Born To Privilege (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 3)

by Andrew Wareham

  “He was surprised, Charlie, but I do not think he was angry. He said he must discuss the matter with Mama – he did not say no.”

  “Ha! That means yes, then, for Mama will never gainsay Papa – she will make sure to discover what he wants then suggest it to him before he can say it. As well, if Papa had wished to refuse, he would have done so, there and then – no roundaboutation there, I believe!”

  Charlotte was a well-developed, precocious, handsome sixteen year old, rapidly shedding the last traces of puppy-fat and hoping, expecting, to make her debut in the following year. She knew that she was no classical beauty such as her aunt had been – she was too tall, energetic rather than fashionably languid and far too intelligent – but with her silky tresses of blonde hair, she was aware that she would stand out in any crowd of well-bred damsels. Her parents had been very careful to make her cognisant with her financial assets, too – as the only daughter she would bring an income in trust of two thousands a year, secured to her own use, and forty thousands in her husband’s hand.

  “You will be probably the richest prize of the Season, my dear, and every out-of-pockets ne’er-do-well will be at your feet, in company with most of the eligible bachelors too. Be awake on all suits, my love, and talk to me if you have any doubts at any time. I promise you that neither I nor Papa will chase away a poor man who loves you – of proper station, of course - and neither will we push any worthless object upon you because he is rich and titled. Was I you, in fact, I would accept no man at all in your first Season – enjoy yourself and know that you have no need to fear spinsterhood.”

  She was, perhaps, a little too well aware of her own worth, as her parents had noticed, but better that, they thought, than to lack self-confidence.

  “What will you do, Robert?”

  “What I am told, I expect, Charlie!”

  He laughed and patted her on the head, knowing how much it infuriated her with its implications of ‘little woman’.

  “I don’t know – but I do know Papa and I am sure he will send me somewhere where there is work to be done, if I am man enough to do it. He was younger than me when he took his scar, and he will look to me to be as much a man as he was. Mama will not, of course, have any such expectation, knowing full well that no man could ever match up to Papa!”

  “My husband will.”

  The two eldest left the school-room to change for dinner, both having been declared sufficiently adult to dine in public.

  The younger boys, who would eat the same food but in the school-room, sat to the table in their place.

  “So, just the two of us, James, without big brother in the background.”

  James, considerably less bright than his younger brother, had never been aware of the protection from bullying and buggery that a large relative provided. As blond and handsome as they both were, their early years at school could have been unpleasant otherwise.

  “Just one more year for me, Joseph – Mama says I may join when I am sixteen. Uncle Jack was that age when he went out to India.”

  Major Lord Jack Masters was rarely seen at the Hall, his regiment having gone out to the Peninsula soon after returning from India and he preferring to take his furloughs in London when he was in England. The children knew him only as a distant, straight-backed military figure, awe-inspiring to Army-mad James, nothing to the other three.

  “You will make a fine Hussar, James! Does Mama still prefer that you should go into the Blues?”

  James shrugged, that was the Grafhams’ tradition, but he wanted to go overseas and win glory, not be a fixture in London with the Household troops.

  “The Lilywhite Sixth, if there is a vacancy, would be the only heavies I would consider. If not, any lights will do, but not one of these new-fangled lancers, I think!”

  Joseph dropped the topic – he had no interest in soldiering or in girls, James’ only other conversation at the moment. He wondered when he should raise the question of his own future with Papa, and how. As third son he knew that he could only have a very small inheritance – the estate must not be cut up – probably about fifteen thousands in trust, an income of some five hundred a year, ten times as much as a farm labourer and sufficient to live on in a quiet way, in rooms in Town or in a small country house. Was he to become a diplomat, then there would be an addition to his allowance in his lifetime and to his inheritance, sufficient to keep his end up, the same if he chose a political career. Otherwise, if he wanted a respectable income it was up to him to make his own way, probably in the Law, just possibly with John Company in India. Unfortunately, he wanted none of those courses – he was fascinated by steam and coal and iron, had already built his own model beam engine which worked, after a fashion. He wanted to go into the manufactury in St Helens, but he could not imagine that either of his parents would approve of that. In the meanwhile he needed to learn mathematics and about the sciences, which school did not offer – Euclidean geometry was the farthest they went to, and that only because it was respectably Greek. Perhaps he could suggest to Papa that when James left he should go too, into the hands of a private tutor who could teach such things – as third son he need not be so restrained by convention as first and his current heir and successor.

  Dinner was a simple meal of dried pea soup, a pair of roast chickens with spring greens, baked parsnips and well-boiled, salted runner beans, followed by a selection of cakes and puddings to cater for the tastes of all six and of the servants who would finish them off. It was still too early in the year for the gardens to be producing anything other than greens and the bulk of the meal had to come from the store cupboards.

  Tom waited until the sweets were on the table and the servants had left the room before turning the conversation to business.

