Hugh Kenrick (20 page)

Sir Henoch finished lighting his pipe, then said, “True, sir. But my words were forceful enough. Did you not observe our brothers? There’s the memory I care about! You know that the ember of a notion can sit for a long time in the ashes of a mind, and then, with the right draft, burst into a sudden flame that can set that mind on fire!”

Kemp wrinkled his face. “What a pretty sentiment, Sir Henoch! Have you been having tea and talk at Twickenham with our brother Mr. Walpole?”

“’twas my own thought, Mr. Kemp,” growled Pannell, “and you’d do well to mark its truth.” He saw someone watching them, and nudged his companion with an elbow. “Ah! Here’s a notable-to-be!”

Hugh Kenrick had also left the hall for fresh air, and had been wandering around the Yard studying the men who governed the country. He stopped when he saw Pannell and Mr. Kemp approach. The member for Canovan bowed and made the introductions. “Well, milord,” he asked, “how did you find my speech?”

“I found it interesting, sir,” replied Hugh.

“Interesting? Thank you, milord.”

Hugh frowned. “But strangely off the mark. It is my understanding that the colonies were not settled by any policy of government, at any time, but chiefly by men wanting to put some distance between themselves and the Crown and its policies. Your speech created an impression contrary to the recorded facts. I am not widely read in the subject, but I believe that what I have so far encountered in my limited exposure to it gives me leave to conclude that your analogy of ‘Britannic flora’ has no, well, roots.”

Kemp chuckled, and rolled his eyes. “Well, my botanist friend,” he said to his companion, “how will you answer that charge?”

Sir Henoch gave the member for Harbin an evil look, then looked blameless as he addressed Hugh Kenrick. “I’m sorry if I left you with that impression, milord. I don’t deny the facts. However, these long-late expatriates of whom you speak adopted English law to order their lives—and what better polity could they have adopted? How would they have fared if they had borrowed the French, or the Spanish, or the German modes—and in time accepted English customs and ways, and, I might add, English protection—at their invitation, permit me to remind you, milord—and their lands and destinies became, in effect, virtual English colonies and concerns.” He shook his head. “But, lack-a-day, milord! The facts and circumstances are now immaterial, as ghostly as the claims of the Jacobites!”

Hugh’s brow knitted in thought. “We may adopt French fashions, Sir Henoch, and French art, and French food, and French social graces, but our doing so would not constitute an invitation to the French to invade England, or to punish it, or to chastise it, or to otherwise treat this nation as its colony.”

Sir Henoch hummed. “It’s a very inexoteric subject, milord. We could stand here all day, tossing this ball back and forth. Forgive me for saying so, but I am more widely read in the subject, and I don’t believe a single history writer I have encountered has got it all right.”

“I do agree with you that English law was the best polity to adopt, even though I think there are dubious aspects to it. And I agree with you that the writers have not yet found the correct prism of interpretation.”

“You are gracious for saying so, milord.”

Hugh studied the member for Canovan for a moment, then asked, “You are the one who hanged Romney Marsh, are you not?”

A moment passed before Sir Henoch could reply. An unsavory feeling curdled his nerves. “I did not hang that criminal, milord,” he said. “That was the lawful duty of the sheriff of Falmouth, in obedience to a court’s instructions. I merely caught him and handed him over for justice.” He collected some courage, and asked, “Why do you ask, milord?”

“Romney Marsh is a ghost I would like to have conjured up this morning. It would have been most interesting to hear what reply he would have made to your speech.”

Sir Henoch permitted himself a mocking smile. “Am I to take it, milord, that, like your father, you have read that scurrilous fiction of his?”

“
Hyperborea
? Yes, sir, I have. Many times.”

“And also found it engaging?”

“Engaging? No, sir. Enthralling, yes.” The city’s church bells marked one o’clock. Hugh checked his pocket watch, then said, “I must go now, Sir Henoch. I shall try to attend more of the sessions, my schedule permitting. I look forward to hearing you speak again.” He nodded to both men, turned, and walked away.

The men bowed to the retreating figure. Sir Henoch’s eyes narrowed into slits. “There goes a republican puppy!” he remarked, some anger in his words.

“So to speak,” replied Kemp, not understanding the anger.

The pair moved to join a group of other members hovering around one of the burning barrels. The member for Norwich commented with gentle unkindness on Sir Henoch’s speech. “A fiery piece of hack-work, Sir Henoch, worthy of the ravings of an inmate of Bedlam—but,” he added, “very keen in its construction!”

The member for Bristol seconded those remarks, and added, “We ought to be discreet in what we say about the colonials, Sir Henoch. Mr. Herbert
is not only a friend of the member who proposed the bill you questioned, but he acts as agent for some of the larger purses in New York and Philadelphia. Your sentiments are likely to be conveyed to those parties on the next mail packet.”

