The Wages Of Virtue (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 8)

by Andrew Wareham

  Crawford slowly caught the unstated message.

  "Haw, haw, haw! Putting them on the block where they ain't known, are they? Got to be a reason for that, you know!"

  Joshua said nothing, accidentally caught Miss Thame's eye and was forced into a coughing fit so as not to share her suppressed grin.

  "I reckons as 'ow you're right, sir. Look at that wheeler, sir, over on the right 'and, there."

  They were walking the team around the ring in two pairs, slowly so that all could see them - well-matched, handsome horses.

  "He is blowing just a little, is he not, Mr Barney?"

  "Just a tiny bit, Captain, and that at a walk. I reckons as 'ow if you was to get close enough, then you'd hear 'im to puff."

  "Bad lungs. Overworked when very young, perhaps, or poor blood in the dam or sire making its way out."

  "Maybe, Captain. Could be worm, or coughing what 'e never got over proper-like. I reckons 'tis more like to be an ailment if they all four be the same, more or less."

  "Not horses that are coming into my stable yard, Mr Barney!"

  The auctioneer opened the bidding, calling for two hundred guineas and receiving an immediate raised hand from the other side of the ring.

  "Do you see who that is, Mr Barney?"

  "Sir Charles, sir - never did 'ave an eye for a 'oss, that man!"

  "Do you think it would be a neighbourly act to warn him, perhaps?"

  "Sod 'im, Captain, with respect, that is - ain't no Latimer was ever a neighbour to us, excepting that they lives next door, that is."

  Thame shrugged, watched as the bidding rose in twenties, one of Sir Charles' Latimer cousins pushing him up, probably out of malice - there was never love lost in that family.

  Sir Charles came out as victor, smirking round the ring for being the man who had paid what was probably the longest price the day would see.

  "Reckons we'll be seeing much of 'er ladyship behind 'er team in the next few weeks, Captain. Give us a laugh, any'ow!"

  Another dozen horses came through singly - working stock mostly, sturdy cobs and vaners fetching ten to sixty guineas, depending on their age and strength, most at the bottom end of the market.

  Joshua kept his hands in his pockets until a riding mare was brought in, six or seven years old and out of condition from having been left in a small paddock for several months. Her owner had died and there had been delays proving the Will and she was only now coming to market. She was restless, stamping and kicking, too long without exercise.

  "Bloody good 'oss that one could be, Captain. Do you be thinkin' to go for 'er?"

  Thame said he was not; he was not there to purchase riding stock.

  The auctioneer called for five guineas as she whinnied and then bit one of his lads; there was a general laugh around the ring and the local horse knacker offered ten shillings for dog meat. Joshua delayed a minute and then made a performance of shrugging, of taking a chance.

  "Five here, master!"

  There was a stir as he was recognised, one of the most successful breeders in the whole area, not a man to take rubbish into his pastures, but also one who was known to have had success in calming dangerous horses over the years. General opinion seemed to be that he was taking on a bad 'un again in the hope of making a good profit - hard work and risky, more than one stock breeder had been trampled in the past. No other bidder arose.

  "To Mr Barney!"

  Joshua walked into the office, laid down his money and took the signed and stamped papers that made him official owner. Having Romany connections forced him to be very careful with his paperwork - the magistrates would always have an eye on his stock.

  He took the mare's bridle and jogged her out of the yard, down to the meadows by the river, talking calmingly, almost whispering, and trotting some of the energy out of her. Half an hour and he brought her back, quiet for the while, and hitched her to the tail of his gig.

  "A good bargain, do you think, Mr Barney?"

  "Six month from now you ain't goin' to know 'er, Miss Thame. Either I sells 'er for an 'undred then, or I breeds from 'er - they's a couple of good stallions I knows would be just right for 'er. Do me own lines a power of good, she might."

  "I shall be staying with my brother next month, for a few weeks before he marries, shall make a point of coming to see her, if I am welcome on your acres, that is."

