‘Then we should have to fend off the French anyway,’ said Darlington, ‘lest they damn us to popery!’
Reaching over to let drop the ember in the hearth and replace the tongs on a brass stand, Leisler said: ‘We shall be in better hands if William asserts his wife’s right to the throne and becomes king himself.’
‘Aye, give me a liberal Dutch Protestant over an English Louis XIV anytime!’ said Milborne.
‘And we all know William’s love for the French king!’ The host’s ironic remark brought a round of complicit chuckles.
‘You can be sure he will send his soldiers to protect our livelihood,’ said Nicholas Stuyvesant, the son of the former Dutch governor.
‘And his taxes,’ added Darlington.
‘But if William steps in,’ said Milborne, ‘at least we shall recover our seal and the independence of our administration.’
‘Nonetheless, Gentlemen,’ said Leisler, ‘Mr Darlington does have a point regarding the remote rule of these lands. As you well know, I am the German-born son of a French Calvinist. You, Sir, are from France. Both of you are of Dutch ancestry. And you, Milborne, are born a subject of His Majesty in Albion. Only Darlington and Stuyvesant here are natives of this city. Yet, I say we are all first and foremost New Yorkers!’
The gentlemen let out hear-hears all round, some lightly tapping the table. Even Darlington gave a nod of acquiescence.
Leisler went on: ‘We stand united in our perspective on trade, in our tolerance and love of freedom of worship.’ Then, sweeping his head slowly round to include Darlington, he said: ‘But the fight for independence from remote powers cannot be for today! First, we must regain our seal and ensure New York will still be our home tomorrow. And for that, we need to be sure the Protestant monarchy will be respected!’ Daniel was about to interrupt, but, raising his free hand, Leisler persisted: ‘Please, Daniel, hear me out . . . Thank you. For what if our governor, Lieutenant Governor Nicholls, and the military and customs officeholders refuse to acknowledge a Protestant king? What if they side with the enemy, as will James Stuart should he be dethroned?’
‘You are right,’ conceded Darlington. ‘A greater threat looms immediately over us. And I fear, as we stand today, there is no defence set up in case of French attack.’
‘One might go so far as to say it could not have been planned better for an invasion,’ said Stuyvesant, cocking an insinuating eyebrow.
Darlington said: ‘I say we take control of the town. If we do not act—as you say, Milborne—this place may indeed be soon renamed New Orleans . . . I say we act now!’
‘The people of New York are vastly behind us,’ said Stuyvesant.
‘Gentlemen, let us not be hasty, however,’ said Leisler, holding his lapel in one hand and the stem of his pipe in the other. ‘We must plan this wisely, so that when the time comes, we are able to take over the town without chaos, in the tradition of Stuyvesant senior. And at all costs, I say we await news of an official nature before we take the governor’s residence.’
‘I agree,’ said Milborne, ‘or else we risk being tried for treason, no less.’
‘Mr Delpech,’ said Darlington, looking across the table, ‘I know you have come to see Mr Leisler on another matter, and I do not want to drag you into our problems, but what say you?’
What with an Englishman asking a Frenchman what to do in case of French attack, and a Frenchman seeking refuge in an English colony, decidedly, the world really had gone mad, thought Jacob, who, to be truthful, had been enjoying his mulled wine in his silver tankard. The alcohol and the heat from the mulberry-and-white-tiled hearth that crackled peacefully before him had lulled his senses. He now placed his hands composedly upon the table in front of him to give himself a countenance. He said: ‘I would say . . . Mr Leisler is right to plan for such an important event, for the French would put any chaos to their advantage. As Mr Leisler’s military background will have taught him, if and when the time comes, there must be swift action if we are to stay in control after the takeover. I would humbly suggest that plans be drawn up as soon as possible to prepare actions and designate defence parties, so that the interim commander will know exactly what to implement upon takeover.’
‘The fort will have to be manned night and day,’ said Darlington.
‘We should have to strengthen the city walls,’ said Leisler.