The member for Nottingham ventured, “And—we may need to approve a credit of perhaps a million to the government, Sir Henoch, and that may be barely enough to raise a proper army and outfit the navy. The colonials, whatever their shortcomings, may be obliged to make up the difference in the ranks, and in the accounts.”

“What is wanted, sir,” volunteered a member for Oxford University, “is a dollop or two of commiseration, not a brace of cudgels!”

Sir Henoch snorted violently. “The colonies ought to be lunged like any Arabian mount, sirs!” he roared. “Kept at a distance in politics, and exercised vigorously, until they learn who is the master, so that they may be led and ridden more easily!”

This explosion of emotion startled the men around the barrel. They all knew that the man was not playing theatrics now, as he had for the benches.

Sir Henoch went on, waving his pipe in the air. “No, sirs! The colonies have not been lunged vigorously enough! They have been allowed to acquire an elevated sense of themselves!” He snorted again. “Yes, sirs! The day will come, I fear, when we will too late realize that their impudence has been spawned by our neglect and indulgence!”

A moment passed. The other men glanced at each other. Their colleague’s fit seemed to have passed, and it was safe enough to speak. “‘An elevated sense of themselves,’” mused the member for Norwich. “A quillety way of putting the matter, Sir Henoch. My compliments.” He saw the stolid features of his adversary soften a little. “Why, it could become the theme for a great speech!”

“As indeed it will become, some day, sir!” answered Sir Henoch. “And I’ll be the one to deliver that oration! No cribbing from any of you now, or I’ll defame you!” he added, half in jest, half in warning.

Kemp said, rubbing his hands together over the barrel’s flames, “There’s no chance of that, sir. Only you seem to know the lay of the notion.”

W
HEN
H
UGH RETURNED TO
W
INDRIDGE
C
OURT
, H
ULTON HANDED HIM
two letters. The butler said, “The envelope in your father’s hand was delivered by a boy from Mr. Worley’s establishment, milord, about an hour after you left for the Commons. The second came not half an hour ago, and was delivered by a Negro gentleman.” Hugh thanked Hulton and took the letters to his room. The second envelope read, “Hon. Hugh Kenrick, Bart., Windridge Court.” He opened it first. It was from Glorious Swain.

“Sir: Greetings! Good news, and bad. The members of the Society will not alter the rule of seven. They will, however, consider admitting you as an auditor of our meetings, with no privileges of participation. You would be but an honorary member, with no right to vote and no voice in Society affairs. They argue that I know your identity (which I did not divulge), and you, mine, and so this fact violates a cardinal rule of membership, which is mutual anonymity. However, I have given you my highest recommendation. They have asked that you submit an essay to them, on any subject matter, advocating some novel or unconventional notion, so that we may together judge the quality of your cogitations. Meet me tonight at eight of the clock at Ranelagh, if you can. I have an occasional position there as waiter. If this is not convenient, leave a message with Mabel Petty at the Fruit Wench fixing another time and place. Your grateful servant, Glorious Swain.”

This letter left Hugh grinning. His father’s, though, put him in a more somber mood. It was dated four days earlier.

“My dear son, Hugh: This letter may reach you before or after the fact. The expected hostilities with France (and perhaps even with Frederick of Prussia, if he combines with France—what inconstant enemies!) have moved your uncle to decide to attend Lords for an indefinite length of time. He is preparing for the journey even as I pen this caution. He feels it necessary to commune with his fellow ermines and comites to form a better opinion of the state of affairs and perhaps convene with them to weave a policy more to his liking. Please, I beg of you, do not provoke him on any matter. This will prove, I am certain, a difficult task for you, and if you
accomplish it, I shall be both proud of you, and relieved.

“I would come up to London myself, as I would like to, but I have deferred for too long my turn as justice of the peace in these parts and must fulfill that obligation. There is also urgent business to see to in Weymouth and Poole. Moreover, I have decided to set aside fallow parts of the estate for the cultivation of conies, and have been busy planning and supervising the digging of warrens and hutches for them. I anticipate an interruption (or, at least, a reduction) in the importation of American pelts and furs, and as the tailors and clothiers here will be wanting substitutes for their trade, the revenue to us from the hair of these prolific rabbits may prove lucrative. The meat also can fetch a nice price in the markets. A hundred gross of coney skins, at current prices, can net in excess of £30, and some forty thousand or so of them could keep us in silver for the duration of the war, which I fear will be a long and dreadful contest, if Newcastle retains the seals. Neither your uncle nor I expect him to; however, no matter when he resigns, his successor will need to sweep the stables clean of his blunders.

