“Then the decision is yours, my dear – you know very well that I will not argue.”
Miss Fielder was short and rather dumpy, badly dressed in the cheapest of cottons, in no state for public display, something she was herself vaguely aware of. She was both grateful for the invitation to join the household and resentful of the need to beg for her dinner, to accept charity, and was fully aware that she must sing for her supper, must accept whatever came her way, for she would never be able to live on the income of the three hundred pounds her father had left her. She had a brother, not bound to any profession and reliant wholly on his own inheritance, barely sufficient to keep him and inadequate to supplement her income, so she was effectively wholly on her own, must be sure to please in her new occupation. She stood in the hall, behind the butler, waiting quietly for Verity to pay her such attention as she wished, making no attempt to thrust herself forward, wondering whether she would be expected to assist with the baggage coming in from the travelling chaises.
“Miss Fielder, you have not met my husband, Lord Andrews, or my eldest son, Mr Robert Andrews, or Miss Andrews.”
Bows and curtsies were exchanged, deeper, more formal on her part, and she was permitted to shake hands, placing her on a footing of greater intimacy, more nearly part of the family.
“We shall be just five to table this evening, Knight.”
Knight bowed, silently noting that Miss Fielder would dine with the family.
“Would you show me round the house, Knight – I have not yet seen it. We shall, of course, be entertaining frequently.”
“Certainly, my lady. Additional staff from the agency, ma’am?”
“Of course – you to decide how many and who. What arrangement have you made for the kitchens?”
“On a temporary basis, my lady, on your liking, I have employed the chef from the Dowager’s kitchen. I found him to be a very able man, despite being of French nationality, and he was at a loss for a place in England.”
It all seemed satisfactory; Verity withheld judgement until they had eaten the chef’s food and had had a sight of his bills. Chefs were renowned for their ability to pad butchers’ accounts and this one, being foreign, would naturally tend to be more dishonest than most, one could never trust a Frog, after all.
The house was more of a mansion, very large by London standards with more than twenty bedrooms. Most importantly a wing had been added in the middle of the last century and contained on its first floor a large, formal dining room to seat up to fifty in comfort and a vast ballroom adequate for at least a hundred couples. Downstairs housed a supper room and several smaller chambers suitable for card rooms. Behind all, recently built under Michael’s aegis, there was a very modern set of conveniences containing a dozen of the new water closets, sure to be a talking point amongst the dowagers. Verity was quite satisfied – Michael had done them very well.
“Tomorrow, Thomas, we must call upon some of our acquaintance, Charlotte and I must, that is. You and Robert will wish to make contact with Rothwell, of course, as well as looking in on the debate in the Lords – it is Slavery again and you may wish to cast a vote, to be seen to be interested in the issue – it is very fashionable just now.”
The House was sitting and Tom’s lawyer from St. Helens, Clapperley, was in London, spent most of his days in the capital in fact, having a place in government which gave him a role in the issuing of contracts for the maintenance and victualing of the various forts and military depots throughout the new colonies that had come under Britain’s control as a result of the war. He was rapidly becoming very rich. He was still grateful to Tom for allowing him to rise on his coat-tails and regularly offered Michael profitable hints on the direction of future government policy as well as ensuring that Goldsmids was favoured with substantial amounts of government business. Tom tried to keep Clapperley at arm’s length, avoided being seen too often in his company as he was gaining a reputation for excessive corruption. He would not be favoured with a peerage and was finding the knighthood he wanted slow to arrive – it would come, because he took great care to make large donations to party funds and had bought control of a number of boroughs in the North-West, a valuable contribution to the parliamentary majority. It was generally believed that Clapperley would not rise to any of the major offices of state, but equally accepted that he was of increasing importance in the Party and would very soon be an acknowledged kingmaker. It was noted that a number of the Prince Regent’s cronies took pains to nod and smile to him, ‘Prinny’ himself being in need of rescue from his creditors again.
In the nature of things, Tom bumped into Clapperley in Westminster, brought Robert to his attention and told him that he would be assisting Lord Rothwell in some of his duties, learning his way about the world of politics. Clapperley smiled and agreed that to be a very wise course – the Andrews interest not having been as prominent as might otherwise have been the case.
“As well to be seen in the corridors of the great, my lord, just to serve as a reminder of one’s existence and power as a family. You will, of course, be present at Carlton House during the Season after Miss Andrews makes her curtsey to the Queen – His Royal Highness will no doubt wish to greet her and you. I believe you have met only infrequently and one must bear in mind that he will inevitably become King, to the delight of all loyal men.”
“You have word on the progress of the King’s illness, Mr Clapperley?”
Clapperley shook his head, nothing came out of the closed rooms other than the anodyne statements of the Royal, ‘mad-doctors’ and they were at loggerheads with each other.
“The old gentleman will never be seen in public again, my lord, and there is an agreement that he cannot have more than five years left in him – he is losing his vision and his hearing, one is told, is suffering the ordinary decay of advanced years in addition to his more particular problems. It is whispered that as a result His Royal Highness is seeking to be more closely informed on issues of the day and that the constitutional lawyers feel that it is only right that he should be – but the Party seems to believe that times have changed, my lord, we have moved on and shall be discussing policy matters with him more often after the event than prior to it.”
