The Vice Of Virtue (A Poor Man At The Gate Series Book 10)

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The Vice Of Virtue (A Poor Man At The Gate Series Book 10) Page 6

by Andrew Wareham


  Neither brother was aware of this. The judge left the room, came back from his library with a pair of pulp booklets, penny dreadfuls, illustrated with line drawings of a bandit hero, totally unrecognisable but with the name of Lukas Star blazoned in large capitals.

  “’Lukas Star and the Siege of Fort Olympus’ – I have never heard of such a place, sir.”

  “Artistic licence, sir.”

  They read with some amusement – it took only ten minutes to reach the end of the pamphlets, five thousand words of purple prose.

  “Good God! I lost count at the mid-point, Judge, but I believe I may have despatched not less than one hundred of fearsome bashibazouks, and that was before breakfast!”

  “Deprive an English gentleman of his bacon and eggs and terrible things may happen, sir!”

  “Do people really believe these things, Judge?”

  “It is written, printed, and they have paid for it – how can it not be wholly true?”

  “Have your Comanche the benefits of literacy, Judge? We might perhaps send them these pamphlets in the expectation that they would decamp in advance of my appearance.”

  “I do not believe that they can read, sir. They are very fierce fighting men, however – and truly savage in their treatment of those they defeat.”

  It occurred to Luke that he had no great wish to go to war again, but that he had small choice in the matter. His name had gone before him and he must live up to it.

  “What are these, what was the word you used for the Americans?”

  “’Empresarios’, sir. American citizens, eight of them, I believe, who have organised enclaves of settlers in the Texas, a thousand or so to each – small but autonomous and self-reliant communities. Colonies, in effect, and providing almost the only order in the territory.”

  “If they provide the sole good government to be found then they have a right to political liberty. Government that cannot or will not protect its people is tyranny.”

  “I agree, sir!”

  Thingdon Hall was a fine old house, Robert thought, but the question must be asked whether it was entirely appropriate to his rank. Twenty bedrooms was all very well but hardly compared to the dignities of other viscounts.

  His father had bought as a gentleman, soon becoming a baronet, and the Hall had been an entirely adequate dwelling for such; as a baron it had been a trifle on the small side, but had compensated by its antiquity. For a viscount, and one of the richer of the breed at that, it was not good enough – he must have a more imposing seat.

  He must continue to inhabit the estate – a landowner must be proud of his land – and he really should retain the house in its essence. The Hall had stood for more than two centuries, and visitors could well associate the Andrews family with its age and assurance – that must not be lost.

  “We must, in fact, throw out a wing, my dear,” he informed his wife at the breakfast table. “Though whether it should be one or two, to preserve the symmetry, may be argued.”

  “One might seek as well, Robert, to add a new kitchen and still room, and pantries and a cold room besides. Cook is hard-pressed to manage in her current workplace, though, of course, she will very soon be retired to her pension – she is old now.”

  “A Frenchman in her place, do you think?”

  “It must be a man, certainly – one must not lower oneself to a female cook if one is to entertain Society. A Frenchman? Possibly, though there are those who hold, strongly, to the argument that Italians are better in the kitchen. One might perhaps seek an Austrian pastry-chef – their sweetmeats are greatly applauded by the gourmets.”

  Miriam had a weakness for chocolate; Robert made no comment, other than to note her request.

  “I think it might be as well to consult with Mr Michael, do not you?”

  She did not know why.

  “He will be able to discover the best of architects for us and to commission him to inspect the Hall and then draw up a plan, and, indeed, to oversee the builders.”

  “In what style, sir? I would have small desire to see a Gothic wing overshadowing us with its turrets and brutal brick.”

  “True, it would not be in keeping – yet I would like to see larger rooms and broader windows – a light and airy atmosphere throughout.”

  “In local stone or in brick, sir?”

  “It must be stone, I believe, if for no other reason than that the bricks would have to be brought from Bedford by canal, then loaded onto the trackway and then shifted the last mile by wagon. Unless, of course, we chose to build our own brickworks down by the Nene, on the clay there – and I really do not support such an enterprise at the moment.”

  Michael produced a young man, one of some genius, he said, who travelled from London to inspect the Hall before producing his drawings.

  “I cannot match the Elizabethan tiles, my lord. I suspect one might be able to find their like somewhere in the country, but I know not where. They are old, and I can see that one or two are showing fractures – there will be leaks within ten years and then you will be forced to patch them, which will not be satisfactory for appearance, my lord. Wiser far to strip the roof and tile all in the same colour and style.”

  “You are satisfied to build in local stone, Mr Salvin?”

  “Entirely, my lord, though I could wish to bring in Portland Stone to remake the front doors – the existing steps and porch are aged, worn down by great use and would be better replaced in the modern taste.”

  “Then make your drawings, sir – I will look forward to inspecting your proposals.”

  “Thank you, my lord. What of the kitchens and domestic offices, my lord?”

  “My lady will consult with you, Mr Salvin. I do not feel qualified to pontificate on such.”

  Michael was instructed to seek a pair of chefs for the new kitchens, gentlemen who would be willing to migrate between the Hall and Mount Street on a regular basis and who would not object to the occasional excursion to the houses in Wales and Lancashire.