“In any event, you and your uncle need only tolerate each other for two weeks. Though your uncle is in a foul temper, he has given me his promise not to bait you. I have said to him, and I say to you, that I wish sincerely that you and he could establish some form of amity. And, I say to you, in strictest confidence, that such an amity can only be of your design. Your uncle is, after all, an earl, and he subscribes to the idea that earls vanish in a puff of phlogiston if they practice the witchcraft of reasonableness, never to be seen again (except by God and his bailiffs). In two weeks, though, you will be coming down for the holidays. I have had nothing but glowing reports about you from Dr. Comyn and Mr. Worley, and I trust that you harbor no apprehension about your welcome. Your mother and I miss you sorely. We are planning some festivity in your honor (on top of the usual Epiphanic folderol!), and we will invite some neighbors here whom your uncle would otherwise scare off or rather not see. You can regale the company with your adventures in that great rabbit warren known as London.

“Please have Mr. Hulton make preparations for your uncle’s arrival. The kitchen there has a list of his favorite fare and beverages, and these must be restocked. Your uncle is bringing his own major-domo, Alden Curle. You should warn Mr. Hulton that he may need to defer to Mr. Curle for the length of your uncle’s stay…”

Hugh finished the letter, thought for a moment, then rang for Hulton with the bell-cord by his bed. The butler knocked on the door a few
minutes later. Hugh said, “My uncle is coming to attend Lords, Hulton. My father instructs you to make preparations for his stay.”

“Yes, milord,” said the butler brightly. “I shall have his room tidied up and shop for his table myself. There is a list in the kitchen.”

“And the coach and four need sprucing. Tell the stable and footmen to see to that, too. The front court needs to be swept of leaves and muck. I know that he will be traveling the city on visits, and receiving visitors here.”

Hulton smiled. “All the silver will be polished, milord.”

“Uncle will be accompanied by Mr. Curle.”

Hulton’s eager expression soured. “Oh…”

“I know that you and he can’t abide each other, Hulton. Father recommends that you defer to Mr. Curle, even though you are both now of equal rank.”

The butler sighed in concession. “He is senior, milord.”

“And, in two weeks, I will leave for the holidays. Don’t let Curle needle you. I know that he is wont to play crass tricks on you and tries to get you into trouble. My uncle would discharge you without so much as a hearing, and he would have the right. This is his house. Neither I nor my father would be able to intercede, once he’s done the deed.”

“I shall endeavor to be a paragon of patience, milord.”

Hugh smiled. “Would you bring me a plate of something? And some coffee? I have some work to do here before I go to Mr. Worley’s.”

“Immediately, milord,” said Hulton.

When he returned a while later with a tray of food and the coffee, Hulton found Hugh at his desk, hard at work copying a sheaf of papers. When he had finished laying out the food on a small side table, he asked, “May I ask, milord, how was the session?”

“Interesting, Hulton,” said Hugh, putting aside his quill. “It is a great machine, Parliament. For good, or for ill, I have not yet decided.” He turned in his chair and studied Hulton, although the butler was not the subject of his thoughts. “I heard a man there make a speech, and this speech, I believe, was calculated to become a model for artificial divisiveness within the empire. He is a man angling for importance, for he has nothing else to do. He is like a jealous, spinsterish aunt, who, in her incessant, peevish remarks and querulous behavior, aims to stir up animosities within a large and otherwise contented family, so that she may patch together a compact more to her liking.”

“How was his speech received, milord?”

“With revolting felicity by many on the benches,” said Hugh. “And I swear that most of the gallery had been hired to add their own thunder to the din.”

“Which members of our contented family did he rail against, milord?”

“The colonies.”

“Oh, yes. The colonies,” said Hulton. “There is a great deal of talk on that subject. I hear it noised in the taverns and other public places.”

“What are your sentiments, Hulton?” asked Hugh, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Mine, milord? I have none. I boast the virtue of refraining from expression of an ignorant opinion, when I lack the prerequisite knowledge of a subject. I know little about the colonies, and so I have little to say about them.”

“A fine rule, Hulton,” said Hugh. “You have a respect for knowledge that the speaker lacked. He has much knowledge of the colonies, yet I believe he lied about them.”

“Lied, milord?”

“Yes. Yet, at the same time, while I believe he lied, I believe he is right to worry about them.”

“Who was the speaker, milord?”

“Our neighbor at Bucklad House, Sir Henoch.”

“I see.” Hulton reached down and poured more coffee from a silver pot into Hugh’s cup, and added a spoonful of demerara sugar from a pewter bowl. He handed the cup and saucer to his master. “What do you think Sir Henoch had to gain by such a speech, milord?” he asked.

Hugh sipped on the coffee. “Nothing for the present,” he said. “He is a shrewd man. To look at him, though, you would not think he could project any affair beyond next day’s breakfast.”

“Slippery creatures, these politicians, milord,” remarked Hulton. “I am old enough to remember what many were wont to say about the late Earl of Orford, Robert Walpole, that he was a hick and a fribblous noddy. Yet, he commanded for twenty years.”

