Nouveau Riche (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 2)

by Andrew Wareham

  “Sometimes in the coldest of weather there is an ache there, not a true pain, almost as if the skin becomes tight, pulling at the corner of my mouth. It is not important, I think – perhaps I ought to rub goose grease into it in winter.”

  “I have some cream that might be better – I must talk to Nurse – she will know just what to do. I must go, Thomas, into the dressing-room.”

  Brown had left washing water behind and Tom made reflective use of it before strolling back to the bed and tucking Verity warm against his chest, holding her for his comfort and hers. There was no lust, no demanding need, just the certain knowledge that she was there, then and always.

  “We must talk tomorrow, little love, I need to discuss finance and settlements and explain details to you. My man has talked with your father’s and between them they have set out everything very discreetly, but you must know the detail, possibly more than your father does. As well, and importantly, there is the matter of pin-money and the extent to which you wish to supervise the new housekeeper. But tomorrow, not now. A kiss and sleep, do you think?”

  They kissed… but it was long before they slept.

  The trip north passed very quickly – there was so much to talk about, so many stories from their past, so much to learn about each other – they were never silent, finding no constraint, except when the conversation strayed to her brothers.

  “What is Frederick’s ship, Verry-love?”

  “Centurion, 80, Thomas, carrying Vice-Admiral Trent’s flag; he transferred to her last year in expectation that the Admiral was to go to the Mediterranean, but he was given the West Indies instead.”

  “Good for promotion. He has been out for six months, you say?”

  “A little more.”

  “Then he is probably Master and Commander in his own sloop by now and raking in the prize-money, as long as…”

  “Yellow Jack, dengue, malaria, typhus… the list is endless, is it not?”

  “The risk is always there, my love, perhaps one in four will take a fever and die, amongst seamen, that is – the sea is healthier than the land, that is a generally accepted truth. For soldiers in the Sugar Islands, the figure must be closer to one half. Luck, mostly. I never took any of the diseases whilst I was there – I was content to collect my pair of scars instead!”

  “And Jack, in India?”

  “Not so unhealthy as the Islands, but it can be dangerous. There is cholera, every year that is a menace, but it is not quite so great a killer even so. A young man, active and clean-living, may well come through unscathed.”

  “Which brings us to Rothwell, does it not?”

  Tom was instantly cautious, he had no wish at all to put his suspicions into words.

  “Quite possibly, Verity, but I know little of his way of life.”

  She recognised the unspoken message, turned the conversation back to finance.

  “May I ask, Thomas, how much you have given to Rothwell?”

  “Not a penny, nor will I, Verry – I would not, to be honest, trust him an inch with coins in his pocket. My man Michael has extracted a list of his debts from him, those that he is actually aware of, the ones he can remember, and will pay most of them. The bills from the tradesmen will all be covered in full; the loans from the Jews will be cleared; his bank account has been brought into the black. Rather to his annoyance, I am told, the demands from a number of gaming houses have been ignored, with the result that he still cannot return to them and play more. He will borrow from the money-lenders again, paying insane rates – ten per cent per month by no means the highest – I do not doubt, and next year I shall rescue him again.”

  “He is a fool! You did not say how much, Thomas – is it none of my business?”

  “I wish it were not, but you have the right to know. He has set me back three thousands this time. Was he not so unhealthy I would have refused him, I think, because he is incapable of mending his ways, but I do not suppose he will be long-lived, Verry.”

  “I had not seen him for six months when we went to Town, and the difference in him is very marked. A consumption, do you think?”

  “Some sort of illness, I have no doubt.”

  Perhaps there were advantages to the sheltered upbringing of the aristocratic maiden, Tom thought, she had no acquaintance of any sort with her brother’s illness. For this once, she could remain ignorant.

  “Settlements, my little lady, of importance to you because women live longer than men and you are ten years and more my junior as well. On my death you will retire to a Dower House, of course, which is a problem as we do not possess one – we must build or buy in the next few years. The heir will take possession of the Hall and the estate – the entail in the male line is being written now – provided he is of age. We really should produce a son and heir to keep the lawyers happy, my dear!”

  “Possibly our activities of the last nights will lead in that direction, Thomas.”

  “Quite possibly, my dear, but I suspect we should try a few more times, just to make sure.”

  “Of course, we must leave no stone unturned to satisfy the needs of the law!”

  “You will have an income of some three thousands, more if there are still children under age or unmarried daughters at home. School and University fees will be dealt with separately. I would not expect our daughters to remain single, except unusual circumstances supervene, for they will share one hundred thousand between them. For younger sons, there will be the income of fifteen thousand pounds apiece, at least, on their entering a profession or army or navy or John Company or its equivalent, with the exception that if any enter the Church I shall instantly disinherit them.”

  She was not certain that he was joking, thought it better not to inquire.

  “The funds are to be held separate, built up over the years and invested in Consols for safety – all perfectly normal.”

  She nodded, taken aback by his casual mention of such huge sums.

  “You are very rich, Thomas, more than I had realised.”

  “We are certainly rich, ma’am, and we will be richer yet. Pin-money, my dear, I had thought to put a thousand a year to your use, more if you need it.”

