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

by Andrew Wareham

  “You tell me that the Count would actually kill himself?”

  “He would, my lord. A pistol to his head, probably in the presence of one at least of his retainers who could confirm that he had died well.”

  “Could he not rather run?”

  The old banker shook his head, said that his dishonour would be known to his whole household and that the grooms would deny him a horse, the indoor manservants would refuse him exit from his own front door. If he did make an escape then the whole of the power of the Esterhazys would be mobilised in his pursuit – and if he was taken as a fugitive he would die badly, his dishonour made plain upon his body.

  “I had not realised…”

  “The nobility here has wealth and power, and will not forgive one of their own who shames them.”

  Lawyers for the Esterhazy family arrived at the bank on the Monday morning, intentionally late for the appointment.

  Three elderly legal gentlemen in formal black robes and white cravats and tight tie-wigs marched into the office and seated themselves without invitation – they owed no civility to Jews, be they never so wealthy.

  “Thank you for coming, gentlemen,” the elder Goldsmid said, very quietly. “May I have the honour to introduce Lord Frederick Masters, second son of the Marquis of Grafham, in the peerage of England. Lord Frederick is a close relative of the English branch of my family, as you may know, and is here to strengthen our ties. As the contract we wish to discuss was made in England it seemed appropriate that he should be present.”

  The quickest-witted of the lawyers closed his mouth, open in shock, glanced right and left and begged a brief adjournment of the meeting, and possibly the use of a vacant office for ten minutes. He pointed out that they had not been aware that English law might be applicable and must just refresh their memories.

  They returned in fifteen minutes, bowed politely and were invited to sit.

  “In brief, Herr Goldsmid, what is the substance of your claim? It seems not impossible that we may have received a degree of misinformation.”

  They listened and shook their heads, sought confirmation that the Count had lied to the Embassy.

  “This offers a new dimension to the affair, Herr Goldsmid. I would beg your patience until Thursday, if I may.”

  “But, of course, gentlemen! My patience is very nearly inexhaustible.”

  “They will go immediately to the Prince’s chamberlain – they will be demanding audience of him within the hour. The next step will be to arraign the Count before his Highness and then to question him in detail. I would be surprised to be informed that the Prince had yet heard of this business – it is not something that would be brought to him in the ordinary way of things. Probably the family does not know anything of the Count’s behaviour, of his gambling – the Prince’s underlings will not wish to distress him by informing him of the foolishness of lesser relatives. It is not impossible that the last, and perhaps the only, time Prince and Count met was on his assuming his inheritance.”

  “Then the Prince will order him to kill himself, sir?”

  The old man shook his head; that would be out of the ordinary way of things.

  “The suicide would become known and it would be inferred that he had behaved badly, had brought disgrace on the family – and there would be much speculation and fanciful rumour. No, at best the Count will be banished to his ancestral lands, those which he could not alienate, and his debts will be cleared and he will be given an income sufficient to live as an obscure country gentleman. And that is what he will be and will remain. He may be permitted to marry – into an obscure country family – and his sons will then be allowed to make careers as officers in lesser regiments, though it is unlikely that they would rise to the rank of general. The daughters would probably be offered marriages in the merchant classes – another humiliation. At worst, they might cast him into prison, anonymous and set to forced labour which would soon kill him. All will be made tidy, in the most discreet fashion.”

  Frederick wondered if it might not be the cause of ill-will to the bank, but he was reassured.

  “As Jews we are in receipt of much ill-will already and it might be difficult to increase it! In fact, it is not unlikely that the Princely House will be grateful to us for bringing the matter subtly to their attention. We could have instead laid a complaint in England at the Foreign Office, resulting in a note sent to Metternich and a formal demand for restitution, and quite possibly a degree of diplomatic upset. By using the back-door we have enabled the Esterhazys to clean up their own mess.”

  Frederick was called urgently to the bank on Thursday, was brought to the upstairs offices and announced very formally at the door.

  Herr Goldsmid welcomed him and gave him the name of Baron Gluck, a gentleman of middle age and soldierly bearing, frowning as he bowed. Only the three were present – not even a young secretary to take a record of the meeting.

  Frederick tried his best to remember the rules of precedence, so important in Vienna – did a baron outrank the younger son of a marquis?

  The Baron invited Frederick to sit before him, suggesting that he believed himself to be inferior.

  “Prince Esterhazy has been made aware of this unfortunate business, Lord Frederick, and the Baron has come here at his personal request to make all tidy.”

  “I see, sir. Discretion must be our watchword, I believe – there must be no scandal arising from the ill-advised behaviour of one family member.”

  The Baron smiled, for the first time.

  “Thank you, Lord Frederick. The Baron will wish to explain further.”

  Gluck very quickly outlined the Esterhazy family’s shock on discovering the indiscretion of their cousin; they were embarrassed and ashamed – one did not expect to discover criminality amongst even the least of one’s kin!

  “A noble family very closely related to ours recently found a younger son to have become a pirate and a slave-trader, my lord. I think it may be the case that bad men may crop up in the most unexpected of places.”

