“There is a pension for you when you go, Cooper, that is my duty to you; I am sure another one hundred a year will be welcome. Where do you intend to live?”
“In the village here, sir. I can buy me own little place, easy enough – thirty or forty quid to pick up one of the cottages down by the pub, sir.”
The terrace next to the public house was very poor, Septimus thought – two up, two down and noisy for the partition walls being single-skin brick and many of the places sheltering large families.
“No. I can do better than that for you, Cooper. One of the bigger cottages on the outskirts of the village, with a decent garden and without a dozen screaming children forever in your ears. Look around for a proper place and I shall buy it for you.”
Cooper shook his head dubiously, said that he would be forever on the run from the local widow-women if he was to live on his own in a big house with three or four bedrooms.
“Why run, man? Much to be said for a plump little lady to keep your back warm on cold nights!”
“And a baby yelling in the cradle at my age, sir? Not bloody likely!”
Life was easier with a nursery maid, Septimus had to admit.
“Nah! Buy a dog, I shall, sir. Good company and don’t talk so much either! I’ll poke me nose around, sir, see what’s going by way of a cottage. Atkins can take, over, with Peter, and best to hire on a boy as well – you can’t be doing with just two servants as a brigadier, sir. Pass the word around at the boozer, sir; easiest way of finding out who’s got a son of twelve or so wishful to be set on in the way of a household, sir, rather than be a labourer on the land. Sort of thing better done on the quiet, sir.”
Septimus was vaguely aware that the ordinary run of villagers tended to look askance at indoor menservants – it was not ‘manly’ to go into service, they implied. He was not sure why they felt that way, for it seemed to him to make sense that youngsters on the frail or delicate side should not have to work twelve hours a day in all weathers out in the fields, or be forced to go away to one of the industrial towns. He knew as well that villages were not easy places to live in for the young man who was in any way out of the ordinary – the mockery and outright bullying of those who did not fit in was commonly cruel.
“Deal with it for me, will you? As you say, better not to make an open fuss about looking for a lad.”
Man of Conflict Series
BOOK FIVE
Chapter Nine
“My mother’s elder brother, Mr Rowlands, has a grandson of seventeen years, husband. He is not prospering in his school and will do better in the Army, it is thought. His father was the second son and died some few years ago, when you were in India, in fact, and left very little to be shared among his several offspring. The eldest, George, has inherited the little land his father possessed, and is farming it while also employed as a deputy to the Sheriff; taken together, his income cannot be two hundred pounds, and he is unable to make an allowance to his brother. The fees for his schooling are paid by his grandfather, who will place the same amount in his pocket as his sole private income; not as much as fifty pounds a year, I suspect, but he will buy his pair of colours as well, and his uniforms.”
It sounded rather suspicious to Septimus; the family might well be foisting their idiot youth onto him.
“Is the boy stupid?”
“No, quite the reverse, husband. He had hoped to go up to University and then take a Fellowship and eventually transfer to a living and then seek promotion in the Church. His wish is to become a bishop.”
“But the dibs are not in tune – the money is not there. The family cannot find the fees for the University, together with his maintenance and then a private income as a Fellow and the need to buy him a living, for he cannot simply become a curate if he wants promotion in the Church. There will be no change from five hundred pounds a year for five years at least, and then the outlay of four or five thousands to buy him a respectable living such as he will need to bring himself to the attention of his diocese. Bishops are not commonly to be found among the poorer younger sons of the County.”
“Exactly so, husband. They cannot really afford any of the other respectable professions - neither the law nor politics is a possibility - and he has no desire to become a doctor, which is marginally decent for a man of his breeding. He is no agriculturalist, so cannot become the agent to a great estate; the Army is all that is open to him. Thus, although he is more than capable of academic success, there is no point to his remaining in school.”
Septimus could not say that he did not want the boy; family had its claims that could not be refused.
“What is his name?”
“Adolphus Rowlands – his father was much taken by the Germans, one understands.”
“Bid Mr Rowlands to make the purchase, my dear, and call for the unhappy youth to come to stay with us. I shall set him to work and see what may be made of him. There is no alternative, after all.”
Marianne was equally aware that she might be imposing an incompetent on her husband, but there was no choice; the boy must be looked after.
“I presume Adolphus will be at home on horseback, my dear? A galloper who could not ride would be a very sad sort of being.”
“I do not know… Cannot every gentleman ride?”
She thought suddenly of her dead son, her eyes filling, shook her head at her own casual carelessness.
“Perhaps not, sir. I am sorry.”
“Me too, my dear. More than I can say.”
Cooper discovered a house and apologised that it was so large – it had four bedrooms, but, importantly, there was a ten-acre paddock as well.
“Was I to put the price of the land in your pocket, sir – five quid an acre for good grass hereabouts, then that would only be fair, or so I reckons.”
“Well and good, Cooper, but what will you do with ten acres?”
“Goats, sir. Milkers for the making of cheese, like they do in Spain, sir. Give me something to do and make a few bob on the side, sir. Always a sale for good cheese, sir, and for goat meat as well, and a hide will fetch a couple of shillings from whichever of the farmers hereabouts it is what works up sheepskins; always one, there is, sir. Keep me pottering about rather than in the boozer all day and every night.”
