Kindred by P. J. Dean Page A

again, Paul?” Cassian asked. “I have forgotten.” He had drowned his nervousness in wine and knew he would regret it in the morning.
    “The man who was at the head of the table, Cassian. Master George Nauls.” Paul leaned into his anxious friend. “The fellow who greeted everyone at the door.”
    “Oh, I remember now.” Cassian’s head swam and not just because of the wine. He had gone to four formal suppers in as many nights. He was feeling the effects of the rich fare. He had lost count of how many fricandos veal he had consumed, or fricasses turnips. These two-course-with-dessert meals were just too much to endure. After each course, the linen and utensils had to be renewed. Each course had at least ten dishes and the dessert course offered as many treats. His body was not used to it. He longed for Rozina’s simple food. He, Paul and the rest of the men remained in the dining room for
    more drinks and cigars. The ladies had retired to the drawing-room.
    “Paul, the host has stared at me all evening. He has not uttered a word.”
    “Cassian, Adeline used to be a fixture here. She was friends with his daughter Emily.
    “And what has that got to do with him staring at me?”
    “Emily is deceased. She married and followed her husband to Virginia. She died in an Indian raid.”
    Cassian felt the air suck out of him. “And you brought me ?” He gulped the rest of his wine and jumped up. “I must leave.”
    “Too late. Here he comes. Cassian, I apologize. I am humbly sorry.” Paul stood up too. “Adeline wanted so much to be seen here and to speak with Malcolm Taylor privately before his family’s big gala.”
    “At my expense I see,” sighed Cassian. “She is reckless.”

“Mister Nauls, good evening,” said Paul. Cassian remained quiet, looking down at his shiny shoe buckles.
    “Gentlemen.” George Nauls was a big, beefy, red-faced mountain of a man. “At least one of you is. Hazard a guess which one isn’t?”
    Cassian raised his head.
    “Do not even think that because a clergyman cleaned you up and taught you ‘The Lord’s Prayer’, that you can pass yourself off as a human being.” Nauls poked Cassian in the shoulder with a thick index finger.
    “Sir, please.”
    Conversation amongst the other men ceased.
    “My only child went to the colonies. She followed her husband there.” The man quaked with grief and anger. “Was killed by animals. That looked like you! You do not fool me. You are simply a dressed up animal. But the tide is turning. England will return and annihilate all of you. Colonials and animals alike. England will wipe you from the
    face of the earth!” Nauls lunged at Cassian, landing two blows on his jaw.
    Cassian grabbed the front of Nauls’ overcoat and pummeled him. Resentment and hurt coursed through his veins. He had lost family in the wars too. He wanted to scream. Realizing what he had done, he left the man go. Other guests caught the bloodied Nauls
    before he hit the floor.
    “Oh my goodness,” a woman’s voice broke the tension. It was Missus Nauls, who had come running from the drawing-room. “Stop!” She turned her flushed face to Cassian. “Accept my apologies, Mister Harkness.”
    “It is understandable, Missus Nauls. My condolences. Good night.” Cassian bowed and left abruptly.
    ****
    “Cassian, that was not Nauls’ intent,” said Paul.
    “He thought it all night as he stared at me. Finally, he expressed it. He knew exactly what he was doing and saying.” Cassian waited outside for their coach.
    “That was voiced sorrow.”
    “That was voiced ignorance. How could Adeline have done this to me?”
    “Cassian, she is desperate to marry. Our aunt gives us all we have. I will have a profession, but Adeline has to find a husband to survive.”
    “Why has she embroiled me in her plight?”
    “You were and have been shall we say her … ticket back into society. When her old friends heard that a genuine Indian would be visiting the Penvenens,