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

by Andrew Wareham

  “Formally in public, in front of any bystanders, ‘Frederick’ otherwise – as he is well aware – I spoke to him immediately after he arrived, as soon as we met!”

  The tone of voice suggested that Frederick had ventured to disapprove of her marriage and had been very firmly set down.

  “With your agreement, of course, we are to dine at the House tomorrow?”

  “An excellent idea – you might wish to wear these?”

  He handed over the packages from Rundell and Bridge, basking in her open delight.

  “Mr Star has become Sir Joseph, by the way, a baronetcy as well. He will be visiting at Huntingdon in August and would hope to come here afterwards?”

  “I will write him an invitation tomorrow, I will be very pleased to open our doors to him. Tell me, Thomas, will he be bringing all of his children with him?”

  “None, I believe. They will stay with their nurses and tutors – a pity that they could not go away to school, to meet the right sort of people, to make useful friends, but it was hardly possible. No matter! They will start out hosed and shod, should have the wherewithal to be successful in their chosen careers.”

  “Bridlington and Anne are to visit in June, after the Season and before they go to Weymouth for a month. From all I have heard he is a doting husband and she believes she is in the way of fulfilling his hopes, towards the late autumn.”

  “Good! Contract signed and sealed and soon to be delivered.”

  “Captains Chisholm and Wallace would wish to speak with you, I believe, Thomas – I understand the Lord Lieutenant has broached the possibility of some companies of the Volunteers being made into ‘Fencibles’ and they wish to discuss this. I have never heard of such beasts – what are they, do you know?”

  “A sort of Militia, from all I have heard. Volunteers will only serve locally and are compelled only to attend training except there is invasion or need to aid the civil power; Fencibles are in receipt of a greater bounty and are paid when on service and may be ordered elsewhere in the country, though not foreign. The ‘country’, of course, includes Ireland, and there is expectation of a rising there. The Fencibles might be sent as garrison troops or to hold down pacified areas, so releasing regulars to service in the field. I do not like the idea at all, will not accompany them, cannot prevent their formation, but I will make sure that none of the family men join them – unemployed labourers and unmarried young men only, and God help the Irish!”

  Captain Wallace, married and settled in his way of life, wished to remain with the Volunteers, while Chisholm, single and restless, saw a possibility that service with the Fencibles might be converted eventually into a Regular commission – he understood that Fencible officers had been given the opportunity to go overseas to join local regiments in recent years. Four-way discussion with Major Hunt decided that they could rejig the Volunteer companies, both Finedon and Burton, so that all of the single and unemployed men were together in eight platoons of fifteen men apiece, making one very large company or the nucleus of two. Chisholm agreed that they should select the men very carefully, taking every troublemaker and vagabond they could identify – he had no doubts that they could be transformed into soldiers, once taken away from their home areas and put into barracks at foreign.

  Tom agreed, reluctantly, that it should be done, more to get rid of local nuisances than for any other reason – he had no wish to find himself sitting on the bench, week after week, handing out sentences of transportation or death to young men whose main crime was irresponsibility. Better far, for him, that they should be sent away in more respectable fashion.

  “Pass the word that the bounty will be paid in cash on their enlistment, Captain Chisholm – no promises or pay tickets or delays. As well, those who have families here will receive the same amount again paid direct to their wives or mothers. It should make recruitment easier, I believe.”

  Chisholm, a short, lean, sandy-haired Lowland Scot agreed – there was nothing like gold guineas for persuading men to join the colours in his experience.

  “We shall be sent to Londonderry, I understand, Sir Thomas. It might be thought better were we to take transport immediately, to form as a battalion there rather than delay within a few miles of the men’s homes where desertion would be easy.”

  It made sense; Tom composed a letter to the Lord Lieutenant urging the course very strongly before joining Verity in the carriage to go to Grafham House.

  “Sir Thomas! Welcome back, I understand you have been in St Helens and London for the last week or two.”

