‘He’s a fortunate man and he knows it. There cannot be many like him in Barbados.’
‘None, I should think. In Europe, however, I believe such a relationship is not uncommon. Master and slave become father and adopted son, or something very like it.’
‘Adoptions of that sort also happened in ancient Rome, so it’s not exactly a new idea.’
‘Which reminds me, Thomas. We are visiting our neighbour Charles Carrington tomorrow to look at his new windmill. Would you care to come?’
‘I would. Thank you, Mary.’
‘And, Thomas, rest assured that we will do what we can to help you.’
Thomas did not doubt it. The question was: what, given Adam’s position, could they do?
At breakfast the next morning, Adam raised the one subject on which there was sure to be an argument. He did not seem to care that Thomas was with them. ‘I heard from Sir Lionel Perkins yesterday. A letter came with a cargo ship. He asks after you and confirms that Richard is still unmarried.’
Mary rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘Sir Lionel Perkins. Trust him to spoil my day. You know my feelings, Adam. I don’t want to go back to England, Richard Perkins or no Richard Perkins. This is my home now.’
‘You’re only nineteen, my dear. Time enough to consider the matter.’
‘Adam, you pompous ass, you raised the subject, not I,’ said Mary testily. ‘I don’t want to return to a country I don’t know to marry a man I don’t know. This is our home now and our livelihood. I do not wish to leave Barbados. Now let us talk of something more agreeable lest we embarrass Thomas further.’ Perhaps I should offer to marry Perkins, thought Thomas, that would solve both our problems.
After breakfast they went to visit Charles Carrington’s new windmill. The Carrington house came as a surprise. More medieval castle than plantation house, complete with battlements and fortifications, it would resist anything less than heavy cannon. Thomas could just see Charles tipping boiling oil or hurling stones from the roof down on to an attacker. He was waiting for them when they arrived. He waved a greeting and walked out to meet them.
‘Adam, welcome. And Mary, always a delight. And, if I’m not mistaken, Thomas Hill, about whom I have heard a good deal.’
‘A pleasure to meet you again, sir,’ replied Thomas, ‘and especially not in the company of the Gibbes.’
Charles laughed loudly. ‘Those creatures. Well done escaping their clutches, although you do seem to have fallen into other clutches. I trust they are more friendly.’
‘Charles, you are a pig,’ said Mary.
‘I find myself in excellent clutches, sir,’ said Thomas, thinking that the way he looked at Mary suggested that Charles Carrington would like to find himself in the same clutches without further ado. And judging by the colour in Mary’s face, she would not discourage him. No wonder talk of the Perkins family had upset her.
‘Now, Charles,’ said Adam briskly, ‘to business if we may. How is the windmill performing? Are you happy with it?’
‘Adam, my dear fellow, all in good time. First I want to know what news there is from England.’
‘Adam had a letter from England yesterday but it told us little, did it, Adam?’ There was an edge to Mary’s tone.
‘Not much, certainly. Cromwell rules by fear, but we knew that.’
‘And the Perkins? What news of them?’ Mary looked up sharply at this but Charles had carefully addressed the question to Adam. He must have guessed who had sent the letter.
‘Sir Lionel complains of gout but Richard is well. Still unmarried and helping to manage the estate. He’ll be a wealthy young man one day.’
Mary glared at her brother and changed the subject. ‘How is the crop, Charles?’
‘We should get over two tons an acre. The weather’s been kind and the old leaves we dug in seem to have helped.’
‘That’s interesting. We must try it ourselves, Adam, don’t you think?’
‘Indeed. We could mix the debris from the mill with horse manure. It might serve.’
Intricate discussion of animal manure and vegetable matter could only occupy them for so long and soon Mary said brightly, ‘Now, Charles, I believe I’m ready for the windmill. Will you escort us?’
She took Charles’s arm and they chatted amiably as they walked.
‘I suppose I have the revolting Gibbes to thank for the windmill. It was theirs that persuaded me. It was a big investment and I did not think I could do it until a Dutch merchant persuaded me. No fools, those Dutch. He lent me the money in return for a discount on the price of all the sugar I produce until the loan is cleared. It won’t take long.’
‘I imagine not,’ said Adam, ‘not with demand in Europe growing as it is. Very shrewd of you, Charles.’
‘It was the merchant who was shrewd. He’s making more profit and getting more sugar from me. He told me that windmills are used by most of the Brazilian planters. They don’t eat like cattle do.’
‘But they need wind.’
‘There’s plenty of wind up here. The sails turn day and night when we’re harvesting.’
Sure enough, when they reached the windmill there was a good breeze and it was hard at work. A gang of men, black and white, was feeding cane through the rollers to extract the juice.
Charles proudly explained the windmill’s workings and answered their questions with aplomb. It was an impressive device but the cane still had to be fed in by hand.
‘Alas,’ said Charles, ‘I wish there were another way but I can’t think of one. I tell the men to take care but accidents happen and fingers are mangled. We have to send for Sprot, who removes the fingers and pockets my sovereigns.’
‘I wonder what he does with the fingers.’
‘I’ve heard that he sells them for fish bait. A guinea a dozen, I believe.’
Mary grimaced. She took Charles’s arm again and allowed him to lead her back down the path. ‘It’s time you were married, Charles. Anyone in your sights?’ she asked loudly enough for Adam to hear.
‘Good Lord, no. Can’t imagine anyone would have me. A younger son with no prospects and forced to try and make his way in the Caribbean. And we’re rather short of eligible ladies at present.’
If I could read your mind, Mr Carrington, thought Thomas, it would say something like ‘a pox on Perkins’, and I don’t blame you. Marry her at once is my advice, and damn the consequences.
‘Most impressive, Charles,’ said Adam, when they had returned to the house. ‘Will you give me the name of the Dutch merchant?’
‘Of course I will. In exchange for an invitation to dinner.’
‘I invite you, Charles,’ said Mary quickly. ‘Would a week today be convenient?’
‘It would. Very.’
Chapter 17
TOBIAS RUSH HATED being stuck on a ship and out of touch with his affairs. For six weeks he had paced the deck, barked at the crew and drunk more than he normally did. When eventually they docked in Southampton he found a carriage to take him straight to Romsey, where he would deal with the tiresome matter of the message before travelling on to London. He had an idea and another visit to Seething Lane was called for.
After an uncomfortable journey to Romsey, Rush was in an evil temper. When he found the door to the bookshop in Love Lane bolted, he rapped on it with his cane. Nothing happened so he picked up a stone and beat it with that. Still nothing happened so he beat it again. He was on the point of giving up when he heard the bolts being slid open. The door opened a few inches and he pushed his way in. The two girls who stood staring at him must be Hill’s nieces. Apart from their fair hair they favoured their mother. They were pretty children. ‘Where is your mother?’ he demanded.