The Right Hand Of The Father

chapter 18

"So." Jefferson handed him a glass of brandy as they lounged in the dining room after dinner. "Alexander."

"What about him?" George asked.

"He's a lovely boy isn't he? How old? Twenty? Twenty one?"

"Nineteen." George took a sip of his brandy. "Twenty in January."

"A bit late to take in an untrained boy, isn't it? Better to blood them a bit younger. They're less likely to turn stroppy when faced with authority. You know how fractious adolescents can be."

"Alexander isn't the cranky sort. Very even tempered," George answered. "And I don't think he was too old to take to his role. He's still young enough to learn but not too young. When they're too young they get no pleasure in return and then the relationship becomes about duty and not love. The roles get twisted. Becomes too paternal."

"You think that's a concern?" Jefferson raised an eyebrow and then took a drink of his own brandy.

"Tallmadge was too young," George said. "Barely sixteen at the time. Even with the house spending a year preparing him for a patron he was still too young. Still too unformed for such a thing. He was too young and when it was clear it would not work out it was not handled as it should have been."

"You still see him don't you?"

"Not since Alexander came into my bed." George answered. "You know I'm a man who believes in monogamy. I've a boy to care for me and I have no need for another. But before then yes. I still saw him on occasion. Checked in with his house to make sure he was being taken care of."

"He's never taken another patron has he?"

"No." George shook his head before draining his glass. "He had a few offers I understand but refused them all."

"Hmmm." Thomas shrugged. "Perhaps he was too young. And perhaps Alexander is still young enough to learn. It is different for each of them. I took my Sally to bed at twelve and she's never shown any ill effects from it. Four children now and a fifth on the way. I've already found a house to apprentice her oldest, Patsy, once she turns ten next March."

George swallowed and said nothing. There was nothing he could say. What Thomas chose to do with his own slaves was none of George's concern. A man could dispense of his property as he liked. He couldn't say anything about the other man's parenting either. Not with the way George was still afraid to ask his lover if he'd ever been intimate with George's own son. A son he'd never met. Never even seen a portrait of. A dead boy he'd never even written a line to.

"Enough about the flesh that keeps our old bones warm." Jefferson slapped his hands on his knees. "There are other things to discuss."

"Other things?"

"Smallpox in Boston. New taxes throughout the colonies. The governor of South Carolina hung a schoolboy for inciting a riot."

"A schoolboy?" George asked. "Surely-"

"No more than thirteen," Jefferson answered. "Found him posting leaflets about the town in the dark of night. Hung three printers as well. Sedition."

"And the Parliament?"

"Too busy with their war with France to concern themselves with the subjugation of their own citizens across the sea. As if anyone in the colonies is truly a citizen of Britain."

He reached for the brandy bottle and refilled both their glasses. "We've more men armed as well. The committees of correspondence have reformed. Guns are being smuggled in through the Ohio Valley. The people are ready."