The Pain Of Privilege (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 4)

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The Pain Of Privilege (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 4) Page 25

by Andrew Wareham


  Rumpo Willy hesitated – he knew that he would love to be the master – so often in the past he had fumed at jobs that went wrong because of the boss’ stupidity, knowing that he could have done better. This yard would go right, from the very beginning, if he was in charge. But – the roads were free, the life easy-going, the work hard and the play harder – it was a lot to give up… except, he was thirty now, getting on. Crocodile Bob was pushing forty and his back was killing him, and he had to keep going because he had no money, no kin, no place to go – ten years and he would be the same, if he stayed with the navvying. He thought of the dozen older men he had known in the last couple of years, good workers who had come to the end of their span as navvies, and had nowhere else to go. One of them had found a job as lock-keeper on a canal they had built, earning pennies; most had simply disappeared, drifted away. Two had certainly killed themselves, while Lascar Jim had headed to the docks, saying he wanted to get a ship back to India, maybe he had succeeded, nobody had seen him since.

  “Thank you, Master – I shall take the job, and the clothes that go with it! What of my name, sir, you did say I must change that too.”

  “You must, sir! My lord could not be expected to bring you along to a customer for a ship and say to him, ‘here is Mr Rumpo Willy who will be looking after thousands of your pounds’.”

  “Nay, ‘twould hardly be fitting, thinkin’ on it, Mr Fraser.” He chuckled, scratched his head a few seconds, grinned. “May I have the jolly pleasure of introducing Mr William Rumpage, sir?”

  “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Rumpage.”

  They shook hands, formally, gravely.

  “Mr Barrow, will you see to renting chambers for Mr Rumpage for a few weeks while Roberts buys a suitable dwelling for one of our managers? A visit to an outfitters as well, if you would be so good. We have not yet discussed your salary, Mr Rumpage, Mr Robert Andrews will be taking charge of the financial side of the business and will confirm the details with you, profits and bonus and such, but I can say that we would be considering four hundred pounds as a start.”

  “As a start?”

  “Why, yes, Mr Rumpage, I would expect it to grow from that as the yard becomes profitable.”

  “And a house, as well, you are saying?”

  “Yes, of course – it is our firm’s policy, sir, to ensure that every one of its managers has a place he can call his own. Roberts keeps the freehold until you retire and then it becomes yours in recognition of your loyal service.”

  Fraser did not point out that it also strongly discouraged a man from changing jobs in mid-career.

  “I shall ‘ave to work bloody ‘ard to earn all of that, Mr Fraser!”

  “I don’t think you know any other way to work, Mr Rumpage.”

  “The man’s a navvy!”

  “Yes, Mr Robert, and highly intelligent and a good worker and I suspect very capable indeed.”

  “He’s a bloody navvy!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But, we all know what navvies are! No man’s money or woman’s honour is safe in their company - when the navvies come near every village locks its doors!”

  “Yes, Mr Robert, we do know that, but this one is different and, from what he says, not the only one who is. Most of them, Mr Rumpage says himself, are little more than animals, but he gave me the names of three others who buy books and of one who puts almost all of his money away, saving for a farm, and the black man in his gang who is saving up enough to buy a ticket back to Antigua, where he was pressed into the navy, and a few pounds besides to settle on.”

  “So… You think he must be given the job?”

  Robert was obviously hopeful that Fraser might have had second thoughts.

  “He is the best I could hope to find, sir.”

  “Then send him to me, if we must, then so be it. Four hundred? That’s a lot, but it is an important job. When can you bring him to the office, Mr Fraser?”

  “Tomorrow, sir?”

  “The next day, if you would be so good – the christening is set for tomorrow.”

  Miriam had given birth to twin boys three weeks before and was now able to appear in public, rather proud of herself, having performed her prime duty in abundance, as it were, the third Baron Andrews safely in the world with a back-up against unfortunate need.

