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CHAPTER 12
THAT EVENING, I met briefly with Abraham Mendes and secured two favors from him before returning home for the night. The first was a bit of charity I dared not execute myself. I had not forgotten the good-natured Nate Lowth, whose cell had been adjacent to mine and who had graciously refrained from calling the guard during my departure from Newgate. I therefore gave Mendes a few coins and asked that he provide Lowth with food and drink as well as the companionship he had requested. The second request I made of Mendes I shall speak of more anon.
After returning to my rooms, I spent a few hours before sleep reviewing the political newspapers I’d bought that day, hoping to familiarize myself with the Tory cant. Despite Elias’s assurances, I had little confidence that a man as ignorant of politics as I could pass for an interested Tory. On the other hand, I knew well that my standing as a wealthy West Indian would compensate for any flaws I might display, and at least my ignorance was part of the character I was to portray. They might look at me and sneer and think, Who is this fellow to come here and pretend he can simply join our ranks? It is unlikely they would look at me and conclude that I was an escaped felon disguising himself to find evidence of his unjust ruin.
I arrived at the i
I entered the i
The fellow who sat on my left was a corpulent man, an importer of oriental curiosities, he told me. He praised Melbury for his fairness, his dedication to the Church, and his willingness to speak out against Whig corruption. Indeed, I was able to hear these things for myself, for not long after we ate I noticed a handsome gentleman making his way toward the front of the room, greeting this man and that as he walked. I could not doubt but that this was Melbury, and I felt a kind of panic stir within me. Here was the man who had bested me in the contest I had considered most important. I had never laid eyes on him before, and while he struck me as somewhat ordinary in appearance, lacking any radiance or hint of the divine about him, he also struck me as inexplicably-worthy was the word that came to mind- and I felt small and insignificant by comparison.
I hardly even listened to his words as he first spoke, so intent was I on examining his shape and face and the way he held himself. But as I realized his talk was coming to a period, I forced myself out of my reverie that I might at least hear some of his remarks.
“I ca
After the speech, my importer friend lauded his words as though Melbury were a second Cicero. I admit that he proved himself eloquent and had a charismatic quality to him, but I was as yet unmoved to anything but envy.
“You must know,” said my companion, “he is ever more personable in conversation. It is a shame that each voter in Westminster ca
“I will have to take your word for it,” I said, “for I have never met him.”
The fellow took most quickly to my hint and promised to secure me an introduction before the breakfast ended. And not a moment later he pulled me to my feet and led me to the far end of the tavern, where Mr. Melbury sat in close conversation with a very grim-looking young man.
“Excuse me, Mr. Melbury, sir, but there is someone I very much wish for you to meet.”
Melbury looked up and offered us his politician’s smile. I admit he managed it astonishingly well, for- if only for a single instant when I was off my guard- I found him an appealing man with strong cheekbones, a nose that was manly without being large, and vibrant blue eyes. Some men know themselves to be attractive and wear their looks with a sort of arrogance, but Melbury seemed at ease with himself and the world, and that comfort gave him a powerful charm. He had a fashionable bob wig and a handsome blue suit, but, more impressively, he had a fine white smile that radiated a friendship I resented most fervently. I admit that even I began to feel my loathing of the man recede, though I fought hard against these benevolent sentiments.
“Why, hello, sir,” he said to the importer, clearly having forgotten this man. No doubt they had once met in very much the fashion he was now to meet me.
“Wonderful speech, Mr. Melbury. Wonderful. Ah, yes. This, sir, is Mr. Matthew Evans, lately returned to this island from the West Indies, and he has now taken a most fervent interest in the Tory cause.”
Melbury embraced my right hand in both of his and shook it. “I am heartily glad to hear that, Mr. Evans. It seems to me that your name is now bandied about town, and I am happy to meet so celebrated a personage, particularly when he is a supporter of our party. The returned West Indian is nearly always a Whig, but I am glad to find you otherwise inclined.”
There was something of a coolness in his ma
“My father was a Tory, and my grandfather fought in the war for the king.” Nothing wrong, I thought, in suggesting some Royalist blood. Just the sort of thing to make him take a liking to me. “As I have been in Jamaica most of my life, I have not, until now, had much opportunity to participate in politics.”