Rebecca Wentworth's Distraction by Robert J. Begiebing Page A

of the port’s best society—their new governor (to whom they were distantly related), Parson Browne (who was, despite the name, no relation to the colonel) and his family, and so on. He continued to intimate his own revolutions in these circles of the well-to-do. And he even piqued her with a tale of his painting the portrait of one of the Wentworth clan’s enemies, Richard Waldron.
    â€œA most undesirable interloper,” she said. “And much too prideful by half. One of the saving graces of life in these parts, sir, is being free of the immediate presence of our professed opponents. These . . .”—she made a dismissive motion of her hand—“Waldrons and Vaughans and Gilmans, and the others.” Her face wrinkled in distaste.
    He laughed and she joined him. “Indeed, madam, they have all been a trial to your family, I understand.” He decided to engage in a little scandal to place them on firmer ground together.
    â€œAnd most unfairly, I assure you, Mr. Sanborn.”
    â€œYet I can’t discriminate among my patrons, or I’d soon be out of pocket myself.”
    â€œOh, I understand that, Mr. Sanborn. Commerce is, after all, commerce.”
    â€œBut Mr. Waldron does harbor a vast cyst of ill will in his breast, I must say.” He put an amused look on his face and waited to see if she would take the bait.
    â€œI have no doubt of the lies with which he must have regaled you while at his sitting.” She shook her head. “Everything not to his personal and immediate advantage he takes for anathema. Every proposal, every vote, every grant and purchase not devolving honor and profit to him, he claims to be the result of the perfidy of others.” She stopped as if getting a little out of breath in her imprecations. “I suppose he was relentless in his disparagements.”
    â€œRather so, I’m afraid, Mrs. Prescott. He made a charge very similar to yours, against our governor! But I learned long ago not to take to heart my sitters’ rants against their enemies. It was nothing more, I am sure, than the usual list of complaints of his family and associates against yours.” He smiled as if about to impart an amusing confidence. “That Mr. Wentworth was stacking the Assembly with his own men, and the Council with a gaggle of brothers-in-law, nephews, and cousins. That they had monopolized the mast trade by way of underhanded influence with Admiralty. That the governor had received unseemly gifts and bribes from lumbermen and mill owners, and was disbursing land grants, high military and judicial offices, and proprietary rights among friends, family, and supporters. I must say, I felt rather an apostate myself just to hear him refer to, in his words, madam, ‘that contemptible simpleton Wentworth.’ . . .” Sanborn paused to let the words take effect and watch his hostess grow flushed again.
    Then he added the final stroke. “He took great pains to assure me that Mr. Wentworth sits in the governor’s chair only because he was, in Mr. Waldron’s words again, ‘a bankrupt whose London creditors thought they’d never be paid, and so inveigled Newcastle to support him.’”
    Her face had been growing red as she listened. He made a mental note that it would be better never to repeat this list of charges in conversation with Mr. Prescott. “As if church and family associations counted for nothing,” he hastened to add. Yet Mrs. Prescott, he soon realized, was taking pleasure, as many do, in her dudgeon.
    â€œOf course,” she began, “he says nothing of the enormous benefit to the home government and to the colony itself—the merchants, timber men, mill owners, land owners, and every citizen great and small! Never has the province flourished, nor have so many benefited so much, as since Mr. Wentworth’s appointment to the royal governorship. On that I’m certain he is quite silent.