“Well and good; we shall do it, Cooper. I still think you’ll end up with a comfortable widow-lady to churn your milk for you!”
Cooper could think of several rude responses to make to that, but felt that he should keep the conversation polite; however kindly Septimus might be, he was still the master.
Septimus walked into the village with Cooper to inspect the property. It was a few yards up the valley side, away from the centre by a furlong, and with a steep hill to its rear.
“No sheep on the hillside, Cooper?”
“Bad grass, sir, and too much of blackthorn and sloes and brambles. Waste ground is all that be, sir. I don’t even know that it’s got an owner.”
“Better part of a hundred acres, I would say, and used for nothing. Have a word in the pub, will you? Ask who owns it or whether it’s actual common land.”
“Mr Longhurst, sir, what lives damn nigh into Alton town, sir, owns just that one hillside. The estate ain’t never done owt with it since they came into it twenty years since. More bother than it’s worth, I should reckon, sir, being fifteen mile away from the rest of the lands and too small and poor to make a farm in its own right.”
“Thank’ee, Cooper. I shall have a word with Mr Longhurst, see what may be done about it. Not a good idea having waste land unused at the edge of the village. Might attract squatters or anything there.”
Septimus rode across to Mr Longhurst’s estate outside Alton, two hours in the saddle, the exercise pleasant in itself despite the still cold weather.
The land was rich – long enclosed, hedged and diched and with rectangular fields, each of several acres, friendly to the plough and seed drill. He was amused to discover himself noticing these facts, as if he was
a landed proprietor himself. The house was old in soft red brick, not tall but rambling from the exertions of builders and improvers over many generations. The butler was London-bred, perfection in black and white, bowed as he accepted Septimus’ card and ushered him into a sitting room.
Mr Longhurst appeared within two minutes, a man in his fifties, dressed within reason acceptably for a man in his own house and expecting no visitors, perhaps a little colourfully for ordinary tastes.
“Colonel Sir Septimus Pearce, from over Micheldever-way! What can I do for thee, Sir Septimus? You’re the soldier chap what they wrote about at Fuentes de Onoro, ain’t you? Come to take me off to the wars, ‘ave you?”
Septimus grinned, covering his surprise; Mr Longhurst was no country gentleman born. A London merchant by the sound of him, made his pile and bought his lands.
“Not quite that, sir, though I shall be going back to the wars myself in the summer, in Canada. No, sir, I came to talk to you about the piece of land you own in Micheldever, just on the edge of the village. My personal servant, a man named Cooper, has grown too old to campaign the more and has purchased a cottage and a few acres next to your land. He will run goats, I believe, and wonders whether you have another use for the acreage – it is little more than waste, steep hillside that will not take the plough.”
“You must pay your servants a bloody sight more than I do, Sir Septimus, if ‘e can buy ‘is own place.”
“Prize money, I believe, and we have taken more than one fortified town over the years – you know what the men are like for looting, Mr Longhurst, and I am not to notice after they have risked their lives to win a fight for me!”
“Don’t know nothing about wars, Sir Septimus, but I like a man what looks after ‘is own!”
The butler came in with his tray – Madeira and some tired biscuits, made the previous day at a glance; the house did not expect morning callers, was cold-shouldered by the County.
“Perkins, do ‘ee bid Master Richard to show ‘is face in ‘ere. I don’t think ‘e as ridden out this mornin’.”
A youth of sixteen or seventeen years appeared within two minutes, obviously immediately obedient to his father’s command.
“You wanted me, father?”
Far more gentlemanly, clearly well-tutored – his father’s money used to give him the appearance and sound of the County.
“This gent is Colonel Sir Septimus Pearce, Richard.”
The boy made his bow and showed pleased to be offered Septimus’ hand.
“We have all heard of you, sir, and know you to be a distinguished man of Hampshire.”
“Richard wants to go for a soldier, Sir Septimus. My third boy. His brothers are both content to go into the merchant house, but he wants a red coat. I can put him into the Militia, Sir Septimus, but I don’t see as ‘ow I can get ‘im a Regular Commission.”
The Militia was the natural home of the merchant’s son, far less of a statement of gentility than was offered by a commission in even the least distinguished regiment of the Line. Purchase of a commission demanded a sponsor who would in effect say that the youth in question was of the right sort; normally that could be arranged, but not if there were members of the County to whisper that he was in fact of the wrong sort. Was Septimus to stand sponsor to the boy, however, then the Second Battalion of the Hampshires would take him and his commission could be purchased in London with their endorsement and he could step up in the world. Possibly… just as long as he was not to be an embarrassment.
“What is your education, Master Richard?”
“At home, sir, with tutors, but I have some Latin and an amount of the Mathematics, and I have read a number of military textbooks, sir.”
“You ride, I believe?”
“I do, sir, and I shoot.”
“And you wish to go to the wars?”
“Yes, sir. My father does not think I should, but it is my desire, sir.”
Mr Longhurst was begging a favour, and no doubt would offer one in return; better to do the job thoroughly.