  “Business, ma’am, ensuring that young Robert will enjoy a very substantial patrimony as well as allowing for other expenditures that have become necessary.”

  The Marchioness smiled approvingly – poverty had made her very favourably inclined towards wealth.

  “You have yet to meet your brother, Lord Rothwell, Sir Thomas.”

  They bowed and shook hands, very formally, assessing each other cautiously.

  Rothwell had been warned of Tom’s scar, did not permit his face to change, allowed no expression at all in fact. He was a full year younger than Verity, third child, little more than twenty-one but looked older, due no doubt to service in all weathers at sea and the habit of command; he was tall, fairer than his sisters, his hair possibly sun-bleached by tropical service, and lean, lightly muscled, not unfit but naturally slightly built, and he held himself upright, military in stance. He had a stronger face than either of his brothers, Tom decided, lacking the dissipation of the elder, the thoughtless arrogance of the boy; he might well have a degree of intelligence also.

  “I am glad to meet you, Thomas – you may imagine my surprise on reaching the House to discover my sister a mother when I had not heard of her being wed! Letters from England very often go astray, take years sometimes to reach their recipient – I quite expect them to turn up at the Receiving Office in Kettering next year or the one after.”

  “I had heard that letters to the Sugar Islands were very slow, Frederick, but I had not realised the post was so poor as that. We were, of course, married almost within a month of meeting, to my great and abiding pleasure, and young Robert came along within eleven months – I believe our first anniversary to be next week. You will be aware that I bought Rockingham out of the estate he should never have purchased – poor fellow’s ambition exceeded his fortune, I am afraid.”

  “Yes, I had heard that he was bankrupted – one of the Latimers of Burton is a lieutenant and came out in the Bacchante frigate twelve months ago, told me that Rockingham was gone and a ‘scar-faced villain of a manufacturer, a millionaire, no less’ had taken his place. He seemed rather disapproving!”

  “He was right twice out of the three, Frederick – the scar cannot be denied and the million is fairly much true as well; as for the villainy, well, I have not been caught yet!”

  “And you left privateering long ago!”

  They chuckled together, truce declared.

  “My mother tells me, Thomas, that we are very poor, that Jack, for example, could not have had his commission except as infantry of the line without your assistance.”

  Tom decided to tread very cautiously – an oblique answer would be safest.

  “I understand that your grandfather spent unwisely on his horses, Frederick. I know that your father wishes to enclose but is unable to do so for some years yet. An enclosure would add perhaps eight or ten thousands to his rent roll, would make very good sense, but would be very costly – the drainage of the valley would leave no change from ten thousands in its first year.”

  “I have a few thousands in prize money, Thomas – the Sugar Islands are still rich. Was I to live on my half-pay then I could set my funds to work in the valley.”

  “And when you considered marriage, Frederick?”

  “A problem indeed! As heir I must take a wife to me, and quite soon, I suspect, if my mother has her way, she has already dropped a subtle hint or two. Are you familiar with my mother’s subtlety, Thomas?
”

  Tom grinned and nodded.

  “I could make a ‘loan’ to your father, but I am unwilling to be seen as encroaching, over-generous, using my wealth as a bludgeon in effect.”

  “Wise – it would, I suspect, be easy to tread on his toes, he must have difficulties in swallowing a manufacturer as it is – meaning no offence at all, sir! Changing the topic to another that my father might not wish to discuss, what happened to my brother, Thomas? To George?”

  Tom had wondered whether he would be asked that question, had decided to answer it plainly and honestly.

  “The pox, Frederick – he was well gone in syphilis when I first met him and eventually had to admit the truth to himself, from all I understand. When he faced up to reality he took a pistol to his head. It is very difficult to say that he was wrong.”

  Frederick, a sailor, was familiar with the pox in all its manifestations, had seen too many of his hands enfeebled and then dead from it – he needed no persuading that his brother had taken the wiser course.

