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

by Andrew Wareham

  The New Works, dedicated to steam engines and cannon, took most of his time. He wanted to place orders for great guns while he was in England and Roberts had a name in the States.

  “Fortress guns, Mr Miller? We are running forty-two pound long guns across our lathes at the moment – there is a demand for barrels for the battery at Dover and at Portsmouth. We could obviously produce more if there was an order, but our interest now lies in the development of the mortar. We have it in mind to cast a tube that will throw a projectile of one hundred and eighty pounds over a range of three miles. A coastal defence piece, of course, and one that could destroy any ship of the French navy in two discharges. The great advantage of the mortar, of course, lies in its plunging fire – before too many years are past there will be warships with iron plates on their sides, possibly proof against cannon fire, but we do not envisage ships with decks of iron in the near future!”

  The notebook came out again; warships covered in iron were being envisaged in England, must become a reality within a few years. Miller had no experience of the conservatism of the Admiralty, did not appreciate that to them half a century was a reasonable time to elapse before any innovation could cease to be daring and become good sense.

  The last visit in Lancashire was to the shipyard on the banks of the Mersey where Matthew Star held sway. Miller stayed with Matthew and his bride for a couple of nights, spent the intervening day at the yard. Charlotte, having assimilated the American gentleman’s appearance, and having taken Joseph out of sight and hearing to enquire whether he knew anything, composed a letter to her father, informing him of the presence of Thomas Miller and asking if the gentleman should be discouraged from meeting him in public.

  “Now that our mother is gone, Matthew, the matter is of less importance, perhaps, but there is such a degree of resemblance that there might be some comment.”

  Captain Star laughed mightily, muttered about chickens coming home to roost.

  “I’m sorry, my love, but I did not quite catch that comment?”

  “Perhaps as well, my dear – I feel, perhaps, that it is fortunate that the Season is at an end. Mr Miller will wish to meet your father, and, indeed, might well be thought to have some right to do so, but it may be better that he does so at a distance from Town. Do you know your father’s plans for the immediate future?”

  “No, my love – I know from Robert that he is considering another marriage, to a Miss Drew, daughter to Lord Paynton, a very recent political creation, one is given to understand, but one of the respectable sort, the gentleman having served for many years in an arduous posting, far from civilisation. I suspect that we will see Papa very soon, he preferring to speak to me in person rather than write a letter. Have you met Lady Frederick Masters, Matthew?”

  He had not, but he had heard of the lady, was quite sure that Lord Andrews would not have fallen into such error.

  “Assuming that he wishes to marry in September, sir, will we be able to attend? I would like to support him if it be at all possible, and providing I have met the lady first.”

  “I think we should make every effort to be present, my dear, irrespective of the bride’s virtues we should show willing. I have a great respect for your father and would be very surprised if we did not approve of his choice. A letter to Robert would be the easiest thing, I suspect – are you on terms of correspondence with his wife?”

  “No, she was very stand-offish at her wedding, hardly spoke to me at all.”

  The Stars returned home from a successful Season, met Mr Miller and started to grin.

  Tom made his appearance a week later, hurrying north to perform his duty calls at the works and yard before returning to the Midlands and then to the south coast. He was introduced to Mr Miller in front, it seemed, of the bulk of his family and most of the Stars’, all lined up and ready to enjoy the show.

  “Mr Miller? I am pleased to meet you, sir! How is the colonel, your father? I met him but once when I was in New York, back in the last years of the War.”

  “My father is very well, my lord, and begged to be remembered to you.”

  “Our paths seem to be crossing quite frequently of recent years, Mr Miller, I had hoped to meet your father again. We have much we might wish to discuss in the way of business.”

  “And my mother as well, my lord?”

  A direct challenge, and one that Tom would have preferred to answer privately.

  “I have not seen or corresponded with her since before you were born, Mr Miller – I became aware of your existence in the year ’96, I believe, and, rightly or wrongly, decided that you had a wealthy family of your own. Robert, of course, told me much of you when he returned to England a couple of years ago – I did not, and still do not, know what to do for the best.”

  “I think, my lord, that there is very little for you to do now. I have a great affection for the Colonel – he is my father, sir, in all but blood, and that need not be of too great an importance, I believe.”

  Tom nodded, in part relieved, to an extent grieved to be repudiated, but he had no right to the young gentleman’s respect or affection, as he well knew. He listened in dismay as Miller turned to Lord Star, addressed him formally.

  “I believe I have not mentioned it, Lord Star, but I recently became acquainted with your son, Henry, a gentleman of New Orleans as he now is. He is engaged in the importation of cigars from Cuba, on a large scale, I believe, and is associated with my father in his ventures in the Presidency of Texas. I understand from all my father tells me that Mr Henry Star is already a wealthy man, and, though you might be disturbed by this, a hero of the Battle of New Orleans where he fought as part of the American forces. He has asked that he be mentioned to you, being unsure whether his correspondence would be welcome, and, obviously, being very unwilling to return to England for fear that he might be taken up as a traitor, though I believe he did no more than was necessary for his own survival at the time.”