  “I require, it goes without saying, gentlemen of culinary skill, Mr Michael – but also men of flexibility who will be able to work to my needs. Food for the nursery will be equally as important as dinners for a houseful of guests and they must be willing to accommodate all palates.”

  Michael was able to interpret that as a respect for the dietary laws of more than one religion; he was not too sure that he would be easily able to discover such a chef.

  A letter arrived from the Receiving Office in Kettering, bearing the frank of the embassy in Berlin – Robert was a little surprised but presumed there was a relative of the family there. Opening it, he discovered it to be from Captain Hood – what was he doing as far out of the way as Berlin?

  “Whoops! Oh, my word!” He rang the bell, instructed the butler to beg the early presence of my lady.

  “Read this, ma’am.”

  She assimilated the few lines the captain had addressed to his master, tried to keep the smile from her face.

  “What is his birth, my lord?”

  “Respectable – it is not all that one might seek in the husband of a marquis’ daughter, yet not entirely out of the way. There is a northern barony in the female line and his father was squire of two or three square miles – it is not impossible. He is a younger son, of course.”

  “That is one objection countered, Robert. What of his fortune?”

  “No inheritance, at all. He has cobbled together an independence and has bought perhaps a thousand acres of his own, and a smallish house. A gentleman farmer, one might say. He has half-pay as a naval captain and a far more substantial income from Roberts and must be quite comfortable – a cook and three or four servants, certainly.”

  “At least two thousand a year. As much as any younger son might reasonably expect, and far more than most will see. It is not in any way a good marriage, but it is not shameful, does not condemn her as an outcaste. I rather doubt that her family will be delighted, Robert.”

  “It was by my su
ggestion that Captain Hood was despatched to provide her with a safe escort!”

  She had no answer to that.

  “Should I ride across to the Grafhams? Would that set me at a disadvantage?”

  “Yes and yes; I believe the English expression is ‘humble pie’, Robert.”

  “I shall call for my horse.”

  “Ah, Robert, I must imagine that you have received a letter as well!”

  “I have indeed, my lord, and have, rarely, been left at a loss for words!”

  “My daughter informs me that she has made a match for love, with a gentleman of adequate birth and breeding. She says nothing of his fortune.”

  “He has almost none, sir; a half-pay naval captain who amassed a sufficiency to purchase in freehold a thousand acres and a substantial farmhouse. He is, of course, in employment with Roberts in a respectable position.”

  Robert thought it better to imply that Hood’s fortune was prize-money.

  “And he is a gentleman born? I have memories of naval officers who derived from the most humble backgrounds.”

  “By birth and by speech, my lord – though of no eminence. I believe his elder brother is a member for his county.”

  “That is something, I must accept. Will he continue in your employ?”

  “I would be unwilling to impoverish him.”

  By implication he would reduce Margaret to a level not far from poverty by dismissing her husband.

  “Frederick is intending to remain in Vienna for some years, in employment it would seem. I can only approve – I did not like him to drift as my agent. I hope he will find a degree of happiness as well.”

  Robert smiled his assent, trying to discover the implications of the Marquis’ comment; he sounded glad if anything that his younger son was at far. Why?

  “I must discover what is to be done about his allowance. I shall write to my lady’s father and he will no doubt be able to contact Vienna and come to some agreement there.”

  It still made little sense, but no doubt all would eventually become clear.

  “I would have placed ten thousand pounds into a trust for Margaret, a personal income of four hundred or so, and put another five thousand into her husband’s hands directly. Should I still do so, do you think, Robert? Or would I be better to put the fifteen thousand into trust for their children, so as to demonstrate my disapproval?”

  “I think it best that she should have her income, my lord. Rather than giving him money, one could perhaps examine the possibility of purchasing an acreage in the immediate area of his little estate and adding that to his dignity.”

  “That is in effect to welcome him to my family… I am not entirely certain that I wish to do so.”

  “There will be an amount of talk in Society as it is, my lord. Lady Margaret Masters goes overseas to visit her relatives and comes back as Lady Margaret Hood - and who is this fellow Hood? A welcoming embrace, a warm handshake, the happy couple to stay at her parents’ house and make a shopping trip to Town in the company of the Marchioness – much gossip will be countered in that fashion. They met, they fell in love, they married – what more could one ask for? Neither is an eldest with a fortune to inherit, a name to continue, an estate to preserve – one’s heart is to be warmed by so romantic an event.”

  “Is he a fortune-hunter, Robert?”

  “No! I cannot imagine him in that role at all, sir. He is vastly intelligent and, said only in a whisper, my lord, served the Admiralty more on land, in North America, than at sea. He is not the sort who seeks his own advantage. I would be very surprised if this is not exactly as Lady Margaret says – a love match. He is in his late thirties and, having finally met his lady, saw no cause for delay, or so I would imagine.”

  “Then there is no alternative – I cannot be estranged from my daughter, and I must accept that there is no telling how the heart may lead one. They are to take a honeymoon journey into the Lakes while her husband’s people make his house ready for her. I will beg them to break their return south to stay with us here. A groom can take a letter to the Lakes – there are but very few respectable hotels, I believe, and it should be possible to locate them.”

