New York - The Novel

around.
    She had lied to the child when she told her that her father could not come, and she could see that she had been disappointed. She suspected that Abby had heard them arguing. What was the child secretly thinking? Mercy almost wished she hadn’t come. But it was too late to do anything about that now. Though they were at the fringe of the crowd, she couldn’t very well walk away from the preaching. How would that look? Besides, she had her pride.
    Minutes passed. Then, suddenly, Abby was tugging at her arm.
    “Look. Papa’s coming.”
    He was striding toward them. Dear God, had he ever looked more splendid and more handsome? And he was smiling. She could scarcely believe it. He reached her, and took her hand.
    “We went together to a preaching once,” he said softly. “So I thought we’d go again.”
    She did not reply. She squeezed his hand. She knew what this had cost him. But after a minute or two she whispered: “Let’s go home, John.”
    As they walked back arm in arm, little Abby was skipping ahead, joyful to see her parents united again.
    “I have a confession, John,” said Mercy, after a while.
    “What is that?” he asked affectionately.
    “I think I went to the preaching because I have been angry with you, for many years.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I blamed you for letting James remain in London. It is five years now since I have seen my only son. I wish he were here.”
    John nodded. Then kissed her hand.
    “I shall write to him today, and tell him he is to return at once.”

    The letter from James, together with one from Albion, was brought to the house early that evening. Hudson took them to Master in his library. Mercy and Abigail were reading in the parlor. He read them alone.
    If the disorders in the colonies have been bad, you would scarcely believe what we have witnessed here in London. You may recall the fellow Wilkes, whose libel of the government and subsequent trialwere somewhat like our famous Zenger affair in New York. Since then Wilkes, while in jail, had himself elected to Parliament. When this was disallowed, the radicals of London whipped up the mob, and they have almost taken over control of the streets of London. They cry “Wilkes and Liberty” just like your Liberty Boys of New York. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the business, it’s a shameful thing to see the mob so passionate and out of control, and the government is not inclined to give in to these disorders, here or in the colonies—nor would the gentlemen of Parliament stand for it if they did. Good sense and order must prevail.
    As for the American colony, the refusal of American merchants to trade with England, besides being disloyal, does less to harm the mother country than they suppose. There are two reasons. First, the Boston and New York men may observe these embargoes, but the southern colonies privately ignore them. Even Philadelphia is trading with London. Second, merchants like Albion are more than making up for the shortfall in their trade with India and the other countries of Europe. But in any case, I think that the present quarrel with the colonies will end before long. The new prime minister, Lord North, is well disposed toward the American colony, and it’s thought that he will do all he can to end the quarrels. All that is needed is a little patience and good sense which, I have no doubt, the better sort in New York can provide.
    And now, my dear parents, I have joyful tidings …
    As Master read the rest of the letter, he groaned. For several minutes afterward, he stared straight ahead. Then he read the letter once more. Having done this, he put it aside and turned to the letter from Albion. It contained a number of business matters. Then it turned to the subject of James.
    You will have learned from James that he is to be married. Normally I should never have allowed him to enter into such an engagement, while living under my roof, without his first obtaining your blessing. But I must tell you frankly that the young lady’s circumstances do not permit such a delay. A child will be born this summer. I must now tell you something of his wife—as she will be by the time you receive this letter.
    Miss Vanessa Wardour—for so I call her, although she was briefly married to Lord Rockbourne before he died in a hunting accident—is a young lady of considerable fortune. She is also, it will interest you to know, a cousin to Captain Rivers, on his mother’s side. She has a handsome