New York - The Novel

who had plantations in Carolina, until he lost them soon after 1776.” He smiled. “He was a Loyalist, I’m afraid.”
    “We shall have to forgive him,” said Mary. “What happened to the plantations?”
    “They were taken over by friends of his, a New York family called Master. But I don’t know anything more than that.”
    “Master?” Mary was so surprised that she let her voice rise a bit. As she said it, she saw her brother, her nephew and young Clarissa all look at her nervously.
    “I believe they’re still people of some consequence in New York,” His Lordship said. “Do you know them?”
    The abyss had opened before her, and her family were staring into it. Her decades as a servant in the Masters’ house. Mary caught her breath, then smiled a perfect smile.
    “Hetty Master is one of my closest friends,” she said firmly. “Why, I’ve known her nearly fifty years.” It was true, every word of it.
    “Well,” said Lord Rivers, quite delighted, “it’s a small world, isn’t it?”
    “It certainly is,” said Mary.
    By the time the fish course arrived, she and His Lordship were getting along famously, but now it was time to give her attention to young Gerald. As she knew nothing of hunting, shooting, fishing or the army, Mary wasn’t sure what to talk to him about, but after a quick pass at the theater, she discovered that he loved Gilbert and Sullivan, and so that kept them going quite agreeably for a while. But it was clear to her from the way he glanced boyishly at Clarissa, and then round the table, that Gerald Rivers, who’d had a glass or two to drink, felt he’d like to make a bit of an impression on his future wife’s family; and Mary wondered what form this would take.
    The young man’s chance came during the main course when Lord Rivers asked her if she knew a charming New Yorker who lived in England now. “A Mr. Croker. He has an estate in Surrey,” he said. Rather astonished, she answered softly: “Everyone in New York knows Mr. Croker.”
    And now, Gerald decided to cut in.
    “When I was in America visiting the New York Yacht Club last year, Father,” he said a little too loudly, “they told me he was mixed up with Tammany Hall, and he skipped across the Atlantic to stay out of jail.”
    Though he was perhaps a little tactless, young Gerald Rivers was perfectly right. If Boss Tweed had embezzled on a huge scale, his successor Croker had continued the good work, until the complaints became so loud that he’d decided to go overseas for a while. The idea of his living in England as a respectable country gentleman was amusing indeed.
    “Is it true?” Lady Rivers asked Sean. But Sean was far too close to Tammany himself to start throwing stones in that glass house.
    “Tammany Hall is a complex affair,” he said carefully. “It’s a very important political machine, and has to be handled with caution.”
    “Ah,” said Lord Rivers knowingly. Aristocrats evidently respected politics. But young Gerald Rivers wasn’t finished yet.
    “I met a splendid fellow called Teddy Roosevelt in New York,” he said. “He has great plans for cleaning up the New York Police—they’re completely corrupt as well, I heard.”
    “They’re not perfect,” Sean allowed. He gave Lord Rivers a wise look. “Young Mr. Roosevelt has a lot of energy, but he may find the task harder than he thinks.”
    “But you wouldn’t deny that New York City is corrupt?” Gerald pursued.
    And now Sean looked across the table at the young aristocrat with an even gaze.
    “I wouldn’t deny it. And I’m afraid it has been so for two hundred and thirty years.” He paused just a moment. “Ever since the British took it over from the Dutch.”
    “Oh, well done,” cried Lord Rivers. He and his wife were obviously very pleased with this bit of repartee. And you had to admire Sean, thought Mary. He’d made his assessment of these English aristocrats, and knew exactly how to handle them.
    “Now the American I should like to have met in London,” Sean continued, looking around the table with a twinkle in his eye, “is the lovely Jennie Jerome, as she used to be. Lady Randolph Churchill, now. I remember her as a girl.”
    The two Riverdales looked at each other.
    “Beautiful,” said His Lordship, cryptically.
    “Not good?” Mary asked.
    “There’s a particular set around the Prince of Wales, Miss O’Donnell,” said Lady Rivers quietly. “We do not belong to it. They are what we call