* * *
In truth, the marriage was turning out to be a blessing, in many ways; and less of a nuisance than he’d expected.
Not that much less. He’d been prepared for Arsule’s loquacious tongue; for her obsession with the arts; even for her sometimes salacious sense of humor. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the energetic way she threw herself into the politics of the time. Which, given Arsule’s measure of energy, could be downright frightening at times.
* * *
“No! No, no no! Damnation, Arsule, I can not extend the emancipation to all the slaves. If I even breathed a word to that effect—damn you, woman, if you even breathe it!—every nobleman who’s rallied to me—half the gentry too!—would race back to Albrecht. Are you mad?”
The most infuriating thing about Arsule, he often thought, was the way she responded to his chastisement with nothing more than serenity. The worst kind of serenity, too—the sort a mother bestows on a headstrong and foolish child.
“But it’s so silly, Verice. You know as well as I do that once you uproot slavery in half the continent it’s bound to collapse everywhere else. Within a generation, I’d say—probably even faster, once your beloved new factories start serving as a beacon for runaway slaves. You know as well as I do—”
“That’s not the point. What I know and you know is one thing. What we rub the aristocracy’s face in is another.”
“—and the same goes for this nonsense you’ve been telling them about—what do you call it? Sharecropping?” She threw back her head. “Ha! Why in the world would any freedman agree to become a sharecropper when all he has to do is pack up his family and head for the nearest town? Where now—thanks to you—there’ll be work for him.”
“Plenty of ’em will,” replied Demansk sulkily. “You watch.” Long enough to let me get away with it, he added to himself mentally. But he saw no reason to say that aloud.
Since Arsule, naturally, said it for him.
“Oh, sure. For a few years, yes. At least those ex-slaves with no previous skills—which, don’t forget, many of them have because they’re war captives.” She waved her hand airily. Despite the heat of the moment, Demansk found the gesture a bit enchanting. Arsule really did have very lovely hands—and adept ones, to boot.
“But so what? Unless you’re going to reimpose the same slave laws under a new guise—which you are not, I trust?” This with a frown which intimidated even Demansk; he shook his head quickly.
“—then as soon as any significant portion of the freedmen start abandoning the land, the rest of them will start driving up their share of the arrangement. You know that as well as I do!”
“I’m counting on it,” he growled. “The faster the gentry and the nobility—what’s left of them, after we’re done—start thinking of other ways to secure their fortunes than stupid land deals and tax-farming, the better. Nothing will stop them from looking to the cities either, you know.”
She studied him for a moment, then shook her head fondly. “Ah, Verice. I sometimes think you’re enchanted with maneuvers for their sake. Well—so be it. I certainly won’t embarrass you in public on the subject, of course. I know my wifely place.”
He almost choked, hearing that last. Now there would be a miracle . . .
* * *
True, in the days thereafter, Arsule had breathed not a word in public of her opinion on the subject of the much-discussed “Emancipation Proclamation.” Unfortunately, Arsule had a very strict definition of the term “public,” which did not include her “private” soirees and salons—not one of which failed to draw less than a mob.
* * *
Strangely enough, however, neither Prit Sallivar nor Enry Sharbonow nor any of Demansk’s other close advisers shared his disquiet over Arsule’s conduct.
“Relax, Verice,” said Sallivar. “You don’t understand—Arsule makes you look good.”
“To put it mildly,” chuckled Sharbonow. “She’s a marvel with the gentry, especially. They and their wives flock to her salons in hordes—imagine! them! sharing an evening with the Premier Lady of the Land!—and then scurry away at the end of the night chattering to each other about that insane noblewoman—and isn’t it a blessing she has such a sensible husband to keep her under restraint.”