‘And sufficient warning should be provided to those residing outside the wall should the threat prove imminent,’ said Delpech.
‘Indeed, we shall have to place sentinels and cannons at strategic outposts,’ said Leisler, who then drew again from his pipe.
Seizing the moment, Jacob said: ‘Speaking of which, Sir, if I may digress from the discussion just a moment, do we have news from Lord Pell with regards to the land purchase?’
‘Ah, I do indeed, Delpech. I have received the first draft of the contract . . .’
‘Excellent. I shall set up a meeting with my brethren to finalize land plots and boundaries. I have drawn up a list of no fewer than thirty names . . .’
Delpech said no more on the subject and let the more pressing debate carry on to its conclusion, which was to establish a plan of action by their next meeting.
SIX
Jacob threw himself into his new toil. It enabled him to calm his frustrations born of the impossibility of achieving his own goal. His mind thus occupied, he was able to diminish the terrible nightmares that had previously made him restless at night.
He helped translate legal documents; became a go-between to express questions and answers between the Huguenot contingent and Leisler; and was a constant source of knowledge when it came to planning the new settlement, the construction of which would continue in earnest with the thaw. The position of the mill was his specialty, along with land irrigation. It was important to ensure that every plot had access to its own water supply, the value of which could easily have been overlooked in these months of overabundance of ice and snow.
Despite the petty disputes mostly relating to future property boundaries, Delpech found himself playing a pivotal role in the creation of the new township. It gave his life new meaning to be part of something greater than himself, and it was restoring his faith in humanity.
These planning sessions came to a head one day during a meeting after church at the Darlingtons’ house. The house was conveniently situated on the track back to New Rochelle. Every Sunday, Huguenots made the hike from their temporary timber country dwellings to New York. A Sunday service was given in the humble French chapel built by French refugees the previous year. For those who had already begun settling in New Rochelle, it meant a forty-six-mile round trek, one which they undertook every Sunday, weather permitting. The men and the heartiest women walked beside the rough oxen-drawn carts that transported children and those not up to the long march. Jacob stood in wonder the first time he saw the caravan wend its way to the gates of New York, singing one of Marot’s hymns. The mere sight of them in the nascent light of a Sunday morning never ceased to lighten his own burden and double his desire to assist them in their installation. Though his compensation for his work was not of a tangible nature, it was priceless all the same. They enabled him to recover his bearings and mend his moral compass, damaged in the company of the buccaneers from Port Royal.
‘It is but a slight hardship compared to the joy in our hearts of being able to worship God openly,’ a man named Bonnefoy had said when Jacob had expressed his admiration after church. ‘And what is more,’ Bonnefoy had continued, ‘what greater joy can there be in the knowledge that we are building the foundations for our children and our children’s children, so they may celebrate God’s love in a like manner, free from persecution!’
The meeting took place in the dining room after the service, as usual with the would-be councillors of the settlement, some of whom still resided in New York while waiting for the winter to pass. Those who had already begun settling in New Rochelle stayed behind, while the main caravan went on its
way back so it would reach home before nightfall.
Marianne sat in for her husband, who was down at the quay, preparing a cargo of tobacco and sugar for the next ship to London. Besides, the meeting being held in French, he preferred his wife to be his ears and his mouthpiece. Madame de Fontenay sat cosily at the hearth with her knitting needles. ‘In case things get out of hand!’ she had said with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Because I am not very good with them for much else.’ Then she had given a sigh of despair at the tiny, oddly shaped garment she was trying to knit.
Jacob proceeded to translate a document, showed the settlers a draft of the plots, and noted down any questions for the ensuing exchange with Leisler. The meeting was coming to a close when Monsieur Bonnefoy, a leading tenor of the party in his early forties, popped the question that Jacob suspected would come sooner or later.
‘Now, Monsieur Delpech,’ he said, resting his clenched hands on the table before him, ‘I have been asked unanimously by all those present, if you would care to stand as a member of the new council which, as you know, is to be made up of twelve aldermen.’
