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...
"I WANT THEM PUNISHED, GOVERNOR. NOT SIMPLY REPRIMANDED but I wish for their land to be confiscated." The Colonial Secretary of Hong Kong, Lockhart blew a puff of smoke from his cigar, obscuring his face in the cloud. His voice was stern, his appearance more so. "I cannot tolerate such disobedience so early into our colonial rule, Lord Fairfax." (1)
George snuffed out his cigar in the ashtray, his mind reeling from the other man's harsh words and bristling at his obvious desire for George's position. How could the man speak Chinese, have friends who were Chinese, and still speak of them in such a derogatory and oppressive manner? "I have been cooped up in Government House all day, James. Perhaps we could take a stroll and discuss this?"
The other man acquiesced and they walked out through the dark-wood panelled hallways, past the furniture arranged in neutral colours and chandeliers lit not with Anglo-Persian oil but with the petroleum of Royal Dutch Shell. (2) Strolling past the busts and paintings that decorated the walls, they took their coats from a servant and made it out to a grassy hill that was damp with rain, their hats protecting their faces from the strong wind.
"The villagers are protesting against the location for the new police headquarters," Lockhart, one of the men put in charge of the takeover of Hong Kong, informed him. "I'm afraid their flimsy arguments and backwards superstitions must be quelled, Governor."
He sighed, rubbing his fingers across his temples as the wind whipped at his black coat. "And how, exactly, do you propose we do that, Lockhart?"
The earth was soft beneath his boots and squelched in the rain as he shifted from one foot to the other while waiting for the other man to speak. James Haldane Stewart Lockhart was balding beneath his hat, his dark mustachio moving against his upper lip as he spoke. "I have heard the murmurings of a rebellion about to take place in Tai Po. These foreigners and their feng shui, their silly little beliefs will be the death of us all and the death of our progress. A riot--quite a violent one, really--is about to take place."
"We must be ready to meet it, then." George sighed. He had thought this job might be simple enough, but then again this was not India. It was a new colony with its own new challenges, ones he would have to face with vigour--even if he still regretted the night he had been sentenced to do so. "Until next time, then, Lockhart."
"Good day, Governor." Lockhart nodded at him, tipping the brim of his derby hat toward him and walking away. Each movement was stiff, not as if the man were trying to hide an injury but as if he were some sort of mannequin not yet fully come to life.
George had a feeling that the man was just as heartless as one.
☕️
Rain pounded against the windows as he remembered the night of his exile--his alleged 'promotion' from a mere lord to the governor. Away from his family, his wife, his children. He could barely bring himself to pick up a fountain pen and write to them, even though their missives were still as warm and hearty as ever. He could scarcely think of his family or even look any of them in the eye for what he had participated in, what he had allowed himself to be coerced into doing...
"How could you correspond with that man, when he stands to take down everything we have built? This company, the Empire... all of it could be ruined because of you!" James Matheson snapped, pacing the room. "How dare you?"
"Sir, I can assure you that my intent was not to be the ruin of this company or of any--" George began to say. "I only saw the suffering of the people, how their lives were wasting away due to what we are selling! What we are producing in masses and smuggling into the country... How can you still believe in what you do? What this company does?"
"It is my company and I founded it. If the Chinese choose to indulge in our products, it is due to their own poor willpower that they cannot stop themselves," Matheson snapped, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists, seeming to be on the verge of throwing a punch. " You cannot deny that Jardine Matheson has been successful. We have made hundreds of thousands of pounds in--"
"Profit?" George spat. "But what about those human lives? Where is your sense of Christian charity, Matheson? Your heart?"
"My heart!" James gave a dark laugh, sneering at him. "I sold mine to the devil right along with my soul, George. I had thought you would have done the same, in order to succeed in this business. Jardine and I are what the Chinese call taipans and you could have been the same, George. But you betrayed us when you let yourself be moved by your sentimentality and heart!"
"You are a drug lord, that is what you are! You poison people for money and call it an enterprise!" George shouted. "This is not mere trade. This is a subjugation, a..."
"Keep your mouth shut, Fairfax. I shall not tolerate one more bad word from you, else we shall have problems." Matheson uncurled his fists and snapped open his jewelled snuffbox from where it lay on the desk, offering some to him. He knew it was not an olive branch; it was a demand for silence, for him to be obedient.
George slapped the box shut so hard it fell to the ground, and walked away.
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(1) Technically, the first governor of HK was Henry Blake, but I fudged some details. Lockhart is a real person though: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Stewart_Lockhart
(2) Royal Dutch Shell was created in 1907, 10 years after this story takes place. Another anachronism!
