Victorian Dawn (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 12)

by Andrew Wareham

  “The Age has changed: no mistresses in Mayfair, it would seem, brothers!”

  James was mightily amused by the conceit and by the prospect that the high aristocracy would have to become discreet in its adulteries.

  “If nothing else, gentlemen, it will lead to the enrichment of any number of newspapermen! Blackmail will become a popular crime and the wealth of the upper classes will be spread among the criminal population!”

  “One presumes, brother, that you include editors among the criminal!”

  “But, of course, Robert. No man who spends his life digging dirt can claim honesty or personal integrity. We know damned well that the likes of Melbourne will not suddenly cling to a life of chastity, and we are equally aware that the newspapers will paint him as white as the driven snow, for fear of government retaliation. Disclose the peccadilloes of a Prime Minister and there will be a tax on newsprint within the year! Add to that, the Home Secretary’s private people will be knocking on the door of a dark night; cause gratuitous offence and you may very rapidly be discovered to have committed suicide!”

  They did not laugh, did not mock the statement as unlikely and outside their experience.

  “What of this princeling, Albrecht, James?”

  “He has become Albert, brother. He will be properly English and elegantly domesticated, or so I am assured. There is a slight potential for conflict inasmuch that he will wish to be ‘useful’ in his public life. He has no desire at all to be involved in actual government or in the formation of political policy, but he would wish to assist in actually doing things, in setting an example of virtue in the eyes of the population.”

  “How very strange! He will very rapidly be reminded that he is a Germanic outsider if he indulges in such habits in London. Moral examples indeed!”

  James was entertained, decided to stoke the fires of outrage.

  “I believe he is a very level-headed and sensible young gentleman, Robert.”

  “Excellent! Let us trust that he is sufficiently sensible to keep his mouth shut except in private. If we need a moral preceptor, then the Archbishop of Canterbury may read us a sermon.”

  “But, we all ignore him as a matter of principle. We do not need Archbishops interfering in our daily lives.”

  “Exactly so! Look what happened all those years ago when that foolish chap Becket started to make a nuisance of himself; had he only kept his mouth shut then there would have been far less trouble! We do not need Holy Joes telling us how to lead better lives. Particularly, we do not need foreigners moralising at us!”

  “Quite right too, sir! There is a place for the foreigner – I believe your chef to be a Frog, is he not, Robert?”

  Robert confirmed that he was, and very good at his trade despite that fact.

  “Very true. That’s the sort of chap we want more of – I have nothing against Frogs and Dagoes so long as they are useful!”

  They applauded James’ wisdom and adjourned from the dinner table to join the ladies.

  It had been decided that the reception would be held at Rothwell’s town mansion, partly for the convenience of its size, but also to obliquely inform Society that the Massinghams were no more, that they had been wholly subsumed into the Marquis of Grafham’s family, who were themselves increasingly close to their relatives of the Andrews.

  There was a slight difficulty in terms of protocol, for it was not entirely clear just who should be the formal host. Lord Rothwell was the effective possessor of Massingham House, yet his parents were alive and present and obviously senior to him, and, although it could not be mentioned, his lady wife was no longer to be seen in Society. Indeed, Lady Rothwell was simply not to be seen at all; it was well known that she was discreetly locked away and, while that was not to be mentioned, it did lead to the occasional awkwardness. Society had its rules, however, unwritten but rigorous, and the disposition of the deranged was a not unfamiliar problem; another and senior lady of the family must stand at Rothwell’s side to welcome guests while his parents took position immediately at his shoulder.

  A second problem immediately arose – there was a tinge of Jewishness to the Grafhams and the St Helens who might have supplied a hostess. Not an impossibility, but better avoided. The dowager, Lady Andrews, stepped forward and offered herself for the position thus providing a conventionally acceptable solution.

  There was to be music – for no more than an hour, of course, there was a limit to the tolerance demanded of the denizens of the world of politics and high society, the two effectively synonymous. A number of the guests would enjoy their music; many more would seem to, while a recalcitrant few would yawn but accept sixty minutes of purgatory. It was indisputable that there must be entertainment, and the guest was obliged to be suitably amused by it – but not for too long. Herr Moscheles was available to play a sonata of his own composition and the Opera provided the services of a particularly good bass-baritone and of a competent mezzo of their own training and sent along as well a castrato visiting from Rome and able to do Mozart justice.

  The Dowager raised an eyebrow to Robert as he enquired of the provenance of the castrato, thinking the existence of such to be inappropriate in the modern age.

  “The Vatican, my dear sir! The proper rendition of sacred music demands the voice and each year a dozen or so of Italian youths make the sacrifice – willingly in the service of God, or so we are told.”

  “Can it truly be so?”

  “Utterly, or so I am told by diplomatic sources I wholly trust.”

  She coughed and apologised – a winter sniffle, so prevalent at the time of year. All of the children were going down with colds; she trusted it was not the onset of the influenza.

  “I have a headache myself, ma’am. London is a damnably unhealthy town, I fear!”

