“Sapphires, Sir Frederick! Recently brought into England as prizes, taken from a Spanish vessel some two years since, their provenance prior to that uncertain – I suspect them to be old stones, in fact. I would hazard a guess that they were cut in India, where there are some remarkable gem smiths, but when, I know not. Necklace, a bracelet, earrings, a large brooch – a set, in fact. I had the opportunity to pick them up last year and put them to one side, believing they might attract your fancy. Thumbnail-sized stones, dark and very handsome, I think!”
The elder Abrams had retired, but his son was as enthusiastic and knowledgeable in the trade, and as generous in cutting his prices as his father had been.
“Abrams is known throughout the South Country and well into the West, Sir Frederick, to a considerable extent due to your mentioning our name to your acquaintance in the County. As well, more than one naval captain has travelled up from Portsmouth, saying that a man who was good enough for you would suit him very well. Such being the case, Sir Frederick, there need be no talk of generosity on my part!”
They closed the deal at nearly two thousand pounds, Frederick reflecting that the sum seemed not trivial, but unimportant to him these days. As a lieutenant, it would have been unimaginably huge.
“We must cross the road, my lady, to the gunsmiths.”
“Of course! I had not forgotten.”
Ablett, for many years Frederick’s coxswain, came limping into the front from his workshop, at first delighted that they had visited but then observing the empty sleeve.
“Sit you down, sir! I did not know! The news does not always reach us in the provinces, sir. When, and where?”
Ablett was deeply upset, could not be convinced that Frederick would have been harmed had he been still at his side.
“Damned leg of mine, sir, does not get any better. Is Bosomtwi well?”
“Still at my side, Ablett, he is here in Winchester now. I will send him across to visit with you.”
“What of that Kavanagh, sir? Had he done his job, you would not be in this case!”
“He was standing on the other side of me, with shot whipping in all directions. It happens, Ablett – and this is only the third injury I have ever taken, after all. How is your family? And what of trade?”
The gunsmiths was doing remarkably well – showing a profit of no small size, Ablett said. He had it in mind to take on another skilled man, if he could find one who was fit for the job. He had the word out, he said. There was a boy already, and he was giving thought to taking on an actual apprentice. He had a very solid trade with the barracks, the bulk of the officers of the Hampshires and the Rifles coming to him these days. He was becoming known among the squirearchy as well, for producing very respectable sporting guns.
“The officers want good military pistols, and those I can make for them. The squires want fancy fowling pieces, and I can do those too, and make a far higher profit on them, sir. So, if I can find a journeyman who has done his time as an apprentice and has had a year or two of experience with a good master, then I shall be very pleased to pay him three, perhaps four, pounds a week, and make a surplus on the deal. It would be better if I could lay me hands on a gunner’s mate who wants to leave the sea, but that is not so easy these days, not with so many ships in commission. The navy has never been so big, sir.”
Elizabeth wanted to know more of his family, to be assured that all was well there.
“The wife is happy in her lot, sir, and we have three youngsters now. The boys are waiting their chance to come into the shop, sir, got it all worked out between them, the one to learn the trade and take over, the other to become a master and then to open his shop in Portsmouth, working for the officers there. Little Lizzie has no plans yet, sir, or not that she’s told me!”
They took the longer haul through the New Forest next day, the roads still of fair quality, turnpiked for much of the way and not as full of potholes as some. Overnight in Poole and then the hard slog of the tracks into Dorset. The county was poor, its agriculture not as profitable, in part for lack of big towns and people to buy fruits and vegetables for the table. The farmers paid less in the way of taxes, and the roads were far the worst of the whole journey – five miles an hour when they were lucky. It rained as well.
They reached Abbey and were glad to do so, decided they would not venture far from home again that winter.
Frederick stepped out of the coach and greeted Iain and Robert and Jane, stretching his one arm out to them.
“I am afraid that I can’t clasp you in my arms, now. We shall have to do the best we can.”
Iain and Robert managed weak smiles, feeling it was incumbent upon them; Jane fought back tears, but not easily.
“It could have been far worse, so let us count our blessings. How are you all?”
They were well, very well, they assured him, clustering around as he stepped down from the post-chaise and offering their physical support.
“Thank you – it is still hard to find my balance. I am, you might say, lop-sided! That will be overcome in time. How is the estate and the valley, Iain?”
“Mr Hartley will tell you the details, I expect, sir. But, I have to say that there is great hardship among the poor people, sir. Our tenants attend to their duty, sir, and ensure that their farmhands receive food for their families, but that is not the case in all of the estates! I do believe, Papa, that was it not for the war, the ordinary sorts of folk would be hard-pressed to survive. I must say as well, sir, that I suspect that there is much of illegality in the villages. The Revenue Men are busy in this part of the world, sir!”
Frederick shook his head, in part unhappy at the local state of affairs, but more concerned that a boy of no more than thirteen years should be so apparently mature, so dedicated to his duty as the landholder.
