They wandered slowly down Bond Street, Miss Markham’s mother at her side to play propriety, looking idly in shop windows.
“It never fails to amaze me, Lucilla, just how many things there are for sale for which I have no use whatsoever!”
“Accessories to a gentleman’s apparel – fobs and seals and snuffboxes and pins, all no doubt in the best of taste, but of very little ‘use’, sir. Not to worry – their main purpose is to distinguish the idler. On that topic, Joseph, have you met Mr Massingham, brother to Rothwell’s intended? He is walking towards us now on this side. We have just time to cross the road, apparently by coincidence.”
“I have spoken to him, suspect he will not remember my face. He will in any case soon pass by – he will be on his way to the Boxing Saloon or to a house of assignation – must be far too busy for us!”
Joseph was wrong; the young Massingham stopped and passed the time of day with them, achieving a rare courtesy. He was, it seemed, ‘on the toddle’, walking to pass an idle hour and hopefully to meet a few of his acquaintance. He was pleased to meet some of those who would become his new family; he sounded just a little lonely. They parted after a few minutes of laboured conversation, watched him along the flagway, looking around him for any other to greet.
“I could feel very sorry for that poor little chap, Lucilla – but not sufficiently so to cultivate his company!”
“No. A pity. One could feel compassion for him, and yet also discover a desire to wash one’s hands after a few minutes in his company. A picture of some pathos; a poor little fellow, but withal a rather nasty one!”
“Not an advertisement for the Bond Street Beau, one might say. Is the marriage a certainty, do you know?”
Mrs Markham had heard that it was to be announced in the columns of the next day’s newspapers. All three shook their heads.
“My lady wife has come up with an interesting proposition, Mr Tonks.”
Tonks, who had in some respects a fertile imagination, was stricken by horror, almost a second palsy-stroke. Had she decided on divorce and him as a replacement; even worse, a ménage-a-trois?
“Mr Parkin, who is a squire up in the Pennines behind us, is possessed of a daughter and a lead mine, but no son. He has a younger brother who might in the normal way of things expect to inherit his all, apart from a respectable portion to the girl. The pair have fallen out, however, and Parkin is anxious to do his brother in the eye. Was he to settle all upon his girl, by means of a legacy, then the Will might be challenged on the grounds that his grandfather wrote that he wished his lands to descend in the male line, although he never created an actual entail.”
“A judge who does not believe that women should hold property could easily find for the brother, sir.”
“Agreed! Mr Parkin thinks the same. He has come up with an interesting wheeze instead! He would marry off the daughter with a portion that includes the Home Farm and another swathe of land and the premises of the lead mine – to take no more than a quarter of his lands, but the best, and by a Marriage Settlement that cannot be challenged in court. He has been informed that the surface workings are almost mined out, but that there is evidence of deeper veins, possibly carrying a weight of silver as well.”
Tonks thought the scheme through. Squire Parkin could be expected to be longer in acres than in cash – rents were low up in the hills – so he could probably live well but be short of the readies when it came to a deep-mining endeavour. It should not be impossible to locate a husband with a few thousands to hand amongst the local landowners – where was the problem?
“Parkin is not a young gentleman, Mr Tonks. Indeed anno domini stares him in the face, one might say. He wed, foolishly, in late middle age – one understands that a contract made in his younger age came to nothing, a consumption or some such – and he remained single for many years. Then his housekeeper died and was replaced by a far younger female…”
“Ah!”
“Ah, indeed, Mr Tonks!”
“Thus the daughter is hardly the most eligible of connections for any family that prides itself on gentility – and the County tends to be full of pride!”
“Just so, Mr Tonks. One is reminded of the proverbial port in a storm, sir – any such will do!”
“I am flattered, Mr Star!”
“The girl is seventeen, Mr Tonks, of middling looks - too pale and washed-out for my taste - but she has a fair portion of intellects. She knows that she is ineligible – the children of the squirearchy have had no compunction in sneering at her. She will be willing to marry a manufacturing husband.”
So far, so good. Tonks did not possess the cash to fund a deep mine.
“A partnership to be formed, Mr Tonks. You to be in for forty parts, as owner of the premises and land; myself in for thirty, contributing funds as agreed; an experienced miner to take the remainder and run the mine. I have yet to make the proposition but hope that Roberts – who have knowledge in both iron and coal – would make that third. They are family, after all. They will also be able to broker any bank loans we find we may need in our early existence.”
“Lead and silver should be an attraction, Mr Star.”
“Zinc and copper are not impossible as well – and all are in short supply the while.”
“It amounts to a third string to the bow, sir. Weaving; reach-me-downs; a mine – no longer all our eggs in the single basket. It sounds a proposition of the greatest value to me, sir. One is tempted to enquire whether there is a hidden drawback.”
“Of course there is, Mr Tonks! There has to be a reason why there is not a queue of suitors on the young lady’s doorstep.”
“Ah… dare I inquire, sir?”
“Short temper and a foul mouth, Mr Tonks. Explosions of rage which can lead to flying crockery and a choice of expletives learned in the stables. It is generally felt that one might not wish to invite the vicar for tea.”
