Robert did not enquire who had been the source of that information, presuming that it must be one of the maids carefully allowing herself to be overheard by her ladyship. Miriam’s own lady’s maid was old in her service, a Londoner, still a foreigner in the village and highly unlikely to be told any local gossip or to be given a message to pass on anonymously. Barney’s wife, for that matter, would not be in the way of talking with the maids or manservants at the Hall, so it would not be possible for her to be the source at second-hand. Barney’s old mother, though, was still alive and vigorous, and was regarded with great respect in the village, despite being at least part Romany; problem solved, he thought. He wondered, never having considered the matter before, just how easily she coexisted with her son’s wife – they could not be further distant in their original station in life.
“Miriam, do you know, that is, have you heard of the state of Barney’s household – the two senior females, that is? Do they get on together?”
She laughed, said that it was a perennial source of wonder to the village – the two displayed a true friendship, affection indeed!
“I much suspect that the younger Mrs Barney found herself almost overwhelmed by the difficulties of existence in a farmhouse, for having none of the skills and knowledge demanded of her, and the elder came to her rescue. One might have expected Mr Barney’s mother to have disapproved of his choice of wife – perhaps she did – but she certainly took pains to help her, particularly after their boy was born.”
Robert was as amazed as any at first, but it then occurred to him that Romanies were generally much detested by villagers, and that the elder female of the farm might have been sympathetic to a woman as much out of her proper place as she had been for her lifetime.
“Good morning, my lord. A pleasure to see you at the Old Waste!”
Robert was taken aback – he had not been informed that the younger Mrs Barney had chosen to amend her husband’s way of speech. He quickly realised what had happened, and then began to wonder why. Joshua Barney was a tenant farmer and there was no possibility that he could ever become other than that, no matter how prosperous or gentlemanly he might seem; the estate would never sell his land, that was unthinkable. He, or she more likely, might have it in mind to buy odd fields as they became available in the Burton area when the Latimers fell into poverty after the Corn Laws were repealed, but that would be remarkably forward-thinking on her part as she could have no certainty that Parliament would ever act. But she must know that the Thingdon Estate would wish to purchase as well, and the wise tenant did not set himself up in competition with his landlord… So, what was the reason? No matter, he was here on other business on this particular morning.
“Good morning to you, Mr Barney! I seem to be too rare a visitor to all of my farms, and it is more than time that I remedied that, I believe. Especially, I might add, after hearing of the foolish words of a village worthy of our mutual acquaintance; an old man and perhaps growing silly in his dotage!”
“That bloody old fool, Nugent, my lord! The village would be better off without him spreading his poison. He never forgave your father, if you will pardon me saying so, my lord, for allowing the other chapels footroom in Finedon. My Ma tells me that Mr Nugent was the great man of the village when your father first came here, but that he lost his position when the Hall came back into its own. Rankled, it has, all the years since, so it has ended with this nasty stuff he is shouting out to any who will listen to him. Be better was his mouth to be well shut, my lord!”
“Better, perhaps, Mr Barney, but impossible for me – or you, sir! I fear that anything we could do would only make matters worse. Even was he to drop dead tomorrow or suffer other misfortune, the people would look askance at me, wondering if I had not arranged it; they would never believe me innocent and the talk would last for generations, I do not doubt.”
“I shall do nothing to make things worse, my lord. Even if I would like to…”
“Thank you, Mr Barney. How do the horses progress? Is all well in the equine world?”
Both became aware that Robert was trying to show himself as the concerned squire, taking an interest in his tenant’s well-being, and not doing it very well. They began to laugh.
“I am told that railway engines is more your interest, my lord! None of them round here, except for the little one Mr Cairncross has got at the iron works. Will there ever be such in this neck of the woods, my lord?”
“Close to, of a certainty, one day, Mr Barney. There will be a railway line through Kettering or Wellingborough before too many years have gone by, but not immediately, I would imagine. I know of no current plans in this vicinity.”
“Too poor to pay for a line hereabouts, I think, my lord. It will have to be one passing through from the north and heading down to London. Pity!”
“No easy way to send to the markets in London, not yet.”
“We can live without it, my lord. We was wondering about poultry – chickens by the thousand – but it won’t do without a railway. Have to be a riding school in Kettering, I expect, my lord. There be townies what fancies setting themselves up as gentry, my lord – made a few pounds in their shops and thinks their children should look like fine lords and ladies, and equitation, don’t you know, my lord, is the way forward.”
“I am much in favour, Mr Barney! The spread of manners and good behaviour must be commended. But, please, do not arrange for tea-parties at the Hall so that they may learn in the best surroundings!”
“They would queue up for the chance, my lord! But, I ain’t sure that my lady or yours would approve. I’ll just stick to putting them up on my horses, my lord!”
“How will you go about it, Mr Barney?”
