“My mum and dad always went to Chapel.”
“Your mother and father, ma’am! Chapel’s not for your sort, ma’am. Chapel’s for the poor and the clerks and that sort, and for the very rich, but people in the middle sticks with the Church, ma’am.”
Like all servants, Mrs Battersby was a fund of snobbery and condescension, able to identify all of the nuances of social class and ‘correct’ behaviour, and expecting compliance of her employer. She would be much more comfortable when she had trained her young lady into the right habits, and would be ruthless in so doing. It might take as much as a twelvemonth, she feared, but she would turn Mrs Fraser into a proper madam and particularly she would break her of her countrified way of speech.
Ladies of the middle order of people must always sound the part, must take care to stand out from the great mob. It made things easier for the shopkeepers and other tradespeople as well if they could tell who they were dealing with the instant she opened her mouth.
“Mr White, I am so sorry, sir! Even when the spotted fever came through Finedon ten years ago the death toll was not one quarter of this you have suffered, and all amongst the children, too. The cause, sir, by the way, the carrier of the disease, was the pack pedlar who came to you in early winter, before the big snows. He was found dead two days down the trail, starved as much as diseased, by the seem of it, too weak to feed himself on his own.”
“A bad way to go, Mr Quillerson. Dying on your own, none to help you, I could not imagine much worse. I will offer prayers for the poor man on Sunday.”
Quillerson, whose religious habits were rather lax, had other, more pressing concerns than the well-being of the soul of an unknown itinerant.
“Will the settlers remain here, Mr White?”
He was reassured, his source of income would not dry up on him.
“None will leave. Life will go on, with the Lord’s Blessing. Three of the farm wives are with child again. We shall not fail, sir. But the price has been high.”
John Quillerson bowed his head briefly, wondered whether to comment on vaccination, decided with rare empathy that it would be hurtful, unnecessary.
“Have you made progress with the quarrying of metal ores, Mr White? I have enquired in New York and discover that zinc for brass making and, less importantly, lead are both in short supply and command a respectable price.”
“There are small but shallow deposits of both in the hills, Mr Quillerson. After spring ploughing I shall see if it is possible to persuade some of the farmers to work open-cast quarries. We need cash, coins of the realm, sir. We grow all of our own food and in a year or two may well be able to sell a small surplus, but we must be able to buy in other, made goods. Salt, for example, we really must have.”
Quillerson agreed. He enquired whether they knew how to extract metal from the ores they would dig. White reassured him that he knew his trade, told him that he had never had occasion to smelt non-ferrous metals but knew exactly how to go about it.
“I would be very willing to open a store in the village, Mr White, and provide necessities at a far lower price than any packman can offer, bringing goods in by the wagon load. I could buy in the ingot metal, at a price based on New York’s with a margin for transport and an open profit. The prices of metals are published in the newspapers there, so everything would be public.”
They wanted a store of their own. They had been considering getting a party together to take a wagon down the trail to the river where a small village was growing and wait on a flatboat’s arrival to get down to New York, go to the shops there and then make the trek back. If no flatboat came immediately they could send a message downriver by boat and then be delayed for a fortnight or more, which would make a costly, time-consuming trip. They had enough of their original coin remaining to buy tea and sugar and salt and a few little luxuries, but it would be very inconvenient, not really a practical use of their time, not one they could repeat too often.
White was also aware that there would be trade enough for one store, but not for more for many years. They had wondered if they might not form a Friendly Society eventually to prevent some stranger setting up a monopoly to exploit them. Could they trust John Quillerson not to raise prices on them over the years?
The Friendly Society would take time – it would be several years before they had put enough money into its coffers to open a trading store. If they did not take up John Quillerson’s offer then there was no way of preventing any stranger appearing, filing on his lot and building a store of his own. Better, perhaps, the man they knew.
“You will have my support, Mr Quillerson, but I cannot speak for the others in the community without first consulting them. All will be in chapel on Sunday morning and we could discuss your proposal after service, if you wished.”
“It occurs to me as well, Mr White, that you have already seen a number of outsiders settling near the village.”
“Good men and women, and very welcome, Mr Quillerson. Mostly from the south of England, from the newer enclosures down in Dorset and Wiltshire. One or two foreigners from Dutchie lands, and they know a bit more than us about different sorts of cheese making and their womenfolk have been talking to ours. We make good enough hard cheese, but cream cheeses we don’t really know. On the other hand, they don’t know our blue cheeses and they been happy to learn about them. Same thing with ham and bacon, they got different ideas to us, and some of them make good sense. One thing they knows, and we all of us been learning, is how to make them little pastries and tarts and things. Really good they are!”
“Good farmers are always welcome, but if more men and women come out from Finedon they will find the land gone around here. From the store’s point of view, though, I suppose there must be a sale for good cheese down in New York, and the same for bacon and ham. There could be money in all of them within a few years, especially when the canal comes through.”
White agreed that there would soon be a shortage of land in the immediate area, but said there was nothing they could do, any man who made his claim could pick his section of land and hold title to it.
