The Wages Of Virtue (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 8)

by Andrew Wareham

  Frances was not aware that the girl possessed any talent, and agreed that in any case it would not be the thing to display it - one simply could not.

  "An aristocracy of Philistines, ma'am - and yet I am to conform to its demands."

  "You must, Robert. Your father was not a true member of the blue-blooded and allowances were made for him, often with a sneer! No such leeway exists for you, and the gains to the Family of being part of the elite of government are too great to be refused."

  He shrugged, said that he had already told Sir Iain that he could no longer be seen at the bank.

  "I am to be named Viscount St Helens in January, ma'am - that in confidence, of course. Sir Iain's son Jonathan is to be made baron as well, is selecting his title now with the aid of an atlas of Scotland. There is word that the navy is to procure steam tugging boats for use in harbour when tide or wind is unfavourable - I believe that Roberts alone will be invited to tender for their construction and that the contracts will be generous. The rewards are already being offered and I must earn them. I know that I will be expected to provide acceptable advice to the Prime Minister - he has no knowledge of the new world of steam, yet must govern it - with the assistance of those of the right sort."

  "I am surprised he does not simply turn his back on it, pretend that the new towns and their problems do not exist."

  "He has been persuaded, and by whom I know not, that the continued existence of the country is imperilled by the unchecked expansion of the modern ways of manufacturing. On the one hand, new wealth is eclipsing the old landed interest; on the other, the poverty and misery of the mill and mine towns is generating an increasing number of barefoot Reds, men, and some women, who have nothing to lose in a violent revolution. We came very close to an uprising five years ago, and are not so far from another now. America has taught us that a revolution can produce a prosperous country, while France has shown that a brutal dictatorship that imperils the whole world may result; in either case, the existing aristocracy does not do too well..."

  "Thus, to prevent revolution the blue-blooded must stand together, united behind King and Country, Tories and Whigs alike. At the same time the Reds must be to an extent placated, some of their grievances ameliorated."

  "Carrot and stick, ma'am. The English donkey has been beaten enough in recent years, now it must be given some rewards."

  "You are to suggest such carrots as Liverpool is to throw before the masses, Robert?"

  "With others, yes - mine, fortunately is to be one voice, not to play the part of the lone prophet."

  She agreed that it would not do to be the sole author of concessions - inevitably controversial - to the poor of the lower orders of society; there were those, and many of them, who envied the Tsar his Cossacks and the knout and who were convinced that it was the Will of God that a few should be born rich and that it was impious therefore to subvert His order by lessening poverty.

  They decided that Frances would shift across to the Dower House later in the week and that Robert and Miriam should take possession of the Hall that day, moving into the rooms she had vacated, the lord and lady's bedrooms particularly.

  "It is fortunate that the butler is relatively new, my lord - he has developed no personal loyalty to me and may remain to give satisfactory service to the new order."

  The number of servants in the Dower House would be reduced - Frances would have fewer demands to make, less hospitality to keep. They decided to move the extra bodies into the Hall rather than cause distress in the villages by dismissing four maids - it would lead to resentment that was not desirable in the current way of things.

  "Will I require a butler, Lord Andrews?"

  An official enquiry, asking therefore not for her own convenience but for the standing of the family.

  "You will receive morning callers, ma'am, and may take him with you to Town and to Norfolk, a part of your personal household. It will add to your consequence to have a London-bred man standing at your door - it will over-awe the Latimers immediately, thus restraining their bumptiousness. I have little doubt, ma'am, that they will seek to establish a degree of intimacy - there is little they would like more than to habitually enter our houses."

  "Young Mr Hunt and his wife as well, I presume?"

  Robert wagged a deprecating finger, pursed his lips, made a play of seeking the right words, alerting her to listen to what he could not say when there might be servants in the vicinity.