  Almost the whole of the Government was present and the bulk of the Opposition, meeting socially and with little animosity. It would have been a sad thing to extend political conflict into the drawing-rooms of Society and few of those present would have considered so ill-mannered an act. The status of Belgium was a major topic of conversation and there was a wide degree of agreement that the small, new country must be neutral, independent of France and of Holland and of the Germanies and Austria. The Belgian Channel ports offered a potential threat to British shipping, could possibly be able to blockade the Thames Estuary and might be the base for invasion; they must therefore be made safe for all eternity.

  “A guarantee, my lord, that Belgium’s borders may never be broken by any other country. An absolute pledge that the invasion of Belgium will lead to an immediate declaration of war upon the aggressor by her Majesty’s Government. Nothing less may suffice, and we shall enact it into British Law.”

  There was an obvious majority for such an action and Robert immediately promised to raise his voice in favour in the Lords and to go into the right lobby when it came to a vote. He could not imagine that the occasion for war could ever arise – the simple existence of the commitment must be sufficient to deter the whole of Europe.

  “What of the man Conroy, my lord?”

  Robert was not pleased to be asked about the disgraced gentleman, knowing how close he had come to contamination by him.

  “I am given to understand that he made a noise after the Lady Flora Hastings business, but that he has now subsided. I doubt he will again force his way into the attention of his betters, for having been caught out by the tipstaffs when he was so incautious as to show his face in London. It was only through the generosity of his creditors that he was not cast into debtor’s prison. I am told that all of his unentailed lands have been sold out from under him. He was taken up for a time by Lady Flora’s brother, but the reality of his nature having been explained, that gentleman has now severed connection with him.”

  The unfortunate Lady Flora had been dead for some months and the scandal she had unwittingly created was now dying down, sufficiently for it no longer to be a prime topic of conversation. The truth of the matt
er was now unclear, but the accusations that Lady Flora had been made pregnant by Conroy were now agreed certainly to be false; who had counterfeited and circulated the rumour could not be determined, but it was believed that Her Majesty had liked neither party and her popularity had been harmed by the whole business.

  “Better the whole controversy should have been buried with the poor lady, I think, sir!”

  That apart, the world was singularly short of enjoyable scandal that year, which led to a quiet evening. Some few of the gentlemen discussed horses and racing, but that was their habit and they were generally treated with tolerance by the bulk of those present. There was a war with the Chinese, of all people, that evoked some slight interest, many of the guests having younger brothers and sons in the Army or Navy, but it was generally agreed to be too far distant to be taken seriously, except by the young Mr Gladstone and a few of his serious-minded followers.

  “Upset about opium, I am given to understand, sir. Who is to be concerned if a few Chinks take a pipe too many?”

  Both Robert and Joseph were within hearing range of that comment; neither responded.

  Christmas was quite spoilt for the family by the outbreak of coughs and headaches, followed by fevers, particularly among the older members. It was felt likely that the influenza had struck, a matter for some concern, the ailment severe in some years and causing death not infrequently. Robert took the most sensible course and called in Dr Clark, the Physician to the Queen.

  The good doctor made his examinations and discovered the onset of rashes among all of the sick, which made the influenza less likely; some other epidemic chest infection was very probable, possibly a form of the consumption, on which he was an expert. He prescribed Peruvian bark and a low diet to bring down the fever; a tonic of his own devising to strengthen the patients and laudanum in heroic doses to calm them and render them placid; additionally, he took blood twice in the week, a pint from the adults, proportionately less from the children.

  He explained that when in practice in Italy he had treated the poet Keats in his last illness; had he been consulted earlier he might well have saved him!

  “A low diet, which prevents the consumption from descending to the stomach, is the essential. A little of hunger is a small price to pay for the preservation of life.”

  Robert, himself seriously unwell, was unable to disagree.

  The disease spread through the whole family and affected some of the staff, though the majority of the servants, who had survived various ailments in childhood, were wholly untouched.

  Some of the children were bedridden for no more than two days, making an almost instantaneous recovery, while others fell into depression, coma and then death. Robert’s vast brood of children was taken especially badly; the two eldest were hardly touched but the others died, pair by pair over the space of three days. Miriam, severely ill but forcing herself into activity, trying to comfort her infants particularly, died before the last.

  Robert left his bed white-haired and weakened the day after the funerals, the bodies having been put away quickly for fear of contagion. He sat staring at the breakfast table, wholly without appetite.

  Mortimer, the butler, untouched himself, was the bearer of the ill-tidings, for lack of another to perform the task.

  “You must eat now, my lord. The family needs you more than ever!”

  “How many remain, Mortimer?”

  The butler filled a plate and put it in front of his master, hot coffee to the side.

  “Master Thomas and Master Robert have recovered, my lord, and are no longer in danger. The title and the name is safe, my lord.”

  Robert waited a few seconds, spoke when it became clear that Mortimer had no more to add.

  “Lady St Helens?”

  Mortimer shook his head.

  “Two children only?”

