A Woman's Estate (39 page)

“But it has nothing to do with party,” Abigail cried. “It’s
true that I cannot say he dandled me on his knee when I was an infant, but we
have known each other since I was a child. He has been my friend for almost
twenty years. What in the world has party to do with—?”

“My dear Abby,” Alex said soothingly, taking her hand. “You
don’t understand. I do
not
think anyone in the government really cares
with whom Albert associates. What I fear is that they will be seeking
excuses
for delay and dissatisfaction, and a too great intimacy with the opposition
could give them a cause to refuse to meet and confer with him.”

“But that is ridiculous,” Abigail protested. “The very few
men who have recognized that there is some justice in American complaints have
been Whigs. It must be only natural that—”

“Natural or not,” Alex interrupted again, his voice more
firm than soothing this time, “there is a chance that such association might be
used against the commission. You must know, Abigail, that peace with the United
States is not at present desired by the public at large or by most of
Parliament. Although I do not believe that either Lord Castlereagh or Lord
Liverpool is infected by the popular hysteria and demands for ‘punishment’ of
America, there is a good possibility that the only reason they suggested direct
negotiations was to prevent further offers from the tsar to mediate a peace
without offending him.”

“My God,” Abigail exclaimed, “is everyone in this country
mad? Can they not see that the economy of England is being hurt? Do they wish
to continue paying taxes to support a war forever?”

“Most are not thinking at all,” Baring conceded dryly. “They
are inflamed by the victory over Bonaparte and feel that a further victory is
only a matter of closing a hand already poised over America and crushing it.
And you should realize the government must consider the effects of going
against popular sentiment.”

Abigail frowned. “I do realize it, but I cannot see why that
should prevent Albert from staying here.”

“Only because you do not wish to see,” Alex said
reprovingly. “Consider what the newspapers will make of the fact that one of
the American commissioners is living in the home of a Member of Parliament and
being wined and dined and invited to the most exclusive social events.”

“Oh dear,” Abigail sighed.

Seeing that she was weakening, Alex continued his attack.
“And there is another reason why you and Arthur, above all, should avoid being
classed as Albert’s friends. So far, I believe Castlereagh has not associated
Arthur’s expertise about America with the fact that he has a wife who was born
there. In other words, I hope he and Lord Liverpool assume that Arthur’s
espousal of the cause of peace derives from an impersonal study of economic and
political factors rather than a prejudice for the United States based on purely
personal reasons.”

“It is not based on purely personal reasons,” Abigail said
quickly, blushing a little. “I
have
pointed out the bad effects of the
war, but Arthur is not such a fool as to accept something simply because I say
it. He
has
been studying—”

“I know, Abigail.” Baring laughed. “
I
have been
supplying him with information—hard facts concerning trade in pounds per
year—but I fear he would never have thought of investigating closely enough to
be convinced had you not prodded him. You know and I know that the reason for
his interest is irrelevant. Nonetheless, if
notice
is drawn to the fact
that Arthur’s new wife is American born and that he is intimate with one of the
American commissioners, any hope of his opinions being regarded seriously by
the government would be gone.”

Abigail thought that over and sighed again. Alex was right.
If there were any chance at all that her friendship with Albert would prove
damaging to his mission, they must avoid each other. But what about the
information she had concerning the attack on Washington? Would Alex—? As the
idea began to form in her mind, Abigail dismissed it. Alex might be eager for
peace with the United States for financial reasons—and perhaps, a little to
ease Anne’s fears—but he would never pass military information. The recognition
that Alex would consider what she planned to do very wrong made Abigail’s
conscience twinge. Possibly he would not even agree that military defeat for
the United States would do more harm than good. However, Abigail felt that she
had reasoned it all out carefully and must do what she thought right.

“Very well,” she said. “I suppose I must accept that, but I
would like to have Albert’s address anyway. I must write to him at least once
and explain why I did not reply to his note and tell him I am married. I will
be discreet, I promise.”