  Gluck was little comforted by the disclosure, possibly due to the commonly-held European belief that all of the English had displayed piratical tendencies over the years.

  “Be that as it may, my lord. Instructions have been sent to London to repay the debt, with full and generous interest. The Count has been found to be incompetent by cause of insanity and his remaining lands have been placed in the care of his heir – a more distant cousin of the family and of tender years. Trustees will take care of the estate for the while and the young gentleman’s education will be properly overseen. The Count himself, naturally, will retire from society - all society - and will spend his remaining years in the charge of attendants in a dwelling in a mountain village rather distant from Vienna. I am sure he will find the placidity a pleasant change from the hectic existence of the capital cities.”

  Frederick wondered whether an invitation to suicide might not have been more welcome – it might well have been kinder.

  “An eminently satisfactory solution, Baron, and one that brings this episode to a conclusion. I am quite certain that the whole affair will be very quickly forgotten.”

  It was the correct response and the Baron left without further discussion.

  Later in the month Frederick was told that a close connection of the Esterhazys had arranged for a number of highly profitable loans with the bank and that two of the largest of the family’s estates had transferred their ordinary business to them. Nothing had been, or would be, said, but the family had acknowledged their debt.

  “I have been given a Fragonard, sir!”

  Frederick explained that the gentleman had been a painter of the French court in the last age, a master of lush and rich colouring. The gift showed consideration of his own artistic tastes as well simple generosity – it was a gracious act.

  “The pity is, sir, that as I understand the matter, I may not even offer my thanks to the Esterhazys. I assume they would claim no knowledge of the matte
r.”

  “They must – that is how this particular game is played. The most that can be done is a letter to London, not directly to your father but to Lord St Helens, and he might mention to the Secretary for Foreign Affairs that you have been exceptionally well treated in Vienna. The word would then go, mentioned in passing, to the Ambassador in London; he, not knowing any details but aware that there must be some reason, would include the matter in a despatch to Vienna. The functionaries in Vienna, knowing that something was in the wind but not what, would spread the word generally that Lord Frederick Masters, currently resident in the city, was very grateful for kindnesses he had received. This would be regarded as a great subtlety on your part, and would be much appreciated!”

  Frederick shook his head – he feared he was essentially a simple man; he left the bank to dine alone in his little residence and then to visit the Opera where one of the lesser sopranos was attending to his education. He left her apartment next morning at peace with the world and making a note to visit a jeweller – something in diamonds, he felt, to share his recent financial successes.

  It was a pity that he had not dealt with his name as a younger man – ‘Tonks’ was rather vulgar. Whoever had heard of a gentleman with such a surname? The Irish Christian name had been easily amended – ‘Jerry’ had been a foreshortening of Gerald and that had changed to Jeremy without an eyebrow raised. But what could one do with Tonks? For that matter, what was its derivation? He could not place it as Welsh or Scots or Irish, and it certainly was not common in England. A problem, and one that could not be solved simply by throwing money at it. It would have to be German, he supposed – his father to have been an officer in the King’s German Legion and killed in the Peninsula, thus impoverishing his poor mama. Over a period of time he could quite possibly alter the spelling – more than once – and his children might within twenty years seem much more the thing. It would do in Manchester society, and that was all that counted.

  He completed his signature in the Parish Register, ‘Jeremy Tonks, gentleman’, and smilingly handed the pen to his bride, equally happy-seeming.

  The congregation was tiny – neither family having any great local acquaintance – and the wedding breakfast was equally small. It had the great advantage of saving money – no occasion to waste as much as fifty pounds on food and wines for the greedy!

  They were to take a honeymoon of a few days in the Lakes before entering into residence in the big house that had been Mister Star’s. Both were looking forward to their new life – Tonks for his first step upwards into the gentry, his lady wife for the opportunity to mix in any society.

  All had been very satisfactory so far, Tonks reflected – his lady had not shown mad once and the mine was to enter its new existence within a matter of days. It had not been seen as sensible to actually invest more than a little money in the new enterprise before the marriage took place and the Settlements were signed and sealed – but they would waste no time now that the important part of the deal was concluded.

  The mining engineer should enter the premises on the following morning and was expected to have completed his first plans within the sennight; they had permitted the expenditure of a hundred or so on a geological survey and had established the existence of a rich seam showing values of silver as well as lead. They could well be making money before Christmas!

  Tonks turned his attention back to the wedding celebrations – tedious but necessary and he was never one to skimp details merely because they were boring. He summoned his smile again and shook the hand of his wife’s father and then of George Star before exchanging bows with Mrs George and murmuring his gratitude to her, she having made the initial contacts, or so it seemed.

  They left for Lancaster where they were to overnight, his lady calm and unconcerned in his company; she broke the silence with a rather unwelcome statement.

  “Jeremy… husband, that is… I have been giving our marriage some consideration, as you will imagine. I shall be very busy establishing our social position and it seems to me that I shall have little of spare time and might prefer not to start our family just yet. I think it would be better to delay such matters for a year or two…”

  There was only one way of avoiding pregnancy and Tonks did not favour a year or two of abstinence.

