New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [120]
“Is she a godly woman?” asked Mercy.
“Godly?” Captain Rivers almost looked puzzled, then collected himself. “Absolutely. A staunch supporter of the Church, to be sure.”
“Well,” said Mercy quietly, “I hope that James will not wait too long before he brings her home.”
“Indeed,” said Rivers, noncommittally.
It wasn’t until he was sitting alone with the captain, after the ladies had retired, that Master returned to the subject of Vanessa and his son.
“I’m thinking of what you said about your cousin, and remembering my time in London,” John began quietly. “I should think she’d want her husband to be a fashionable man.”
“Probably,” Rivers answered.
“So she can’t like the fact that he’s in trade.”
“I couldn’t say.”
“From what I saw in London,” Master continued, “the English don’t consider a man a gentleman if he’s in trade. A man may belong to a gentry family and engage in trade because he has to—like our friend Albion. But once an Englishman makes his fortune in trade, he’ll probably sell up his business, buy an estate in the country, and set himself up as a gentleman there. Trade and being a gentleman don’t mix. But why is that, would you say?”
“It is true,” said Rivers, “that in England, a gentleman goes into Parliament, or the army, but avoids the counting house if he can.” He laughed. “They’re supposed to be the old warrior nobility. Knights in armor, you know. In theory at least.”
“It’s different in America.”
“A man like Washington in Virginia, say—an officer in the army, with a country house and huge estates—he’d be called a gentleman in England, without a doubt. Even Ben Franklin,” Rivers added with a smile, “is entirely retired from trade nowadays. He’s quite the gentleman in London.”
“And what does that make me?” asked Master wryly.
For just a moment, he saw a look of worry cross the aristocrat’s face. My God, Master realized, Rivers is wondering if he’s insulted me and I’ll refuse him a loan.
“In Carolina,” Rivers answered simply, “I work in my own storehouse, and I’ll sell you goods across the counter at my trading post. And you shouldn’t lend me a penny if I were too proud to do it. Here in New York, sir, you live in a far higher style than I. You have ships and businesses which others manage for you. Your landholdings are large. Should you ever consider returning to England, you would live as a very considerable gentleman indeed.” He gave Master a curious glance. “With your son there, I wonder if you think of it. You’d have many friends, including, I can assure you, the Riverdales.”
It was cleverly said, and kindly meant. But it also came as a shock. Return to England? After the Masters had been rich in New York for more than a century? The thought had never crossed his mind.
Yet later that night, thinking it over, he had to admit Rivers’s question was natural. His son was gone. He had an English wife. James was English. He was blind if he didn’t see it. And his English wife was only waiting, presumably, for James to inherit a fortune and retire from business.
And then John Master realized something else. He was determined to stop her. He wanted James back, here, in America. But how the devil was he to do it?
As the Master household entered the spring of 1773, Hudson had several things on his mind. He could count himself fortunate that he and his family were warm and well fed in one of the kindest houses in New York. That was a blessing. But there was still plenty to worry about. His first concern was Mercy Master.
Early in March, John Master had taken a ship down the coast to Carolina, intending to spend some time inspecting the Rivers plantation. He had not been gone three days when Mercy fell sick. Hudson