  “The fool! Poor, weak, anxious little George – as a boy I remember him being quite certain that he could never grow to be as big a man as my father – he asked me, quite seriously, if I would like to change places with him when first I went to sea – he thought he might like to be a sailor and was sure that I would be a better Marquis. Bad company, I presume?”

  “Very! You have heard of the Beggars Club?”

  “Degenerates who take their pleasures in the rookeries, I believe, Thomas?”

  “Just so, Frederick. I understand as well that he was on the fringes of the Prince’s set, a nastily underbred group who act as Royal panders and arse-lickers!”

  “The son of a mad father, Sir Thomas – one can expect very little of that family! Still, it shifts power from the palace to the politicians and that has to be a benefit, to an extent, at least. I cannot imagine any English revolutionary bothering to cut our king’s head off – there is so little in it! Poor old George! Do you know any particular names of cronies who led him into evil ways? I might find myself able to do them a bad turn one day, just as a fair exchange, you know.”

  “I don’t know but could easily find out. Do you intend to become active in public affairs, Frederick?”

  The younger man shrugged, he had not made any hard and fast decision, he said, but he might well wish to follow in his father’s footsteps, although not for a few years yet – he would occupy himself getting to know the estate first – as second son he had never really concerned himself with lands that he would not inherit, now he must become known.

  “The enclosure, Thomas, is essential to us, is it not? How could I go about it?”

  “I could provide a loan, or I could arrange to buy some of the land released by the process, though I do not recommend that particular course. There will be a number of small awards made and I shall probably be able to buy some of them out – enough to join with the couple of hundred acres Thingdon has a right to and make a decent sized farm which will be all the land I will expect to gain. Parker will receive the better part of eight thousand acres, he expects, and your father will be due at least twelve – it will be a very big enclosure, including three different parishes, and expensive with roads and bridges and drainage all to be built and I doubt that you could go to a bank and ask them to make a loan, it would be too much out of their ordinary way of things.”

  “So, you are saying that I really must take a loan from you, like it or not.”

  Tom nodded, aware that they had reached a first possible breaking point in their new relationship.

  “Then so be it, Thomas – but we shall let my good father believe that I am using my prize money, I think – a sop to his pride. What interest will you charge?”

  “In the family, Frederick? My name is Thomas, not Isaac!”

  “On that topic, was George into the Jews, Thomas?”

  “Hardly at all – I suspect they took one look at him and refused to touch him! Rockingham was, heavily, the fool! Mind you, I found no grounds for complaint in the dealings I had with them then – they were open and above board and very courteous, possibly because I was very rich and had a name.”

  “My prize-agent in Jamaica was a Hebrew – he charged me six per cent commission and I believe he took not a penny more or less than that and he realised very good prices on the ships I captured. I liked the man. He gave me the name of his cousin in London, suggested that he could be my man of business in England – a Mr Goldsmid. You know more of business than I, indeed you must, for I know nothing! What do you think, Thomas?”

  “A letter to my man Michael would tell us all – he can find out everything about anyone you name. I see no difficulty, whilst the man has a sound reputation for probity. There are many more Jews in London now, the war having driven them out of Europe, and I believe they must become more accepted in the City at least.”

  “Thomas, Jane is most upset – she has received a communication from her Papa of a most disquieting nature!”

  Verity was trying her best to keep a straight face, hardly succeeding at all.

  “We also have a letter from Lord Frederick.”

  She handed the unopened sheets to Tom, watched his face as he read and started to laugh.

  “Sixteen years old! Small wonder the girl is displeased – read this Verity!”

  She took the letter, which she had longed to open.

  “’A respectable family’ – he has married beneath him! ‘Small landowners’ forsooth! Yeoman farmers is what he means, Thomas! Ah, here we come to the meat of it – ‘should Jane be wishful to marry her curate then an income of four hundreds could be settled upon him in addition to the portion already hers’. He must want to get rid of her without any delay!”

  “I am surprised that she inherits nothing from her mother’s portion.”