“You are too clever to be otherwise.” Alex smiled at her and
handed her a slip on which was written a Seymour Street address.

When Alex had taken his leave, Abigail tore up the note she
had written to Albert and scribbled another saying, “I am below in a cab. If
you are alone, may I come up? I must speak to you.” Then she rushed to her
room, dressed without summoning her maid, and quietly left the house. She
walked to Bond Street, where there were many elegantly dressed ladies, and
hired a hackney cab to take her to Seymour Street, sending the driver up to the
apartment with her note. A bare five minutes later, Gallatin’s son James came
rushing out to greet her fondly and escort her up the stairs, where, on the
landing, she was enfolded in Albert’s paternal embrace.

At first, neither could make sense of what the other was
saying because Abigail was trying to explain why she had not replied to the
letter from Amsterdam, and Gallatin was trying to calm her and discover whether
her urgent-sounding note meant that she was in trouble. Finally, however, he
drew her into the parlor where they sorted out the most immediate news, caught
their breaths, and stood smiling delightedly at each other for a few moments
more.

Abigail was very happy in her new life, yet it was so good
to see someone who had been part of her old life that tears came to her eyes.
As she looked at her friend’s face, she felt he looked worn, although his
rather round countenance was no thinner and he was now smiling. Nonetheless,
she thought there were more lines around his small, well-shaped mouth, and the
kind, dark eyes under their heavy brows seemed somewhat sunken. As he saw her
eyes brim, Albert took her hands and drew her close again.

“Dear Abigail,” he said, in his charmingly accented English,
“why do you weep? I ask again, is all well with you?”

“Very, very well,” she assured him, smiling through the
tears. “It is only so good to see you. I had no idea how much I missed you and
dear Hannah and everyone else I left behind until suddenly you were there—I
mean here.”

Laughing, Albert squeezed her hands, then let them go and
invited her to sit down, taking a chair near hers. Then he turned to his son,
who was still standing, and said, “If you wish to go, James, you may go. I am
sure Abigail will excuse you.”

“Indeed I will,” she affirmed, waving at the young man. “I
know you will be bored to death by our ‘and how ares’ and ‘do you remembers’
about people you either know too well or do not know at all.”

James smiled and thanked her and bowed his goodbye. His
father looked fondly at the closed door for a moment. “I hope you truly do not
mind James going, my dear,” he said. “He is very eager to look up Barthelemy de
Gallatin, who was a colonel of the Grenadier Guards in the middle of the last
century. Just a little streak of the romantic, to which I cannot object. You
know, I took James because I thought it would be good for him to see something
of the world, but he has done me such excellent service as a secretary that I
shudder to think that at first I doubted my wisdom. I felt, young as he is,
that he might distract me from my work.” As he said the last words, he shrugged
and sighed. “Not that there has been any work to the purpose…”

“No, of course I do not mind,” Abigail replied. Then she
took a deep breath and went on hurriedly. “In fact, it is a most fortunate
circumstance that he wished to leave. I have something to tell you that I would
not want any third person—not even James—to hear. I am about to commit treason,
Albert.”

“No, you are not,” Albert said firmly, knowing his Abigail.
“At least, not this moment. You are going to stop and think first.”

But for once Abigail was not acting on impulse. She had done
her thinking already, and she explained the path of her reasoning quickly and
clearly, summing up, “A bitter defeat and shameful concessions for America can
only mean another war and more and more hatred, which cannot benefit either
nation.” Having heard her out, Albert nodded.

“It is what the English do not understand,” he said sadly.
“They are so convinced of the advantages and superiority of being British that
they cannot believe anyone could object to being united to their nation, even
in a totally subordinate condition. They call us ‘rebels’ and hate us for any
success because it pricks their pride.”