“In other places, Mr White, I know that farmers have found a way round that rule, not for personal gain, I assure you, but to set land aside for others of their family coming out to join them, eventually.”
“How?”
“A man must be an adult to claim his section, he must be ‘over twenty-one’, so the law says.”
Quillerson smiled, took a piece of paper and printed ‘21’ on it. He took a boot off, folded the paper and slipped it inside, into the sole, put the boot on again and stood up.
“I am over ‘21’. I would take a Bible oath to that effect, in those specific words.”
White gaped, aghast at such duplicity.
“Several of the Finedon men brought their younger brothers with them, men in their bodies but not yet in years. The miller, Mr Abbott has three grown sons and they will wish to become landholders themselves. Perhaps we could discuss this as well, after divine service.”
White talked with his wife, listened to her advice and wrestled with his conscience. It was not as if he would be committing a crime, as such, because he would not himself be benefitting, and it was for the good of the families, those here and those who might well come in the future. There were huge expanses of good land still unclaimed elsewhere, so they would not actually be depriving any other settler of a living. Keeping kinsfolk together could not be a bad thing. At worst, all they would be doing was righting the wrongs caused by a mistaken law. It was not theft, nor was it profiteering.
How many boys were there who did not look impossibly young? If they were told not to shave for a few weeks, it might help.
White spent much of Saturday visiting, his wife in the wagon with him, just being neighbourly and keeping the community together. He managed to acquaint several of the men with Mr Quillerson’s proposal and of his support for it.
“The young man’s a bit of a rogue, I suspect, but we will all b
enefit from it,” he chuckled.
If Mr White thought it was a good joke, then who were they to argue?
They decided on Sunday to file on every acre they possibly could. If settlers from Finedon did not arrive immediately then they could put the land to use while they waited for them, it would not be impossible to pasture a few more cattle or plough some extra acres for a year or two, or longer, perhaps. They would have to build cabins on the sections they filed on, but that could be done, and just possibly some of the grown-up girls could take them over for a while, running more hogs and poultry, perhaps.
The nearest law-officer was two days away, and would hardly be interested in any case, and there were no attorneys or government officials this side of New York, or not very many who would be inclined to venture to their neck of the woods. Perhaps Mr White could call himself ‘mayor’, then he could make everything seem right and official.
“Anno Domini, I fear me, Thomas! I am getting old, unwilling though I am to admit it. I shall not go to London this year.”
The Marchioness of Grafham eased herself back in her wing chair next to the small fire in her sitting room, shook her head regretfully.
“The Marquis also has no desire to face the rigours of Town. I believe my daughter must carry the flag for the family, unless Rothwell chooses to show himself again.”
The Rothwells had not enjoyed a particularly successful Season when Verity had persuaded them to join her, had not been seen since.
“Not till the eldest girl is of an age, I think, ma’am. Another seven or eight years before they drag her away from her pianoforte for a pair of months.”
“She is very good, is she not?”
“Were we in Vienna I doubt not that she would be giving recitals, ma’am. The Emperor himself would probably attend. In England, of course, we might prefer that the exemplar of Britannic Honour was kept well away from a girl of her age!”
“James tells me that he was called to dine with Royalty recently. The poor boy did not seem to have been overwhelmed by the experience, Thomas.”
“He has gained a military sense of propriety, ma’am. I have noticed that amongst some of the younger officers there is growing a somewhat Puritanical interpretation of duty and of public demeanour. I suspect the influence of the Duke, ma’am. He is the greatest of all our soldiers and his definition of duty is that which prevails amongst the young, professional subalterns. No doubt they will behave exactly as young gentlemen always do when they are out of the public eye, but they find it necessary to present a virtuous front. Dinner at Carlton House did not digest well, I understand. He has been invited to the Pavilion, is at his wits’ end to refuse gracefully.”
“He cannot, Thomas.”
“So I have told him, ma’am. I have guaranteed his debts at cards if he must go there.”
The Marquis joined them and agreed that the boy must go, but doubted he would be fleeced at the card table on a first visit.
“The whisper is that the King is on his last legs, Thomas. We shall be brushing down our robes for a coronation in the Year Nineteen, or Twenty at latest. The Prince Regent must, if his plans for his royal authority to become real are to have any hope, quickly recruit a substantial minority of members to his faction. Burdening them with debts of honour will not aid his cause. Even he can recognise that simple fact, and his close advisers can control the parasites of the demi-monde who are to be found in his company. Promises of sinecures should keep them under orders. What would worry me, if I were James’ father, would be the other entertainments of the Prince’s court that he must inevitably become exposed to.”
“I think he is old enough and sufficiently strong in his principles to remain uncorrupted, sir. I hope so. I shall speak to him before he goes to Brighton and make very sure that he knows just what he may see in the Pavilion.”
The Marquis was not wholly convinced that would suffice, but thought it probable that HRH would be on his best behaviour while he was trying to recruit followers.