Robert, who had grown up knowing the King to be mad and incompetent, could see no difficulty in this – the King’s ministers should tell him what they had done, by all means, and listen to his comments, but they should not expect to take his instructions on matters of state. Tom, not politically aware in any case, was more used to the concept that the King ruled; he would have to discuss the matter at length with Verity.
“Conflict between King and Parliament, Thomas – nothing new in that, in itself, but the environment has changed, of course. Our King has, naturally, lost all power – he cannot even command himself, poor man! That power has been exercised by others and they will not willingly surrender it, especially not to the Prince Regent – such a poor excuse for a gentleman! The King is no more as a ruler, which is not to say that he will be without great influence, but the real struggle for power – and there will always be a struggle for power, there is not enough of it to go round everybody who wants a share – will be between Commons and Lords. While the Commons remains unreformed as it currently is, the Lords will be supreme, but, if there should be a move towards greater representation of the ordinary people of the land – those with a financial stake, that is, not the common ruck – then the Lords will inevitably take second place. The modern world will no longer tolerate rule by birth alone rather than merit. We can see, for example, that in France and Spain and Portugal the restored Royal Families are behaving like fools, returning to an arbitrary, mediaeval despotism; they will die, almost of a certainty, having created new revolutions which we can avoid here.”
Tom scratched his head in puzzlement – general opinion was that England was in uproar – machine-breakers, agricultural rick-burners and unemployed soldiers combining to create increasing chaos.
“They have no
single enemy, Thomas, there is no community between them. Captain Swing has nothing to say to General Ludd, and, while, government is in the hands of the many, relatively speaking, they will not unite. Why march on Windsor to hang the King? There is no Bastille in this country to provide a symbol and when times get better and there are jobs for more people, then all will calm down. In France, though, there is a King to hate and a Church trying to re-establish all of its old rights. In Spain there is even an Inquisition again. In Portugal, the old lords who ran away to Brazil have come running back again and are trying to snatch back their wealth and power. We must learn from them and not copy their mistakes – because France has taught us one thing: successful revolution is not impossible.”
Verity rather wished that revolution might be more active when it came to dealing with Miss Fielder – the guillotine could well have been a useful instrument if applied to her family. She was very willing to help, to do all she could, but she had no idea of working, did not know how to subordinate herself to the demands of the task in hand. The slow process of writing five hundred cards of invitation, in each case discovering, where there was doubt, the exact style and titles of the recipient, was dragging out forever. If Miss Fielder looked into the Peerage or Baronetage she was sure to be distracted into twenty minutes of reading and exclamation on discovering another wholly unrelated but very interesting entry on the same page. It was a good hour that saw five cards addressed and Verity found herself writing two for her secretary’s one.
“I cannot send her away, Thomas, but I have no idea what to do with her!”
“Mudge tells me in his last letter that Lutterworth House would benefit from having a mistress in residence…”
“We said that we wanted a tenant, and Robert will not wish to establish himself there for another year or two. As a temporary measure, just to help us out, being at a stand, as it were…”
Miss Fielder, flattered at the confidence reposed in her, was on her way to Lutterworth three days later.
“Mr Michael, we find ourselves in need of a lady to act as secretary and, to an extent, companion, to Lady Verity, having found another occupation for Miss Fielder.”
“Difficult, my lord. I wonder if, perhaps, Mr Smith might know of a family come upon hard times. I will enquire.”
“Mr Smith?”
“Ah, an acquaintance, my lord, we have worked together these twenty years, occasionally. I believe him to have a post in the Home Office – he certainly seems to know everybody and everything!”
Tom nodded thoughtfully, wondering why Michael had chosen to mention Smith’s name and function, for it was obvious what he was. His own hands were clean at the moment, he was well out of the trade in black ivory and had no government contracts, apart from the sale of rum to the navy, and that was long established. Possibly his involvement through Robert with America?
“The Jewish community, my lord, I believe you have some links with them? Do you know if they intend to settle here, or will they return to the Germanies, do you think?”
Tom smiled, the question answered for him, thought very rapidly.
If the Jewish bankers left the country, taking with them their capital and knowledge of finance, then the whole of business and industry would suffer, might, indeed, never recover. There were great deposits of iron and coal in northern France and in the Rhineland, he understood, and probably in Russia as well, the country was so big, there must be. There were ores in Spain certainly, but no Jew in his right mind would go there, not with the Inquisition re-established, but the Austrian Empire was a possibility and might well be welcoming. With the wars at an end there was a good chance that they might choose to leave what had been no more than a temporary haven, and that must be prevented, if at all possible.
“I believe, Mr Michael, that the Goldsmids, for example, are very grateful for the shelter offered them in recent years, but they do not really see themselves as part of this country – though they have developed some connections.”