“I am to go to Halifax as a brigadier, Mr Longhurst. I could find a place for another ensign on my staff, if that would suit you.”
“By God and it would, Sir Septimus! That would give the boy a start in life which is more than ever I ‘ad expected to be able to work for ‘im!”
“I shall speak to the colonel of the Second Battalion of the Hampshires, Mr Longhurst. He will accept the lad as one of his ensigns and I shall take him onto my staff. Your lawyer in London will be able to make the purchase, I do not doubt. Uniforms are easily obtained from any good local tailor, so many have been called for these past years.”
“So be it, sir. Will that satisfy you, Dick?”
“Very much, thank you, Father.”
“Best tell thy mother, young man!”
The boy made his bow and left at the run.
“He will do, Mr Longhurst; a good lad, I would say. He will need a double set of dress uniforms, sir; he will be expected to attend me socially as well as on his normal duty, being on my staff. Dress sword of uniform pattern, of course, but a good, strong working hanger as well makes sense. A pair of pistols in a heavy calibre. Leather riding breeches and boots, preferably two of each. Horses are easily bought in Canada, I am told, though I have never been there myself.”
Longhurst was truly thankful, and in his mind gratitude meant money.
“I ain’t neither, Sir Septimus, but I can find men what ‘ave, and they can put me onto a good local fellow who will find the best, for you as well as ‘im. You ‘ave done me a great favour, Sir Septimus, out of the blue, as they say, for I was at me wit’s end for ‘ow best to look after my boy. I don’t know bugger all about the bit of land in Micheldever what you was talking of, but my land agent will. Good man, ‘e is. I only bought the estate three years back and ‘e came with it, you might say, and very useful ‘e ‘as been, for there warn’t no other bugger around ‘ere what would say a word to me or give a ‘elping ‘and, but ‘e ‘as done a good job of work for me, and willingly. Do you come on through to the office, Sir Septimus.”
The agent showed considerable respect for Mr Longhurst; Septimus had expected him to be patronisingly off-hand to his master, but he showed instead a degree of kindness for him.
“The hillside in Micheldever, sir. Very nearly valueless, I believe. I have not bothered with it for this last ten years, since a casual rent came to an end with the death of the cottager who had taken it and had put a tiny garden down to vegetables at the bottom of the hill and kept a single dairy cow on the flatter bits. I seem to remember he paid ten shillings a year! I gave him the lease because he kept up the hedges on the village side and saved the estate the bother of dealing with worthless land. I have a map somewhere, I am certain – let me see, now… here we are, sir! It was used to belong to Miss Flore, who was a great-aunt to the master before you, sir, and left him the acres in her Will, being unwilling to pass it on to the other side of the family, who were in the male line, for having fallen out with the nephew’s wife fifty years agone. She had never done anything with it; there had been a flint pit thereabouts when she was young and I suspect she was unaware that the working was no longer in use. I do not believe there is a flint-knapper left in our part of the South Downs, sir.”
Septimus was professionally interested, enquired why the trade had died out locally.
“I do not know, sir. It is busy still in both Wiltshire and Sussex. Quite possibly, sir, it was simply a case of a man who did not marry, or had no sons, and left no successor trained in his skill, or perhaps ‘art’ might be a better word. I have watched the knappers at work, sir – first selecting the right flint nodule from what seemed to me to be identical stones, and then tapping in just the correct place and finally almost pushing off the flakes of flint, one after another. A very high level of skill, sir!”
“Well, the Army will be in trouble with its flintlocks if the skill is lost entirely, that is for sure! Perhaps we should import so
me men to teach the art locally so that the pits can be productive again.”
“Possibly, sir, but perhaps the pit had been worked out of the right sort of flint – I do not know.”
Mr Longhurst brought them back to the matter in hand.
“How big is this ‘ill what we are talking about?”
“One hundred and three acres, sir, and a little bit. The flat land at the bottom – more or less level, that is – amounts to no more than two acres and the rest is very steep. It is the scarp face of the down, sir. Downs rise on a very shallow slope on the one, side, but fall very steeply on the other. The result, sir, is that on the good side you may have wheat fields on the lower acres and the best of grasslands for sheep, or even beef cattle, higher up - land worth as much as twenty pounds an acre; on the steep face, just yards away, there is waste worth not a shilling.”
“So, no use to us, but a man with a cottage what is just pottering about might grow ‘is little garden and run a few goats?”
The agent smiled his agreement; Mr Longhurst made his decision.
“Five guineas, Sir Septimus, be all that land is worth to me, and that’s the selling price, if you wants it.”
“Done, sir, with my thanks. I shall put it into Cooper’s hands and he may do what he wishes with it. He will remain busy, I do not doubt, and that will be good for him – far better than sitting in a corner in the local drinking-house every day! My brother, Mr George Pearce, in Winchester, will deal with the details of the matter, if you will put it into his hands?”
The agent murmured that he would – Mr George Pearce was very well known, and he had in fact heard a whisper from an acquaintance who was agent to another landed gentleman of some renown in the County, that Mr George Pearce was to change his name.
Spanish Tricks (Man of Conflict Series, Book 5) Page 22