Page 68 of Holding Onto Love

Jasper said, “I fall back, again, on Liverpool. ‘Every class of religious persons deserves the support, the toleration, and the protection of a rational state.’ But that is civil liberty. Liberty. It does not mean Catholics and Dissenters should have access to political power.”

“And how much liberty do they have without such power? Good God, man. They cannot sit in Parliament. They cannot hold military office. They cannot even legally marry in their own churches and have those marriages recognized as valid.”

“They can have their little ceremonies and then have legal ones. It amounts to the same.”

Hazard gave him a hard look. “I will give you a hypothetical. Suppose a Dissenter, or let us say more simply a man with unorthodox views, wishes to teach at Oxford. His brilliance is undeniable. His loyalty to England is unquestionable. But his innate honesty makes him pause over professing to subscribe to the Thirty-Nine Articles.”

“If he cannot swear to the tenets of faith of the Church of England, he has no business at Oxford.”

“And if that man is Reg?”

Jasper faltered. Then he said, “Reg’s quarrel with the church is intellectual, not spiritual.”

Hazard laughed. “I suspect he would say they are one and the same.”

Jasper gathered back the threads of his argument. “If Reg cannot in good conscience subscribe to the Thirty-Nine, then he cannot teach young Englishman. I make no allowances for family. And will give no preference to friends. The law is the law.”

“I agree with you. Which is why I say some laws must be changed. Jasper, do you not think that with a measure of reasonableness, we might have held onto the American Colonies? Do you not see the danger with Ireland—”

“Two different situations entirely.”

“Yes. The Irish are far more volatile.”

“Their allegiance is to the Pope. Not to the king. You would have us grant political power to hordes who will not accept the authority of the state.”

“Church and King,” sighed Hazard, shaking his head. “You are the echo of your father.”

“There are worse men to echo.”

Hazard raised his glass in tribute. “Indeed.” He took a drink, then smacked his lips. “A shame Hovington’s niece is not here. Alice would have you voting for Catholic Emancipation before sunrise.”

“We invited her, but she could not come.”

Hazard looked askance at him. “You invited her? I hope not for my sake.”

“I’m not matchmaking.” Jasper sniffed at the very idea. “She’s Olivia’s friend.”

“Not matchmaking, no. But you are trying to draw me back into the arena.”

“You have strong opinions. You should voice them.”

Hazard let out a long sigh. “My voice, if I were to raise it too loudly, will only harm a cause so worthy.”

“That is not—”

“Moreover, and perhaps more significantly, I have grown too staid and too cowardly to draw unnecessary attention to myself.”

Words died on Jasper’s lips. Uncomfortable with the direction of the discussion, he resettled in his chair and leaned his head back to count the stars. More were emerging against the blackening sky. Hazard was right, of course. Unfair though it may be, it was wiser for him to fade into the background. And it was an unfair world that would force Reg to swear against his own conscience in order to hold a position he was more than qualified to hold. Qualified, except that he was too highborn to be a don, so he would likely make all his contributions from the fringes. And Alice could write persuasive speeches but never deliver them. And he could not marry Vanessa.

“We live in a cruel world,” he murmured.

“We have made it so.”

Jasper drained his glass. Then slapped a biting bug on his arm.

“Let’s go inside. The billiard table is calling.”

Chapter Twenty