“She is sane, sir?”
“Who is to say what is ‘mad’, Mr Tonks?”
“Who, indeed, sir! Provided she is safe in the marital bed until a first son is produced, then all will be well – she can be locked away after there is an heir. A worthwhile risk, sir, and I shall keep my shaving razors at a safe distance! I presume she would spend most of her days in the house here, that used to be yours. If she turns dangerous then it will be possible to build her a cell up in the place in the hills, by the mine. Out of sight, and, of course, quite literally…”
“’Out of mind’, Mr Tonks! Neatly said, sir!”
“Might I beg of Mrs Star that she should broach the matter of marriage to Mr Parkin?”
“Immediately, Mr Tonks!”
“Thank you, sir. Considering more important matters, there is a little of unrest at Lodestar again, sir. My informant, the man Mick, has given me names, but they are still no more than talking. He is not the most reliable of men, this Mick, and may well be attempting to run with hare and hounds both. He is a drunkard as well, but the hands have a liking for him for some reason – I think because he was well in with the mob at the time of young Peck’s untidy demise.”
“What do you propose?”
“Form a Trades Union, I believe, sir!”
George stared goggle-eyed at his protégé, wondering if he might not have made a very apt choice of wife for him.
“I thought, sir, that Mick might well make an inspired choice to be senior shop-steward. As well, he could quite probably influence the election of a number of cronies to senior positions.”
“Could he be trusted?”
“Wholly, sir – I would merely have to point out to him that I could be a fraction careless in concealing his previous dealings with me. His Union members might be somewhat incensed to discover the source of the gin and whiskey that he dispenses so generously to his friends.”
“Yes, indeed! Nothing like a spot of blackmail to keep a man on the straight and narrow! Yes, you are, as so often, quite right, Mr Tonks – a Trades Union that uttered the wrong noises
but took the right actions would be very useful to us. Three or four years in which he was successful in our mills – achieving pay rises when we could afford them – and he could perhaps move into a more senior place in the hierarchy, Secretary for the whole of Lancashire, possibly. He could then, of course, ensure that the Union was very active in the workforces of our competitors – a few strikes, strategically timed, and we could expand into their bankrupt premises! A bank account in his name, only a very few hundred a year, I suspect, and we could have a very fine investment. Don’t let him get too drunk, Mr Tonks – we would hate to lose such a treasure to alcoholic dissolution!”
Tonks met his wife-to-be – all parties felt they should come into contact with each other before arriving at the church – and was not too much terrified by her. She was, as George Star had said, brown-eyed and of unexceptional appearance, but well-made, quite a cosy armful in fact; certain aspects of marriage would be no hardship in her company. She was certainly very fair in her colouration, but that was quite common around the lead mines, the workers and their families tended to be pallid, he had noticed, but she talked well and quietly, showed no signs of the termagant. She had the correct accent too, and that would prove very useful socially. It was noticeable that her father spoke only cautiously to her, with a nervous smile, but had he not been forewarned he would have given that no attention at all.
She had been given a necessary explanation, knew that he was physically a tad less than whole. She had been told why and was inclined to be sympathetic. Despite, or perhaps because of, her own antecedents, she had no love for the lower orders, especially when riotous.
“Is it your intention, Mr Tonks, that we should dwell in the countryside, on the lands that come with the marriage?”
“If it should be your wish, ma’am, then we could do so, for much of the year. I am about to take possession of a very respectable town house, only a half an hour or so from the mills I have the honour to manage. It is a large place, ma’am, very fit for a family, and far closer to shops and genteel company – but the choice will be yours. I would not wish to force you away from your own home!”
“You misunderstand me, Mr Tonks! I shall be very pleased to move into the ambit of the respectable and the more convivial. I fear that my home here is a social desert!”
“I have to say that I am not an habitué of the salons of the aristocracy, ma’am, but that I have a wide and acceptable circle of acquaintance in the town.”
The mill-owners and their wives would all open their houses to her – George Star was far too important to them for there to be any snubs. How long they would remain welcoming might be another matter, but that was a problem that could be dealt with on another day.
She was quite satisfied with the arrangements for her future, the more when they walked out to inspect the Home Farm and decided between them that with a wing thrown out the farmhouse could become a very acceptable summer residence for the family.
“What of the tenant, Mr Tonks?”
“Is he a lease-holder or an employee, ma’am? I am told that it is more usual for the holder of a Home Farm to be an employee and kept on liking, rather than the possessor of a long lease.”
She had no idea, turned to her father.
“Employee, sir, of long standing but with no right of tenure.”
“Then he is of no concern to us, ma’am. When the time comes that we wish to take the house to ourselves then he can go. He, or a replacement, can be translated to one of the cottages with very little ado.”
“Excellent, Mr Tonks. Remains only, I believe, to settle a date between us.”
“To your convenience, ma’am, and that of your esteemed parents. I hold myself entirely at your disposal in the matter.”
She was the more pleased with him for his courtesy.
“Well, that has dealt with her, Mr Star. What of the lead mine?”
They inspected the site, spoke with the overman and looked critically at the level of industry displayed by the half a dozen hands present.