  Joshua hastened to tell her that she would be more than welcome - she was a handsome young lady and sensible with it. Too far up in the world for him, of course: a gentleman's daughter, and the Agent's sister, could only be trouble for him - which was a pity, in many ways. He wondered whether she knew that he could not possibly be considered as a husband - if she did, then maybe she had something less permanent in mind, which might be amusing for a while, even if risky.

  Joshua spoke to a few acquaintances, welcomed by every farmer with an unmarried daughter in tow - he had one of the most profitable and respected tenancies in the area. Other farmers had been known to pay a call on Joshua and ask his advice on a horse or demand his opinion on the best crops for the next year; the chance of marrying into the Old Waste was not to be sniffed at. Despite his first intentions Joshua had nothing to say to any of the young misses; knowing why, he called himself a bloody fool and left the ring, talking over his shoulder to his new mare all the time. He stopped at a store in the town centre, tied both horses very carefully and ran inside for a bag of sugar lumps - too much sugar made a horse jumpy, but a piece every now and then was always welcomed, and the mare looked as if she might have been a favourite, a lady's horse, petted and fussed over, stroppy now for lack of affection as well as the absence of exercise.

  He wondered whether he should buy in a side-saddle, being as they had never had call for such on the farm; he would have a word the next time one of his cousins came to call, it was amazing the things they could lay their hands on.

  "Mr Barney is a tenant farmer on the estate, I believe?"

  "He is, Maria - a very good man, for an uneducated hind!"

  Captain Thame had not liked the faint indications of interest displayed by his sister, made his disapproval clear.

  "I presume that good behaviour must be a condition of his tenancy - a farmer who stepped out of his place would very soon have no place at all!"

  Thame would have liked to agree, to squash all ideas that might be forming in her foolish, if not unintelligent, head; honesty supervened.

  "No, he is not a judge, appointed quamdiu se bene gesserint. He may be terminated for waste or for criminal misconduct, or, of course, for failing to pay his rent; otherwise he is safe in his tenancy for his seven years and will expect renewal at its end. My lord would never, I am sure, tolerate the persecution of a good man merely for holding bad ideas."

  Crawford, unaware of the undercurrents, haw-hawed and said that if he had bad ideas he could not be a good man anyway - it sounded as if my lord was soft on the Reds and the troublemakers.

  "'Soft' is not a word I would use for any member of that family, Mr Crawford."

  "Your Mr Walker is considering stepping down from the Treasury bench, James. Indeed, I believe he may be intending to stand down entirely even before the next election."

  "How old is he now, Jennifer? He must be much the same age as Papa would have been, perhaps a year or two less. He married late in life, did he not?"

  "A minor connection of the Maitlands, put his way because he was to be rewarded in the Party - little of intellect and not much more of looks, but a very substantial inheritance as the only child of no entail. She was on the wrong side of thirty, of course, gave him two children and then retired to a day-bed where she remains with a lady companion, a vinaigrette and the latest fashionable doctor to hand. The parents died last year and I believe Mr Walker wishes to bring up his son and daughter away from the miasmas of London. I think the larger of their houses lies in Somersetshire, or perhaps in Devon, not so far from Bideford and within a day of Bath - which will be an attraction to madam, I hav
e no doubt."

  A wife was a blessing when it came to information of that nature - James knew none of that she had just told him, and would not have known how to discover it for himself.

  "The family seat must remain in the hands of the Tory party, of course. I wonder what Robert will do, whether he will have his own man to put forward."

  "Better that he should, I think, James. From all that Papa has written me, the factions inside the Party are more opposed than ever. If Robert begs Lord Liverpool to name a man for him then there will be a three-cornered fight between Canning's people and Goderich's following, with Wellington's clique throwing their hat in the ring as well."

  Even James could instantly see that this would force Robert to make a public choice, committing himself to one set and alienating the other two.

  "He must produce his own candidate, and quickly, I think. He is settled at Thingdon for the while, I believe; perhaps we should spend a few days there, to discuss the matter."