“I have bought up the old ironworks building just this side of the town, my lord. The small one that went bust first and has been derelict more than ten years, the buildings falling down. Cost almost nothing for being no use for growing and out of the way for houses. Pull down the old sheds and put in stables and clean up the ground and sow some grasses and plant a few trees around the sides. It’s got a slag heap as well, my lord, and that can be crushed and make a yard and the dust can be bagged up and spread over my own fields over the years, do them a lot of good for being full of nitrates and sulphates, my lord. It won’t be making a fortune, not as such, my lord, but when the bad times come for farming then it might keep our heads above water.”
“Well done indeed, Mr Barney. Farming is set to have a lot of bad years, I fear, and I shall be able to do very little to help, other than cut the rents, of course. It will be up to the tenants themselves to show initiative if they are not to discover poverty.”
Barney gravely agreed and said that he hoped his own family would survive the downturn in good shape but that he wondered about the fortunes of his neighbours.
“Comes to that, my lord, my eldest boy, young Josh, be shaping up as a farmer, but the younger pair might do better well away from the land. I don’t know if you might have any ideas for when they get older. They’re only little boys yet, but it ain’t never too soon to be thinking about the future.”
“If they show up as bright and out of the ordinary, Mr Barney, the Andrews firms are always on the lookout for good men. Take care that they learn their letters and numbers and we shall see what can be done in ten years from now.”
Book Twelve: A Poor Man
at the Gate Series
Chapter Seven
“I need access to a medical man, Your Excellency, one who is independent of the court at Amravati and, preferably, is not a Company employee. The boy rajah has been ill for three days and is displaying what may best be described as hectic symptoms: spitting blood, feverish and breathing rapidly and shallowly. The doctors of his own court hold out no hope for him, describing the illness as uncommon and fearing that having been so rapid in its onset there can only be further decline within days.”
The Governor of Bombay was mildly irritated; he had gone to great lengths to protect the boy on his
throne and was upset that he was to spoil his plans by dying.
“There is no direct heir in the male line, I understand, Major Wolverstone.”
“That is correct, Your Excellency though there must be a round dozen of cousins of various ages by the old rajah’s sisters. He is said to have killed off three brothers on ascending the throne, thus removing possible usurpers.”
“The brothers left no boy children, Major Wolverstone?”
Wolverstone shook his head; there had been a massacre, he believed.
“The boy rajah is in the wardship of the Crown rather than the Company, which complicates matters very slightly, Major Wolverstone. What is your understanding of the situation?”
“My functions as trustee end with the lad’s death, Your Excellency, and I should leave the court immediately upon the torch being put to his funeral pyre. Separately, and coincidentally, a King’s – that is a Queen’s, one forgets that times have changed, Your Excellency – Regiment should march in and take up residence in the barracks, which are almost empty at the moment. An agent of the Crown must then become administrator of the princely state in Her Majesty’s name. Not for the Company, of course, though in practice the two are often indistinguishable.”
“And you, Major Wolverstone?”
“I am to leave India, Your Excellency, having sold up all of my interests. I have been divesting myself of my businesses for lack of time to be a good manager of them; my last part holdings will go now and I and my family will take ship.”
His Excellency looked a fraction uncomfortable at this; he was relieved that Major Wolverstone was to go, for removing an embarrassment from his domain, but did not like to hear that he might be bound for England with his substantial riches.
“I, my lady wife and the children, are to enter into a new existence, Your Excellency, as landowners in the State of Maryland in the United States of America. I have arranged the purchase of a large property and have made substantial investments in the States and we are to become citizens of the new land. I would add that my lady is of Italian extraction and will, when she remembers, answer to the name of Maria.”
His Excellency was much relieved; the status of Major Wolverstone’s wife would have caused him many a problem had she remained in India, being the elder sister of the boy rajah. The English wives would have been appalled and would have refused her countenance had the couple remained in Bombay, yet Major Wolverstone was one of the richest and most reliable of the nabobs, must have been consulted in the day-to-day processes of government.
“I think you are very wise, Major Wolverstone; anonymity in the Americas is a sensible solution to a problem that must have soured your further existence in Bombay. The matter of a doctor for the young rajah must be addressed with some urgency; personally speaking, I know not, of course. One of my secretaries must; they exist to know everything and rarely disappoint me.”
The First Secretary appeared and shook his head but said that the Third Secretary’s wife enjoyed her ailments and had experience of almost the whole of the medical establishment of Bombay. He had only one suggestion, himself.
“A doctor, Your Excellency, a medical man, that is. The surgeon of the 32nd Foot is well-respected – very gentlemanly for the trade.”
The Governor made it clear that he wanted, if possible, a man who was known for his cures rather than for his bedside manner.
The Third Secretary was summoned and proved a mine of knowledge.
“Dr Arkwright, the Scots gentleman, is often cited as one of the most able of men, Your Excellency, but he has his little problems, of course… Perhaps we might beg the assistance of Dr Holmes; he has a name for curing more than he kills.”
Both the Governor and Major Wolverstone were seized by a desire to know just what Arkwright’s ‘little problems’ might be, but it would have been so ill-mannered to ask. They looked hopeful, but the Third Secretary did not elucidate. They sent an urgent request under the Governor’s signature to Dr Holmes.