  The christening offered a challenge to the fashionable world – the damned woman had chosen to produce at the beginning of the Season, just when everybody was in Town. A month earlier and it would have been unreasonable to expect people to traipse all the way to London and back, two months later and the world would have been in Brighton or Worthing or Weymouth, unavailable again, but just at the moment to refuse an invitation was to be seen to be offensive. The whole of the Masters clan showed willing, accompanied by a sufficient showing of the great and the good to make a significant display. Tom counted three Cabinet Ministers, twelve lesser politicians and a showing from kin-by-marriage of the Stars, there was also a pair of bishops, he noticed, somewhat puzzled by their presence; enquiry disclosed that one had sold him the land for the new shipyard and the other owned, and would be happy to dispose of, a hundred acres of slum properties in St Helens.

  Mostyn, only partly aware of the calculations and undercurrents in the congregation, was delighted by the display of respect – it could not have happened in Hamburg, he said, people were so good in England!

  “My lord, I shall make mention of this in my letters to my correspondents across Europe! I do not know of any banking house comparable with mine wishing to move to England – few houses exist, of course, that can compare with my family’s – but there are provincial bankers and goldsmiths in a very respectable way of business who might easily be persuaded to come here.”

  “They will be very welcome, sir, and their presence would be advantageous in forwarding my proposals to Lord Liverpool. Not this year, Mr Mostyn, it would be a little premature, but before the turn of the decade, it would seem desirable that your status should be recognised with a knighthood at least. It might be possible to make it a hereditary title; I do not know what could be organised. My lord has been very pleased to hear of the new yard on the Isle of Dogs – like me he is convinced that employment creates stability, and he was also happy to see a nasty rookery dispersed, the people split up into smaller groups of malcontents. He knows that without your capital it could not have happened and he has a long memory, sir!”

  Mostyn was used to Gentiles with long memories, but they were normally full of recollections of ancient hatreds – this was something new, and rather pleasing.

  Tom’s presence in Town was established by the christening and a few tentative invitations arrived in Mount Street, followed by many more when he accepted the first. He normally accompanied the Stars, amused to be a lesser light in their company and quite content simply to be seen in public – he would not dance this year, it would be disrespectful.

  The Season was the signal for the opening of the Opera and for any number of concert recitals and he attended as many as he could – living in the provinces, good music was hard to come by. Mozart and the great modern Germans, Beethoven and Hummel, provided the bulk of the works on offer, but Haydn and London Bach were also represented and a number of lesser figures – Clementi still performed on occasion and there were ancients in the outmoded baroque tradition whose works were worth listening to, Corelli and the Newcastle man, Avison, especially. He wondered again whether it might not be possible to put on a pianist at the Hall, Verry had disapproved so strongly, but he might go against her wishes now, he thought; he spoke to Michael on the subject and instituted enquiries.

  By the third week of the Season his musical habits were public knowledge and he received invitations to join parties in private boxes, so much more comfortable than even the best of seats in the main house!

  Lady Jersey honoured him with her company, spoke obliquely but long on the topic of widowhood and the desirability of remarriage. Once he understood the
gist of her remarks he agreed that he might well wish to settle down again, though not, perhaps, with a very young miss – he was becoming long in the tooth for the upsets and alarms of fashionable existence and had small wish to set up a nursery again.

  “Not, perhaps, to follow the example of Lord Frederick Masters, my lord?”

  “I had not been aware that you had met Lady Frederick, my lady. She is in some ways quite memorable, is she not?”

  They exchanged grins of complicitous malice.

  Three days later Lady Jersey, innocent of face and just a trifle insouciant, introduced him to Mrs Hartley, a lady of a little less than forty, well presented and alert of eye, a childless widow of ten years standing. Her husband had been a naval captain, had died at sea; she had then accompanied an unwed diplomat brother to various embassies, acting as his hostess, and was now returned to England on his retirement and looking to pick up her previous existence. She was evidently comfortably circumstanced and rapidly showed herself to be both pleasant and intelligent company, and to enjoy music, managing to be present at concert and opera with some frequency. She met Robert while she was in his father’s company, smiled in the friendliest fashion at him and cut Miriam, accompanying him for the first time since the birth of her children, completely, commenting to Tom afterwards that she had been a little surprised to see his Jew-girl in public, she had thought that the family might have preferred her to have stayed back-stage, as it were.

