New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [102]
One thing. He wanted to go to Oxford. He was still too young. But under the clever handling of his tutor, he was making huge strides in his studies. “There’s no reason why he shouldn’t be ready to go to Oxford in a few years,” his tutor told his father. And truth to tell, John Master had been delighted by the idea. “You’d be doing far better than I did,” he confessed very frankly to James. Indeed, when he remembered the humiliation he’d felt at the hands of his Boston cousins, he couldn’t restrain a smile. Harvard and Yale were fine places; but to have a son who’d been to Oxford—that would be one in the eye for the Masters of Boston!
There was also another consideration. He knew the men in the provincial Assembly, and the New Yorkers close to the governor; and a surprising number of these fellows had been educated in England. An Oxford degree might be a useful asset for the family in the future.
Master talked to Albion about it, and the London man agreed.
“If James goes to Oxford,” Albion told him, “he should live with us in London during the vacations. We already think of him as one of the family.”
There was only one problem.
It was New Year’s Day when Mercy gave John the unexpected news.
“John, I’m with child.”
After so many years it had come as quite a surprise, but it seemed there was no doubt. And with the news had come one other request.
“John, I want to return to New York. I want my child born in my home, not in England.”
He waited a day before he brought up the subject of James and Oxford. He was prepared for her not to like the idea, but not for her dismay.
“Let him go to Harvard, John, but do not leave him here. I beg you.” And even after he had pointed out the advantages of the thing, she had only become more distressed. “I could not bear to lose my son to this accursed place.”
When he informed the boy of his mother’s feelings, James said nothing. But he looked so unhappy that John told him to wait a few more days, while he considered.
And for several more days, John Master did consider the matter, most carefully. He could understand Mercy’s feelings. The thought that he and his son should be parted by three thousand miles, quite possibly for years, was just as painful for him as it was for his mother. Especially after their growing companionship in London, it would probably hurt him even more. On the other hand, James had clearly set his heart on it, and Master had no doubt in his mind that Oxford would be good for his son.
Set against that, however, must be the condition of his mother. A pregnancy was always dangerous, and as a woman got older, he believed it was more so. Should he and James cause her acute distress at such a time? What if, God forbid, things were to go wrong? A vision came into his mind of Mercy on her sickbed, calling for her son, three thousand miles away. Of Mercy’s silent reproach. Of poor young James’s subsequent guilt.
He broached the subject gently with Mercy one more time. Her feelings were as strong as ever. And so there was only one decision, he concluded, to be made.
“You shall return with us to America,” he told James. “And there you’ll remain for some months. But after that time, if you have not changed your mind, we’ll consider the question of Oxford again. I promise you nothing, but we’ll consider it. In the meantime, my boy, you must make the best of it, put on a cheerful face, and take care not to distress your mother. For if you complain, and distress her,” he added ominously, “then I’ll close the subject forever.”
He did not tell his son that he had every intention of sending him back to England within the year.
And whether James guessed this, or whether he simply heeded his words, John Master was greatly pleased that for the remaining weeks of the winter, James was as kind and obliging as any parent could wish their son to be. They continued to enjoy great happiness in London. And finally, after a fond parting from the Albions, the three Masters took ship in the first fine weather of the spring, to make the long voyage back to