vegetation â and the insect life â was more to their liking.
Nathan was not entirely convinced by this hypothesis, any more than he had as a child been convinced by Old Abeâs. It seemed a preposterous notion that a small bird with a brain the size of half a walnut could navigate across 1,000 miles of land and sea when he himself, with all his advantages, was barely able to make the same journey with a compass and sextant and the best charts theAdmiralty could provide. And even then, as often as not, he got it wrong.
Another thought occurred to him, equally wonderful, though somewhat disturbing. He had always assumed that the swallows and other birds he saw in the skies of Sussex were English. As English as he was. And presumably that those on the other side of the English Channel were French, as committed as their human counterparts to ceaseless enmity. But if Dr Moll was right they were of a more international breed, flying freely across borders and making their homes wherever they pleased. How wonderful was that! What freedom! To flit about the globe and settle where you pleased, and give no thought to borders or the restrictions of language and custom and the horrors of war. And how fascinating to think that the very swallows he had seen in the skies of Gibraltar had been swoop ing over the fields and downs of Sussex only a few days previously. They might even have perched on the trees surrounding Windover House, his family home in Wilmington.
It was a pity they could not be trained to carry a letter.
Nathan had received scant news from home. Just one despatch from his mother, written on the occasion of his twenty-ninth birthday, on 1 August, and delivered a little over a fortnight ago. Her news was not entirely welcome, but then news imparted by his mother rarely was.
He took it out of his pocket now â his last surviving link with home â and opened it with care, for the folds were fragile with overuse.
It started promisingly enough. She had paid off most of her debts and was no longer troubled by the bailiffs. Shehad even taken on an extra servant
to relieve the burden on poor old Izzy
and had quite reconciled herself to living in Soho,
which is not quite as deprived or as like to the Wilderness as I had first imagined
.
It might be imagined â and was no doubt stated in no uncertain terms by several of her acquaintance â that Lady Catherine Peake, having been born and bred in New York, and thus being no stranger to the Wilderness, had no business to be particular about living in Soho, or indeed any other area of London, deprived or otherwise. But she was the daughter of wealthy Huguenot immigrants who had made their fortune in trade, and for most of her life she had lived in the lap of luxury. At the time of her marriage to Nathanâs father she was one of the most sought-after heiresses in New York, and the Peakes of Wilmington, though nowhere near as rich, were by no means poor. Nathanâs father, though a mere sea Captain at the time of their meeting, was himself the proud possessor of some 3,000 acres of prime Sussex downland.
Unhappily, the marriage had not endured. It had foundered, Lady Catherine was fond of saying, upon the rocks of political incompatibility: she supported the rebellious American colonists while he did his best to repress them in the service of King George. Since when, he had retired from the sea and devoted himself to the rearing of sheep, whilst Nathanâs mother gave her life to politics and fashion â which were not, apparently, so very far removed.
Indeed, for a time, Lady Catherine â or Kitty as she was known to her intimates â had run one of the most fashionable political salons in London, though tarnished in some eyes by its association with such degenerates asthe Prince of Wales and Charles James Fox and other members of His Majestyâs Disloyal Opposition. But the war between France and the other great powers of Europe,
Nathan was not entirely convinced by this hypothesis, any more than he had as a child been convinced by Old Abeâs. It seemed a preposterous notion that a small bird with a brain the size of half a walnut could navigate across 1,000 miles of land and sea when he himself, with all his advantages, was barely able to make the same journey with a compass and sextant and the best charts theAdmiralty could provide. And even then, as often as not, he got it wrong.
Another thought occurred to him, equally wonderful, though somewhat disturbing. He had always assumed that the swallows and other birds he saw in the skies of Sussex were English. As English as he was. And presumably that those on the other side of the English Channel were French, as committed as their human counterparts to ceaseless enmity. But if Dr Moll was right they were of a more international breed, flying freely across borders and making their homes wherever they pleased. How wonderful was that! What freedom! To flit about the globe and settle where you pleased, and give no thought to borders or the restrictions of language and custom and the horrors of war. And how fascinating to think that the very swallows he had seen in the skies of Gibraltar had been swoop ing over the fields and downs of Sussex only a few days previously. They might even have perched on the trees surrounding Windover House, his family home in Wilmington.
It was a pity they could not be trained to carry a letter.
Nathan had received scant news from home. Just one despatch from his mother, written on the occasion of his twenty-ninth birthday, on 1 August, and delivered a little over a fortnight ago. Her news was not entirely welcome, but then news imparted by his mother rarely was.
He took it out of his pocket now â his last surviving link with home â and opened it with care, for the folds were fragile with overuse.
It started promisingly enough. She had paid off most of her debts and was no longer troubled by the bailiffs. Shehad even taken on an extra servant
to relieve the burden on poor old Izzy
and had quite reconciled herself to living in Soho,
which is not quite as deprived or as like to the Wilderness as I had first imagined
.
It might be imagined â and was no doubt stated in no uncertain terms by several of her acquaintance â that Lady Catherine Peake, having been born and bred in New York, and thus being no stranger to the Wilderness, had no business to be particular about living in Soho, or indeed any other area of London, deprived or otherwise. But she was the daughter of wealthy Huguenot immigrants who had made their fortune in trade, and for most of her life she had lived in the lap of luxury. At the time of her marriage to Nathanâs father she was one of the most sought-after heiresses in New York, and the Peakes of Wilmington, though nowhere near as rich, were by no means poor. Nathanâs father, though a mere sea Captain at the time of their meeting, was himself the proud possessor of some 3,000 acres of prime Sussex downland.
Unhappily, the marriage had not endured. It had foundered, Lady Catherine was fond of saying, upon the rocks of political incompatibility: she supported the rebellious American colonists while he did his best to repress them in the service of King George. Since when, he had retired from the sea and devoted himself to the rearing of sheep, whilst Nathanâs mother gave her life to politics and fashion â which were not, apparently, so very far removed.
Indeed, for a time, Lady Catherine â or Kitty as she was known to her intimates â had run one of the most fashionable political salons in London, though tarnished in some eyes by its association with such degenerates asthe Prince of Wales and Charles James Fox and other members of His Majestyâs Disloyal Opposition. But the war between France and the other great powers of Europe,
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