Hugh sighed. “Well, I must do some work here, Hulton. Please have a hackney waiting for me in the yard after an hour.”

“Yes, milord.” Hulton left the room.

Hugh hurriedly copied the essay he had not been required to present to his fellow pupils by his modern history instructor, and refined some of his
remarks on King John and the role of malice in political power. He re-read it quickly, decided that it was novel and unconventional enough for Glorious Swain, then tied the nine pages together between two blank sheets with a red ribbon, and wrote on the top sheet “G. Swain.” He finished the plate of food Hulton had brought him, and left his room to take the waiting hackney to Worley’s office and Lion Key.

Until eight that evening he inventoried and prepared the cockets and other papers for cargoes to be loaded the next day onto three merchantmen anchored in the Pool of London: hats, muskets, watches, beer, upholstery, and cider for the
Busy,
bound for Boston; candles, clocks, mirrors, bolts of cloth and silk, millinery, and pickles for the
Ariadne
, his family’s own schooner, bound for Philadelphia; and paper, carriage wheels, glass, ink, farming tools, furniture, and tallow for the
Sparrowhawk
, bound for Yorktown.

For this last vessel, there were some extraordinary items to clear: a printing press, spare parts for it, and several cases of Caslon Type in various sizes. It was not merchandise bought on colonial credit, as was the usual transaction at Worley’s, but goods paid for in specie and cash, including the duties, by a printer in Caxton, Queen Anne County, Virginia. Hugh had counted out the money days before, and entered it into a special account book. Worley sent Hugh this evening with a lighterman to the
Sparrowhawk
to arrange the shipping with the captain, John Ramshaw, as the captain had expressed a desire to be present when the press was transferred from the wharf to the ship’s hold.

A swarm of lanterns on the deck of the
Sparrowhawk
lit the bustle and clutter of an enterprise that spent little time at rest. The crew was busy painting, repairing sails, polishing brass, replacing rotted timber, measuring rope. Hugh was not surprised by the number of cannon or guns he saw. Several of them had been removed from their carriages, and carpenter’s mates were intent on fitting new iron to the carriage joints and fixing new sets of tackle to the sides.

He saw that many merchantmen in the anchorage were similarly occupied. He smiled at the sight, as the lighterman rowed him out to the
Sparrowhawk
. There were more burning lights in the Pool of London than on either side of the city.

The captain’s steward appeared with another lantern and escorted Hugh down the main hatch to the cabin. Here John Ramshaw sat at a desk. Present also were two other men, seated in chairs to the side.

Ramshaw, a man with a wide, hard face and black hair streaked with shots of silver, put his mug of punch aside and scrutinized Hugh through puffs of pipe smoke.

“Mr. Worley’s man, sir,” said the steward, who then left the cabin.

“Mr. Worley was too busy to come himself, I presume?” said Ramshaw.

“Yes, sir,” said Hugh.

“And you are…?”

“Hugh Kenrick, sir. I’ve come to set a time for the loading of the press, and to return these.” Hugh opened a leather portfolio and laid before Ramshaw a bundle of papers, which included a special cocket for the press and its accessories, clearance papers for Yorktown, and copies of the Caxton printer’s license and the royal governor’s permission to own and operate a press in the colony of Virginia. The captain examined the papers closely. The cabin was silent, except for the sputtering of its lanterns and the hammering, footfalls, and voices on the deck above. The vessel creaked now and then as she played with her anchor and rode the tide of the Thames.

Hugh glanced at the two seated men, and saw that they were studying him. He looked around and noted the contents of the cabin. On Ramshaw’s desk were account books, a quadrant, some papers, the remains of a meal on a plate, an inkstand with quills, and a desk lamp. The lid of a huge chest nearby held an astrolabe, an octant, sandglasses—all new, they seemed to Hugh—and rolled bundles of maps and charts. There were more chests on the other side of the cabin, and a small bookcase. In one tightly packed shelf of books, Hugh espied a copy of
Hyperborea
.

Ramshaw finished the last document, put it aside, then reached for a quill and signed the two itemized receipts that had accompanied the papers. He handed one back to Hugh. “What time does Worley’s rouse itself, Mr. Kenrick?”

“Sun-up, sir,” answered Hugh, putting the receipt into the portfolio.

“Can he have a lighter ready by seven?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We’ll be taking on some extra ball and powder about noon, finishing up our repairs by evening, and seeing to some other business. I hope to push off by mid-morning the next day.” He turned and addressed one of his companions. “You’ll stop at the Turk’s Head tomorrow and pick up newspapers that Mr. Stook has been saving for me these past months, won’t you? They should be the
Gazette
, the
Craftsman
, and anything else he’s remembered to set aside. Pay him a pound or two for his trouble, and
ask him to do the same favor, as we’ll be back in March or April. Take Flitcross with you.”