Thomas McClennon explained inside. "Few in that land ask so much.But many—and this includes some slave owners—do express genuine concern about the issue of the slave trade. Not only over its morality, but indeed, about its very utility."
"The Americans show a willingness to talk about slavery? That alone is a great change!" snapped Jesse, a young Negro man.
Joseph recognized Jesse. The first time Joseph had seen Grace in London—the time she had sought him out and things had gone so badly—Jesse had been outside on the street waiting for her.
With the discussion taking so energetic a turn, the would-be guard abandoned his post and moved up to the barn door in order to better listen. He grabbed up the musket he had rested on the ground and strode on in to join the others.
"Talk, talk, talk! That's all the Americans will ever do!" the young man chided as he walked. "Slave trade is their bread and milk. They will never allow real change on their soil. Why should they? It would prove too great a threat to their purse strings!"
Joseph Winslow chose that moment to slip back around through the shadows of the barn. Then he, too, walked in through the open door. So engaged in their heated discussion were the members of the group, that not one noticed his presence until he was directly behind them.
"I do beg your pardon!" Lady Susanna exclaimed when she spied the intruder. "Who might you be? And how did you—?"
"I be father to me darlin' daughter, Grace Winslow, wot loved the lot of you," Joseph said.
At Grace's name, the entire group caught a collective gasp.
"Ye 'as no call to trust me," Joseph continued. "I set fire to yer coffee 'ouse. I admits as much to ye, and I be sorry fer me actions. But I does repent of it with me 'eart and soul. And I must say that I warned the lot of ye afore'and. Not one 'air on yer 'ead was touched by the fire, was it? That's because I warned ye, ever'one. Though I could 'ave died fer squealin', I warned ye."
Ethan Preston stepped forward and bowed deeply before Joseph Winslow. "That you did, sir, and I thank you for it."
"Me Grace wot was to die on the gallows is bein' sent away to the bottom of the world," Joseph Winslow said.
Ena covered her face and wept.
"To me shame, I admits that in Africa I tried to kill 'er," Joseph said. "I tried to kill me own girl, God fergive me. Yet she stepped up and stood twixt me and death."
Joseph wiped his watery eyes with his sleeve.
"Grace saved me life," he said. "Now it be me turn to save 'er life. I 'as no money to give ye, but I will gladly forfeit wot remains of me own life and be a slave to any man or woman amongst ye wot will rescue me Grace."
7
W e profess to be a land of laws!" Lord Reginald Witherham insisted to Sir Geoffrey Phillips, who sat before him most impatiently."It is that precise hypocrisy that stirs up such a fury within me. For were we truly a land of laws, we would actually abide by the laws we have established. Is that not so?"
Lord Reginald paced the floor. Each time he turned on his heel, his steps grew more furious. Sir Geoffrey extracted a handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and mopped at his forehead.
"Were we truly the law-abiding people we claim to be, a penalty of death would mean that a criminal so sentenced would actually die for his crime . . . or her crime, as the case may be. Surely it does not require a person of great intellect to grasp so simple a concept. Do you not agree?"
"The Crown has spoken," replied an exasperated Sir Geoffrey. "And, in all truth, Lord Reginald, the punishment of transportation is far greater than almost any person could bear. I say . . ."
"You say! The Crown says! What do I care about such endless rhetoric?"
Lord Reginald paused in his pacing. He grabbed the knob on the parlor door and flung the door open. A young maid happened to be passing along the hallway at that precise moment, and he grabbed hold of her by the arm.
"Let us see if the concept of law and