  “Your mother and I have decided, Robert, that you need not return to Harrow on Tuesday. If you wish, I will send you to the States instead, for a few months in the first instance. We will talk everything over in detail but, briefly, I would wish you to discover all you can about the growing of cotton – what are the costs, whether it might be wiser to buy out existing plantations than set up on the new lands, where there those new lands are, what are the risks. Full written reports, perhaps one for each of the States that produce cotton – but you might not be able to get to them all, of course. As well, if we are to own plantations, how are they to be run and managed, and by whom? Can you do that, do you think?”

  Robert was taken aback, he had expected to go out as a learner, an apprentice, not as master in command of his own fate. Charlie, opposite to him across six feet of polished oak, well out of range to kick him, clenched her fists, praying that he would make the right, positive answer – she would have.

  “Yes, sir. I can do it, provided that you give me some guidance first. I would like to do it, in fact, it would be interesting. Where should I start from, Charleston or New Orleans?”

  “Good question, and one to which I do not know the answer. We must go to St Helens and talk to Sir Joseph first – I cannot imagine that there is anything he does not know about the trade. The best course, I suspect, is London on Monday to purchase all the things you will need, then return here on Thursday and aim to go to St Helens on the Monday following. That will give time to get a letter to Sir Joseph, out of courtesy. Will you come, Verry?”

  She nodded, raised an eyebrow to her daughter, bobbing hopefully in her chair.

  “Both of us, Thomas, on Tuesday, I suggest.”

  “Tuesday?”

  “We can take the boys to school, rather than send them off on their own.”

  “Shopping, my love – I had wanted an excuse to go to Town for a few days in the Season in any case, but you need some dresses. You must get used to adult styles, lower on the bodice and with skirts to your ankles which you must learn to manage.”

  Verity smiled as her daughter blushed and glanced in the long mirror, wondering just how much of her not inconsiderable chest she must begin to display.

  “We shall attend t
he local Assemblies so that you may learn to dance in public and with partners who are not well-known to you. As well, you will learn to converse with chance-met strangers – never an easy thing to do. It will be better that you are not tongue-tied and awkward when we go to Town next year.”

  Miss Brooke, the governess, a young woman of great learning and some intelligence, nodded her agreement. She had already introduced an element of general knowledge into her lessons and would, over the next year, beg permission to discuss articles from the Morning Post with her pupil. It was a source of regret to her that the Andrews had had but one daughter and that she must seek another post when Miss Charlotte came out – it would be difficult to find a place as congenial and well-paid, one where she was not expected to be a maid-of-all-work, cleaning the school-room and mending her charges’ clothes as well as teaching them.

  “We shall suggest to Papa that a town-house might be a desirable purchase. The Clarendon is all very well, but a ballroom in one’s own house has much to recommend it for your come-out.”

  Later, in the privacy of her sitting-room, Verity returned to the topic of London and the Upper Ten Thousand and Charlotte’s come-out.

  “I will hope to bump into people who remember me, Charlotte, and will certainly meet those who have stayed with us at our house-parties in the last five years, so that they may be reminded of your existence, and of your age. You need to know, my love, that the Andrews are not quite the thing in polite society, and we must tread tenderly. I am, of course, daughter to the Marquis of Grafham and sister to the Dowager Countess of Bridlington, both respectable figures and occupying their place in society – in the case of my sister, rather a large place, these days! However, I am also wife to Lord Andrews, a baron of three years standing, the Iron Master as he is known, and believed by many to have been a pirate in his youth. That last is an exaggeration, I would add.”

  Charlotte was quite intelligent enough to hear what her mother was saying.

  “An exaggeration, Mama?”

  “He was a privateersman, amongst other things, I doubt not. He is known to be deadly with pistols and there are those who do not scruple to imagine him as another Blackbeard. He is also a millionaire twice over, one of the fifty richest men in this country, at a guess, and probably the only one not to have inherited his wealth, and that is not popular in some quarters, too. New money is resented by many.”

  Charlotte asked why and was introduced to the concepts of ‘shabby-genteel’ and ‘nouveau-riche’.

  “Remember, my dear – if you are of the old aristocracy and spend money lavishly, you are generous and open-handed; if you have made your own money and do the same, you are vulgar.”

  Charlotte was inclined to be indignant – her Papa was not to be insulted by titled nonentities who could not have achieved the half that he had!

  “Finally, Charlotte, your uncle, Lord Rothwell, heir to the Marquisate, is married to a Jewess, the daughter of a very wealthy banker.”

  “Aunt Rothwell? She is a Jew?”

  “Yes, my love! Converted to Christianity, of course, Church of England, as are the children, from necessity. They have to go to school and the eldest must take his oaths in the House of Lords one day.”

  “But, are not Jews very wicked people, Mama?”

  Verity bridled, willing to be very angry with her ignorant daughter, controlling herself with an effort.