  "Mr Hunt had an elder brother, ma'am - by way of being a black sheep who disappeared for many years and returned only when old enough to take up his inheritance, which he proposed, it would seem, to waste quite thoroughly. Unfortunately, the poor man suffered an accident at an early stage in his career, before he could in fact do any harm to the estate. Mr Benjamin, a steady and respectable gentleman, succeeded to his place and has made the estate all that it is today - modern and rich. The odd rumour has surfaced over the years, however, relating to his brother's demise - all unproven, probably no more than old wives' scandal-raking - but he has tended not to enter society in this part of the County, looking more to his wife's people over towards the Huntingdon side."

  She noted the message - the family believed, and quite possibly had evidence, that Mr Hunt was a murderer, and Mr Hunt knew it. The dead man had been a bad lot, so the less said, the better for the Land and for society in general, but it had left a bad taste.

  "Has Mr Hunt any children? His name was never mentioned, now that I come to think of it."

  "Two daughters and an infant son, a few months Verity's elder. Talking of which, have you word of the Quarringtons?"

  "A second son, all well - I despatched our gift two days ago."

  "Thank you, ma'am. Tuesday, then, you will translate to the Dower House and we shall enter in glory at the Hall."

  "Not in that order, my lord! You will bring your family to the Hall in the morning, to be welcomed by me, very visibly and with Verity in my arms that she may be presented to her nephews and nieces. I shall make a show - not exaggerated - of deference to the senior female of the family, before taking tea in your company and then being put into your carriage to go to the Dower House. Nurse and the maids will have made all ready and your people will have done the same, and all will go smoothly. You will visit me on Thursday morning to see that all is well - Miriam in your company - and then we shall arrange a short trip to Kettering for next week, she and I together, all very public."

  It was necessary, he agreed.

  "A visit together to the Grafhams, do you think?"

  "Quite essential, my lord. They are your superiors in rank and you must formally pay a call upon them first, as must I now that I am tenant of a new house. We can certainly make our morning visit jointly, though they will return the call separately, of course."

  "May Miriam visit you first to discuss the arrangements with you directly?"

  "Of course, it is expected that she will."

  It was all essential - the people of the estate would be watching, alert for any sign that there might be ill-will between step-mother and inheriting son from the first family. The tenants particularly must not be encouraged to take sides - the farms could easily suffer if they refused to invest their own money in the land they rented because they were considering the slight possibility that they might be forced out as a result of a dispute.

  Robert knew that he must accompany Captain Thame on his next set of formal visits to the farms. Thame in fact saw every tenant at least once a week in the way of business, but every Quarter he was expected to make an inspection, normally the opportunity for tenant and master's man to engage in mutual self-congratulation, but in momentous years possibly of greater significance. Entering into his inheritance meant that Robert must shake the hands of those people who were now 'his', must be displayed to the labourers as the new lord and must familiarise himself with the estate of which he was now the lifetime possessor. Being in entail, he was obligated to act as trustee for the next generation of the
Family - he must on his death bed hand over to his son lands of at least equal value to those he had inherited; ideally he should have increased their worth over his lifetime.

  The Land, Robert decided, was almost as much a burden as a blessing, but it conveyed status; prosperous, broad acres were the true measure of the aristocrat - any cheapjack politician could be given a barony, most titles had arisen in such a way - but they were second-rate if they did not have a House and an estate to back them.

  The installation of the new master of the Hall proceeded without hitch - even the weather cooperated so that the sun shone on the righteous. There was no celebration as such, but the word was out and a surprising number of people stood outside their houses and cottages as the carriage rattled by in each direction, hats and caps lifted in salute.

  Frances was welcomed at the Dower House - no longer 'The Gift' - by her own butler, appeared from London on the previous evening unbeknownst to her.

  "Benskin, Your Ladyship, at your liking. Mr Michael arranged for me to be honoured with this position, provided it is to your satisfaction."

  "I am sure that it will be, Benskin - Mr Michael is a man of great discernment, one who may be relied upon to discover the very best."

