The Power and the Glory by William C. Hammond Read Free Book Online Page B

they had held down this royal commander of the Bastille and cut off his head with a dull knife, then jabbed it onto a long pike and paraded it through the streets of the city.
    Ruthlessly, relentlessly, the wolves of revolution had stalked his widow and their two daughters, as they did every Parisian of noble blood, and Richard had risked his life to spirit them out of Paris to the French seaport of Lorient, and from there to America on board Falcon . During the three-week voyage home, Agreen had served as sailing master and—so chortled the local gossipmongers in Hingham—as chaperone, in alliance with Gertrud, the brawny German woman who had been Anne-Marie’s childhood nurse and who now guarded her interests and those of her daughters with fierce maternal tenacity.
    â€œIs Jack here?” he asked, referring to the Boston widower and wealthy merchant who had finally won her hand in marriage after many months of ardent pursuit.
    â€œYes, somewhere. He’s hoping to find time to chat with you. About business, of course. Jack’s a dear, but Lord knows, he is always about business.” She leaned in close enough to brush off a shred of lint from Richard’s white linen neck stock. “Truth be known, Richard, Adele was equally keen to travel here today. She’s over there . . . with Will.”
    Richard followed her gaze to see his son standing before a girl of his own age and height dressed as simply as her mother and with nearly identical physical attributes. Adele had been born Adélaide de Launay, but when the family reached America her mother had changed her name to sever as cleanly as possible her family ties to France. Beside her
was her younger sister, Frances, née Françoise, equally fetching though somewhat shorter and with straight ginger-colored hair that was shiny as a foal’s. Will had his hands in his pockets and was staring down at the ground, looking up occasionally when spoken to or, more rarely, when he was doing the speaking. Jamie was nowhere in sight.
    As he watched them Richard recalled his own youth. He had been as awkward and tongue-tied in the company of a pretty girl as Will seemed to be now.
    â€œDiana is around here somewhere,” he said to Anne-Marie, “and will be delighted to see Frances. Tell her to look for a gaggle of prattling girls. Will you be staying over? Katherine and I would be pleased if you would visit us.”
    â€œWe’d love to, but Jack wants to return to Boston before it gets dark. For reasons of business, you understand.” She gave him a rueful look.
    Richard nodded. “Some other time, then.”
    â€œAbsolutely. Adele will insist on it.”
    They both smiled at that. Their eyes locked during a brief moment of silence that was broken only by background laughter and chatter. Richard’s mind whirled with questions he longed to ask. Was Anne-Marie happy? Were her daughters adjusting to life in America? And how was Gertrud? He had heard that she was not well. But he never seemed to have either the courage or the occasion to ask them. Why, he had often wondered, was it so difficult for him to talk to Anne-Marie now? Was it because he somehow felt responsible for her fortunes in America? It was he who had convinced her to flee her adopted country and sail away with him to Boston. Was the state of her marriage to Jack Endicott, good or bad, somehow a reflection on him? Or was his reluctance something darker, the underside of jealousy, perhaps, envy of a man who now possessed what had once been so blissfully his? Whatever the reason, words failed him, and he felt a mixture of relief and frustration when her eyes shifted away from him.
    â€œPlease excuse my bad manners, Agee,” Anne-Marie said. “How are you? And how is your dear wife? I understand that you two are expecting a child.”
    Agreen doffed his tricorne hat. “Yes, ma’am, we are. In just a few weeks’