“Now you are going too far,” Abigail soothed. “The most
violent opinions are expressed by those who write articles for the newspapers
and need inflammatory ideas to sell their sheets. The common folk may believe
these things, but I assure you the leaders are not so foolish.”

“Mr. Baring is not so hopeful as you are,” Albert remarked
with a sigh. “Are you certain you are not saying to me what you wish to
believe?”

“Mr. Baring is not a dreadful traitor at heart,” Abigail
pointed out, smiling wryly. “He truly desires an end to the war, I assure you.
But he would prefer, I fear, that peace be a magnanimous gift of a victorious
Britain to a defeated United States rather than a treaty between equals.”

“It will not serve,” Albert sighed, shaking his head. “You
know, Abigail, that submission will only breed resentment, which must, in the
end, bring a renewal of war.”

“I do indeed know it.” Abigail agreed, her lips thinning
with determination. “And England has just had a very great victory over a
dreadful tyrant. She does not need to crush a hopeful young nation. Albert, you
must get word to President Madison that the British intend to attack Washington
in July or August. If they are driven off, it will be much easier to make
peace.”

“Attack Washington in July or August!” Gallatin echoed. “But
why? I had hoped that we might have a treaty by then.”

Abigail shook her head. “No, you will not, at least not
unless you are willing to concede every demand that is made, no matter how
shameful. You see, with all the troops freed from the war against Bonaparte,
there are high expectations of another speedy victory, and I am sure the
government intends to delay real negotiations until the outcome of the attacks
in Canada and on the coast is known. But if the United States can hold its own
or win a few battles, the government will begin to count the costs of a war so
far away and the loss of trade, and will think better of a fair peace.”

Gallatin looked intently at the lovely woman seated opposite
him. “Abigail, how do you know this? You were never interested in politics in
America or—”

“In America I had my living to earn. I had no time for
politics. Also, somehow I thought it not right for me to have opinions about
the governing of a nation to which I did not belong. But here, politics is my
major interest. My husband is a Member of Parliament, and I am his hostess. I
swear you can rely on what I have told you.” Abigail hesitated, then added,
“Well no, I am not perfectly sure about the attack on Washington, it is true.
That might be a rumor, but I thought it could do no harm to be prepared, and it
might be a disaster if no defense were made. About the government’s attitude
toward peace, I
am
certain. My husband’s uncle is one of the prime
minister’s closest friends, and he discusses freely with us Lord Liverpool’s
attitudes—anything that is not confidential, of course.” She hesitated and
shrugged. “No one considers American affairs important enough to be
confidential.”

“Am I wasting my time here?” Gallatin asked.

“No,” Abigail replied hastily. “I am sure Lord Castlereagh,
Lord Bathurst—he is the colonial secretary—and even Lord Liverpool will receive
you privately. How can it be a waste of time to come to know them, even if they
are not presently willing to discuss substantive issues? And small things may be
settled that will save time later.”

The clock on the mantel chimed, and Abigail jumped.
“Heavens,” she cried, “I have been here a dreadfully long time, and I promised
Alex I would be discreet.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Albert asked, and then looked
shocked. “Surely you cannot believe anyone would think ill of our friendship. I
am old enough to be your father!”

“Only if you started
very
young,” Abigail teased.

“Twenty-one is not so young to have children, you naughty
girl,” he said, trying to look severe but failing.

Abigail had already sobered, and she began to explain Alex
Baring’s reasoning. She was disappointed when Albert agreed that it would be
better if they were not publicly known to be good friends. Now that she had
seen him again, she hated to give up the pleasure of his company and the chats
about people and places they both knew. But Albert pointed out an additional
problem, one that had not occurred to Baring because it never entered his mind
that Abigail would consider passing information that might help America against
England. Albert reminded her that her husband’s uncle might talk less freely if
he knew she was seeing one of the members of the American mission.

“Not that I wish to encourage you to betray any secrets,”
Albert said, his eyes twinkling, “but since we agree so well on what would be
best for both England and America…”