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

by Andrew Wareham

  “Yes… but that won’t be good enough for the small places, will it?”

  “No, my lord – they pay so little in rent that we will not be able to do one half of what we should.”

  “Then we lose money, Mudge – I will not have my people living like that.”

  Mines and mills were different, Tom reflected – people had other needs in towns. His cottagers should be looked after; they were not as self-reliant as his industrial hands.

  Book Three: A Poor Man

  at the Gate Series

  Chapter Four

  “What are their names, Mudge?”

  “Laws and Merritt, my lord – Laws the tall, thin one with the nose, Merritt much shorter but just as thin. I doubt they either of them eat enough to grow a belly, my lord.”

  “What rent do they pay?”

  “Thirty-two shillings the acre, my lord, for all of their acres.”

  “Best corn land fetches that, or thereabouts. What exactly do we take from our farms, Quillerson?”

  Quillerson’s rounded face – he was putting on weight as he approached middle age – assumed a disapproving frown. Bad farming offended him but oppressive landlordism was a gross and intolerable hangover from the dark ages.

  “Thirty-one shillings an acre for wheat land, twenty-five for cattle, twenty-one for sheep. Denham’s fields pay individually, depending on what they are good for, my lord, but we would look for smallholdings to pay a pound, more or less.”

  Tom drummed his fingers on the table in the office they had created – Lutterworth had done without an estate office, presumably had had no need for such. He was increasingly irritated, irrationally so, wanted to explode in anger, would cheerfully have throttled Lutterworth if the old sod had not been dead. Through no fault of his own he was now a rack-renting, lickpenny, starveacre tyrant of a landlord and the stigma might stay with him through all eternity, whatever he did to amend the state of this unlooked-for inheritance. There was no-one to blame, no available arse to kick. If only Lutterworth had kept a bailiff he could have had the pleasure of sacking him but he could not even make that gesture.

  “Order timber, building bricks, stone and glass, Mudge. Find a thatcher and engage his services for the year. Is there a builder in the town?”

  “I checked last week, sir, talked to him on Friday, a Mr Rampton. He repaired a leak in the roof of the manor house, the East Wing, my lord, the one Lord Lutterworth lived in, two years ago. His account is still outstanding, my lord.”

  “To be expected! Pay it immediately, adding interest in the proper amount, so as to show willing. Then tell Rampton that we shall rebuild the farmhouses and the cottages first and he should, if possible, take on more men for the work. Guarantee to keep him busy for the next two years and offer to pay him five hundred guineas, cash, as a down payment against wages and materials. I asked Mr Wolfe, the attorney, to circulate all of the tradesmen in the area, to beg them to resubmit any bills that may have been ‘overlooked’, and the newssheet has mentioned the Will, of course. Have any accounts come in yet?”

  Mudge suddenly showed a bland face, staring at the ceiling.

  “Very few, my lord – the old lord would not spend money if he could possibly avoid it. Farrier and the doctor, my lord, the latter for deathbed services as Lord Lutterworth would not waste money on him before, they are only quite small. There is as well a surprisingly detailed account brought in person by a lady of the town. I have her statement here, my lord, was unwilling to meet it without your very specific approval. I would add that she is quite a well-built lady, indeed, ‘buxom’ might not be inappropriate, blonde-haired, probably through her own endeavours, and into her thirties, dressing rather boldly to display all of her attributes to their best advantage. Not uncommon in London, I have seen any number of such lounging near the Opera House - but out of place here, one might have thought.”

  Mudge was forced to look down, fished out a sheet of paper, passed it across the table, face determinedly straight.

  “’Two schoolmasters’ canes, rattan, at three shillings each; one strap, leather, eighteen pence; one set of irons as used in Newgate, two guineas; personal services, twice weekly for two years, fifty-two guineas; assorted clothing, nursemaid’s and vicar’s, three guineas.’”

  Tom laid the sheet down, chuckling quietly and shaking his head.

  “It’s amazing what you can get for five shillings, gentlemen! I have heard of such things, of course, but hardly expected to discover such doings in rural Leicestershire.” He looked at the blank faces across the table – though Quillerson’s was faintly puzzled, he had obviously not heard of the amusements of the English vice. He explained, concisely.

  “With respect, my lord, that is not a very pleasant set of habits!”

  “No, Quillerson.”

  “It is a disgrace, my lord – she should be driven away, be whipped at the cart-tail to the parish boundary!”

  “She might enjoy that, Mudge!”

  The young man looked sick – he seemed to lack a robust sense of humour.

  “Pay her, in full, Mudge, and inform her that she is not to set foot on the estate again. She will, no doubt, have other respectable clients in the area, can be expected to maintain a reasonable discretion – not that I really care if she chooses to blacken Lutterworth’s name!”

  The tenant farmers came to the door, precise to their time, dressed in what was probably their Sunday best of threadbare coat and breeches and ancient, cracked leather boots. They held their hats in their hands, kept their eyes downcast in proper deference, were amazed to have their hands shaken and to be offered a seat, looking all the more apprehensive for being offered courtesy – there had to be an ulterior motive.