  “Jews are people, my dear. Of a different religion and with a different way of life to ours in many respects. Because there were very few in England in the past they are almost all foreigners, which makes them easy to dislike – but quite a number fled the Revolutionary Wars and the villain, Bonaparte and have made their new home here, and are welcome as far as we are concerned! Her father is very rich, and Rothwell was very poor, which in part explains the marriage, buying into a title, but also Mr Goldsmid as a foreigner, from the Germanies, was very pleased to have an entry to the governing set in England. Rachel is a sweet lady, as you know, and I love her dearly – which is why she visits us every year for much of the summer. I believe my brother treats her well, and I know that he does not mount a mistress, which must make her life easier, but theirs is not a love-match, though I believe they have developed a degree of liking for each other. She is tolerated, just, in society, by all except the highest-sticklers. When she becomes Marchioness, then there will be a place for her – and gossip behind her back for her whole lifetime. George, her eldest son, will find it easier to fit in, and his children will just be Grafhams, but for the while we are all just a little blown upon.”

  “That is why you have not gone to London for the Season in previous years, I presume, Mama?”

  “Yes. I would be welcome, Papa would experience a few snubs – and I do not wish that to happen. Next year, every Mama who has a son to marry will have your name on the list of those to be inspected as a possible bride, but you will be viewed more critically than many. The grande dames, especially – Mrs Drummond Burrell, the Countess Lieven, Lady Jersey, that set - will be watching you for signs of vulgar opulence or ill-breeding, and they must see none. You will be accepted easily, my love, and will be rejected with equal facility if you offer the least cause!”

  “Do we need them, Mama? Must I go into this lion’s den?”

  “No. We could hold aloof from society, but if we did then society would never accept us, or your children, and there are advantages to being members of the ruling set of the richest and most powerful country on earth. If we wish to be part of the great, then we must accept the terms of entry that they set, my dear! That is one of the reasons why your brother must be discreet in his behaviour, wholly conventional in this country.”

  She was old enough, Verity judged, to learn that nothing came for free – that a place of power and privilege such as she enjoyed still had its obligations.

  “What of Joseph, ma’am?”

  “What of him, my love? I had thought him to be material for the Church, perhaps, or a don at Oxford – very clever and very quiet.”

  “He wants to be an engineer, I know, Mama. He thinks that being third son he might be allowed to get his hands dirty. He wants to make new steam engines – he says, at tedious length, that some American has already built a steam powered ship and that there is word of a steam barge on a Scottish canal, and of iron ships. He wants to do better – as an Andrews, of course, he knows that he will do better, that goes without saying.”

  Verity was amused, at first, though respecting her son’s opinion of himself and his abilities and his assessment of what was possible for a younger son. A little thought suggested that he might not be unwise.

  “He could, of course, then take control of the firm for his brother, my dear, having some knowledge of the new industry. If he does not then the family will become no more than distant owners with no say at all in the real affairs of our own money, which is a thing I had not thought about. I wonder if Papa has? Say nothing about this, I think, to Joseph certainly – I shall bring the question up over the next few months.”

  Tom took Robert to Manton’s as a first call – guns were a necessary part of life overseas, even more so than in England. Robert was competent with a pistol, better than average with a scatter-gun, and it was wise to equip him with the best of both.

  “A pair of pocket murderers, if you would be so good, Mr Manton – the normal percussion pieces with a concealed trigger that will not catch in the lining. A pair of ten inch barrel horse pistols as well, and a double-barrelled fowling piece, all three of the same gauge so that the long gun can fire ball at need.”

  Two hundred pounds gone in a minute, but in exchange six barrels that would shoot perfectly straight and would never misfire except in the worst of conditions – it was a price well worth paying.

  “Pocket pistols, Robert, will be kept always in whatever jacket or coat you are wearing – you will never venture out of doors except they are to hand and loaded. I require your word on that, if you please.”

  �
��Yes, sir.”

  “Horse pistols are more convenient than a carbine, I think, and little more inaccurate. If you expect to go into a fight, a regular battle, then purchase a half dozen of robust flintlocks and a bandoleer and a short sword or cutlass – these pistols are for occasional, everyday use, against need in the streets or on the highway. Remember the old rules, my son – never draw unless you intend to fire, never fire unless you intend to kill, never kill unless it is necessary, never hesitate if it is necessary, and tidy up afterwards – it is very ill-mannered to leave bodies in the streets to upset the ladies.”

  Manton, who had never himself used one of his own pistols in anger, nodded sagely.

  “Will you require duelling pistols, my lord?”

  “I hope not, Mr Manton – we are neither of us quarrelsome men. Is it still the case that percussion is frowned upon for such weapons?”

  “Yes, my lord – duelling pistols should not be rifled and must be flintlocks – presumably the duello never takes place in the rain, my lord!”

  Tom shrugged – there was much to be said for the code of the duel. The formalities created delay, time for tempers to cool and reason to reassert itself, and the presence of seconds prevented a descent into vulgar brawling. It was commonly argued that the duel saved many more lives than it took, particularly amongst hot-headed youth, but it also led to an amount of silliness, especially amongst young men who felt a need to prove themselves. On balance, Tom felt a punch in the mouth to be preferable to the grass at dawn, but the choice was not always his to make, or his son’s.

  “Buy good pistols if you need them, Robert, but do not make a point of going equipped in advance, of appearing to seek a duel for its own sake. You may not appear to be a coward, as I need not say to you, but you do not need to be a fire-eater either.”