Page 167 of The Armor of Light
Elsie took him carefully, holding his head up, and hugged him to herself. She was swamped by a feeling of love so powerful that it made her weak.
Arabella sat up in bed, and Elsie passed the baby to her. She pulled down the front of her nightdress and put him to her breast. His mouth found the nipple, his lips closed over it, and he began to suck.
‘You have a son,’ said Elsie.
‘Yes,’ said Arabella. ‘And you a brother.’
*
Amos found it hard to understand what was happening in Paris. It seemed there had been some kind of coup on 9 November, which was ‘18 Brumaire’ in the revolutionary calendar. General Bonaparte had invaded the French parliament with armed troops and appointed himself first consul of France. The English newspapers seemed not to know what ‘first consul’ meant. The only thing certain was that events were being driven by Napoleon Bonaparte and no one else. He was the greatest general of his time and hugely popular with the French people. Perhaps he would end up as their king.
More importantly for Amos, the end of the war was not in sight. That meant continuing high taxes and scarce business.
When Amos had read the newspaper he went to militia headquarters in Willard House.
Viscount Northwood had done what Amos had suggested to Jane. Amos had not been confident that Jane would pass his suggestion on, or that Northwood would consider it. But Northwood had movedWill Riddick to a different post and put a Methodist in charge of purchasing, as Amos had recommended.
Amos wondered about that marriage. Northwood was obviously capable of desire – he had undoubtedly fallen madly in love with Jane, though it had not lasted. However, there were no rumours about another woman in Northwood’s life – nor, for that matter, about Northwood and men. He never went to Culliver’s brothel. Jane’s rival was the army, it seemed. Running the militia consumed Northwood. It was all he really cared about.
The replacement of Riddick by Donaldson presented an opportunity to Amos, and to other Kingsbridge clothiers. The military’s need for cloth was the only steady demand these days. Amos entered the headquarters building full of hope. Even a share of the militia’s business could set his enterprise on a stable footing for the first time.
He went to the upstairs office formerly occupied by Riddick. He found Donaldson seated behind Will’s old desk. A window was open, and the smell of tobacco ash and stale wine had gone. A small black Bible was placed rather ostentatiously on the desk.
Amos and Donaldson were not friends, but they knew one another from Methodist meetings. In discussions, Donaldson often put forward a dogmatic point of view based on scrupulously literal interpretation of scripture. Amos thought that was a bit juvenile.
Donaldson waved him to a chair.
‘Congratulations on your promotion,’ Amos said. ‘I and many other people are delighted that Hornbeam no longer has a stranglehold on the supply of cloth to the militia.’
Donaldson did not smile. ‘I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us,’ he said severely. ‘I intend to act solely in the interest of His Majesty’s Militia.’
‘Of course—’
‘You’re quite right to suppose that I will not favour Alderman Hornbeam.’
‘Good.’
‘But please understand that I won’t favour anyone else either, and that includes my fellow Methodists.’
Donaldson was being unnecessarily emphatic. Amos had expected him to be scrupulous, but did not want him to go too far. He spoke with equal firmness. ‘But I’m sure you won’t exclude Methodists, merely to avoid a superficial appearance of favouritism.’
‘Certainly not.’
‘Thank you.’
‘In fact, my orders from Colonel Northwood are to divide the business between Anglican and Methodist clothiers, rather than place it all with one manufacturer.’
Amos could not ask for more. ‘That suits me perfectly,’ he said. He took a sealed letter from inside his coat and put it on the desk. ‘So here’s my bid.’
‘Thank you. I will treat it as I would anyone else’s.’
‘That’s exactly what I would expect from a Methodist,’ said Amos; and he took his leave.
*
Arabella’s baby was christened by the bishop in the cathedral on a cold winter morning.
Elsie studied her father’s face. He showed no emotion. She was not sure how he felt about his second child. Many men were a bit awkward around babies, especially men of high dignity such as the bishop. All the same it was noticeable that he had never held or kissed the baby boy, or even smiled at him. Perhaps he was embarrassed about fathering a child so late in life. Or perhaps he was not sure he was the boy’s father. Anyway, he carried out the ceremony solemnly but lugubriously.