It was a heartening proposition for sure, and one that gave Jacob a profound satisfaction. But he knew that it also meant becoming a villager and putting his name down for a plot. Jacob placed his palms down upon the table as if to give himself extra balance. For well he might be tempted to leave his money in this new world, and keep only enough to pay for the voyage back with his family. At last, he said: ‘I thank you for the offer, Gentlemen. Alas, as you well know, I cannot stay.’
‘We do understand your position, Monsieur Delpech, but once you have recovered your family, you will need a place to settle, will you not?’ Monsieur Bonnefoy then opened his arms to embrace the whole table to give more weight to his offer. ‘Well, Sir, we should be most honoured if that place be with us.’ Amid deep rumblings and hear-hears around the table, Monsieur Bonnefoy persisted: ‘This can be your new home with like-minded people who value your moral fibre and your talents. You have given us your expertise freely and without restraint. Your place is among us. What say you, Sir?’
Marianne, sitting opposite Jacob, read the discomfort on his knitted brow. She knew how difficult it would be for him to commit to such an opportunity, and Jacob did not give his word lightly. She knew that leaving Europe indefinitely would mean leaving behind his dead children in their graves, and that two of his daughters might even still be with his sister-in-law, for all he knew. But his modesty forbade him from laying out his personal woes. And now that she had her own child in her belly, she could imagine the pain of having lost one. She glanced towards Madame de Fontenay by the hearth behind her for some tacit guidance. But the old lady simply raised both eyebrows in an expression that Marianne knew well. It told her to act as her heart told her to.
The young woman turned back to the table and, as poised as the men despite her youth, with an indulgent smile in her voice, she said: ‘Gentlemen, I pray we show some patience. Perhaps Monsieur Delpech needs to allow the proposition to mature in his mind before committing to an answer.’
Monsieur Bonnefoy, good-natured, said: ‘Oh, do not worry yourself, Madame Darlington. We only beg for a preliminary reply so that we can allocate a place.’ He then turned back to Jacob. ‘What say you, Sir?’
Jacob had gone over the possibility time and time again, and the merchant in him told him he would do far worse than to pledge his return. Sure, it would be an exciting and adventurous new beginning, but could he honestly commit to a plot and a place as councillor? And how safe would this land be in two months, in two years? The threats were numerous: wild animals, Indians allied to the French, the English under King James, invasion from his own countrymen from New France.
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘please do not think me ungrateful if at this minute I do not say yes.’
‘But you do not say no either.’
‘I should rather sleep on it and promise to give you my pondered reply when we meet next Sunday.’
It was a fair enough compromise, accepted by all, and one that would buy him time to weigh everything correctly in the balance.
*
Later that afternoon, Jacob sat alone with a handful of papers and his pipe in the small sitting room.
The coming events were exciting, and playing a major role in such an adventure as the birth of a township was something he was finding most gratifying. He was acutely aware, too, that a decisive moment in history was about to be played out in New York —that of the defence of the township as a free city.
Of course, he had planned to depart for Europe at the first opportunity, but the merchant vessel, for which Daniel Darlington was preparing a shipment at his warehouse, would set sail for London via Boston, possibly extending the voyage by a week, maybe two. He had also learnt of another ship, albeit smaller, that was due to sail in early March, which was just a few weeks away. Given that this second option was to sail directly from New York to London, it would probably arrive in the English capital only weeks after the Boston ship. Not only would it mean less time at sea, but it would allow him to help tie up any loose ends with regard to the purchase of the land that would harbour New Rochelle. But what should he do about Bonnefoy’s offer to buy into the township and take a role as alderman?