  “Mr Laws and Mr Merritt – I have not yet inspected your acres, but the little I have seen from a distance suggests that there is a great need for repairs and maintenance of the buildings. Mr Mudge here, who you have met, will be bailiff and agent for the estate and he will discuss with you the order of necessary works on your land. In brief, it is my intention to tear down your farmhouses and cottages and replace them anew as a first urgency. After that must come barns and byres, hedges, ditches and yards and tracks and gates. Then we must look at the animals on your farms. It cannot all be done at once – it will be several years before we can complete all that is necessary.”

  They said nothing, still waiting for the whip to crack, Tom presumed. An unfortunate metaphor, he began to grin, which did not help matters as his scarred face creased menacingly.

  “I wish to make this estate both modern and profitable, and will loan you the working capital you need for seeds and new tools, for example.”

  Laws ventured a comment at this point, muttering that he still had to finish repaying the last loan Lord Lutterworth had made him, for fixing the roof to the big barn. He did not know that he could possibly pay for the new farmhouse. He had kept seed enough already, anyway, and owned all the tools he needed.

  “Your lease must specify that the landlord pays for buildings, Laws. The roof to the barn was not your responsibility, surely.”

  “Ain’t got no lease, my lord – pays the rent, quarter by quarter, thass all. Don’ pay the rent, out on the road, bag and baggage. Way it allus ‘as bin, ‘ere.”

  Merritt, whose eyes had never left the floor, grunted something, presumably agreement.

  “You will not have to pay for your buildings, either of you. Tell Mr Mudge the details of your loan, Laws, and he will repay you. We shall need to discuss this further, I think. I shall visit your farms this week, will talk with you then.”

  “The estate must go onto long leases, Mudge, short leases are the death of good farming, but… Do you want either of these men here for the next seven years, at least?”

  “Probably not, my lord – they are broken, unable to do anything for having been ground down over too many years. In any case, they know nothing of modern farming – all the tools they need, forsooth! What should I do, put them out at
the next quarter?”

  “We cannot just dump them on the road, Mudge. Give me a few days to think of a way out for us, and for the meanwhile bend your own mind to the question of how we could get a respectable tenant to walk into these places.”

  It took just two weeks to find a solution – the advantage of having relatives throughout the whole of the administration. Laws and Merritt found themselves to be government employees, overseers in the convict service at Botany Bay where men were needed to farm the great wheat fields and sheep walks now being created. It was explained to them, carefully, that after fourteen years, at most, of service they would receive land grants of several thousands of acres, and convicts to work them. During their time as overseers they would have opportunities to enrich themselves sufficiently to run their farms when they received them. The alternatives were made quite clear as well – eviction followed by their prosecution for vagrancy. Both accepted the few guineas offered to take them and their families to Portsmouth where there was a convoy of ships assembling.

  “Now, Mudge, how do we find tenants for land whose fertility has been destroyed, for farmhouses in urgent need of a friendly arsonist, for barns that are too damp to burn and for underbred, old-fashioned animals?”

  “From Thingdon, my lord, from the ranks of your own tenants - their sons, more precisely. Charlie Barney’s second boy is a year older than me, is a first-rate stockman and capable enough with his cornfields – he would do very well on Merritt’s land. Charlie could find a few pounds to set him up, I doubt not, and the young man would be pleased to get the opportunity because I know that he has been friends with Eakin’s eldest girl, Rosie - and would like to be closer and had never a chance while he was no more than a labourer to his father. For Laws’ Farm, Marchant’s third is a capable enough young man, and his father has the money a tenant would need.”

  Tom shook his head.

  “Marchant is an ignorant, ill-mannered pig, and his sons are no better, having been brought up in his sty.”

  “”With respect, my lord, he is a clever, a reading farmer, not like either of his brothers, one who is awake to all that is most modern. I have no particular desire to meet him in social converse, I agree, but he will be capable of tackling a very difficult job, and he will refuse to be defeated because he is too arrogant to beg for help or admit his own failure.”

  Tom surrendered – his own interest said that he had to take the best man, however much he might dislike him.

  “You are the agent, Mudge, and you will be dealing with him, pretty much on a daily basis. You will have to put up with him. Make the offer. What rents have you in mind?”

  “Nothing, my lord, in the first year, five shillings per acre in years two and three, one pound thereafter until the end of the first seven. At that point it should be possible to reach a proper rate for this area, one that will be fair to both parties.”

  “Lutterworth will be turning in his grave!”

  “Good!”

  Robert was enjoying his sojourn in New York. After a few days in a hotel he had bought a building down by the waterfront for the firm, offices on the ground floor, a small warehouse to the rear and a large set of rooms above where he had taken up residence. He was completely unaware that his father had dwelt within a furlong of him more than thirty years before, would have been entertained by the coincidence. In common also with his father, he had installed a housekeeper – Judith, young, blonde and enthusiastic – who was providing him with an education much more congenial than the curriculum at Harrow. Her fees were slightly lower than those charged by the great school, and he had in any case developed a strong degree of affection for her – she was a bright, warm lass and seemed to have a more than business-like kindness for him.