  Benskin was in his forties, at a guess, making it unlikely that this was his first place in the rank.

  "I had the pleasure of serving the late Dowager Countess of Hexham, ma'am, for several years, mostly in her country house in the far north country, but also in London every year. I believe I may venture to say that I am familiar with the particular demands of country living, ma'am."

  He was also used to a household with no master - that would demand a careful eye kept upon incipient tyranny - he might well have come to believe that the little woman needed guidance from a superior, male, being. Frances cast back in her memory but could not place the late Dowager Countess, so she had lived at a remove from Society; the present Earl she had met, with small pleasure - a hard-riding, deep-drinking, short-tempered little fellow with a vast and wholly unwarranted awareness of his own superiority, still unwed as well, despite being of much the same age as Benskin. He had no brothers, she recalled, so there was another family to die out in the direct line, as so many of the old peerages had.

  "I expect to remain here for a few months, Benskin, though probably taking residence in the London house for some part of the Season, and then going into Norfolk for the summer months. I hope to persuade Lady Andrews to bring her children into Norfolk for the sea-bathing for a month or two each year. I would wish you to take the charge of all three houses, of course. I do not know what cellar my lord kept here, Benskin, but we must expect a few of morning callers, I believe."

  It was the butler's function to maintain the wine-cellar, except where the master of the house had a particular interest in the alcohol he drank.

  "I have inspected the cellar, ma'am, and I feel that I must make an early visit to the wine-merchants of Kettering."

  "That may well be singular, Benskin - I do not believe there is more than one."

  "Then it may well be the case, ma'am, that I must send a letter to London."

  "Do so, if you must, but I would prefer that you used the local man for some at least of our purchases."

  It was better to spend locally if at all possible; it improved the name of the house.

  "The housekeeper is waiting on your convenience, ma'am. There are a number of domestic arrangements to be confirmed. With your permission, ma'am, I shall absent myself tomorrow morning to visit Kettering; the groom will drive me in the gig, with your concurrence, the chaise being inappropriate."

  Frances was not aware that she possessed a chaise, no doubt with a selected team as well; Robert had his own notions of the state she must keep, it would seem, and there was small point to attempting to argue after the event.

  Book Eight: A Poor Man

  at the Gate Series

  Chapter Four

  "Time I were movin' on, boy. More nor time. You did ought to 'ave a missus ready to step in, Joshua, so as I can sit back, tucked into the inglenook, out o' the bloody way like I did ought to be. I'se too old for dairying every bloody mornin', boy; my bloody back's killin' me time the old butter's churned and that last run o' cheese warn't worth the bloody effort."

  Joshua raised a protest - it had not been quite as strong as normal but he had liked the flavour.

  "Bullshit, boy! It warn't what I wanted! I'se past it, I reckons - I ain't goin' to see sixty again, chavo, and I dunno about three score an' bloody ten like that prat of a vicar do say us should get to. My old ma never saw that many years, an' I don' reckon as 'ow me dad would 'ave, iffen 'e adn't bin 'anged, that was."

  That was news to Joshua, she had always been tight-mouthed about his grandfather.

  "I didden know the old boy got 'is neck stretched, Ma. Just 'ow did that come about?"

  "Went after a deer, didden 'e - got ball in the old scatter gun, stead of shot. Keeper did see 'e, over towards Huntingdon way, it was, one of they big places what keeps pheasants. Took a shot at Da, so 'e did, from a good way off, just to sting 'im a bit, and the silly old bugger fired back, put a ball through 'is leg, so 'e did, and took off runnin', straight into the arms of three others of the buggers what was comin' up be'ind 'im. That was all of it, warn't it. Judge says 'e might 'ave killed 'im - and I dessay 'e was right, when all's said - and 'e's a bad bugger what bin too long on this Earth and 'e ain't stayin' no longer. Strung 'im up in the old market place in Huntingdon, so they did. Give is bloody body to the resurrectionists, so they did, the bastards! I reckon the old feller's still walkin' the market at nights, waitin' to be put away proper in the ground, but I ain't never bin there after dark to look and see. Thass why your Da wouldn't never sell no 'osses in Huntingdon market square, out of respect."

