Read Online Dubious Allegiance by Don Gutteridge - Free Book Online
Authors: Don Gutteridge
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Besides, there was now their baby, Mary, to consider.
âThe cause of the French here is real, the injustices deep and universal,â Marc wrote. âOurs in Upper Canada pale by comparison. People are literally starving in the townships, on the seigneuries, and in the back alleys of the towns. The flood of immigrants from Britain since 1832 has dumped thousands of penniless unemployed onto the docks and streets of Montreal and Quebec City, bringing cholera and other pestilences, which have recurred yearly since then. Not only that, but over one hundred thousand pounds sits undistributed in the vaults of St. Louis Castle, so that salaries and pensions have not beenpaid in months. Many once-prosperous people have lost their homes and enterprises as creditors close in.
âBut armed revolt is not the answer. I foresee only needless death and loss and even more profound humiliation. Take care and be well, my darling. I shall be home by New Yearâs: thatâs a promise.â
Marc fell asleep on his writing desk.
*Â Â *Â Â *
With sunlight just beginning to squeeze through the trees along the eastern horizon, Marc and his fellow officers finished their breakfast in the improvised mess. Many ate enough for several meals, as it could be long hours before they saw food again. As they got up from the table to go and organize their squads for their march to the steamer, Colonel Goreâs adjutant came in carrying a packet of letters that had arrived the night before from overseas. One of them was for Marc.
Â
Edwards Estate
Kent, England
October 2, 1837
Â
Dear Marc:
Â
It is my sad duty to inform you that Jabez passed from this world at two oâclock this morning. I was by his side during the final hours, and it pleases me to tell you that his thoughts were principally upon you, upon your faithfulness as his adopted son, upon your splendid and worthy life so far, and, more importantly, upon the prospects for your future. His only regret regarding you was that he could not circumvent the entailments of our fatherâs will and leave you some part of the family estate. But as you know, the property and the funds to perpetuate it are indivisible and come to me and, eventually, to my eldest son, your cousin. However, Jabez did amass a sizeable sum of his own as a solicitor in London all those years ago, and as soon as the will is probated, I shall write to you with details of your legacy, which could be considerable. For the next while, though, we shall devote our energies to mourning the death of one whom we loved and who loved us, and life, dearly. We talked often of your heroic exploits in North America, and I want to assure you that he was as proud of you as a soldier as I was. Please take care: the life of an officer in the British army is dangerous and unpredictable.
Delores and the boys are coming from France for the funeral, and I must go to Dover to meet them. Iâll write to you more fully as soon as I can: there is much to discuss between us.
Â
Your loving uncle,
Frederick.
Â
Marc stood with the letter dangling from two fingers. He felt empty inside, incapable for the moment of feeling anything: sadness, grief, or anger at the gods. Too much was happening to him all at once. Rick was dead, and yet his voice andimage, the joie de vivre of his being, were everywhere around him. He himself had been within a week of his wedding with Beth before being wrenched away to a battle he had once longed for more than life itself. Now Jabez, his adoptive father, was gone, without a chance to say good-bye. And despite his faults and the secrets he had inexcusably kept from Marc, Jabez Edwards had raised him as his own, given him his name, and, against his own better judgement, had set him free to seek his own fortune.
A bugle on the parade-square sounded a peremptory blast. He had to go. There were immediate and overriding exigencies. He would find time to grieve his losses later.
âThe cause of the French here is real, the injustices deep and universal,â Marc wrote. âOurs in Upper Canada pale by comparison. People are literally starving in the townships, on the seigneuries, and in the back alleys of the towns. The flood of immigrants from Britain since 1832 has dumped thousands of penniless unemployed onto the docks and streets of Montreal and Quebec City, bringing cholera and other pestilences, which have recurred yearly since then. Not only that, but over one hundred thousand pounds sits undistributed in the vaults of St. Louis Castle, so that salaries and pensions have not beenpaid in months. Many once-prosperous people have lost their homes and enterprises as creditors close in.
âBut armed revolt is not the answer. I foresee only needless death and loss and even more profound humiliation. Take care and be well, my darling. I shall be home by New Yearâs: thatâs a promise.â
Marc fell asleep on his writing desk.
*Â Â *Â Â *
With sunlight just beginning to squeeze through the trees along the eastern horizon, Marc and his fellow officers finished their breakfast in the improvised mess. Many ate enough for several meals, as it could be long hours before they saw food again. As they got up from the table to go and organize their squads for their march to the steamer, Colonel Goreâs adjutant came in carrying a packet of letters that had arrived the night before from overseas. One of them was for Marc.
Â
Edwards Estate
Kent, England
October 2, 1837
Â
Dear Marc:
Â
It is my sad duty to inform you that Jabez passed from this world at two oâclock this morning. I was by his side during the final hours, and it pleases me to tell you that his thoughts were principally upon you, upon your faithfulness as his adopted son, upon your splendid and worthy life so far, and, more importantly, upon the prospects for your future. His only regret regarding you was that he could not circumvent the entailments of our fatherâs will and leave you some part of the family estate. But as you know, the property and the funds to perpetuate it are indivisible and come to me and, eventually, to my eldest son, your cousin. However, Jabez did amass a sizeable sum of his own as a solicitor in London all those years ago, and as soon as the will is probated, I shall write to you with details of your legacy, which could be considerable. For the next while, though, we shall devote our energies to mourning the death of one whom we loved and who loved us, and life, dearly. We talked often of your heroic exploits in North America, and I want to assure you that he was as proud of you as a soldier as I was. Please take care: the life of an officer in the British army is dangerous and unpredictable.
Delores and the boys are coming from France for the funeral, and I must go to Dover to meet them. Iâll write to you more fully as soon as I can: there is much to discuss between us.
Â
Your loving uncle,
Frederick.
Â
Marc stood with the letter dangling from two fingers. He felt empty inside, incapable for the moment of feeling anything: sadness, grief, or anger at the gods. Too much was happening to him all at once. Rick was dead, and yet his voice andimage, the joie de vivre of his being, were everywhere around him. He himself had been within a week of his wedding with Beth before being wrenched away to a battle he had once longed for more than life itself. Now Jabez, his adoptive father, was gone, without a chance to say good-bye. And despite his faults and the secrets he had inexcusably kept from Marc, Jabez Edwards had raised him as his own, given him his name, and, against his own better judgement, had set him free to seek his own fortune.
A bugle on the parade-square sounded a peremptory blast. He had to go. There were immediate and overriding exigencies. He would find time to grieve his losses later.
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