  Robert, not being in Town, had not received the word that Mr Walker was to stand down, was slightly irritated to be last to know what was happening.

  "Inevitable, James, but still annoying. I think that, mourning or not, I must be seen in the House during much of the next session. I cannot be so far behind the fair - I am used to being first to know!"

  "It is part of your new existence, brother. Does a name spring to mind, have you a candidate of your own, brought along for family reasons, as my lady says would be best?"

  "I have not, though I do not doubt I could find one. A word with the Grafhams might be appreciated - he might know of a man, and one who might not be a stick-in-the-mud hanging and flogging enthusiast as well."

  It would be a courtesy to the new marquis, who happened to have no seat of his own to give away, his estate one of those not having a constituency of its own.

  James knew that Grafham had advanced ideas on many issues, did not entirely approve, but felt that he could be used nonetheless, enabling Robert as patron of the seat to distance himself from whichever faction his member eventually chose.

  'Grafham's man more than my own, don't you know'; a nod and a wink and Robert would be in the clear - it was necessary to make sacrifices for the Family, all could accept that and offer no condemnation.

  "Lady Grafham's youngest brother, George Aaron Goldsmid, who generally calls himself 'Goldsmith' these days. He is very much the afterthought of the family - a surprise to all - and is no more than your age, Robert. He would wish to undertake a political career, and his father, with some misgivings, will support him."

  Robert assumed that Grafham had pressured the elder Goldsmid into an appearance of complaisance; the old man was generally unwilling to court public visibility, in common with a number of other wealthy European Jewish families, still lived to an extent in a mental ghetto.

  "Is Mr Goldsmith known to any of the faction leaders in the Party, sir?"

  "He is an acquaintance of Peel - and has had his ambitions encouraged to an extent by him."

  That was a difficulty.

  "Not necessarily my favourite Public Man, Mr Peel. A great deal of brain, undoubtedly; a willingness to reform all that is no longer justifiable; an overweening desire to further his own political ambitions that may overcome any and every scruple he possesses. He might be described, in fact, as a politician by profession rather than as a servant of his country. One must accept, however, that he graces the Home Office in a manner that Sidmouth did not."

  "You may be a fraction harsher than he deserves, Robert. He aims eventually to create a Party, rather than the present loose collection of factional interests who use the name 'Tory' as an umbrella, one might say. He wishes to enshrine a philosophy for the Party so that any man will know what it is, and what it is not. I have spoken to him and he is quite sure that before too many years are past there will be a Reform of the Franchise, with the result that elections will slowly come to have a meaning and a purpose in the country as a whole. When that day arrives, then the Parties must have a common way of thought as well as an existence, and they have not at the moment."

  Having been for a short time a member of both Parties, James could agree - he was quite unable to distinguish any difference between them, except that amongst the Whigs there seemed to be more members better educated than him than was the case amongst the Tories.

  "The Whigs seem to be increasingly sure that they must champion Reform, Robert," James said. "Which reminds me, I meant to consult you on the issue of Trades Unions. There is a feeling that the current ban upon them is unjust - if employers can form groups of like-minded men to keep wages down, then it is only fair that workers should have their groups to force them up. Such being the case, would I seem disloyal to the family if I spoke for the right of men to combine?"

  Grafham's naval past made him sensitive to the very concept of mutiny; Robert's inheritance of paternalism left him indignant that he might be believed to force wages down. The instinctive reaction of both was to object to James' newly acquired Radicalism; neither man was in the habit of speaking before thinking and each delayed for a few seconds, managed to produce a reasoned response.

  "I do not like the principle, James, but I like the idea of refusing the freedom to speak even less. If men are afraid for their jobs if they act individually, if they believe that they cannot ask for a rise in their pay except at risk to their whole livelihood, then they must have liberty to act mutually. In all honesty, I cannot claim freedom for myself if I will not permit it to others."

  "It will be abused, Robert," Grafham demurred.

