“Ah! My dear Julia! It has been an age! You are more beautiful than ever, I see, is she not, Miss Fraser?”
“Hello, Miss Bertram, so pleased to see you again,” Miss Fraser said, and if the poor girl did not really feel the pleasure she professed, the reader is asked to forgive her, for she sensed that whatever was about to transpire would not be to her benefit.
Mary Bertram chattered gaily for another moment, with civil nothings and polite compliments, while Julia regarded her silently. Suddenly, Mary recollected the gentleman hovering patiently at the edge of their little circle, and exclaimed, “Ah, where are my manners? Allow me to present Mr. Nathaniel Meriwether to you. Mr. Meriwether, this is Miss Bertram.”
Julia knew she was being rude, but she could not bring herself to acknowledge Mr. Meriwether, seeing him as a confederate of Mary, with more than a slight curtsey. She remained silent, hoping that Mary would take herself and the others away. Then Mr. Meriwether bowed gracefully and said, “Miss Bertram, your servant, ma’am. It is a pleasure to meet you indeed. Mrs. Bertram has informed me, we have some mutual acquaintance. I have the honour of knowing Mrs. Butters, whose late husband was a friend of mine. I was a wine importer by profession, and he built my company’s ships.”
He sounded so sensible and his manner was so engaging, yet so proper, that Julia found herself unbending, and she replied, “Oh yes, dear Mrs. Butters. She has been very good to my cousin, Miss Price.”
“And as well, she is a good friend to the unhappy Africans, is she not, Miss Bertram? I admire her extremely.”
“Well!” said Mary Bertram brightly. “I shall leave you two to talk about absent friends, and slaves, and things. Come along, Margaret.” And she took Miss Fraser by the arm—the girl seemed loathe to leave—and pulled her away.
To her surprise, Julia found herself falling into easy conversation with Mr. Meriwether. Even such trite enquiries as ‘had she been long in London’ or ‘was she well acquainted with their host and hostess,’ were not disagreeable because the older gentleman appeared to listen with the most unaffected, sincere interest in everything she said. She in her turn politely enquired into the wine business and unexpectedly found the topic was rather interesting.
“Unfortunately, Miss Bertram, between the risks attendant in obtaining a decent product, and the taxes and duties charged upon it, a great many persons have turned to smuggling, and of course they may sell at a lower price than the legitimate trader.”
“The temptation to do so must be considerable for many, I imagine.”
“Which is why a government which imposes high import duties must acknowledge it creates criminals out of ordinary men. Having said so much, I do not argue against all taxes, of course. If something must be taxed, wine seems to be an eminently fair item, enjoyed as it is by the more prosperous households.”
“You would not resort to smuggling yourself, sir?”
“I could not answer to my conscience if any persons in my employ were apprehended in the act of bringing a contraband cargo onshore.”
“I believe I have read that higher taxes do not always result in more revenues, is that not so? Most gentlemen stopped wearing wigs, for example, when the government put a tax on hair powder.”
“You are quite correct, Miss Bertram. In the same vein, imports of wine from Portugal this year will scarcely be half of what was brought in two years ago. The apprehension that the French will destroy all the vineyards in Portugal—but forgive me, this is a topic upon which I fear I often weary the patience of my friends. I suppose a lady so young as yourself cannot recall a time when we were not at war.”
“Oh, you flatter me, sir, for I do remember when my old nurse told us about the poor queen of France.”
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Meriwether shook his head and smiled. “And when I was young enough to have a nurse, she was telling me about Bonnie Prince Charlie! If not the new play being put on by that Shakespeare fellow down at the Globe!”
“Oh, I think not, sir,” Julia laughed, “but you must have had the pleasure of travelling in Europe before the war.”
“Indeed I did, and it is a great pity you have not been afforded the opportunity of crossing the Channel in a fair breeze, and landing at Calais or sailing south to Bordeaux, as I have done!”
Mr. Meriwether spoke so well, with such wit and spirit, of travel, of the valleys of the Loire, of hills covered with grape vines or blushing purple with lavender, of picnics amongst the fallen stones of ancient abbeys, of eating old cheese and young wine and fresh bread, that Julia found herself quite entranced, and longed to be upon the sea, and travelling to new horizons.
Since Mr. Meriwether was almost old enough to be her father, Julia saw no harm in bestowing her attention on a man of such intelligent and pleasing address. She was careful not to behave coquettishly; she knew some Society ladies of standing viewed her with suspicion because her older sister had sacrificed her virtue before her marriage. Smiling, talking, and laughing with an intelligent well-informed man was an unlooked-for pleasure, and Mr. Meriwether’s age, relative to hers, ought to shield her from any remark.
Julia and Mr. Meriwether at last parted with declarations of satisfaction in having