  Joshua had wondered why they had never been to the big market - he had always thought they would have picked up a better price than they could get in Kettering or Northampton or up in Stamford. He had vaguely intended to walk a string across one day, but he could not do so now, it would not be the right thing to do, selling horses across the ground where the old fellow walked.

  "Good to know that, Ma, I might of gone over there wi'out knowin', like. Still... I dunno about gettin' wed, Ma. I ain't come across no lass I fancies that much, not so as to want to see 'er face every morning, rain or shine."

  "Well you better get off yer arse and find one, boy, and don't 'ang about too long, neither."

  Two of the local girls were no better than they should be and had been willing to accommodate Joshua in a friendly way, in exchange for the occasional half-crown or leg of beef when they killed a cow. He had not, as a consequence, been too concerned to establish a wife, but if his mother thought it was time then he certainly must - she had a right to see grandchildren before she went her way into the darkness.

  Joshua was still considering the matter when he drove out later in the week, going to Kettering early in the morning to give the Horse Market a look over. He was not particularly intending to buy, but a good mare of the right sort might be worth picking up, and he would be interested to talk with other breeders, to get word of what was happening in the general area, and it was a way to meet people, local farmers who had brought their families with them. As well, there might be an outbreak of coughing up country that he would want to know about, or the word might be out that stock had been stolen from a more distant county and could be coming onto the local market - beware of anything offered a little too cheaply and away from the auction ring!

  He met a dozen men he knew and spotted one of his Romany cousins, exchanged nods with him, followed him into the nearest pub, open early for the horse fair.

  They passed each other, barely stopping for a word in the corridor, unseen by any of the other farmers and breeders.

  "Don' 'e go for buyin' they four carriage 'osses what be sold as a team, our Joshua. Puffers! No wind - ten minutes at a trot and they'm knackered, my chal. I seen they bu
ggers over to Cambridge way - they looks pretty, matched like they are, but they ain't no good, what is why they bein' sold over 'ere."

  Joshua thanked him for the good word and wandered off, hands in pockets, very casually, to look at the four and then at some of the other stock.

  The auctioneer made his appearance, circling the ring for a few minutes, greeting the gentlefolk, nodding to a few of the farmers, scowling at the Romanies and Diddicois - stood at opposite sides of the sales ground - though that would not stop him taking their money. Joshua watched him make his way round, stopping to greet Captain Thame, agent for the largest local estate and worthy of his time. There were three others in Thame's company, a man and two women. Joshua stirred across to give them good morning - he could not ignore the agent, no tenant would do so.

  "Good day, Mr Barney," Captain Thame was always meticulous in his courtesy. "I believe you have never met Mr Crawford, husband to my sister, or Miss Thame, my younger sister."

  They made no attempt to shake hands, nor did he expect them to. The elder sister was nearly thirty, he guessed, the younger much closer to twenty; Crawford was dressed as a small squire, formal in his frock-coat and breeches, quite possibly farming no more land than Joshua, but his in freehold and immeasurably his superior.

  "Mr Crawford is considering the purchase of a team, Mr Barney."

  "They four chestnuts, sir? Come off an estate over towards Cambridge, they tells I, sir, so I dunno why they might be sellin' 'em 'ere at Kettering."

  Joshua was unwilling to mention his Romany cousins in this company - it was not a respectable relationship to admit to, although Thame must be aware of it.

  There was no catalogue and so Joshua must have come by his information privately; Thame raised an eyebrow to him and Joshua shook his head firmly, mouthed 'no'.

  "Good looking horses - one might expect a matched team like that to go privately - they must have been seen about in their own area."