  “A thousand! Twenty pounds a week, Thomas! Ridiculous!”

  “Oh! I am sorry, perhaps I did not realise your needs. Two thousands?”

  “What? No, no, no! Not that, Thomas, I am not demanding more! It is much too great a sum, what would I do with so much?”

  “I have not the slightest idea, Verry – and nor would I wish to know. Save some, if you wish; give some to charity or to the poor – but not to Rothwell, preferably.”

  “I do not think my mother sees the tenth of that sum, Thomas.”

  “I would be surprised if she did – but, of course, I am not in love with your mother.”

  She took his hand, crying very quietly.

  “Verry! Verry-love, I did not mean to hurt you…”

  “Not hurt, Thomas, the opposite – too much, too suddenly – I have hoped you loved me for a week now, since I came to realise why I was so unhappy in London while you were not there. How silly, to weep! When my mother had persuaded me to seek to wed a rich man with whom I could be comfortable without too many sacrifices, then to fall in love with him, like any little scullery-maid, and finding him to love me in return – but if I did not cry I fear I might swoon, and that I refuse to do!”

  She dried her tears, eventually, the strain of the previous days demanding its outlet, then demanded to know what she should expect in St Helens and whether she could go down a mine.

  “If you really wish, then, yes, you can – but it is a terrifying experience, and I would strongly recommend you not to. I shall take you to see the cast iron being poured from the furnace, because that has beauty as well – the flames and the molten metal and the sparks roaring and rushing and the moulds filling, the flickering shadows and the men straining and fighting the great weights into their proper place. As well, you will like to see a steam engine working
and Joseph will take us around his new mills – the sight of fifty mules all working at once is one to remember. For the pits, though – best if we take a look inside one of the newest, still no more than a drift; then you can decide whether you wish to go deep underground.”

  His personal reluctance was obvious.

  “Do you wish to, my love?”

  “Not at all! I had to go underground every day for more than a year and I hated it every time – I think that is one of the main reasons why I decided to buy Thingdon, and I am so pleased I did! I suppose that I should be thankful to the pit, but even for finding you that is a hard thing to do!”

  “I shall cry again if you continue, sir.”

  “But I don’t really want to stop – I have never told anyone that I love her before, and I am enjoying the experience – very much indeed. However, if you think you can remember without me reminding you, then I shall desist, for the while.”

  She thought there was no danger of her forgetting, gripped his hand even more tightly.

  His friend and business partner, Joseph, was uncomplicatedly happy to see them; Joseph’s wife, Amelia less so, nervous in Verity’s company, aware that she could, just possibly, have made a come-out herself, might have enjoyed a Season of her own, had her father been less the spendthrift and had he returned to England so that her uncle could have taken her up. Should she mention her uncle? If she did, would Lady Verity know him? Was there a possibility that she might come to her uncle’s attention, and, if so, would that be a good thing? Perhaps she should take the risk, partly at least.

  “I met Sir Thomas and Mr Star in New York, Lady Verity – they were business acquaintances of my father, Major Jackson – the details, I do not know, I was barely sixteen – and when my father died they looked after me and I was to go to my uncle, Sir George Jackson, in Huntingdonshire, except that I was very happy to accept Mr Star’s proposal when he made it instead. I suspect, that, strictly speaking, I should have had Sir George’s consent to my marriage – but Sir Thomas was standing guardian for me, so the vicar accepted him – he is not an easy man to refuse, I suspect. So, ma’am, here I am, up to my waist in children, and very happy to be so!”

  Verity had met the Stars’ vast brood, had been much more dismayed than envious; she wanted, she discovered, to present Thomas with a son, and quite possibly a daughter as well, but enough was enough! There was reason, she believed, in all things, or so she had been taught, but nine, and the family not yet complete she would wager, was beyond the limits of the sensible. They were happy children, though, she could hear singing coming from the back of the house and the bigger boys were playing with wooden pistols in the shrubbery, high-pitched ‘bangs’ coming faintly to her ears.

  “Sir George Jackson, a baronet, I believe – we have met in passing in London, but he is not a close acquaintance of the family – he is not a public man, takes no part in political life, so we have little reason to meet frequently. I shall not be in London again this year, Mrs Star, but I could write my mama to speak with him and give him your direction if you should wish?”

  “I must speak to Mr Star, Lady Verity, discover whether he wishes to make ourselves known to Sir George.”

  Verity noted her reticence, added it to the little collection of hints and lacunae culled from Tom’s recollections; her husband had had what was sometimes called a ‘colourful’ past, she concluded. She wondered just what he had done in New York – it was probably none of her business, but she would have liked to know.

  They stayed at Smithers’ inn, Tom welcome there for his own sake, even more for his new title and his wealth and his aristocratic wife.

  “A dinner, sir, for Mr and Mrs Star? The cotton man, sir? Of course, your partner, I remember, now, he and his wife-to-be stayed here with you, what was it, twelve years ago and more, when you first came to St Helens. Certainly, Sir Thomas, all of the best, and you know we can do the best here, sir!”