  He had discovered that the production of cotton was in the hands of a primitive, bucolic gentry – rather like English country squires, but, to his amazement, less sophisticated, a concept he would have dismissed out of hand as impossible had he not met some of them. He had been informed, to his delight, that the works of Walter Scott had attained immediate popularity throughout the Southern States, so much so that travelling genealogists – much in demand amongst the new gentry - had taken to the production of family trees tracing the descent of plantation owners from Lochinvar. It was only one step further than the insistence of so many English families of ‘Norman’ origins, and equally likely, he felt. There was little to be gained from joining this ‘plantocracy’, and much to be hazarded, because they seemed to be generally short of business sense, education and common decency – they were not people to be lightly brought into partnership. Better, he had decided, to take part ownership of one of the merchant houses that exported cotton to England – let the Americans actually deal with the southern primitives, they might have a clearer understanding of their own people. He had expressed this view in New York and had found that most Northern businessmen fully agreed with him, to the extent that they generally had branch offices in New Orleans or Charleston or Savannah, manned by semi-civilised southerners who made the actual contacts with the cotton and tobacco and rice producers and who arranged for their goods to be shipped north.

  Barely three months away from home and Robert had presented his letter of credit at the New York offices of Goldsmids and had bought into the firm of Maple and Swan, old Mr Maple having decided to retire and selling his partnership, with Mr Swan’s agreement, to the Englishman.

  Cash was, as ever, in short supply, and the offer of actual money rather than the demand for extended credit was very persuasive. So was the proposal that the firm should cease to ship cotton from New Orleans to New York but should send it instead directly to Liverpool, to Roberts Spinners and Star Spinners who would keep a very close eye on quality and quantities for them. Cutting out one leg of the sea transportation with its concomitant unloading and warehousing would save a couple of dollars on every bale, greatly increasing their profits.

  Robert very quickly gained the reputation of being a sharp young businessman and found himself courted by a number of merchants. Business had been disrupted by the war, old contracts broken, and there was a need to get back onto terms with London, the heart of the commercial world. A Colonel Miller made contact with him at an early date, suggesting that he might wish to establish himself on good terms with the ‘more powerful new York families’.

  “Mr Swan, do you have any idea of who this Colonel Miller may be?”

  Swan, in his forties, unadventurous and very conservative – he had often felt he would have been more at home in Boston – smiled weakly, said he knew exactly who he was.

  “Colonel Miller was very active during the days of the Revolution, Mr Andrews, and became known to all of the great figures of that time. He is in his sixties now, I believe, and is less busy than he used to be, but he still has the ear of the congressmen and senators and representatives at state and federal assemblies both, as well as being known to the mayor and the more senior police officers and officials of the customs service. He owns a merchant house of his own, dealing in this and that, and with links to the China trade and importing coffee from the West Indies. I believe he has also acted as an agent for the land grants in some of the western areas, and has taken some part in negotiations with the Indian tribes. In fact, Mr Andrews, one might say that where there has been a profitable pie, his finger has been somewhere in it. I believe his son, his only child, is increasingly prominent in his business affairs. He is adopted, I believe, but is very close to his father, a bond of affection much commented on and envied by many parents.”

  “Would it be to our advantage do business with the colonel, Mr Swan? ‘The China trade’ – silks and tea, I imagine – and coffee from Jamaica are not really in our line of business, I would have thought.”

  “It would be greatly to our disadvantage to cold-shoulder him, contact having once been made, Mr Andrews! One would point out, as well, that other goods are traded in the West Indies and the China Seas, though not necessarily overtly.”


  Robert had not the slightest idea what those ‘other goods’ might be but was unwilling to seem ignorant; he asked Judy that evening.

  “Black ivory out of the Sugar Islands, Bobby,” she insisted on the nickname; he had ruled that it was never to be used outside of the house. “China? Laudanum and opium for smoking – highly recommended by any number of doctors, and coolie labour for the English in India and Africa. Everybody knows that!”

  He wondered if he should mention that most of the English didn’t, decided it was not worth the effort, noted merely that Colonel Miller might well be into the slave trade – undesirable but highly profitable.

  Uncertain, aware only that he was out of his depth in the company of politicians, having no knowledge of public affairs, Robert went to meet the colonel at a ‘small party’ he was holding for a few friends.

  The colonel lived in a tall, new brownstone house overlooking a park, a very genteel area. There were iron railings surrounding an expanse of lawn, rare in the town, and a short gravelled drive inside, six or seven carriages drawn up and setting down expensively dressed, and generally expansively built, gentlemen and their ladies. Robert paid off his cab, one of several drawing up outside the gates, and walked in, pleased that he was formally dressed in the English fashion, after much internal debate, and by a smart London tailor. From all he had heard the menfolk might not notice but their ladies would, and would tell them later, at great length.

  A footman, in livery, called his name as he entered, ‘the Honourable Robert Andrews’, he noted, not ‘Mr’ as might have been regarded as a more correct usage, ‘Honourable’ should only be used as a written form of address, he understood. The colonel was evidently making a point to his other guests. He wondered just what point, that the colonel hob-nobbed with English nobility? Or something more significant than mere snobbery and social point-scoring? If so, what?