  “There was no portion as such at marriage, I suspect, Thomas. The family lands came to Lord Frederick on her father’s death and were placed into the entail he had created, and they constituted the whole of her dowry, hence, I suspect, the estate at Market Harborough held separate to be given to Jane. She is lucky to have been the only girl.”

  “She comes with a very good income now, Verry – ten thousand in Trust to her, that’s four hundred a year, and another ten thousand effectively in her husband’s pocket together with the estate which is worth a good three hundred and fifty, that makes nearly twelve hundreds before this additional four hundred is added. She could do better than a poor curate, surely.”

  “Probably, but she would be alone in the world, without kin or protector other than a husband who would have taken her for her money alone – being realistic, Thomas, what other attraction has she?”

  “None. You are right, of course, my love. Sanderson will treat her well and she will be close to us and the rest of the Masters. Is there any affection there, do you think?”

  Verity shrugged, shook her head.

  “She is not frightened of him, at least, and he has missed too many meals in the recent past to be anything other than thoroughly grateful. I suspect they will jog along very comfortably together until Parson Nobbs dies and then will fee a curate in their turn and retire to Market Harborough and respectability on their hillside. Not a romantic marriage, perhaps, but very likely to be a highly successful one that will be a comfort to both.”

  Consulted on the matter, Jane agreed – she would rather like to be wed, to achieve the first great mark of success for a young maiden, and very strongly believed that she would like a baby such as Robert all of her own. Mr Sanderson was a vast improvement upon George Lutterworth and she was sure she could make him more comfortable than he was at present.

  Tom called for a horse and made his way to the Rectory where he found the curate digging, somewhat ineffectually, in his garden.

  “They tell me I should have turned the soil before winter was over, Sir Thomas, letting the frosts kill the weed seeds and insects and break down the clods so that I might sow in clea
n soil, but I have never dug a garden before, am not at all sure I have the knack of it.”

  Tom looked at the uneven rows and the pink blisters forming on the young man’s soft hands and suppressed a grin as he gravely agreed that there were skills to be learnt. He accompanied the curate into his sitting room, refused an offer of tea, the making of which was another skill the gentleman had yet to master.

  “I believe I am right to say that you have no attachment, in a romantic way, Mr Sanderson.”

  Pink-faced, the curate hastened to agree, though adding that he was a friend to the married state, merely had lacked all opportunity to consider it in the past.

  “Miss Masters, the young lady staying with Lady Verity at the moment, would, I am quite certain, be very pleased to stand at the altar with you, Mr Sanderson. Her mother died last autumn and she must observe strict mourning for half a year, but a wedding in June or July would be wholly eligible, and would provide her with a congenial home. The delay will as well, of course, give you greater opportunity to get to know her.”

  Tom outlined the financial advantages that the young lady brought with her, suggesting also that alliance with the Masters could well lead to preferment in the church, if that was his ambition, or a very respectable existence as a small squire on a comfortable income.

  “I must appear the most mercenary of figures, Sir Thomas, if I instantly agree to your proposal, yet I have to say that I cannot possibly refuse you, and not merely from respect for my patron. I would be very happy to take Miss Masters to wife – we have spoken on occasion, as you know, and I believe her to be a very sensible, pleasant young female, one with whom I could share my life to the benefit of us both. I will not pretend that her wealth is unattractive, Sir Thomas, that would be dishonest in me, but it is not my sole motivation.”

  “I am pleased to hear you say so, Mr Sanderson. Would you care to drink tea with us tomorrow morning?”

  They debated whether to tell Jane that they had actually made the offer of her hand to the curate, decided it was only fair to do so, were somewhat surprised at her confidence in meeting him next day, shaking his hand and staring him in the face all unabashed. She said afterwards that she had felt sorry for poor Mr Sanderson, uncertain of himself as he must be in such circumstances, had felt herself obliged to set him at ease; they decided that six months away from home had done the girl a lot of good.