Hasket rolled up the map, poured himself another glass of Madeira, and sat next to his wife.
“Eliza,” he said, ignoring his son, “a new country needs a new philosophy of trade, one that is not tied to tried-and-true routes, but advances into new opportunities. I propose to create a network that pulls trade together, and the center will be at Isle de France. But I need someone clever to organize it. A man who can recognize opportunities and act upon them.”
“Are you thinking of Nate?” Eliza asked. “Has he agreed to come home from Boston?”
“When Nate comes home, it will be to his own advantage, not ours. The only man to open our prospects in India and China is . . .” Hasket paused, panning his gaze sidelong to his son. “You, Elias.”
His father spoke so softly, Elias almost didn’t hear him. And when he realized what his father meant, he lapsed into a coughing fit. I’ve just returned from France. It’s time for me to assist Father in management, not go out on a poxy ship.
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