If John Master hadn’t come out to fetch Mercy himself, it was because he’d received an unexpected visit. Captain Rivers had called to see him. He’d arrived by ship from Carolina that very morning, and informed Master that he’d already taken lodgings in the town. He looked older. He had some gray hairs. But John had to admire the straightforward, manly way that Rivers explained the reason for his visit. Namely, that he was broke.

Well, not entirely. If, during the last ten years, many Southern landowners had got themselves in trouble with their London creditors, the recent collapse of the London credit markets had made matters much worse. Captain Rivers himself had always dealt with Albion, and his credit there was good. But his wife was another matter.

“She’s had dealings with other London merchants going back to the time before our marriage. I wasn’t even aware of the extent of them until recently. It seems we owe far more than I realized.”

“Can you retrench?” Master asked.

“We’ve done so. And the plantations still provide a good income. But the London creditors are pressing. And they’re so far away. They’ve no way of seeing how we run things. To them, we’re just another damned colonial plantation in trouble. What I want is to pay them all off, and raise a new debt to someone here in the colonies. The plantations provide ample security. If you came down to Carolina, you could see for yourself that we are sound. You could leave a clerk to work with us, if you please. I’ve nothing to hide.”

On the whole, John was inclined to consider the proposition. His instincts told him Rivers would perform. And he had just told him, “Before I commit, I’d like to do as you suggest, and see the place for myself,” when he heard his wife and daughter come into the house, and smiled. “We’ll dine at once,” he said. “I hope you will join us.”

The dinner was a pleasant family affair. Nothing was said of Captain Rivers’s business. Mercy, who’d liked him when they’d met before, was pleased to see him. He also knew how to talk easily and draw Abigail out. At thirteen, she was just starting to turn into a young woman; and Master, watching her in animated conversation with the Englishman, thought with some satisfaction that she was really becoming very pretty.

He was also glad to use the opportunity to probe Rivers on another subject.

James had written regularly since his marriage. He had a son called Weston, aged two. Albion had taken him into partnership. His last letter told them that a little girl had been born, but died at once. The letters spoke of his wife Vanessa, and from time to time he gave them dutiful messages from her. “But we know very little of your cousin,” John told Captain Rivers. “What can you tell us?”

If Rivers hesitated, it was only for a moment.