  “Just a friendly word, my lord – you might not have realised, living as you do so much in the provinces. Shall I see you at the Opera on Wednesday? Mozart again!”

  “No. Good night, ma’am.”

  Tom left her on her own in the lobby, walked across to Robert and Miriam and accompanied them out of the doors, greeting his acquaintance as he went. He attended a private party next night, nodded coolly across the room to Mrs Hartley and made no attempt to join her.

  Lady Jersey, naturally, heard of the rift and its cause and after a little thought deleted Mrs Hartley’s name from the list of guests for her annual ball, let it be known, very subtly, that the lady was, after all, not quite the thing. As an acknowledged leader of Society, Lady Jersey’s word was all and Mrs Hartley, who had achieved a number of very flattering invitations in the previous week, found her popularity to have waned, terminally.

  Defeat could not be contemplated, of course, and Lady Jersey again turned her powerful intellect to the question of the correct settlement of Lord Andrews’ untidy affairs. It was not proper that such a rich and pleasant gentleman should be solitary.

  Tom attended the Jerseys’ ball, as was incumbent on any gentleman honoured with an invitation, ranged himself amongst the ranks of the dowagers and elderly and the few others in black gloves, able to enter company but not permitted by convention to enjoy themselves. Quite naturally he greeted his sister, the Dowager Countess, who would have been permitted to dance if only she felt herself able, and if the floor had not been so constricted by the squeeze of guests present; he lounged across to the buffet tables to procure her refreshment – it was terribly hot, as he would appreciate, and a glass would be very welcome. He came back with champagne, not his favourite tipple, but within reason light and palatable – he had debated adding a snifter of brandy to the lady’s glass, had felt it might cause eyebrows to raise, though she would certainly have found nothing objectionable in a little reinforcement.

  The Countess was in conversation with Lady Jersey and another lady, unknown to him, when he returned; both were holding glasses so he had no need to go back to the tables.

  “I do not know if you are acquainted with Miss Drew, Lord Andrews?”

  “I do not believe we have ever met, ma’am,” he responded, bowing and noting Miss Drew to be tall, perhaps a couple of inches less than his six feet, lanky and inelegant of stance, well into her thirties, he estimated. She was expensively dressed, by a wholly tasteless hand – whoever supervised her wardrobe had very little concept of how to present a tall lady as other than a beanpole, dressed in subtly clashing shades of green moreover. She was auburn haired and blue eyed, gave the appearance of intelligence.

  “Miss Drew has recently returned to London after accompanying her parents for some years in Halifax, in Canada. Lord Paynton was active in the administration of the Colony, I believe.”

  The name was new to Tom, he presumed Mr Drew had recently been rewarded for his endeavours – it was a common result of dedicated and successful public service and the family obviously had the money to carry the honour.

  Tom naturally mentioned having passed through Halifax many years before. Lady Jersey continued the rounds of her guests and the three remained in conversation for half an hour, Miss Drew then being found by a shorter, plump gentleman who informed them, in a self-satisfied fashion, that he believed this to be his dance. Tom gazed after him in amused distaste, turned to his sister-in-law.

  “Who is that gentleman, ma’am?”

  “Mr Pemberley, a Yorkshire family, neighbours of ours, or a few miles distant, at least. Well-inlaid, but with little else to recommend them, or so Bridlington was used to say.”

  Tom caught the eye of a passing waiter, saw to the refilling of my lady’s glass.

  Two nights later he made his way to a Concert of Ancient Music, enjoyed ninety minutes of Purcell and Handel before stretching his legs in the interval and discovering Miss Drew also to be present, in the company of her mother and being, by the looks of her, thoroughly bored by Mr Pemberley. They exchanged greetings and he joined their party for the second half of the evening.

