Lizzie came across the lawn, riding Blizzard, who had survived the voyage unscathed. She was riding him well, Jay thought, almost like a man—and then he realized, to his irritation, that she was riding astride. It was so vulgar for a woman to go up and down like that with her legs apart. When she reined in he said: “You shouldn’t ride like that.”

She put a hand on her rounded waist. “I’ve been going very slowly, just walking and trotting.”

“I wasn’t thinking of the baby. I hope nobody saw you riding astride.”

Her face fell, but her rejoinder was defiant, as always: “I don’t intend to ride sidesaddle out here.”

“Out here?” he repeated. “What does it matter where we are?”

“But there’s nobody here to see me.”

“I can see you. So can the servants. And we might have visitors. You wouldn’t walk around naked ‘out here,’ would you?”

“I’ll ride sidesaddle to church, and when we’re with company, but not on my own.”

There was no arguing with her in this mood. “Anyway, quite soon you’ll have to stop riding altogether, for the sake of the baby,” he said sulkily.

“But not just yet,” she said brightly. She was five months pregnant: she planned to stop riding at six. She changed the subject. “I’ve been looking around. The land is in better condition than the house. Sowerby is a drunk, but he has kept the place going. We probably should be grateful, considering he hasn’t been paid his wages for almost a year.”

“He may have to wait a little longer—cash is short.”

“Your father said there were fifty hands, but in fact there are only twenty-five. It’s a good thing we have the fifteen convicts from the Rosebud.” She frowned. “Is McAsh among them?”

“Yes.”

“I thought I saw him across the fields.”

“I told Sowerby to pick out the youngest and strongest.” Jay had not realized that McAsh was on the ship. If he had thought about it, he might have guessed and told Sowerby to be sure to leave the troublemaker behind. But now that he was here Jay was reluctant to send him away: he did not want to appear intimidated by a mere convict.

Lizzie said: “I presume we didn’t pay for the new men.”

“Certainly not—why should I pay for something that belongs to my family?”

“Your father may find out.”

“He certainly will. Captain Parridge demanded a receipt for fifteen convicts, and naturally I obliged him. He will hand that to Father.”

“And then?”

Jay shrugged. “Father will probably send me a bill, which I will pay—when I can.” He was rather pleased with this little piece of business. He had got fifteen strong men to work for seven years, and it had cost him nothing.

“How will your father take it?”

Jay grinned. “He’ll be furious, but what can he do at this distance?”

“I suppose it’s all right,” Lizzie said dubiously.

He did not like her questioning his judgment. “These things are best left to men.”

That annoyed her, as always. She went on the attack. “I’m sorry to see Lennox here—I can’t understand your attachment to that man.”

Jay had mixed feelings about Lennox. He might be as useful here as he had been in London—but he was an uncomfortable presence. However, once he had been rescued from the hold of the Rosebud, the man had assumed he would be living on the Jamisson plantation, and Jay had never summoned the nerve to discuss the matter. “I thought it would be useful to have a white man to do my bidding,” he said airily.

“But what will he do?”

“Sowerby needs an assistant.”

“Lennox knows nothing about tobacco, except how to smoke the stuff.”

“He can learn. Besides, it’s mainly a matter of making the Negroes work.”

“He’ll be good at that,” Lizzie said caustically.

Jay did not want to discuss Lennox. “I may go into public life here,” he said. “I’d like to get elected to the House of Burgesses. I wonder how soon it could be arranged.”

“You’d better meet our neighbors and talk to them about it.”

He nodded. “In a month or so, when the house is ready, we’ll give a big party and invite everyone of importance from round about Fredericksburg. That will give me a chance to get the measure of the local gentry.”

“A party,” Lizzie said dubiously. “Can we afford it?”

Once again she was questioning his judgment. “Leave the finances to me,” he snapped. “I’m sure we can get supplies on credit—the family has been trading in these parts for at least ten years, my name must be worth quite a lot.”

She persisted with her questions. “Wouldn’t it be better to concentrate on running the plantation, at least for a year or two? Then you could be sure you had a solid foundation for your public career.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said. “I didn’t come here to be a farmer.”

The ballroom was small, but it had a good floor and a little balcony for the musicians. Twenty or thirty couples were dancing in their bright satin clothes, the men wearing wigs and the women in lacy hats. Two fiddlers, a drummer and a French horn player were giving a minuet. Dozens of candles lit up the fresh paintwork and floral decorations. In the other rooms of the house, guests played cards, smoked, drank and flirted.

Jay and Lizzie moved from the ballroom to the dining room, smiling and nodding at their guests. Jay was wearing a new apple green silk suit he had bought in London just before they left; Lizzie was in purple, her favorite color. Jay had thought their clothes might outshine those of the guests, but to his surprise he found that Virginians were as fashionable as Londoners.

He had drunk plenty of wine and was feeling good. They had served dinner earlier, but refreshments were now on the table: wine, jellies, cheesecakes, syllabubs and fruit. The party had cost a small fortune, but it was a success: everyone who was anyone had come.

The only sour note had been struck by the overseer, Sowerby, who had chosen today to ask for his back pay. When Jay told him it was not possible to pay him until the first tobacco crop was sold, Sowerby had insolently asked how Jay could afford to give a party for fifty guests. The truth was that Jay could not afford it—everything had been bought on credit—but he was too proud to say that to his overseer. So he had told him to hold his tongue. Sowerby had looked disappointed and worried, and Jay had wondered if he had some specific money problem. However, he did not inquire.

In the dining room the Jamissons’ nearest neighbors were standing at the fire, eating cake. There were three couples: Colonel and Mrs. Thumson, Bill and Suzy Delahaye, and the Armstead brothers, two bachelors. The Thumsons were very elevated: the colonel was a burgess, a member of the general assembly, grave and self-important. He had distinguished himself in the British army and the Virginia militia, then had retired to grow tobacco and help rule the colony. Jay felt he could model himself on Thumson.

They were talking politics, and Thumson explained: “The governor of Virginia died last March, and we’re waiting for his replacement.”

Jay assumed the air of an insider in the London court. “The king has appointed Norborne Berkeley, the baron de Botetourt.”

John Armstead, who was drunk, laughed coarsely. “What a name!”

Jay gave him a frosty look. “I believe the baron was hoping to leave London soon after I did.”

Thumson said: “The president of the council is acting as his deputy in the interim.”

Jay was keen to show that he knew a lot about local affairs. He said: “I assume that’s why the burgesses were so unwise as to support the Massachusetts Letter.” The letter in question was a protest against customs duties. It had been sent by the Massachusetts Legislature to King George. Then the Virginia Legislature had passed a resolution approving of the letter. Jay and most London Tories considered both the letter and the Virginia resolution disloyal.