“My father has many business interests. I do not yet know where I will be going, but, but…” I was stammering then, because I did not know how to go on.
“But…?” she whispered, anticipation spreading across her face. “But…?”
Gazing into her face, it was all I could do to refrain from asking for her hand right there on the spot, but how could I, when my future was so little known to me? Instead, I stumbled around and said something completely meaningless, and she recovered her composure, but I lost mine, and I made my excuses shortly afterwards and left. It was badly done, I knew, and yet I was not willing to ask for her hand when I was in no position to support a wife.
After that, I could not leave Maysbeck soon enough. I did not see Miss Phillips again, but I did have conversations with Mrs. Wilson, who, knowing my inclinations, promised to keep an eye on Miss Phillips for me; I hugged her and we both wept, not knowing when we would see each other again. I sat for hours with Mr. Wilson, who may or may not have known I was there, and on the ninth day of June, my luggage and I were on a stagecoach bound for Liverpool.
Chapter 15
Icannot explain the fullness in my chest that I experienced as I made that trip toward Liverpool, other than the fact that I was at last traveling toward my father, at his behest. I had no notion of how he would treat me, but he had directed me to come, and I could only hope for the best. I could not help but think of Frank’s gladsome reunion with his father inRob Roy. How childish—how utterly ignorant—can it be to take one’s life lessons from a novel! Looking back now, I see how desperate I was to find my place in the world.
My father was not at his residence when I arrived. I banged the knocker several times before an elderly man appeared at the door and stared at me. Nodding as if confirming that I was not an apparition, he let me in, then turned on his heel, and leaving me to find my own way, he closed a rear door firmly behind himself. I stood in the entrance hall for a few moments before exploring the house. It was a fine town house, as might be expected of a prosperous businessman. There was a parlor and a library and a dining room on the main floor, and above were two large bedrooms, each with its own sitting room. What was apparently my father’s room faced the street and could be recognized as his bedroom only by the clothing in the cupboard. Nothing else personal was in evidence.
It was just at this point of my investigation that it occurred to me that perhaps the painting of my mother might be somewhere in the house, and I retraced my steps, searching each room in earnest. I did not go belowstairs, where I surmised the kitchen and storage rooms and any servants’ rooms might be, but the painting was nowhere to be found, and perhaps it was foolish of me, after all those years, to think that it would be.
Still, a strong sense of disappointment burdened me: my father had not been there to greet me, when I had dared to imagine a happier homecoming for a son who had followed his dictates so faithfully. Dusk was falling, and I lit a lamp in the parlor and took up a newspaper, but lonely and miserable, I didn’t register the words at all. For this emptiness I had left the comfort of the Wilson home?
In an attempt to throw off my self-pity, I wandered into my father’s library, took in the law and tariff books on the shelves, flipped cautiously through the papers on his desk, and slid open each unlocked drawer before wandering back into the parlor. The whole house, as far as I could see, was a man’s place through and through: no feminine touches, no fresh flowers or music boxes, nor indeed any elegant little tables on which to place them. A utilitarian house, fit for a man who did little other than sleep and eat and attend to his business. That fact told me something about my father that I should have expected, and it calmed me a bit, for it was clear he had no personal life or interests, no use for anything or anyone who did not pertain to his business goals. I picked up the newspaper and began to read it in earnest.
My father arrived shortly before midnight, breezing into the room as if our separation had been hours, not years. “You’ve arrived, I see,” he said.
“I have, sir,” I said, standing.
“Well then, it’s time to bed, I should say.”
“Yes, sir, I think so.”
“Yours is up the stairs, at the back of the house. I daresay you have already made your investigations of the place.”
“Yes, sir, I have,” I said, not knowing if he would consider it amiss that I had.
But he seemed to have not given it a second thought. “Breakfast is at six o’clock.” His eyes narrowed at me. “You are used to early hours?”
“I am, sir.”
“Well, that’s one good thing.” With that, he turned and left the parlor.
The next morning I was in the dining room just before six—though I had awakened much earlier—and my father was already there, eating breakfast and reading theMercury. “Good morning, sir,” I said to him.
He nodded a response and went on with his reading, pausing only to say, “Breakfast is there on the buffet.”
“Thank you, sir, I see it,” I said, pleased that he had thought to point it out to me, as I helped myself. A place had been laid for me at the side of the table, so I took it and unfolded my napkin and began to eat, no other words passing between us.
I was halfway through my meal when my father closed his newspaper, shoved his empty plate forward, and spoke. “You are wondering, no doubt, why you are here.”
“Yes, I am,” I said, though in fact the only question in my mind was whether or not my father was to accompany me on my imminent journey to Jamaica.
“I have many business dealings, as you probably know,” he said. “Some operate here in Liverpool; others are in other places.”
He paused and so I nodded and said, “Yes, sir.”
“Some—most—are designated for your brother.”
“Yes, sir, so I underst—”
“But you are not to be left a pauper. The interests I have in Jamaica are yours, if you can manage to keep hold of them.” I wondered what he meant by that, but he went on. “You have had experience now in managing a manufactory, but you know nothing of the law nor how finances are best to be managed. So you will spend the next few weeks following me around, seeing how I tend to my affairs, and then you will be off to”—he looked at me firmly—“to Cambridge.”
“Cambridge?But I thought—”