  Tom remembered James’ words – Henry would do only what was forced upon him and would be unable to understand why others might look askance at him.

  Joe Star smiled reassuringly at his wife in whom delight at hearing of her son’s continued existence warred with doubts about his behaviour. She loved her son, but had very few illusions about him.

  “Thank you for telling me, Mr Miller. I had begun to suspect that he must have died like his brother John. I am glad that he still lives and has discovered success, has become a man. Has he taken a wife, do you know?”

  “He had not as of four months ago, my lord, but I know that he had mentioned to my father that he would seek an eligible American bride, his future being wholly bound up in the New World now.”

  “I presume that a letter care of your father would reach him, Mr Miller? I would like to re-establish contact with the young man.”

  “I am sure he would be pleased to receive a letter from you, my lord. He was very proud, I know, when told of your recent ennoblement. My father also sends his respects and wishes you joy of your promotion, my lord – he remembers meeting you once.”

  It was easy to read between the lines of that speech – Joe smiled benignly at the younger man, made no response, let him wonder!

  They sat over their port after dinner, digesting a vast meal, Joe having hired on a new cook, a chef, strictly, a gentleman for his kitchen, who was anxious to establish his credentials.

  “One of the very few disadvantages of being American, my lord, is the unending diet of beefsteak, normally burnt near black. I could come to enjoy the ministrations of your chef, my lord!”

  “Some things do not change then, Mr Miller. I have memories of my days in New York and the monotony of the diet. There must be a fortune to be made by an enterprising hotelier with a French chef.”

  Miller shook his head, disagreed, most Americans, he assured them were perfectly happy with their food – the dinner table began and ended with beef, enlivened by the occasional bean and potato.

  “What are your p
lans for the next while, Mr Miller? I shall be returning to Thingdon Hall in a couple of days and then will make my way to Brighton for a week or two before going to South Wales to inspect the works there. You would be very welcome to accompany me, of course, unless you have another scheme.”

  “I am effectively at liberty for the next three or four months, my lord. I have sent to my father to inform him that we will be able to purchase either long fortress guns or heavy mortars for our coastal defence needs, and really cannot expect to hear his decision before September or October. I have recommended that he should select mortars for our forts, but the choice will be his, made in consultation with Army and Navy, and I cannot pre-empt it, as you will appreciate. I have heard of the pleasures of Brighton and would be very pleased to visit there for a while and would like to see the works in South Wales as well as being interested in the English rural scene, so will be happy to accompany you for some, possibly all, of that time.”

  “I shall be in Dorchester, in Dorset, in early September, Mr Miller, as I am to remarry then. Invitations will, of course, be forthcoming to all. Joseph, I would wish you to accompany me to Brighton, if you would be so good. You need a break from work and I wish you to meet Miss Drew, as a courtesy.”

  “Oh! Yes, of course, sir, I expect I should. Whilst we are speaking of, ah, matters matrimonial, sir, it seems to us, to Mary and myself, that is, that we might be sensible to give some thought to our own marriage, provided we have your permission, and yours, of course, Lord Star…”

  The two fathers glanced at each other, nodded reluctantly. They were too young, obviously, but equally they, or perhaps she, had reached a determination, and it was always very easy to force a parent’s hand if the need arose. Better to keep all legitimate and respectable. Thomas Star commented, very quietly, that Mary had seemed quite certain in her own mind that Joseph needed her to take care of him – he should not be left unguided, floundering, as it were, without a sensible, practical lady to organise his life for him.

  “So be it, Joseph – we shall have to give some consideration to your income, of course, and to your house – you cannot continue in chambers as a married man. I am sure that you have sketched out a budget for your household, will be happy to discuss it with you this week.”

  “Well, sir, in fact, I am not wholly sure…”

  “Talk to Miss Mary, Joseph – I expect she will have all in hand!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Thingdon Hall was alternately scandalised and entertained by the presence of Mr Miller. The chapel-goers had all of their suspicions of the hypocrisy of the upper classes confirmed – his lordship was, or had been, a whoremonger, so much for his virtuous protestations! The Church was disappointed, but said nothing publicly. The great bulk of ordinary folk thought it was the funniest thing in years, wondering whether his lordship was unaware of the family resemblance between him and the American gentleman, or if he simply did not care.

  “Biggest laugh since Ma caught ‘er tits in the mangle,” pronounced young Mr Barney, to the general agreement of the whole farming community. “Mind you, this Yankee Doodle got to be thirty-five if ‘e’s a day, so ‘is lordship can’t ‘ave been my age when ‘e was dipping ‘is wick with ‘is ma, and any bugger can make a mistake or two when ‘e’s young.”

  Mostly they agreed with that as well, apart from a couple with daughters of an age to be one of Barney’s mistakes, perhaps.

  The Grafhams met Mr Miller and said nothing at all, accepting perhaps that Tom’s youth, well before he had met Verity, was small business of theirs.

  “Will you wish to come down to Dorchester in September, ma’am? It might cause you some grief, I fear.”

  “We shall be there, Thomas – Verity had twenty good years in your company, sir, and I had rather remember that than anything else. Besides, Thomas, my daughter gave me strict instructions to ensure that you married again, believing that you should not be left alone to go to rack and ruin - possibly even to follow Lord Frederick’s example!”

