Lady of Ashes Read Online Free PDF Page B

Representatives. Although an intelligent, grown man, Henry was still floundering to find his place in the world.
    Charles Francis understood too well how difficult it was in a family that had produced his own father, John Quincy Adams, as well as his grandfather, John Adams. Charles Francis’s own career had prospered, too, perhaps due to his own raw talents, but he thought it more likely due to his family name. Certainly it wasn’t due to a voracious political appetite. In fact, he doubted his own diplomatic skills in what might prove to be a delicate situation with Britain. Lincoln’s reservation over his appointment didn’t reassure him.
    He put his own cigar down in an ash stand and leaned forward.
    “I’d like you to come to London with your mother and me, son, as my personal secretary. You’ve been on the Grand Tour, so you will easily understand English sensibilities, and you’ve made quite a journalistic mark already with your writings. I plan to send your brother, John Quincy, up to the old house in Massachusetts to look after financial affairs from there. Charles Francis Junior is, I suspect, an army man through and through and won’t wish to give up his commission—”
    “Father, the answer is yes. No need to convince me. What would I do otherwise? Return to Beacon Hill and rattle around up there while you’re gone?”
    “I just want you to know that I value your company. I’m also thinking of revising your great-grandfather’s biography and could use your help on it, in addition to assisting me with some foul offal I intend to have removed while in London.”
    That piqued his son’s interest. “What sort of foul offal?”
    “I have seen certain communications that indicate British shipyards are already secretly building commerce raiders on the South’s behalf so the rebels can best us that way rather than in open combat.”
    “Commerce raiders?”
    “Ships sent to attack its enemy’s merchant ships on the open seas. As opposed to the blockade runners, who are trying to get their ships through our blockade in Virginia.”
    Henry nodded. “I see. What do you plan to do about it?”
    “We’ll have to ensure that ships returning home from Great Britain sail in convoys, preferably protected by naval escorts, provided we can do so without raising the ire of Parliament. I don’t trust Britain to support us in it, since we don’t know yet whose side they will take, but I do intend to keep U.S. ships safe.”
    No need to tell his son yet of his plan to actually ferret out rebels positioned in London who were not only contracting with shipbuilders for commerce raiders, but were encouraging merchants to break the blockades set up at locations like Hampton Roads. That part of things could get . . . messy. He hadn’t even told his wife, Abigail, yet of his real intentions in London, nor did he intend to do so. She would flutter about him with wifely concern and worry herself—and him—to distraction.
    He would eventually tell Henry, just not yet. There was time enough once they got settled inside their new residence in London.
    A mild twinge of headache announced itself quietly behind his eyebrows. Charles Francis passed a hand across his brow and was reminded once again of the Adams affliction. Why did all the men in this family have such confoundedly bald heads long before their time? Even poor Henry, just twenty-three, had the receding hairline that marked—nay, cursed—the Adams men. Soon he would join his father in a completely bare pate, save curly tufts above each ear.
    Henry tamped out his own cigar. “I look forward to joining you and Mother in England. When do we depart?”
    “Soon. A few weeks from now at the most. As soon as I get my affairs in order.”
    As soon as my contacts in London send me more information.
     
    Violet was gratified to receive a note from a customer thanking the undertaker for giving the family’s mother such a beautiful farewell. The thanks of a happy family