“You must take me round the estate, Iain. It will have to be in the gig at first, as I do not believe I shall be fit to ride for a month or two. What are you riding now, Iain?”
Iain replied that he was using a cob from the stables, whichever was available. His pony was now too small and he had passed it across to Robert, who had in turn put the old, first little chap across to Jane, who was big enough to ride now, provided one of them remained at her side at all times.
“You must speak to Bosomtwi, Iain. It would be desirable that you should have your own riding-horse now. He is a far better judge of horseflesh than I, and will be able to go with you to make a purchase. Where would be best to go?”
“There are horse-fairs at Dorchester and at Bridport, sir, and at Poole, of course, but that is a town to avoid, sir! Ringwood, over in the New Forest, has a pair of big fairs each year, and they might be worth our attention.”
“Discuss the matter with Bosomtwi, and make your arrangements with him, Iain. What of your education? Have you a tutor now?”
“Not at the moment, sir. Mama dismissed Mr Montsaye two months ago as not up to the job, I believe.”
Elizabeth nodded, very firmly. Frederick wondered what else she thought he might have been up to.
“Miss Turvey, sir, is teaching me my English and Mathematics at the moment, and the beginnings of Latin. She is quite as well-learned as Mr Montsaye ever was, sir.”
“I am glad to hear that. Who is the lady?”
Elizabeth intervened to say that she was daughter to the rector in the village of Corfe, not so far distant, and was serving as first tutor to Robert and was to become governess to Jane when she was emancipated from the nursery.
“Beg your pardon, Papa! But I do feel I might leave the nursery now, sir. I have started to learn my letters and wish to read more, sir!”
Frederick gave instant assent, having received a nod from his lady. He had a suspicion that he had a bright and strong-minded young lady in his daughter, much to his approval.
“What of you, Robert? You have said very little as yet.”
“Can I have a gun, Papa? A little twenty-bore would make very good sense, sir. I go out with Squ
ire’s gamekeepers when I can, sir, and I would like to have my own small fowling-piece.”
First reaction was to refuse, on grounds of age, but, if he was sensible, then there was much to be said for a familiarity with sport. Robert would become a small landholder, and a man who was good with a gun was sure of friends among the local squires.
“I shall speak to Squire and his keepers, Robert. With their approval, then we shall journey across to Winchester and let Mr Ablett build you a gun of your own. Iain, you as well?”
“I am not the shot that Robert is, sir, but I would like to have my own pair of barrels.”
“Then, as soon as I am in the way of travelling easily, it shall be done. What of you, Jane? Not a gun, I presume?”
“A dog, if you please, sir. I should much like to possess a dog of my own. A big dog, sir!”
“A dog is a responsibility, you know, to be looked after for many years.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
“Then we shall discover a big dog for you, my dear.”
They walked indoors, Elizabeth considering that he had stood outside in the cold wind for quite long enough.
“How old is Jane, my love? Four?”
“Nearly five, Frederick. One might consider her a mite precocious.”
“Just a little… God help her acquaintance when she is sixteen. She is a pretty girl, but the young gentleman who sees her as no more than that will have a surprise, I suspect! Is Miss Turvey capable of tutoring Iain?”
“Easily, husband. The young lady is adequately educated for his needs, and for Robert’s, I believe. She has a great liking for literature and will encourage them to read. Who needs more than that?”
Frederick had come to reading late, had bought his first volumes as a lieutenant and much regretted the hours he had wasted in his earlier existence when he could have been sat with a book. He was very much in favour of the boys, and Jane, reading all they could.
“Is all well with Squire and Mr Robinson? You have said little of either.”
“There is little to say. They progress, as ever.”
Neither family was of a literary or musical turn and had little to say to Elizabeth.
“We must be seen during the Season, Elizabeth. Do we need to travel elsewhere beforehand?”
“Long Common and the estate at Boorley must see us, I think, Frederick, for at least two weeks. Robert should go with us as well. He is to inherit; his face should be seen.”
Not, however, for a few more weeks. Frederick was more tired than he had expected from a few days of travel, would be content to do very little for a while.
A fortnight and he was bored; he needed to be doing, something, anything rather than sit in the estate office or in his library or a drawing room, being civil and expressing kind interest in the schemes to entertain him. Particularly, he wished to avoid the unending stream of morning visitors, of local dignitaries coming to ‘do the pretty’ and show him their faces for thirty minutes of genteel conversation.
Callers came from Bridport in one direction and Dorchester in the other, all busily establishing themselves as claimants to his attention. Every squire felt he must be known to Sir Frederick, and they had a legitimate right, for sharing a mutual interest in the Land and in matters of county interest. There were proposals for turnpikes, which had to be discussed seriously, Dorset being very poorly served for roads and needing more and better. There were ideas for canals, which must be politely dismissed, bearing in mind the experience of similar schemes in other parts of the West Country where there were large hills and small towns. The canals proposed, built on occasion, had been expensive, requiring chains of locks, and the few people had not generated enough traffic to pay for them; Frederick did not think they needed more of that sort of enterprise. Apart from that, there was the unending set of problems associated with the cost of food and the excess of mouths to eat it.