  “Tempting, of course, ma’am, but I rather fear that the strain might be too great at my advanced age. I shall be content with a lady of other attractive attributes – birth, breeding and intelligence not least!”

  “Then I suspect you may be happier than my brother, Thomas. I believe he has a degree of pressure in his domestic life, particularly since his daughters are rapidly coming to the age where they may be seeking husbands.”

  “So they are. Well-dowered young ladies, I doubt not – handsome girls?”

  “Quite, Thomas, the eldest, Lettice, when I saw her last was bidding to be a striking young miss – a blonde Masters with certain of her mother’s attributes as well. Add that to some fifteen thousands and she has much to recommend her.”

  “Perhaps I should introduce her to Colonel Miller’s son. I understand that possession of a wife born to the English aristocracy would be a certain passport to Congress, and I am sure that Lord Frederick would be happy to accept his lineage, though others might just possibly raise a few minor questions.”

  The marchioness agreed, happily, suppressing all of the questions she would have loved to raise herself.

  # # #

  Book Five in the Series

  Available in all ebook formats

  Book Five: A Poor Man at the Gate Series – Introduction. Tom and Joseph’s sons are increasingly successful in the world of commerce. Even James, who returns to London crippled, faces new challenges. Tom is rebuilding his personal life but is inevitably being side-lined by their successes.

  Wealthy from dealings in New Orleans, Henry Star becomes involved in murder. He contemplates marrying the daughter of an American judge – not however, for her looks! Meanwhile, the settlers in upstate New York are facing dangers from disease.

  Mark Star, whose relationship with would-be revolutionary Christopher is increasingly uneasy, seeks to distance himself to protect his career.

  Riots are widespread. Tom’s information helps convict some rioters. However, revenge could be in the offing.

  There are dubious activities in Bombay involving the slave trade and opium.

  Excerpt from the start of the book:

  The Thames was crowded, a sure sign that the Depression was passing and trade was expanding again. There were Thames barges and lighters, Newcastle colliers by the score, trows from the Severn, and yawls and brigs and luggers from every British port, literally hundreds of mostly tiny coasters far outnumbering the dozens of blue-water barquentines and ships. Amongst the largest ships there were East and West Indiamen, Levanters, Hudson’s Bay traders, Africa Company palm oil carriers and Baltic timber merchants. As well there were the various rigs bringing wheat for the flour mills from the Black Sea and the Germanies and the States, hides and tallow and cheeses from Ireland, wines by the thousands of barrels from France and Spain and Portugal and Italy and Madeira.

  The coasters were all, without exception, British registered and the blue-water vessels showed at least ten times as many red dusters as all of the other national flags put together. One advantageous result of the recent war had been to encourage British merchant shipping to grow in number, taking advantage of the Navy’s command of the seas, and many of the English hulls had actually been built overseas and captured as prizes. Both France and America had lost the bulk of their merchant fleet to the British, setting them at a disadvantage in world trading that the British merchants were profiting from.

  The tide was making but the wind was gusting from the west and every master wanted to tie up before the ebb forced him to anchor in sight of his berth but unable to cover the last few cables. The rules no longer mattered and ships tacked across each other’s bows in defiance of law and reason, the air fouled with obscenities in every accent of the British Isles and most of the world’s languages.

  James leant against the stern rails of his wine ship from Madeira and winced as he saw another pair of bows collide, heard the crackle of splintered planking, waited for the screams of in
jured sailors. None this time, just a glancing blow, it seemed.

  A boat hailed them, offered a tow, the bowman holding up five fingers and waiting for the master’s reluctant nod then throwing a rope to their bows, eight men at the oars heaving their hardest and bringing them, expensively, into the wharf.

  “Worth it, Mr Andrews – I had rather pay out five guineas than wait twelve more hours in the stream with the chance of half the bloody fools in England fouling my cables the while. We can’t use our own boat, of course, four oars is too small and the Thames watermen would run her down anyway – they protect their monopoly.”

  James nodded to the master, said that he would be happy to find the money himself for the opportunity of stepping on dry land again. His face crumpled as he said the words unthinkingly, he had forgotten for a few minutes that he would be stepping very slowly and carefully on his wooden leg.

  “No need, thank’ee, Mr Andrews, the owners will pay up – time is money to them as well. If you wait just twenty minutes after we have the gangplank secured, sir, I shall arrange to have a carriage waiting for you. I was used to work the cotton from Savannah, sir, carried many a cargo for Roberts and Star and was always well treated by them in port, sir, so it is the least I can do.”

  James made his thanks – he had dined at the captain’s table for the month of the passage, not separately with the four other passengers, and had wondered, vaguely, just why he had been looked after so well. Passengers, he had always heard, were no more than a nuisance on merchant ships but he had been regarded as a welcome guest. He made a written note, cabin door closed so that he would not be seen, to remind himself to mention Captain Fazackerly’s name to his father. He wondered whether he had the spelling right, but it would not matter; there would not be two of them sailing for the one wine merchant.