I felt as though I were being suffocated.
It was true. Not that Jamie had misrepresented himself to Governor Tryon; the governor had known all about Jamie’s Catholicism but had turned a deliberately blind eye to it for the sake of getting Jamie’s help in settling—in more ways than one—the tumultuous North Carolina backcountry during the War of the Regulation. But it was undeniably true that Catholics were by law not allowed to receive land grants. And so …
I forced a breath and read on:
There being at present no duly-appointed Governor for the Colony of North Carolina, the Secretary of State for the Colonies now orders the aforesaid James Fraser to surrender the Grant of Lands thus fraudulently obtained, to Captain Ulysses Stevens of His Majesty’s Company of Black Pioneers, acting as Agent of the Crown, and vacate the Premises of the Grant （Location and Dimensions being described in the attached Document）。 Any Tenants presently living on the Grant may remain for the Space of one Year. After such Time, Tenants must leave or make Arrangement to deliver Rent as may be determined by the new Holder of this Grant.
The words blurred into spots before my eyes, and I dropped the letter back on the desk.
“You bloody reptile!” I said, looking at Ulysses. He ignored me.
“I would take prompt notice of that, if I were you, Mr. Fraser.” He nodded at the paper. “You see that there is no mention of prosecution, of fines or imprisonment. There might have been. I have the original agreement, signed by you, in the course of which it is stated that you are not a Catholic. And should you choose to ignore—”
The door opened, and Fanny’s neat capped head poked in.
“Sir, Agnes says are these men staying for supper?”
There was a moment of profound silence, and then Jamie rose slowly to his feet.
“They are not, a leannan. Go and say so, aye?”
He waited, still standing, until the door had closed again. I was now breathing so fast that white spots showed at the edge of my vision, but I saw his face very clearly.
“Leave my house,” he said quietly. “And do not come back.”
Ulysses stayed where he was, a faint smile on his face, and then rose too, very slowly.
“As I was saying, sir, I should obey that order promptly. For if you choose to ignore it, the army will have more than sufficient justification to come and burn this house over your head.” He paused, and turned to look deliberately at the door where Fanny had vanished. “Over all your heads.”
Jamie made a quick movement and Ulysses flinched, much to my pleasure. But Jamie had merely snatched the official letter from the desk. He crumpled it into a ball and, turning, hurled it into the hearth. Then turned again on Ulysses, with an expression that made the man stiffen.
He didn’t speak. Ulysses stooped swiftly and plucked the letter out of the smoldering ashes, shook it clean, then turned on his heel and went, back straight as a butler carrying a tray.
JAMIE SAT DOWN slowly, and set his hands very precisely on the desk in front of him, palms on the wood, ready to launch him into action. As soon as he’d decided what action to take.
There actually was an acting governor of North Carolina—Richard Caswell, whom we knew fairly well. He was not, though, a governor appointed by the British government; he’d been temporarily elected by the Committee of Safety appointed by the Provincial Congress; both of these rather fluid entities, but neither of them legitimate, so far as Lord George Germain was concerned.
“They can’t really …” I began, but stopped. They could. All too easily, and I swallowed, my skin prickling with sudden fear. The smell of fresh sawdust and oozing pitch had come in the front door with the gust of wind, from the spot by the red cedar tree where the men cut shims and adzed shingles for the roof. Wood. No one who’s lived through a house fire hears the word “burn” with any sense of equanimity, and I wasn’t feeling even slightly equanimous. Neither was Jamie.
“I don’t suppose it’s a forgery,” I said at last. “That letter.”
He shook his head.
“I’ve seen enough official documents to ken the seals, Sassenach.”
“Do you think—he’s responsible for it? Did he sic the government onto us? Could he?”
Jamie’s brows went up and he glanced at me.
“I imagine a good many folk know about it … but I doubt most of them have anything against me, and even fewer would be able to get the secretary’s attention for such a wee matter.”
“Mmm. Lord Dunmore, perhaps?” I suggested delicately. “He certainly wouldn’t care, but if he felt that he owed Ulysses something …”