“Meaning our guests will go home, forget about what they ate and drank or who they danced with, then move on to the next fête, where they’ll do it all over again without a single thought for anyone else.”
“Yes.” She took the punch he gave her, the glass chill in her hand. Though she’d not been here long, the city’s dark wynds and closes heaped with refuse and misery blackened her thoughts.
He said nothing more, just looked over the fragrant, candlelit chamber as if seeing it with new eyes. Or so she hoped.
She took a breath. “I shall do this for Loveday tonight, but I shan’t do it for myself or anyone else.”
46
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths.
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart throbs.
He most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
Philip James Bailey
Leith looked up from where he stood discussing a matter with the Buchanan bank manager to see his brothers come into the lobby from the street. Though the party for Loveday had passed a few days ago, Euan and Niall had stayed on in the city.
Leith didn’t miss the ream of newspapers beneath Euan’s arm. Lately they’d been poring over them to try to come to some agreement about how to proceed with trading and shipping given the expected revolution. But the Americans were hard to read. Many remained loyal to England, while others, especially Virginians, were outright rebels.
“We’ll wait for you in your office,” Euan told him, backtracking out the bank door, Niall in his wake.
Leith excused himself and caught up to them, the wind coming off the Broomielaw sleety and raw. They climbed steep steps to the countinghouse’s third floor, which had a territorial view of ships coming into port from the colonies and elsewhere.
“I suppose you’ve come to discuss the American problem,” Leith said, leading them up the stairs.
“Nae,” Niall said. “My business is more personal.”
“Anything personal can wait,” Euan murmured with a scowl. “We have transatlantic troubles to discuss.”
“A look at the papers confirms nothing new is worth printing of late,” Niall replied. “The colonies have been quiet since their first Continental Congress.”
“Quietly gathering ammunition,” Leith said. “And tarring and feathering a few factors in the Chesapeake.”
“What?” Euan exclaimed overloudly. He muttered an oath as they passed by numerous clerks and factors at work in an anteroom.
Leith unlocked his office door and stood back as his brothers entered. “I’m considering recalling every man in our employ and shutting down the stores there. Nae matter which Glasgow firm, factors have never been in good standing with the colonists, particularly planters, even in the best political and economic climate. If they’re not recalled now, they’ll likely be expelled or even arrested by colonial authorities.”
Euan and Niall took the two chairs fronting his desk while he went to the window, restless, eyes on the Broomielaw. “I’ve another meeting with fellow merchants at the guildhall on the morrow.”
“Speaking of the hall, what’s this about the assembly for the new Mrs. Buchanan being canceled?” Euan asked, setting the newspapers on Leith’s desk. “I don’t like the sound of it.”
“’Tis owing to her American mindset, if you will,” Leith replied. “In her words, ‘Let society call on Virginia Street or Ardraigh Hall if they wish to make my acquaintance.’”
“American mindset, indeed.” Euan all but spat the words. “She sounds every bit as rebellious as those Patriots.”
“Careful. She’s my wife.” Leith poured them all a dram of whisky. Not the watered-down spirits Juliet insisted on serving at home. She was causing him to reconsider his habits, drinking included. “My American bride has made a great many charitable contributions instead. She tallied the outlying expenses for the fête and decided they could be better spent elsewhere.”
“What?” his brothers said in unison.
Setting the bottle down, Leith gestured toward a new ledger labeledJuliet Catesby Buchanan. “Have a look if you like.”
Euan was the first to open the ledger and peruse it. “She’s given over a substantial amount to every guild in addition to our Buchanan Society charity and hospital? The trades’ accounts show a number of gifts paid to orphans, widows, needy students, those displaced by fire and flood, and the infirm.” He expelled an aggravated breath. “Those are funds that could be reinvested in land, mining rights, and whatnot.”
Niall gave a tight half smile. “Her benevolence is unprecedented and long overdue, in my opinion.”
