New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [128]
And then there was Weston. James had watched his father’s face soften and his eyes light up at the sight of the little boy. With his fair hair and blue eyes, Weston looked like a tiny version of his grandfather.
There was so much to say. James wanted to know about his sister Susan and her family, and it was agreed that he should go up to Dutchess County to see them as soon as possible. He gave them news of the Albions, and recent events in London. There was only one person who had not yet been discussed.
“We are sorry not to have the pleasure of welcoming your wife,” his father said at last.
“Indeed.” Vanessa. On his arrival, James had told them briefly that, because of the need for a hasty departure, it had not been possible for his wife to accompany him. It was an imperfect explanation. But now, with a glance at his little son, he smiled cheerfully, as if her absence were the most natural thing in the world. “Vanessa looks forward to that pleasure in the future.”
There was a pause. They were waiting for him to say more. He didn’t.
“Do you mean to stay long, James?” Abigail inquired.
“I am uncertain.”
“So are the times,” his father replied grimly.
James steered the conversation to lighter topics after that. He wanted to know all about Abigail’s life, what pastimes she enjoyed, what books she liked to read. Everyone made much of little Weston.
It was only some time later, when Abigail had taken Weston off to bed, and James could sit alone with his father, that they could talk seriously about the colony’s affairs.
John Master gave him a full account of the recent events up at Lexington. Whatever the Boston men might think, he pointed out, this had only been a skirmish between the Patriots and a small body of troops, and had no bearing on what the full might of well-trained British troops would do to the Patriots in a real encounter. As for the raiding of the supplies and the seizing of arms in New York, they were rebellious acts for which a price would surely be paid.
“But let me explain the background of these events,” he continued. Going over the last few years of the colony’s history, John Master described very frankly the ineptitude of the royal governors, and the effects of London’s failure to compromise, as well as the obstinacy of the Boston men. He told James about the decline of the Assembly, the rise of the Sons of Liberty and the riots, and about his encounters with old Eliot Master, Captain Rivers and Charlie White. His account was careful, clear and balanced.
Yet underneath his measured manner, James could sense his father’s pain. Everything John Master believed in was under attack. The vicious way that his old friend Charlie White had turned upon him seemed to have hurt his father especially. In the midst of all this turmoil, and without his wife for comfort, John was obviously lonely, and even afraid.
“So I’m glad to have you here,” the older man concluded. “As a loyal family, we have to decide what to do.”
“What do you have in mind?”
His father looked thoughtful for a moment, then sighed.
“I’ll tell you something,” he answered. “When Captain Rivers came here, he asked me if I thought of going to live in England. At the time, I was astonished he should say such a thing. God knows, we’ve been here for generations. Yet if matters don’t improve, then, for your sister’s sake, I confess I almost wonder if perhaps we shouldn’t all return to London.”
James did not express an opinion, but he asked his father several questions, gave him what comfort he could, and promised they should discuss all these matters in the days to come.
As they were retiring to their bedchambers, however, his father suddenly stopped him.
“I do not wish to pry, James, but I was surprised that you and Weston came without his mother. Is all well with your wife? Is there anything you wish to tell me?”
“No, Father, there is nothing to say at present.”
“As you wish.