“Pick and shovel at the working face and the spoil thrown onto a two-horse cart – a ton at a time at most. Brought down the cutting to the smelter, such as it is. Charcoal, by God!”
“Hopeless, Mr Tonks!”
“Wholly so, sir! There must first be a trackway, horse-drawn or perhaps a stationary engine, to a smelter in the valley bottom and close to a source of coal, or better still, coke. Far larger in scale, of course, though I know not how many tons a day would be best. Underground working to commence at a very early date. Have the people at Roberts given a response, sir?”
“I have spoken to my brother and he has in turn broached the matter with Lord St Helens in person. It is fair to say that we can expect an early and positive response – this is a family matter as much as business.”
Tonks had no family that he was aware of – he knew of his mother, now deceased, and it stood to reason that he had had a father, but apart from the assertion that he had been an Irishman he knew no more. He was faintly jealous of his employer.
“There are advantages to being of the second generation, Mr Tonks. I doubt not that your son will say the same at some future point.”
That might be true, he supposed.
“I have no knowledge of farming, as I am sure you realise, Mr Star. What is to be done with these two places that come with Miss Parkin?”
“While the old man lives, then the Home Farm should continue in its function – to supply the Big House with the bulk of its comestibles. When he dies, of course, then matters change. If the heir should decide to take up residence, then he may wish to buy from the Home Farm, and that could be negotiated. The probability is that he would not wish to spend money with you – because of the family feud. At that point then you will wish to feed your own family with fresh foodstuffs and the shortages in the towns are such that any surplus could easily go to market. For the other piece of land? Let a local sheep farmer rent it from you, that would be my advice, for there is little profit to be made from hill farms even now, and as wool comes in through the ports and the price of fleeces falls there will be still less in future. In a score of years the land will be fit for your children and theirs to trot their ponies, and will have no other value at all. I believe that my brother, Sir Matthew, plants trees in every sheltered nook he can find, thus to improve the landscape and possibly to add value to it – but I have my doubts.”
“What sort of trees, sir?”
George was not a forester.
“Those with leaves upon their branches, one might imagine, Mr Tonks.”
Book Ten: A Poor Man
at the Gate Series
Chapter Four
“Another damned unlawful combination! Why must they swear these foolish oaths? Why must they turn a simple union into a criminal conspiracy?”
Mark Star’s clerk had no answer for him, stood very silent in the robing-room as his master donned his uniform as a judge and settled the big, hot, sweat-smelling horsehair wig in place.
“Damned thing would benefit from a wash!”
“I fear it might disintegrate in contact with soap and hot water, my lord. Better, if I might suggest, to replace it.”
“Not till the end of summer – I have no wish to spend as much as thirty pounds to reduce another to a sweat-soaked mess!”
Mark was in a thoroughly bad mood as he sat on the Bench, scowling at the courtroom and all of its occupants quite equally.
The jury was sworn and sat meekly in the box, none meeting his eyes; there would be no difficulties there. Three local Justices of the Peace appeared and begged his permission to sit in lesser places next to him, to be silent observers learning the habits of the High Court for the greater benefit of their own lesser jurisdiction. He was forced, by custom, to extend a smiling welcome to them, though he knew that he would have to murmur occasional explanations to them and that they would have questions to be answered in recess.
The prosecutor was a familiar figure, had app
eared before him on several previous sittings at Lancaster; he would present a well-marshalled and honest case – there would be no false pleadings here, no attempt to cover up weaknesses in the evidence. It made the judge’s life much easier to have an honest prosecutor – he would not have to search for fabrications in his case and almost certainly would have no part in a miscarriage of justice.
The accused were herded into the box – seventeen of them, all charged severally with the same set of offences relating to the formation of a trades union, which was perfectly lawful now, and the swearing of oaths of obedience and secrecy, which was a felony, being that it could so easily lead to treason.
Fifteen in a row pleaded ‘Not Guilty’; the two last to be accused offered ‘Guilty’, to the horror of the others who knew what must come next.
The pair were taken out of the box, very quickly, and were offered the opportunity to turn King’s Evidence. They instantly accepted the generosity of the prosecutor, though they were formally warned that it did not amount to an automatic pardon or remission of sentence, and that there was no promise of leniency.
No barrister came forward to plead for the defence; Mark announced that he would act as ‘friend to the accused’, which meant solely that he would assure that the prosecutor behaved lawfully, which this man would always have done.
The prosecutor outlined his case and announced that he would call the two who had turned King’s Evidence first.
It was normal enough, but suggested that the prosecutor had known of their decision in advance. Mark scowled but could do nothing, was not even sure that he wished to – there was no obvious injustice involved.
The tale was told, simply in response to clear questions from the prosecutor.
The men had been employed in a small foundry, not a very profitable undertaking – their wages often paid late. Their employer still kept up his carriage, showed no signs of financial distress in his own way of living. They had joined a union and the master had instantly threatened dismissal. They had sworn oaths to resist him, and to ‘stop’ any blacklegs from taking their place.
The Vice Of Virtue (A Poor Man At The Gate Series Book 10) Page 9