His mind was soon swimming again with indecision. ‘Get a grip on yourself, man!’ he said to himself. He slammed down the documents onto the little round table and gazed into the hearth, elbow on the arm of his armchair, hand cupping his pipe. Little by little —amid the calm of the crackling fire, the purr of the cat kneading the cushion on Madame de Fontenay’s chair, and the discreet click of the bracket clock upon the walnut commode —he began to realise to what extent his mind had become overcrowded, submerged in matters that were far away from his initial goal, matters that had nonetheless also become important to him. For was his role not indispensable for a satisfactory outcome? Leisler, after all, was a merchant. Would he not try to price the land so he could make a handsome profit for himself when he sold it on?
But now, sitting with his pipe in the absence of the male party and the cacophony of preparations, he was able at last to put everything into perspective and, hopefully, hear a voice of reason through the commotion of his vagaries . . .
‘Are you well, Sir?’ said the maid, carrying a pewter tray full of cups, saucers, and a coffee pot.
‘Ah, Madame Blancfort,’ said Jacob, removing his pipe from his lips. ‘Sorry, I was miles away . . .’
‘I believe miles away is exactly where you ought to be, Monsieur Delpech,’ continued Charlotte Blancfort, brash as ever, ‘if you’ll pardon me for saying so.’ She placed the tray on the low table in front of the fire while Jacob sat agape.
‘You know she is right, Monsieur Delpech,’ said a lively voice from the doorway. Jacob rose from his seat to face Madame de Fontenay as she hobbled into the room. ‘Take no notice,’ she said with a nod to her cherry walking stick, ‘hip giving me gyp. Good news for you, though. It’s a sure sign that milder weather is on its way.’
‘You cannot keep fighting everyone else’s battles, you know, Sir,’ said Charlotte. She then stuck out an arm to help the old lady to her chair.
Madame de Fontenay picked up the cat and dumped it on her lap as she sat down. ‘There, lap warmer!’ she declared.
‘And perhaps, this is not your battle to fight, Jacob!’ said the voice of Marianne, who walked in holding her bump with one hand and her lower back with the other. Her belly had grown considerably, and her face had become fuller. It occurred to Jacob how much her life had changed, and how she and her grandmother had taken it in their stride, just like Madame Blancfort, who now only had her daughter left of her family of five. ‘At least, not at this time,’ pursued Marianne. ‘For your true fight is surely elsewhere, my uncle . . . many miles away.’
The ping of the bracket clock announced the time for afternoon coffee, a ritual that the ladies had installed which broke up the monotony of the wintry afternoons. Charlott
e Blancfort proceeded to lay out the cups and saucers while Martha and little Françoise brought in the sugar scraped into a bowl from a sugarloaf, and some gingerbread cookies on a pewter plate.
‘Did you not say that you lived in hope of seeing your wife and children soon, Monsieur?’ said Charlotte. It would have been deemed impertinent of a maid to speak to a guest of her mistress in this fashion. But Marianne knew she would not stay long before she, too, found a new home. Madame de Fontenay just smiled with an amused twinkle in her eye.
‘I did indeed,’ said Jacob.
‘I only mention it,’ continued Charlotte, ‘because so did I live in hope, Monsieur Delpech. I boarded a ship with no means in the hope of joining my husband. But then I found out that hope alone ain’t enough, is it? And truth is, I delayed too. Had I taken the previous ship like I was planning, I would have been able to care for him, and he wouldn’t have died alone in his room, and we’d all be together today . . .’ Charlotte bit her lip to retain her steely countenance.
‘You mustn’t let your hope wither away, though, Charlotte,’ said Marianne comfortingly.
‘Oh, I won’t let it, Madame Darlington, thanks to yourselves and all your kindnesses.’ Charlotte put on a brave smile that embraced Jacob as well as the old lady.
‘You have plenty to hope for, Madame Blancfort,’ said Jacob, while Marianne put an arm around her. ‘And yes, I do see your point. You have to set your sights and keep to them . . . I admit, I myself . . . seem to have been somewhat swept off my feet.’
‘The ship is due to sail in a few days, Jacob,’ said Marianne.
‘Yes, it has been constantly at the back of my mind. But I have been told there will be another next month, and direct to London, that one.’
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