Read Online Lady of Ashes by Christine Trent - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Trent
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slave-holding nation breaking a blockade?”
Russell pursed his lips as he considered this. “Does such blockade breaking impact Her Majesty’s people?”
Charles Francis sat back again. “Perhaps. It depends on whether the building of commerce raiders in English shipyards is cause for impact to Her Majesty’s people.”
Charles Francis watched as Henry’s furious motions of dipping his pen and scrawling across the page became a blur. His son poised his pen in midair as they both waited to hear Lord Russell’s reply.
Lord Russell smiled. “Do you seek an intervention in such practices, if they exist?”
“Actually, I seek far less than that. I would like free license to make discoveries for myself about whether or not Southern representatives are contracting with English shipbuilders and traders, and I will take care of them myself.”
“Without calling out any British subjects, of course, who I am certain would have no knowledge of their activity being unlawful.”
“Naturally, the U.S. has no interest in accusing innocent British citizens of any wrongdoing when in fact it is entirely the fault of American subversives.”
Lord Russell nodded. “Then consider yourself so authorized. Lord Palmerston will wish to know about this, of course, so I will arrange a meeting for you at the earliest opportunity.”
With both dinner and their official business concluded, Charles Francis signaled for cigars to be brought to all three men as they retired to the smoking lounge, where they spent the remainder of the evening discussing the proliferation of railroad building in both the U.S. and England.
In Kentish Town, north of the Adams residence, Violet and Graham hosted their families for dinner: Fletcher; Graham’s mother, Ida Morgan; and Arthur and Eliza Sinclair, Violet’s parents.
The Sinclairs had moved to Brighton not long after Violet’s marriage, Eliza having always desired to live near the sea. King George IV had made the seaside resort fashionable in the early part of the century, and even Violet could remember her mother talking about it during her childhood. Her parents were now nestled in a cottage in Preston Village, on the outskirts of Brighton.
Violet had made a few train trips down to see her parents in Brighton, but until now they had not left their comfortable environs for a visit. However, her parents were off to visit an old boyhood friend of Arthur’s who now lived up in Leicester, and so decided to spend a night in London before proceeding north.
When Violet told Graham of their impending arrival, he suggested a large family dinner to enable both sides to spend time together. She immediately agreed. Mother and Father had not yet seen their new home, and Violet was anxious that they approve.
She should have rested easy, knowing that Mrs. Scrope had the meal well in hand, but for once, she was more concerned with laying place settings than in laying out a corpse.
Even Mrs. Scrope’s extra-loud wheezing as she bobbed her head up and down in pretended agreement with Violet’s ideas and suggestions didn’t deter her from being consumed with the idea of creating a perfect dinner for her parents.
For the very first time, she sat down and went over the menu in detail with her housekeeper. Violet changed her mind repeatedly over how many courses to serve and what should be included in each one. Finally, in frustration over her mistress’s indecision, Mrs. Scrope suggested that they see what Mrs. Beeton might recommend.
That dratted busybody Mrs. Beeton again. Realizing, though, that she couldn’t afford to lose the invaluable Mrs. Scrope, Violet agreed, and a menu was planned to include three courses, each comprising several dishes, plus an entrée course that would include braised beef, spring chicken, roast quarter of lamb, beef tongue, and roast saddle of mutton.
But that was just the beginning. Violet was concerned with how napkins would be folded. “The miter design is the best
Russell pursed his lips as he considered this. “Does such blockade breaking impact Her Majesty’s people?”
Charles Francis sat back again. “Perhaps. It depends on whether the building of commerce raiders in English shipyards is cause for impact to Her Majesty’s people.”
Charles Francis watched as Henry’s furious motions of dipping his pen and scrawling across the page became a blur. His son poised his pen in midair as they both waited to hear Lord Russell’s reply.
Lord Russell smiled. “Do you seek an intervention in such practices, if they exist?”
“Actually, I seek far less than that. I would like free license to make discoveries for myself about whether or not Southern representatives are contracting with English shipbuilders and traders, and I will take care of them myself.”
“Without calling out any British subjects, of course, who I am certain would have no knowledge of their activity being unlawful.”
“Naturally, the U.S. has no interest in accusing innocent British citizens of any wrongdoing when in fact it is entirely the fault of American subversives.”
Lord Russell nodded. “Then consider yourself so authorized. Lord Palmerston will wish to know about this, of course, so I will arrange a meeting for you at the earliest opportunity.”
With both dinner and their official business concluded, Charles Francis signaled for cigars to be brought to all three men as they retired to the smoking lounge, where they spent the remainder of the evening discussing the proliferation of railroad building in both the U.S. and England.
In Kentish Town, north of the Adams residence, Violet and Graham hosted their families for dinner: Fletcher; Graham’s mother, Ida Morgan; and Arthur and Eliza Sinclair, Violet’s parents.
The Sinclairs had moved to Brighton not long after Violet’s marriage, Eliza having always desired to live near the sea. King George IV had made the seaside resort fashionable in the early part of the century, and even Violet could remember her mother talking about it during her childhood. Her parents were now nestled in a cottage in Preston Village, on the outskirts of Brighton.
Violet had made a few train trips down to see her parents in Brighton, but until now they had not left their comfortable environs for a visit. However, her parents were off to visit an old boyhood friend of Arthur’s who now lived up in Leicester, and so decided to spend a night in London before proceeding north.
When Violet told Graham of their impending arrival, he suggested a large family dinner to enable both sides to spend time together. She immediately agreed. Mother and Father had not yet seen their new home, and Violet was anxious that they approve.
She should have rested easy, knowing that Mrs. Scrope had the meal well in hand, but for once, she was more concerned with laying place settings than in laying out a corpse.
Even Mrs. Scrope’s extra-loud wheezing as she bobbed her head up and down in pretended agreement with Violet’s ideas and suggestions didn’t deter her from being consumed with the idea of creating a perfect dinner for her parents.
For the very first time, she sat down and went over the menu in detail with her housekeeper. Violet changed her mind repeatedly over how many courses to serve and what should be included in each one. Finally, in frustration over her mistress’s indecision, Mrs. Scrope suggested that they see what Mrs. Beeton might recommend.
That dratted busybody Mrs. Beeton again. Realizing, though, that she couldn’t afford to lose the invaluable Mrs. Scrope, Violet agreed, and a menu was planned to include three courses, each comprising several dishes, plus an entrée course that would include braised beef, spring chicken, roast quarter of lamb, beef tongue, and roast saddle of mutton.
But that was just the beginning. Violet was concerned with how napkins would be folded. “The miter design is the best
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