  "Everything will always be abused, sir - that is a part of the human condition. When any group is given liberty then one can be absolutely certain that criminal minds will take mean advantage of them. Consider the French Revolution - subverted almost instantly by the bullying thugs Robespierre and Bonaparte - freedom converted to the most vicious tyranny in less than five years. Yet that cannot in itself be an excuse for denying humanity its right to try to better itself. Look at America - that portion of the population which is recognisably white has some meaningful degree of liberty, though the urban poor amongst them are rapidly falling into near serfdom, it would seem. The descriptions Mr Murphy have given me of the control exercised by gangs and self-interested politicians suggest that the towns are even more appalling than ours in many respects. But I think it fair to say that for two in every five of Americans life is better there than it is here - which is a gain for freedom that the same forty per centum would welcome in England. I think, James, that I cannot object to your support for the principle of the carefully limited, legally controlled, Trades Union."

  Grafham was less convinced - whatever was done for the altruistic benefit of humanity inevitably resulted in most people becoming worse off, he said. Only profit and self-interest could benefit the great mass of people - Adam Smith was certainly in the right.

  "However, I shall not oppose you in this, James. I shall merely claim the right to say 'I told you so', twenty years from now!"

  "Then, returning to the main issue, and accepting that he will be on the more, 'progressive', shall we say, side of the Party, we shall agree on young Mr Goldsmith as our member, sir?"

  "I shall ask him if he would like to make a visit to you, Robert. You must form your own judgement before you make a life-long commitment to him."

  Robert's first opinion of Mr Goldsmith was that he needed feeding up - a spindle-shanked, skeletal, almost cadaverous, young man presented himself at the front door, stepping down from his post-chaise and looking about him with slow interest.

  Robert realised that he was observing, noting, classifying all that he saw.

  "Just like Joseph," he murmured to Miriam, waiting beside him to welcome their guest.

  "He will be able to tell us how many trees there are on the driveway, and probably the number of bricks in the chimney, husband."

  "Too busy thinking to eat, by his appearance."

  "I must tell Cook to
send up extra for each meal, sir. In part, of course, for me!"

  "Eating for three again, my dear?"

  She smiled in appreciation, thinking it only too likely.

  "Welcome to Thingdon Hall, Mr Goldsmith!"

  Robert shook hands, introduced his lady, commented that it was really rather surprising that they had not met before.

  "I have spent much of the last few years overseas, My Lord. Not perhaps a Grand Tour, but visiting some of the cities of Europe and learning a little of their languages and condition. I am, I must say, perfectly happy to be fixed in England, my own country, now!"

  The young gentleman was well-bred, made very good company at the dinner-table, which was pleasing - Robert had fully expected him to share Joseph's habit of falling into fits of abstraction as he pursued a line of thought of his own. He ate peckishly, however, showed small sign of appetite and drank little of Robert's port after the meal.

  "A martyr to my digestion, my lord! Since childhood I have never been able to consume as much as my peers, though I suspect my habits of indolence are much to blame - I had rather far sit over a book than pursue balls and foxes in muddy fields!"

  "I am much afraid that I have a rather vigorous set of activities laid out for the next few days, sir! I would wish you to acquaint yourself with the locality, if you do not object. The local people will vote the right way, that is no fear, but it is a courtesy to them to observe them in their daily lives on occasion. I presume that you will be able to accept this seat, sir?"

  Goldsmith was delighted to do so, had wondered if he was perhaps one of several to be inspected for the honour, was relieved that it was not so. He was very willing to meet any number of the inhabitants, if that was the correct course.

  "What am I to tell them, my lord?"

  "Speak a lot, but actually say very little. Above all, make no promises! Listen to their worries, make a show of noting them, perhaps - you may at some stage be able to offer them some amelioration of their condition. Primarily, display a rational sympathy, while explaining that the world is a hard place and government can do very little in the short term and not much in the long. Encourage them to leave the Land - to emigrate, to go to the towns in the north, to join the Army - there are too many people, Mr Goldsmith. If a man has five sons, then one can follow after him in his work in the village, but what can the other four do?"