New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [59]
I soon learned why Jan was anxious to please Lord Cornbury. “I am a Tory,” His Lordship would say with a smile. “I favor the queen and her court. How could it be otherwise when I am her cousin?” He was partial to the greater families who were English in their manners and favored them with offices, contracts, and land. On this account, the many lesser Dutch in the city who still remembered poor Meinheer Leisler did not like Lord Cornbury. And I think he had no great liking for them. But fortunately I spoke English well enough, and after so many years close to the Boss, I knew how to make a master feel comfortable with me.
His Lordship and his wife had had five children, but only two were still living: Edward, who was a boy of twelve when I arrived, and a handsome, dark-haired girl of eight named Theodosia. Edward was mostly with his tutor, and Theodosia with her mother; my duties concerned His Lordship only. He was an easy master, for though he insisted upon good order, he always explained what he wanted, and he told me if he was pleased. He was always polite with the people who came to see him; yet I could tell that behind his good manners, he was ambitious.
“A governor should leave his mark,” I once heard him say.
In particular, he was anxious to build up the Anglican Church. The vestrymen of Trinity, who included some of the greatest merchants, were often with him, and he gave that church a big stretch of land running up the west side of the city. And he had Broadway paved with fine cobblestones all the way from Trinity to Bowling Green, in front of the fort. He also put Anglican clergymen into some of the churches of the Presbyterians and the Dutch—which those people did not like at all. But that didn’t trouble him. “Gentlemen,” he told them, “I am sorry, but it’s what the queen wants.” It was all part of his plan. I was in the room one day when he addressed the Trinity vestrymen. “New York is English in name,” he said, “and we look to you and to the Anglican clergy to make it so in fact.”
He wasn’t proud, but he liked to do things in style. The governor’s residence in the fort had some good rooms, but it wasn’t elegant. “This house really won’t do,” he would say. One day we took a boat across to Nut Island, which is only a short distance from the tip of Manhattan, and as he walked about among the chestnut trees there, he said to me, “This is a delightful place, Quash. Delightful.” And in no time at all, he had them building a beautiful house on a knoll out there. Soon they were calling it Governor’s Island after that.
Of course, it had to be paid for. But a tax for the city defenses had just brought in over a thousand pounds; so he used that. Some of the merchants that paid the taxes were angry, but he didn’t care. “No one is attacking us at present,” he said.
During this time, I would still see Miss Clara and the family now and then, but there was no further word about the Mistress—until one day in Wall Street I saw Jan. “She came back, Quash,” he told me. “She came back and discovered all the governor’s been doing for the Anglicans against the Dutch, and in three days she was gone to Schenectady again and says she’ll never return.” He was laughing. “God bless Lord Cornbury,” he says.
And I had reason to be grateful to His Lordship too. For one day, seeing me looking sad, he asked me what was the matter, and I told him I was wondering what became of my Hudson. And what did he do, but cause letters to be sent to every port in the world where the English traded, and every English naval