  “A set of German chaconnes, the programme tells us, Miss Drew. I have never heard of them, have you?”

  She had not but Mr Pemberley, possessed of a wide musical enthusiasm, fancied them to be a form of nearly two centuries before, pointed out a viol de gamba which had appeared on the platform; he then explained the instrument at knowledgeable but tedious length before being shushed as the quintetto struck up.

  Tom was immediately gripped by the deep, insistent, simple ground-bass of the chaconne form, sat entranced for nearly two hours, came back to his surroundings with a start as the performance ended.

  “Very satisfying music, my lord – one can see how the thorough-bass and continuo of the last age developed. Even so, I believe I prefer the moderns – are you familiar with Herr Beethoven’s ‘cello sonatas? They show clear signs of earlier origins yet are truly new – a paradox that shows the gentleman’s genius, I suspect!”

  Tom confessed that he was the merest smatterer when it came to music – he dwelt almost entirely in the provinces, as had recently been pointed out to him, and had very little opportunity to further his love of music.

  “I found the pianoforte my greatest comfort in Halifax, Lord Andrews – that town, my lord, makes the English provinces seem positive havens of art and erudition!”

  They met next evening at the Castlereaghs, and seemed to spend most of it together, in quiet conversation, somewhat to the irritation of Mr Pemberley who had obviously hoped to do the same. They talked music, naturally, and then ranged more widely, from Canada to the state of the poor, neither satisfactory. Tom expanded a little on his interests as a factory owner, confessing to his involvement in steam – she might have noticed the very brief acknowledgement he had received from the Seftons. She seemed happy in his company, a pleasant, friendly lady, one it would be no hardship to see much more of.

  Next day Tom bestirred himself to make a morning call on the Drews, a courtesy half an hour whose function was essentially that of making his face formally known to her parents. They would have heard, he assumed, of the Iron Master, and this would give them the opportunity to delicately express any distaste they might have for him and the new aristocracy of trade; equally, it could give them the chance to welcome his millions on their doorstep.

  Lord Paynton was at home and pleased to meet Tom – he would soon be taking his seat, he said, and would of course be found behind the Government benches, wher
e he believed Tom to sit quite frequently. He was of much the same age as Tom, a circumstance which seemed to amuse him as much as it flustered his lady, as tall as her daughter and dressed with no taste at all and quite unable to determine whether Tom was simply interested to talk music or had other designs on Frances.

  Tom himself was uncertain on that point, took some pains to introduce Robert to her a couple of evenings later. She was happy to meet his heir and wife, fell into conversation with Miriam quite naturally on discovering her to be a pianist too.

  “Well, Robert?”

  “She would do, sir, I think she could fit in at the Hall – though I beg of you, sir, do not ask me to call her ‘Mama’ – I think that could embarrass us both!”

  “You may well be right at that. What of Charlie?”

  Robert chuckled, sought tactful words, decided there were none.

  “Miss Drew is not perhaps the epitome of the Society Beauty – she would be no competition, sir, and that would be important, but also we must accept that Charlie is a Star now. She is Matthew’s wife before she is your daughter, and she will be delighted if you are to be happy again and she can turn all of her attention to the needs of her new family.”

  “Should we bring Joseph down to see her before I say anything?”

  “Why, sir? She does not seem to have a steam engine concealed about her and I can imagine little else that would interest the boy.”

  “You could be right at that, Robert. What do you intend for the London yard, by the way? Will you call Joseph down as engineer?”

  “Occasionally, sir – you must come down and meet Mr Rumpage, the newly installed manager – he will never become an inventor, but I suspect he will prove highly competent in the construction of steamers, though I had grave doubts initially, bearing in mind his origins. I have decided in the first instance that new ideas will come out of the Liverpool firm and will be produced in London after being proven on the Mersey.” Robert hesitated a moment, spoke again. “If you start a second family, sir, then be sure that I will be very happy to modify any or all trusts as may be necessary and wise – there will be enough for all.”

 

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