  “Quite out of the question, ma’am. I am afraid that I must insist on a large family and as soon as possible.”

  She argued her case all of the way to the hotel, though choosing to be silent in the public rooms there. Tonks found himself having to assert his rights as a husband quite vigorously when finally they reached the bedchamber, but he was able to compel her to her wifely duties, finding the process not wholly repugnant and repeating it more than once before dawn.

  The honeymoon was silent, other than one outburst of screaming abuse accompanied by a flying but ill-aimed teapot, but he had no real objections to being spared female prattle and was able to spend some time on the papers he had brought with him so it was all for the best, he felt. He had paid off the hotel manager quite cheaply – there were very few guests at this time of year.

  George Star was equally content in his new existence, playing the squire every weekend and immersing himself in the pleasures of creating a new business from Monday to Friday.

  The estate made very few demands upon him. With only two rented farms he had no need of a bailiff or agent and was able to deal with his tenants’ needs in less than an hour every month. Prices were high still and farming was profitable and he was not concerned in any case to squeeze every last penny from his people – the farms established him as a gentleman, the son of Lord Star rather than simply a mill-owner, and he wanted a good reputation in the rural community. Much to his tenants’ surprise, he was accommodating to their requests for repairs and improvements that the previous owner had ignored and he was, if not the soul of generosity, at least willing to listen and show understanding. The sight of a barn by the turnpike with a new tiled roof did much for his local name.

  The new firm, respectably titled, ‘Geo. Star, Made Goods’, showed every prospect of solid worth, of a return of ten per cent on capital and a future of comfortable prosperity. It could be the base from which the family could grow in secure wealth. Cotton weaving was all very well and was showing three and four times the level of profits, but it might not last for generations; what if a new fabric was discovered? Making up cheap clothing was a different matter – there could never be an end to the demand for shirts and dresses and underthings.

  The greatest single need was for mechanisation of the processes – a sewing machine, in fact. There was a simple device in use already which would run long straight seams with sufficient efficiency; it was adequate for hemming sheets and curtains but was little faster and of worse quality than a good sempstress when it came to shirt-making. It was still the case that the great bulk of sewing must take place by hand.

  Most firms and all small haberdashers contracted their sewing to outworkers – women labouring night and day in their own homes and rarely earning as much as tuppence an hour. The women’s homes were, in the nature of things, normally to be found in the rookeries and were dirty, badly lit and full of children, which led inevitably to a poor quality and grubby product.

  Improving quality had been George’s first concern, and that meant bringing the women into the firm’s premises. He had bought a warehouse and had large windows put into the walls and row after row of long wooden tables set in front of them. After much thought he had installed wooden benches so that the women could sit at their work, though this was an innovation long debated, inasmuch that it could encourage idleness and slovenly practice.

  The firm supplied thread and issued needles, all to a standard pattern, demanded that stitches should be uniform and precisely to a specified design. The aim was that every item produced should be exactly identical – a very new concept in the clothing trade.

  George paid a penny an hour plus piecework so that a busy and careful hand c
ould earn upwards of three shillings a day, which was more than an unskilled husband could make as a labourer and caused some degree of upset in the chapels. He was preached against within two months for coming between husband and wife and upsetting the natural subordination that God had laid down; the first result was an increase in the number of women coming to the door and asking for work, next followed by shopkeepers enquiring of his wholesale prices. Before Christmas he was able to appoint a factory manager to take over most of the routine; soon after that he became bored.

  The obvious outlet for his energies was the new mine.

  He had never been down a mine but had been told it was a terrifying experience; perhaps he lacked the depth of sentiment that might allow him to be consumed by fear, because he felt nothing other than interest in the source of his next increment of wealth. The seam was located some seventy feet beneath the surface, deep and easy to see, the colour so different to that of the country rock.

  “Not at all the same as coal, Mr Star. That lies in broad, flattish sheets underneath a great expanse of land. The lead and silver seams, they call them ‘rakes’, are vertical, more or less, anything from four to twenty feet wide and of varying depth – this one runs between ten and thirty feet so far. I have the feeling, sir, that the molten ore was forced through cracks in the existing rock and cooled in place – almost in the way that lava can be extruded in an eruption.”

  The geologist-surveyor sent up from Roberts was an enthusiast and had taken copious notes which he intended to publish in some learned quarterly review. It would, he said, do much for his reputation; he might, one day, lecture at a University! It seemed a very strange ambition to George, but if that was what the man wanted, well, he would not argue.

  “Tell me, Mr Brooks, would one be able to discover other such veins from any indications above ground?”

  “Not really, sir, in fact probably not at all in the current state of knowledge. This one was known solely because a grandparent to the last owner chose to dig deeply at a location close to hand. He, one understands, had come by the notion that silver and gold are close relatives, one to the other, and that if one discovers silver close to the surface, in what logically is newer rock, then gold must be discovered further down in older strata.”