Dr Holmes made the journey to Amravati and examined his patient, reported to Major Wolverstone long-faced and gloomy.
“I can do nothing for the young fellow, Major Wolverstone. He must be given opiates for his pain, but the local men of his court will do that, probably more effectively than I could for being more familiar with the substances. There is a palpable growth in the abdomen, a tumour or some other swelling, located on or very close to the liver. Rare in one so young but not unheard of… He is very unfortunate, I am afraid. The anguish will rapidly become intolerable and he must be given ease, and that will in itself further shorten his existence.”
Major Wolverstone shook his head; he had more than half-hoped that a European medical man might have found a cure and confounded the Indian quacksalvers.
“My lady informs me that his mother’s father died in the same way, but, obviously, older. A weakness in the family. I am sorry for the lad. I have come to know him quite well these last five years and I believe that he could have done very well as rajah; his people have lost a potentially good man. I must confess that I have been unable to find any great liking for the boy, however. I believe he would have been unsympathetic to the English – which might have been to his own country’s benefit – but that is no longer of relevance. How long do you give him, Doctor Holmes?”
“Days rather than weeks, sir. The tumour, if such it is, has grown very rapidly, which I have heard of before in juvenile cases, and I see no reason to believe that it will not very quickly take his life. Please to offer my condolences to the lady, his sister.”
“We must go, Indira, as soon as the body goes to the flames.”
“We must indeed, my lord. What of a ship?”
“His Excellency the Governor has promised that he will charter an American for our use. He will certainly do so, for not wanting our presence in his fair city! We are, however, to be guests in the Residency until we sail.”
“You have accepted his invitation?”
“I have, my lady. I believe, strongly, that it is a gesture that should be made. It will cause conniption fits among the old ladies – and many of the young – of Bombay, and that in itself is well worthwhile!”
“An Indian woman in the company of the memsahibs! It will not be unamusing, Francis!”
The use of his first name assured him that all was well.
“I presume that all of your arrangements are in hand, my lord.”
“Our money is safely bestowed in the banks in Bombay, in London and in Washington. I have, as you know, signed a provisional contract to purchase an estate for our family; I do not actually pay a penny until we set foot upon it and are assured that it is precisely as the vendors have claimed. I do not like purchasing great acreages sight unseen!”
She agreed – no matter how upright the agent who had acted for them, doubts must remain.
“I have conferred with First Eunuch, at his suggestion, and he has informed me that as the sole remaining direct representative of the family I am entitled to a certain inheritance, Francis. It is not precisely, as one might say, a small sum. In fact, it amounts to a figure of several hundreds of thousands of American dollars, all of which have already been sent into the keeping of Mostyns Bank in New York and await our presence. He is a kindly gentleman, as you know, and will have ensured that his act will not become visible to your successor as administrator here.”
“His kindness can only be admired, my lady. I have often wondered why he displayed such a fondness towards you.”
“Possibly because he came to Amravati in the train of my mother, Francis. A younger half-brother, I believe.”
“All is explained. I must have no knowledge of the matter, I suspect, but I would be very pleased if you could convey my deep appreciation of all that he has done. I presume that he must stay here when we go. Could he not perhaps accompany us?”
She shook her head; his life was one of service and he could not escape to a place of ease.
“It would not be right, Fran
cis. He would never be happy. Not, I suspect, that he can be as such, poor man! He will work and will do some good for the people, I suspect; that must give him some satisfaction in an otherwise empty life. I will tell him that you made the suggestion and that will please him, I doubt not.”
She shook her head sadly and made no mention of her strong suspicion that the boy rajah’s illness was of First Eunuch’s devising. He had more than once mentioned to her that he had detected a nasty streak in the boy – he had apparently personally beaten a young female slave for nothing more than pleasure – and that he feared he would become extremely unpleasant in his habits when he reached manhood. He seemed quite certain that the young gentleman should die, must be, in fact, to have taken the money - her ‘inheritance’, which she was sure had no legal basis - from the treasury and shifted it into Mostyns’ hands.
“The voyage will be of some four months’ duration, will it not? I shall bring a pair of tutors as well as the nursemaids. The boys may start to learn their letters; it will occupy their days. We must purchase books in Bombay, for us. I must in particular find a geography of the United States; I am familiar with the history of the new country but I am unsure of the exact location of all of its parts. There will be much to do!”
Wolverstone was amused, used to his wife’s enthusiasms and accepting that she was determined to make the very best of a life that was wholly different to anything she could ever have envisaged. He enquired whether she intended to take their household goods and chattels with them or if she would instead purchase as an American in their new land.
“Some clothing for the children. Silks in the bale for myself, to be sewn in the local style – there will be dressmakers in the new town, I must expect. Maryland is within reason close to Washington, after all. There are ivories I must wish to keep, and my jewels, of course, but the bulk of the furnishings must remain. Your successor must not enter empty, denuded halls, after all!”
Victorian Dawn (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 12) Page 16