The Poor Law was higher than it ever had been, and virtually every farm labourer in the county was receiving aid from the parish to make his wages up to subsistence level. A man with as few as two children could not feed them from a labourer’s wages; those unfortunates with a quiverful of youngsters were at their wit’s ends.
There was no answer, other than to send people away – and that could not be done for free. If families were to be sent to find jobs in the North Country, then they must have food for the weeks of walking across more than half of England, and then have money to rent a roof while they found work. Were they to be dispatched overseas to the Americas, then they had to be given their fares and money to live on while they established themselves. Taxes were rising all the while as well and there was not so much spare cash in the hands of the rich. The old ways were breaking down, and the country was becoming increasing unsettled while new ways surfaced, slowly and erratically.
Frederick discovered that he was a leading man of the county – he was known to have hobnobbed with the King, and his name had been mentioned in the newspapers. Such being the case, he must take the lead, in matters about which, as a sailor, he knew almost nothing.
He visited Lord Partington, sure that the older man would have the knowledge, certain that his great compassion for the unfortunate would have led him to come up with schemes for their relief.
“Sir Frederick, I trust I find you returning to robust good health, sir? So distressing a wound, a mutilation, one must say, can only have an effect on your natural good spirits. I trust you are bearing up, sir?”
“Slowly, my lord. One cannot recover from such a wound in a matter of a few weeks, I discover. I have more and more respect for young Mr LeGrys, you know, sir. He was so badly hurt and so very young and yet has made a comeback, not to full health, that were impossible, but to a very active everyday life. An example I can only hope to imitate!”
Lord Partington was much struck by the simple good sense of Frederick’s remarks. He, too, had admired the young gentleman’s spirit and inimitable courage.
“As for the problems affecting the countryside, Sir Frederick – there, I must say, I am at a stand! I simply do not know! I spoke to the Archbishop of Canterbury only last week, sir, on this topic, and he is much inclined to call for a national day of fasting and prayer for the benefit of the poor – I am sure that were we all to focus our minds upon the issue, we would come up with some solution.”
Elizabeth hastily intervened before Frederick could give his unvarnished opinion of both the Archbishop and his prayers.
“I think, Papa, that we are more concerned with the problems faced by poor men and women living through winter in wet and draughty cottages with insufficient food for their children and often no firewood either. A day of prayer may well result in a long-term solution, but the unfortunates are dying today.”
My lord had no solution to offer, other than charity, and he gave all that he had to spare already.
That, they did not doubt to be true – Lord Partington would be as open-handed as he possibly could be.
“We know the long-term solution, my lord. The people must go. They cannot remain in the countryside. The war has enabled too many to stay, in fact. Young men have gone into the ranks of army or navy, a temporary haven, rather than migrating permanently to the North or to America. When the war eventually ends, then there will be little short of chaos in the countryside.”
“Will it ever end, Sir Frederick? More than fifteen years, with a short and meaningless interlude of so-called peace, and no end in sight. I am almost in despair, sir!”
Frederick could offer no comfort. The conflict could not end while the brutal Emperor Bonaparte lived, he believed, and there was little sign of a defeat for him on the horizon.
“When I was first wounded, sir, I worried that I would not get back to sea again before the war was over. I have small fear of that eventuality now. I do not need to go to sea, of course, from a personal point of view. If I remain in service, assuming I fully regain my health, then I might well be sent to a dockyard, and there is
word of a commission upon the coast locally, to suppress smuggling and disorder, but I hope and believe that Lord Alton has quashed that possibility. That would be a thankless task indeed!”
Winter passed, cold and wet, as was inevitable, each week marked by its paupers’ funerals and graves marked only by a wooden cross, many and many of them tiny, the children faring far the worst.
Frederick felt almost fit by the spring and was so bored as to be delighted to travel up to Town for the Season.
They left the children at Abbey, explaining that they would find little of entertainment in London unless they wished to watch the Society gentlemen and ladies strutting their stuff in the streets of Mayfair and the shops of the West End.
None of them did and they could not quite understand why their parents wished to.
“It is not for the balls and parties, I assure you, Iain – particularly as I am not in the way of dancing. The Opera is open, and we will enjoy that, and there will be concerts and recitals as well, but mostly the so-called pleasures are rather tedious. But, and this is important, almost everybody who is anybody will be there. I will meet and talk to nine out of ten of the men and women of importance in this country. In a few years, you will be introduced to Society, and you will be greeted at first as my son. When you are known, people will value for yourself, as goes without saying, but in the first instance, you will be young Harris. You will find your way made easier for such being the case. Add to that – if you become interested in politics - every person of power will have met me in the Season, and will be the more willing to talk to you. In time, you will marry and your own children will benefit from the process.”
Iain could accept that it must be so, but he was not yet of an age to wish to squire young ladies to balls, indeed was more inclined to shy away from the prospect in simple terror.
Shores of Barbary (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 12) Page 3