  The dinner had been Verity’s suggestion – she was not at all sure that it would be socially acceptable for them to dine at the Stars, too much of a lowering of their place, but a dinner in a posting house was an entirely different matter, particularly as Mr Star must himself gain some sort of title within a few years. She would speak with her father, she decided – she liked Mr Star and he was well-spoken and courteous, not merely rich, an example of the best of manufacturers who would grace a baronetcy in time, possibly more.

  “Are there others you would wish to dine with in St Helens, Thomas?”

  “No, my love – there are one or two who would be very glad to meet you, I do not doubt, but none who should sit at your table. I am quite certain that we shall ‘accidentally’ run into one or two of my acquaintance here, and I would wish to introduce you to the banker, Mr Martin, who may well step up in the world himself, one day, his children very probably – but I do not think that any close connection with them would be appropriate.”

  She nodded approvingly – it was important and wise to maintain the correct social distances – one did no favours to lesser mortals by being casually condescending to them.

  She was pleased with Martin – ‘a most gentlemanly person, for a banker’ – but deeply unimpressed by Tom’s old legal advisor and ‘fixer’, Clapperley, when he ‘happened’ to bump into them, his leering, effusive over-civility creating an immediate dislike.

  “He is very good with money, Verry, I trust him with quite a few of our thousands and he increases them very efficiently. He tells me that he expects to become a member in a few years, probably at the election after this, and will hope still to be my friend; I do not know whether he will be Whig or Tory, suspect that no more does he as yet, but I will be well advised to keep in with him and will ask Walker to bring him to Dundas’ notice. I may well channel a few more thousands to his command, though I have little love for the man.”

  “No more have I, but politics takes no account of a man’s personal peculiarities – one cannot afford to dislike the people one must work with. I could wish, however, that I had not felt myself to be unclothed when he looked at me.”

  “I have been told that before, Verry.”

  They visited the newest of Tom’s mines, penetrating no more than four hundred feet into the horizontal single drift in the steep hillside beyond the village of Billinge. The seam was thick, almost eight feet in places, about five feet mostly; it was wet underfoot, the drift having hit two small underground springs, and there was a deep leet cut part way, a gang of a dozen men extending it towards the working face.

  “What will happen in winter, Sir Thomas?”

  She was always formal in public, addressing him by title.

  “I do not know; obviously there will be a greater flow of water. I hope the ditch, the leet, will be sufficient. They are cutting the first shaft next month and we shall set a steam engine to pump immediately; the Boulton and Watt engines are the best available, and we shall purchase them, but they will lift water through no more than one hundred feet. This can never be a very deep mine, unless a more powerful engine is invented, and that would demand higher steam pressures, which would call for stronger boilers made from a harder metal than wrought iron – and steel cannot be made as plate. So, we would need a different design of boiler – and what that might be I have not the slightest idea for I am no engineer. So, my lady, as we dare not attempt to run a steam engine inside a coal mine, to lift the water in two stages - the risk of fire would be intolerable - we cannot at the moment take wet mines deeper than one hundred feet. Ten years, at most, and we will have to go deeper, somehow – there will be no surface seams left by then, or not on this coal field. I have Clapperley looking for new seams of coal, in the hope of extending our time a little further; he will talk to engineers and miners and farmers over the whole area in an attempt to locate surface outcroppings and hopefully to buy the land before they become generally known.”

  “Can one employ an engineer to make the necessary invention, Sir Thomas?”

  “O
nly if one can identify a genius in advance, Lady Verity – and until he has made his great invention there is no way of telling which of a dozen visionaries happens to be the one required. As soon as the idea is published it becomes possible to employ a very good engineer to refine the original, to improve upon it and make it work more efficiently, but the first spark of genius seems to come almost at random, it cannot be predicted.”

  They stood outside the drift, both thoroughly grimy and aware of dust in all sorts of uncomfortable places.

  “To go down a pit-shaft, Sir Thomas, one must needs descend in a bucket, you say.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I think not. I shall, with your permission, Sir Thomas, remain above ground in future – that was a truly frightening experience, and it hardly counted as a mine at all, from what you say.”

  “Good! I shall not have to accompany you – I certainly have no wish ever to venture out of the sunlight again.”

  The pouring at Roberts Iron Works was a very different matter – equally dark and grimy but exciting – the noise and heat and flames and rush and urgency belonging to a new world wholly alien to the slow agricultural existence she had known all her life. She clung to Tom’s arm as they watched, trying to see everything at once and to put the visual cascade into words that she would remember; like most literate young ladies of the age she kept a Commonplace Book, a cross between a diary and a scrapbook combining intimate recollections and recipes, addresses and social commentary, family history and local gossip – she tried to order her thoughts for the long entry she would make of the day.

  Brother’s George and Frederick Mason, who ran the Works for Tom, joined them after the successful pour, the moulds cooling safely.

  “Roof trusses, George?”

  “Aye, Sir Thomas, a pair of spinning mills, the first to be built since the financial collapse – business is taking off again, sir, and Roberts has the first contracts! I believe Mr Star has all of his mills running full day shifts at the moment.”