“Liverpool will not tolerate an accession of power to Prinny, surely, sir.”
“His Royal Highness, The Prince Regent, is wholly incapable of comprehending any idea that he does not agree with, Thomas. He believes that Liverpool will knuckle under when he is faced with a strongly supported demand in Lords and Commons. In fact, he knows it must be so. Inconvenient facts, such as that his supporters number at most a score when he needs two hundred, do not impinge upon his awareness. His toadies will make no attempt to disillusion him for fear of incurring his displeasure, so he will continue to court the younger and newer members and peers.”
“When he discovers his scheme has failed, sir, what then?”
“He will seek popularity, he will court the masses, he will make Royal Progresses through the country so that people will see him and be amazed by his graciousness and realise that he is not as black as he is painted. That will please him no end, and will have no effect whatsoever on Liverpool or Wellington or whoever sits in Number Ten, because they do not care tuppence for the masses or their opinions while they are not violently expressed.”
“Well put, sir! Not being politically aware I had not fully appreciated the case. I shall warn James to make no unguarded expressions of support or sympathy.”
James’ grandparents, neither of whom was wholly at ease with the concept of a public career for the lad, agreed that would be wise.
“Have you given him Lutterworth, Thomas?”
“Not yet, sir. I shall, by Will if not before, with Robert’s full approbation, I would add, but for the while it would be a burden upon him. While he is tenant all of the expenses bear on me, and pulling those lands back into order is costing gold, sir. A few years and the estate will be rich, within reason, that is, but not at the moment.”
“Did you ever discover what the old lord did with the missing money, Thomas?”
“A thousand a year, at least, for twenty years, ma’am. He would have required remarkable stamina to have spent it all on whores and whips, ma’am, but it would seem that he might have done so. There has never been a trace of it. No investments, no secret bank accounts, not a whisper of a partner in commerce. Robert has used Mostyns’ sources to make enquiry and drawn a blank. The only other possibilities are that he buried gold in the gardens or, more unlikely still, that he paid out for an indiscretion of his youth, that somewhere there is a young man or lady who lives in comfort from his unacknowledged papa.”
“Unlikely indeed, that would have been too honourable a course for that old skinflint!”
“So, James will live at Lutterworth when the House is not sitting, Thomas?”
“He will, just as soon as we can find a refuge for Miss Fielder, and her dog.”
“I could find a place about me for a companion, Thomas. A restful but not a stupid soul would be ideal. A pension in the Will would not be impossible I believe, my lord?”
“Easily achieved, ma’am,” her husband replied. “We are better off financially these days, due to the acumen of my children in their selection of spouses! Is all well at Thingdon since the business of the Burton Blacks, Thomas?”
“On the surface, certainly, sir. But it is known that I laid the first information of their intention to burn out the Latimer Model Farm and there are relatives, cousins and such working for my tenants or amongst the smallholders, who have little love for me. It does not matter, for they will do nothing since the hangings so thoroughly cowed them. The biggest problem I have is that damned fool Nugent, if you will excuse my language, ma’am!”
“That’s the Methody ranter, is it not, Thomas?”
“Just so, ma’am! He is preaching to the oppressed and the downtrodden, so he tells them, and hints that they may wish to be succoured on Earth as well as in heaven. He is upset because the new, offshoot chapels have taken away more than half of his people, they outnumber him, taken together. So he is busily trying to fill his pews from the previously uncommitted – they have turned from ‘lost souls who will b
urn in Hell’, to ‘unfortunates who must be brought to the Light’, the cynical son of a bitch! Oops! I do beg your pardon, ma’am! My feelings ran away with me!”
Tom’s apology was accepted, after she had stopped laughing.
“Is he aware of the harm he may cause, my lord?”
“No, sir, and he would deny that he could be causing any harm. He knows that he is righteous and therefore anything he does by definition is right. It is quite impossible for his words to be dangerous in any way. Only those who oppose him can be the progenitors of evil, in fact must be so, by the very act of disagreeing with him.”
“I detect a degree of similarity with a gentleman previously mentioned, Thomas.”
“You do, ma’am. I trust not derived from the same root cause, however.”
James was happy to live at Lutterworth for much of the year, he did not like life in Town. London was a dirty, smelly place, difficult to get around in, too far to walk generally yet not worth taking out the carriage, the roads in any case blocked more often than not. The sophisticated claimed that London had its pleasures, but they were often dirty and smelt too; James preferred the cleaner air of the country.
The sole real problem was that Lutterworth was short of congenial female company.
Miss Fielder had left, and she had never qualified for James’ purposes, and he was at a loss for something to do of an evening. He could hardly go into the small market town itself. No doubt there would be a number of accessible females outside the pubs and inns there, but he was not into the tuppenny upright trade.
His butler was an elderly man, a model of propriety, and he could hardly ask him, and he did not know that Murphy would be able to assist in this instance.
He underrated the man.
Murphy spoke to the housekeeper, very precise in his request.
Privilege Preserved (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 5) Page 21