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law. Mr. Reisdale was the attorney representing Stannard and McRae, and the
one who had persuaded his fellow justices to declare Amos Swart bankrupt. He
did not say much during the meal, or after it.
Hugh Kenrick was also amused by the British and Scottish agents’ behavior. They
had both greeted him effusively, but there was an element of hesitation in the
courtesies they paid him, as though they were not certain they were being courteous
enough. He suspected that they had discovered his true identity, but he did
not care enough about the matter to inquire how.
Arthur Stannard had been visited hours before the supper by Reverend Acland,
who informed him in hushed whispers that, to judge by what he could glean from
his correspondents’ letters, Hugh Kenrick was indeed the son of a baron and
the nephew of an earl. “It seems he once snubbed the Duke of Cumberland, and
got into some trouble in London, and even spent time in the Tower for his association
with some Leveller rascals!” the minister said, who was beside himself with
excitement and disapproval. “Why, it is suspected even that he slew a marquis
in a nocturnal duel!”
“Well! What do you think of that!” exclaimed Mr. Stannard. “It’s no wonder to
me at all that he was sent away!”
“I shall write my friends in Devon and London and ask for more particular information,”
confided the minister.
“But I beg you not to speak to anyone else of this,” said Mr. Stannard. “Not
until my business is concluded one way or another.”
Mr. Stannard in turn informed Mr. McRae, but cautioned, “He seems to prefer
the address of a commoner, and so I strongly advise that we humor him in that
respect, and not let on that we know .”
“Iron orders, indeed,” remarked Mr. Talbot. He smiled. “I am fully sympathetic
to your dilemma, sirs. Mr. Spicer and I are no strangers to the need to dun
a spendthrift and recalcitrant patron. We have resorted to the courts a number
of times to recover our due.”
Hugh Kenrick leaned forward and said, “We would have expected the sterling value
of such a considerable property to be much higher, sirs, than the eleven hundred
quoted by you, which must reflect a drastically reduced appraisal of Brougham
Hall.” He paused. “The property must be in a very sorry state.”
“That is true, sir,” acknowledged Stannard. “Although it is not the largest
plantation in these parts, under Mr. Swart’s management it has lost more than
twice the value of a property three times its size. The late Covington Brougham
was a crop master, and the envy and mentor of even the bashaws here.”
Mr. Talbot asked, “Have you the particulars of the property, sirs?”
Mr. Stannard opened a portfolio and took out a sheet of paper, from which he
read: “The property known as Brougham Hall consists of one thousand and six
acres, of which fewer than half have been cleared for cultivation. Of the cultivated
acres, between one hundred and one hundred and fifty are devoted to tobacco,
although,” added the agent parenthetically, “that number has steadily risen
over the years as the quality of Mr. Swart’s leaf has declined and attempts
were made by him to make up with bulk. The balance of the acreage is set aside
for wheat, corn, and other staples. There are some orchards on the property
— peach, apple, pippin, and others — but Mr. Swart has neglected these and allowed
them to be overcome by scrub pine, elms, and hackberries.”
Mr. Stannard paused to sip his port, then continued. “I might add that one of
the most egregious expenses incurred by Mr. Swart was that associated with his
experiment with growing orange trees, a few hundred saplings of which he purchased
from a ship’s captain who had to delay his departure from Caxton to have his
hull treated for worm. Mr. Swart, unmindful that our climate does not favor
the cultivation of that admirable