  “I will send to my people in Lancashire, my lord. They will be discovered and Captain Hood will be directed appropriately.”

  Book Ten: A Poor Man

  at the Gate Series

  Chapter Three

  "Mr Nash has left for Liverpool, Jennifer. I have just waved farewell to him."

  "How pleased we shall be to see him return in September, sir."

  There had been no alternative other than to offer Mr Nash a bedroom when next he was in Town. James could not claim to be elsewhere - government business demanded his presence for much of the year - although Nash had shown himself to be an unpleasant man of limited breeding and courtesy. To any person of use to him, or recognisably his superior in lineage, he was more than adequately polite; to lesser folk or to those who could never have a claim upon him he was dismissive at very best.

  "He is perhaps used to be a great man in a small compass, my dear. Belfast society is not the most cosmopolitan, and that of Londonderry one must presume to be even less so. His fifteen thousand a year make him one to be flattered and bowed to there - small wonder that he has some difficulties as a provincial outsider in London."

  "Had he anything to say of Miss Massingham, James?"

  "Nothing to our purpose, ma'am! He admires her fortune but tells me that she is determined to wed a peer, and preferably not a mere baron. He says also that she would wish to spend her days in Town, laughed at the very thought of living in Ireland."

  "A pity. Rothwell is still very much epris in that direction, despite accepting that she has a number of faults of temperament and education. He believes that she would very rapidly 'settle down' in wedlock, that taken away from her own family she would soon come to accept the values of his."

  James shrugged, there was no action he could take - there was no possible way he could discuss the young lady with Rothwell, it was not done.

  "What of Lady Margaret, Jennifer? What am I to say there?"

  "Nothing, except he brings the topic up first."

  "I am not to congratulate him on her marriage?"

  "Not if he does not mention it."

  "Yet Captain Hood is well regarded in the family, you know. He is a gentleman born, just, and his brother transpires to be of the right sort. I had not known that he had a brother, for he has never mentioned the fact in our conversations, but the elder Hood has been a Whig member these fifteen years, one understands, and has several times passed a few minutes with me."

  "No doubt you will see more of him, James. He will almost certainly wish to be known as the brother by marriage of Lady Margaret and hence with entitlements in the family."

  James had managed to work that much out for himself.

  "I wonder... I spoke with him only yesterday in fact, when he mentioned that he had a younger son soon to be leaving his school. He said no more and I thought nothing of it, until now. I presume he will have heard of the marriage?"

  "It was announced this week, has been in the appropriate pages of the newspapers, will have come to the attention of Society by now. I fully expect to be quizzed by the dowagers this evening."

  They were to attend one of the larger balls of the Season, in the company of Rothwell and Joseph.

  Rothwell had little to say but much to ask.

  "This fellow Hood, James, what can you tell me of him?"

  "Joseph knows as much, possibly more of him than I do, for having come into contact with him in Roberts. He was, as I understand the matter, a naval officer distinguished by his intellects and brought to the attention of the Admiralty and used appropriately. A man of unquestioned love for his country - in the true Nelsonian fashion - he discovered traitors of genteel birth and unmasked them, thus earning the enmity of some in the government of the day. You will be aware that birth is seen as outweighing all defects of character and behav
iour in some quarters - hence the lack of condemnation of our dearly beloved monarch!"

  "James! You are not suggesting that His Majesty could be disloyal to his country!"

  "Lack of opportunity, I suspect - Bonaparte had too little gold to tempt him! Charles II was in treasonable converse with the French - there is a precedent for a traitor king."

  Jennifer intervened to bring the conversation back to publicly acceptable topics.

  "We were discussing why Captain Hood became employed by Roberts, I believe, husband!"

  James knew that when he was addressed as 'husband' he was to draw in his horns and drop whatever topic he had unwisely ventured upon.

  "Yes, of course, my dear. Captain Hood is a younger son, dependent upon his career for his living, and he was steered towards my father when he was forced onto half-pay. He acted for some years in what could most aptly be called ‘a legal capacity’ and is now consulted exclusively upon maritime matters, where he is developing an enviable reputation. His Grace of Wellington invited him to become a Younger Brother of Trinity House only last year."

  "Not wholly an adventurer, then?"

  "Not at all, sir. My experience of Captain Hood is of an upright man."

  Joseph was moved to add his agreement.

  "A clever man as well. I have spoken with him only occasionally but have found him to be both interested and aware of all that is happening in the world of steam and industry generally. I would venture to suggest that he could be a great asset to the family, Rothwell, able to give informed guidance on financial matters, for example. Investments in steam, the new railways especially, would benefit from his guidance."

  The coach slowed down, deposited them at the doors of their host for the evening; no more could be said on the topic of the captain.

  Rothwell looked around the ballroom, saw Miss Massingham and angled in her direction, welcomed by a very encouraging smile.

  "Odds are shortening in the clubs, Joseph. Impossible to get better than three to two against Rothwell marrying her before the summer is out."

 

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