“Without making any promises, of course, or, indeed, even doing more than to explore the most theoretical of considerations, my lord, could you imagine any incentives that might lead them to wish to become domiciled here in England?”
“Nationality and, of course, a guarantee of freedom of worship, such as they effectively have, with no penalty of oaths according to the Church of England if they should enter public office would be very welcome, I doubt not. If, as well, leading figures of the second generation were to be recognised with honours then I have am sure they would realise that they are safe and welcome here. As well, were ranting preachers who try to whip up the mob firmly slapped down, then we would all sleep more comfortably in our beds.”
“Difficult, my lord – for if we were to extend formal tolerance to Jews then Roman Catholics would demand the same. A barony or two, that is well possible, I have come to believe. I shall, very discreetly, pass your words along, my lord. I understand it was felt that it might be seen to be a little too, blatant, shall one say, if this conversation, which we have not held, of course, should have taken place with Lord Rothwell.”
Tom signified his understanding and made his way to Goldsmids.
“Government appears to be concerned that your family and your bank might return overseas now that the wars are over, Mr Goldsmid. Speaking wholly in the abstract, purely from a desire for information, to fill in gaps in my knowledge, as you might say, could you tell me whether there would be any consideration of conscience or faith that would militate against you or, say, your eldest son, accepting a peerage in England?”
“I had not thought that possible, my lord. I presume a condition would be that we remained in this country?”
Tom shook his head vigorously.
“No conditions would, or could, be set, Mr Goldsmid. Any honour would be a recognition for the services you have already performed for this country. It would also be to say that you are more than welcome to remain, and that, slowly, over time, efforts would be made to ensure that your families would be welcomed as Englishmen. People will not change overnight, but they can be persuaded to accept a new reality and I can assure you that there will be no, ‘pogroms’, is that the word? They will not happen in this country ever again – no more Little St Hughs!”
Goldsmid had not heard of the mediaeval child ‘martyr’, said to have been ritually slaughtered by Jews, commented that every country in Europe had had the like. He said as well that his family had been very pleased, and surprised, by the honest welcome extended to them by the Grafhams – he already had English grandchildren, would be pleased to have an English son, certainly had no intention of risking his neck again in the German-speaking lands.
Book Three: A Poor Man
at the Gate Series
Chapter Seven
Verity made the round of morning calls, meeting all of her old acquaintances from the days of her come-out and the relatively few friends who had visited at Thingdon Hall since her marriage. The Grafham family and its network of first and second cousins all rallied to the cause, making introductions and mentioning her to their own circles, reminding them of her existence. By the third day she had made the necessary breakthrough, Lady Jersey, one of the grande dames calling on her, ‘renewing old ties’. They had come out together, had been on chattering terms before Sally Fane had made her great marriage and had, quite naturally, gravitated into other spheres. Now, driven by her unquenchable curiosity, she had chosen to meet Lady Verity Andrews and to inspect the Iron Master, in full expectation that he would be impossible. If he was acceptable to society then well and good, if not, there would be an entertaining story to tell.
“Verity, my dear! So many years! You seem to be flourishing, in the best of good health, I trust?”
“Apart from trying to keep the flesh down, Sally, I have no concern at all for my constitution – but four children take an inevitable toll, as we all know!”
They exchanged rueful smiles, though both were very presentable, as they w
ere well aware.
“And how is your sister, the Dowager Countess of Bridlington?”
“She flourishes too, like several green bay trees!”
Lady Jersey laughed, tinklingly delicate, carefully modulated to draw approving attention.
Tom came into the room at that point, obeying the instructions given him as Lady Jersey’s carriage was seen outside the door. He was carefully dressed in precisely appropriate indoor clothing, pantaloons, waistcoat, short-tail coat over all, his neckcloth neatly unobtrusive, pin small and elegant, all clean and cared for.
“Lady Jersey, my husband, Lord Andrews.”
Tom bowed and shook hands.
“One of our newer families, the Andrews, my lord?”
Lady Jersey gave a satirical smile, waited for him to stumble and try to cover up his plebeian origins.
“Very much so, my lady – fresh off the shelf as it were! As I expect you may have heard, I left the sea towards the end of the First American War – the reason why shows quite clearly, ma’am – and took my prize-monies into Lancashire where I prospered and eventually had the great good fortune to meet Lady Verity. Now, young Charlotte is making her come-out and my son Robert is looking about him and so I am inflicting myself upon society – with some trepidation, I would add!”
Glancing at the pair - her eyes lifting to his, his hand casually brushing her shoulder - Lady Jersey came to the surprising conclusion that theirs was a love-match, not the matter of convenience she had unthinkingly assumed it must be. Unusual! And he spoke well, no falsity, no shame-facedness, pride in his achievements rather. The scar said that he had much to be proud of – he had fought for his country. It was not as if he was unique. Apollo Raikes, the merchant-dandy, was to be found everywhere, his nickname because he was handsome and had risen in the East and was setting in the West – and very few of the new political baronages, who made up the great bulk of the peerage, were open about all four of their grandparents.
Born To Privilege (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 3) Page 19