I’d seen enough atlases and read enough travel memoirs to know that China was a devil of a long way away, but it’s one thing seeing it on a map, quite another thing is to spend the best part of three weeks travelling there on a P&O ship. And I used to think it was a long way from our house to the top of the mountain.
Sir Rodney had been posted to the British Consulate in Shanghai and he and his wife were billeted in a pleasant little house in the British Settlement. The city had been carved up by the Western powers and it was possible to live one’s life there without ever really feeling one had left Europe. The climate was different, and obviously it was China if you chose to look, but there was so much Britishness in our part of town that we might as well have been living in Kensington.
Sir Roderick worked normal office hours which left Lady Hardcastle free to do much as she pleased during the day. There were calls to be made and received, of course, and luncheons to attend, but there was plenty of time to explore Chinese life. She had employed a local woman as a housemaid and we spent many hours learning each other’s languages (apart, that is, from my own first language – neither of them showed much inclination to learn Welsh). And once we had mastered a few basics, we prevailed upon her to show us around.
With our local guide we were introduced to the Chinese area of the city where we would often shop and eat. The ladies of the Consulate were horrified at this behaviour and cautioned Lady Hardcastle most sternly against “going native” but this spurred her on even more. She even bought some Chinese clothes for us both, complete with the little pillbox hats that some of them were wearing.
Life had suddenly begun to far exceed even my wildest imaginings and at just eighteen years old I was living an adventure I had never even dreamed of.
Life settled into a sort of routine for the first few months, but then Lady Hardcastle resumed her periodic absences, leaving me for days at a time in the company of the housemaid. Sir Roderick usually dined at his club during those times and I had little to do but practice my Mandarin.
During one such absence, I was awakened not long after dawn by the sound of the front door being stealthily closed. I thought at first that it was Sir Roderick returning from one of his rare all-night card games, but as I came to I remembered that he had arrived home shortly before I had retired for the night.
Curiosity was never much good for the long life and happiness of moggies, and it could well have proved my undoing, too, but I just couldn’t stop myself from going to find out what had made the noise. I crept towards the hall as silently as I could manage and was startled to see a plump Chinese man standing there with his back to me. I must have let out a gasp, for he turned round and there, large as life, was Lady Hardcastle.
‘Ah, Florence, there you are, dear. Help me out of these togs and prepare me a bath, would you? I’m quite done in.’
I had thought that the the most exciting thing that could ever possibly happen to a girl from the Valleys had been when, at thirteen and against everyone’s advice, I had left home to start my life in service in Cardiff. But life had topped that when I had left Cardiff for London at fifteen; surely nothing could be more exotic than that. Except that then I had left London for China and I absolutely knew that nothing could ever be more exciting. And then, on that morning in Shanghai, I had a conversation with Lady Hardcastle as I helped her get ready for bed.
Emily Charlotte Ariadne Featherstonhaugh was born on 7 November 1867, the younger of two children born to Sir Percival Featherstonhaugh, Permanent Secretary to the Treasury, and his wife Ariadne, known to her friends — of whom there were many — as Addie. She and her brother Henry Alfred Percival Featherstonhaugh – who had never been anything other than Harry – had a childhood as far removed from my own as it was possible to imagine. There were toys and outings and friends who came to tea. When their parents entertained, they would sneak to the top of the stairs where they would almost always be “accidentally” caught and indulgently introduced to the guests by their doting parents. For five years, Emily’s life had been idyllic, and then one day, it had come crashing down around her ears. Harry, now aged seven, was sent away to school.
Emily was devastated. Not only had her childhood companion and confederate been taken away from her, but he was off on an extra special adventure that she couldn’t share. He had gone to school. He was going to be learning things that she felt she would never be allowed to know. It just wasn’t fair.
She had made such a fuss that her parents, as indulgent as ever, had engaged a governess several years before they had planned and Emily, determined to prove herself every bit as clever as her brother, had taken to her lessons with a determination that surprised everyone. It wasn’t long before the first governess, whose specialism had been teaching simple reading and arithmetic skills to the very young, was forced to admit that the young girl had long since passed the level at which she felt comfortable teaching, and another had to be engaged. And then another. And another.
The years passed and Emily’s academic prowess showed no sign of peaking. It had been expected that she would follow her parents’ friends’ daughters who were attending an assortment of finishing schools around Europe before being presented at coming out balls and beginning the search for suitable husbands. But when Harry came home and for Christmas 1883 and told her that he was about to sit the Cambridge entrance examination, Sir Percival and Lady Featherstonhaugh’s plans were changed again. Harry intended to study at their father’s old college, Kings, which meant that Emily would be unable to follow him, but there was a women’s college now, and Emily set about persuading her beleaguered parents that they should support her newfound ambition.
And so it was that in October 1884, Emily Featherstonhaugh had gone up to Girton College, Cambridge.
It was at Cambridge that she met the charming and handsome Roderick Hardcastle and where, almost as significantly, she had come to the attention of certain dons who had long been on the lookout for people such as she; well-connected people with sharp minds and the ability to use them. People who could gather information useful to Her Britannic Majesty’s government about the activities and intentions of its allies and enemies. People who could spy.