rickshaw man took the shafts and we were off. Jason was roundeyed with wonder; I was more or less the same.

Sylvester smiled at me. “So we’re here, Jane.”

“It’s fantastic,” I said.

It was indeed. Everywhere there seemed to be rickshaws pulled by fragile-looking men, barefooted in the thin cotton trousers and tunics, their pigtails flapping as they ran.

We skirted the teeming streets with their beautiful signs rippling in the slight breeze; the air was full of strange smells the main ingredient of which seemed to be fish. It was like a series of colorful images flashing before the eyes but when I think back to that first day in Hong Kong the picture which dominates all others is that of The House of a Thousand Lanterns.

It was on the outskirts of Kowloon and surrounded by gardens so that it appeared to be more isolated than it was. We first came to a wall with a gate on either side of which was a stone dragon. An old man in the inevitable cotton trousers and tunic squatted at the side of this gate and as we drew up he stood up sharply, opened the gate and bowed low.

Sylvester called a greeting. There was almost a lilt in his voice. I could tell how excited he was to be here.

Our rickshaw man took us through the gate and we were in what appeared to be a courtyard; a path in delicately colored stones led to another wall and a door. We passed through this and were in a similar courtyard. I later discovered that the grounds were like a series of boxes without lids which fitted into each other. At the center of these was the house.

We had reached that center square and there it was: The House of a Thousand Lanterns. Before it was a lawn on which grew miniature shrubs and there was a small stream over which a little bridge had been set. It was like a doll’s garden. At the side of the house scattering petals from its purple blossoms stood a fully grown tree. It looked enormous in comparison with the miniatures. I had never seen such a tree before and later discovered it to be the Bauhinia.

I took all this in during a few seconds for I was aware of little else but the house. It was imposing and bore a resemblance to the houses I had seen on painted scrolls. It stood on a sort of platform paved with marble slabs of pink and white. There were four stories, each one protruding over the others; and it was made of some kind of golden stone which glittered when the sun caught it. It was built in the Chinese style with gilding and carving and there was a pergola over which myrtle was growing.