  “Yes, my lord. The Dowager Lady Andrews succumbed yesterday, my lord, but your sister, Miss Verity Andrews, has wholly recovered. I fear, however, that Lady Star has not survived, though Sir Matthew has recovered and only her youngest daughter died from their children. Mr Joseph has gone, my lord, the doctor stating his constitution to be previously enfeebled; his lady and the three eldest of their children survive. Mr James lives, my lord, as does his lady and but one of his sons; he has lost four. The illness was confined to those who had been present at the dinner, my lord. The Grafhams were not affected, which must be a relief.”

  “What says Dr Clark?”

  “He believes the illness to have been a rare galloping consumption; he deigned to explain to me that had it been a more contagious ailment then it must have spread further into the general population. He has tendered his bill, my lord.”

  “Very good of him! Did he offer any prescription for the future?”

  “No, my lord. He believes the plague to have run its course.”

  “One wonders how many would have died but for his treatment. Would you be so good as to send a message to Mr Michael, requesting his presence? I think it must be safe for him to come here now. What of the staff, Mortimer? Were they badly affected?”

  “A few took ill, but most of those suffered only slightly, my lord. Our only death was one of the grooms who had come down from the estate, my lord. I must suspect, my lord, that the town dwellers among us were already, one might say, familiarised to the disease. I must also say, my lord, that in my uneducated opinion, and having no medical knowledge at all, the ailment displayed a remarkable similarity to the gaol fever. It is always possible that a person having contact with the inmates might have met with one of the staff – possibly of the temporaries taken on for the dinner, my lord – and thus have introduced the illness to us. I mentioned the similarity to Dr Clark, but he dismissed it as coincidental, my lord, being convinced of a consumption.”

  Mr Michael came to the house immediately on being called; he expressed his horror at the disaster that had overtaken the family and then presented a series of suggestions for immediate action.

  “Captain Hood and Sir William to take control of the family’s affairs in the South Country, my lord. Mr James cannot be expected to be of use to us for a long time, if ever; he was so much the family figurehead, and now has almost no family – I do not know what might become of him.”

  “I cannot imagine, Mr Michael. Much the same as may happen to me, I fear.”

  “With respect, my lord, nothing may happen to you – the demands of the family are such that you may not indulge yourself in the luxury of grief. We have lost Mr Joseph, and Sir Matthew is close to prostration at the death of his lady. You must travel to Lancashire and there take charge, my lord. I have no doubt that Lord Star will come to our assistance, but there is no alternative, my lord, to your active presence.”

  “Duty first and last, Mr Michael. There is no choice. What is best to do for my sister, Miss Verity, do you think?”

  “A household containing at least one young lady of her age, preferably a bright girl who can be a true companion. Are you acquainted with such, my lord?”

  “Intimately so, Mr Michael. The lady is known as Judy… A year from now, formal mourning completed, and she will, if, as I much hope, she is willing, become Lady St Helens. As a young man, I could not find the courage to make her my wife; that at least I can remedy. For the while, I will send Verity to her and hope that they may make a friendship. I am, I believe, executor to Joseph – do you take that business in hand, if you please, Mr Michael. Discuss the matter of a landed estate, obviously – put his wealth to work for his lady and children. I must meet with Sir Matthew, I fear, and stir him to activity.”

  Mr Michael agreed. Duty must come first, personal grief a long way last.

  “One might say, my lord, that the majority of the Andrews family are gone, but the duty to the name lasts while even one still exists.”

  “It does so. I must return to Thingdon Hall with the boys. They may have an extra day or two in seclusion, but there is work to be done; they must grow up faster than ever we h
ad expected.”

  “The king is dead, my lord…”

  “Yet the kingship lives on, and may never die… Please to send letters to the managers of all of the Roberts Ironworks and to Mr Joseph’s people, informing them of the tragedy and desiring them to attend a full meeting with me one week from today at Roberts. For now, I must visit with Sir Iain Mostyn and grieve with him for his daughter and grandchildren. Mortimer, will you arrange for the carriage and call my valet, Turton, to me.”

  “Mr Turton is not at the moment in the house, my lord. He has stepped out to the tailor, my lord, to arrange proper clothing for yourself and Master Thomas and Master Robert. Full suits of blacks, my lord. He knew that you would be busy again, my lord, and must be properly dressed.”

  Life must continue, but Robert could never be optimistic again. He had lost too much and too many, but there was still a future, even if its possibilities now frightened him.

  # # #

  By the Same Author

  The Duty and Destiny Series: First published in 2014, these superbly-crafted novel length sea/land stories are set in the period of the French Revolutionary War (1793 – 1802). The series follows the naval career and love-life of Frederick Harris, the second son of a middling Hampshire landowner, a brave but somewhat reluctant mariner.

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  A Poor Man at the Gate Series

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  A Victorian Gent: Naïve Dick Burke is hoodwinked into marrying a man-hungry aristocrat’s daughter who just seven months later produces a son! It’s the start of a long humiliation that sees Dick flee to America as the Civil War looms. Siding with the Union, the bloody conflict could be the making or the breaking of him, as could his alliance with Elizabeth, an attractive and feisty American businesswoman. Note: More books in this acclaimed series are now available to download.