The Vice Of Virtue (A Poor Man At The Gate Series Book 10)

by Andrew Wareham

  “So, Mr Tonks,” he continued, “I have discovered you, now I need to keep you. I am sure you have thought of becoming your own man, setting up your own mill – and you could do it and, eventually, become wealthy. Stay with me and you will become rich, and much sooner. I do not say that you will make as much money working for me as you might on your own, but, to be practical, the difference between one hundred thousand and two is not great – you would be hard pressed indeed to spend either sum!”

  “One hundred thousand?”

  “That is what I expect one tenth part of the business will be worth by the year Forty. That is my aim.”

  “You are very persuasive, sir. I shall be honest, sir – I always am with you, in any case – and say that was I still a whole man I would take the risk of working solely for myself. But I fear that my health will eventually fail, that I may reach my sixtieth year, say, and discover myself to be suddenly old and frail. In such case, better far that I may simply resign from your service rather than be left with a mill to sell and keep running the while.”

  “Well said, Mr Tonks. What do you plan, sir?”

  “We have five mills - a manager to each, and I think it wise to appoint separately an accounts overseer to each office, reporting to me and not to the manager. I will, I expect, base myself at our newest place, which was used to be Thwaites and will need most attention.”

  George considered that – a thousand a year at least, five senior bookkeepers would cost between them. He nodded after a while; his brother Matthew had mentioned problems of fraud and the activities of light-fingered gentlemen in the shipyards and at Roberts Iron Works.

  “When one man makes money there will always be another wishes to spend it for him, Mr Tonks.”

  “Exactly, sir. As for a wife – I am not sure how best to go about that matter…”

  “If you did not think my intervention in your private life to be presumptuous, Mr Tonks, I could speak to my lady wife, who, in the very nature of things, is more au fait with local society than am I, and she might be able to offer a suggestion or two.”

  Tonks thought rapidly – whilst he had great respect for his master he had no wish at all to end up with a wife like his. He could not refuse, he regretted.

  “Why, sir, that would indeed be generous of you!”

  “A proper wife for Mr Tonks, husband – not so difficult a task, I would imagine. He is already a man of very high standing in our community, and you tell me he is to become manager of all of the mills. May I be informed of his actual income, sir, or should that be left a matter of conjecture?”

  “Three thousands and a share of the profit that will soon amount to ten parts in the hundred – not less than another one thousand per annum, and rising. He will also have the freehold of this house.”

  That was the first she had heard of any removal on her part.

  “I have bought on the coast, not so far from Sir Erasmus Clapperley’s seat near Southport. I have used the legacy of cash bequeathed by your father for this purpose, thinking it more honourable that I should dedicate the sum to the family than to my own money-making. I know that you will say that my own fortune exists for the benefit of us all, and that is true, but your father had such a feeling for family, and such regret that he had no son of his own, that I cannot decently do otherwise.”

  She wept a little, moved by his delicacy of feeling, not aware that his creation of a trust to hold the estate and her father’s money made it safe from any bankruptcy proceedings in the event that his new business venture should fail.

  “Yet again, husband, am I brought to realise that I am wed to a gentleman!”

  “And our children are gentlefolk, due to the upbringing you are granting them, ma’am.”

  “What of this estate, sir? When do we move in? Is the house greater than this?”

  “Larger than my brother, Sir Matthew, is possessed of, ma’am! Some thirty bedrooms and of a respectable antiquity. It is not in perfect condition, the widow of the late owner being childless and having little sense of business – it has been neglected. I have builders in now and we shall be able to make an entry in mid-summer – the family to enjoy the green fields.”

  “Convenient, sir – always better to move house in summer, when the sun is shining!”

  George could not conjecture why that might be so, but saw no cause to argue.

  She did not ask after the estate – she was a townsman’s daughter.

  “There is a Home Farm and two other places which are rented, both mostly into beef, being close to the markets of the rich industrial towns. Of far greater interest is a large expanse of sandy heath, almost valueless for agriculture but ideal for children’s ponies. There is a boathouse, too, and when the boys are of an age they may well take our neighbours’ offspring sailing.”

  So to encourage the local gentry to keep in social contact with them – she could applaud that.

  “Boys and girls who ride and sail with ours may well end up marrying them, I believe, husband. A laudable aim, sir!”

  Tentatively, unsure whether she was venturing outside her sphere, she enquired of the nature of his new business enterprise.

  “Reach-me-downs, ma’am!”

  She looked blank.

  “Ready-made clothing, cheap but good enough. Cotton dresses and blouses and chemises and petticoats, for a beginning – cheap prints and coloureds. Our own cloth to our own dye-houses and then to cutters who will knock out hundreds of identical pieces a day to be sewn up by our own women. If it succeeds, and there are many stores already selling these goods, and unable to get hold of supplies more often than not, then a move into wool as well and men’s clothes besides. Where man and woman of the house are both working twelve hour shifts then they have no time to dress themselves off their own needle. And many of the womenfolk especially will be willing to find the pennies to dress their little girls in bright-coloured skirts.”

  “But, husband, do the mob, the mill hands, earn sufficiently to buy?”

  “The shopkeepers do, and the other small tradesmen, and those of the hands who do not drink have enough to live on and can put their mite aside each week. It is only the weaklings who cling to the bottle who cannot buy bread as well, you know, ma’am. The riot we have recently seen was little more than an excuse for the hellhounds to break into the bottle stores.”

  “Was they to take to religion then we should all be far better off, sir. They would learn the habit of Temperance, to the benefit of soul and body both!”

  George smiled and agreed, but made no pledge to ban the bottle from his dining table.

  Joseph Andrews entered the premises of his brother’s tailor.

  His man, Locke, was left at home and fretting that it was quite impossible for him to be present; the tailor, Harris, was not of his choosing and he would simply be forced to accept the opinion and taste of an unknown. He had observed Lord St Helens’ style of dress – it would be unfair to Mr Turton, his long-suffering valet, to refer to him as a sloven, but my lord possessed neither elegance nor a sense of obligation to his man – and he feared the tailor of his choice would himself not be of the top-drawer.

  Joseph was aware that he was not the ideal clothes-horse for an exponent of high fashion to work his genius upon. He was tall and fair-haired, like his brothers, but took little care of himself. He exercised too little and ate too casually and as a result was thin and under-muscled for current fashions; better than to be fat, he supposed, glancing out of the corner of his eye at a gentleman half seen through a part closed door and being fitted with a corset. That indignity at least he was spared.

  “Mr Joseph Andrews,” he told the young gentleman who came up to him, tape measure draped round his neck as a badge of office, an announcement that he was a cutter, permitted his own pair of shears. “My brother, Lord St Helens, is a client.”

  “He is indeed, sir. May I assume that you will be resident in London for the Season, or are you but passing through, sir?”

  �
�I shall be here, staying with my brother, Mr James Andrews, for at least two months. I require a complete refurbishment, sir, having been away from Town for the past five years and more.”

  A thousand pounds more or less, and a tailor’s bill that would be instantly honoured, made Joseph a most welcome gentleman.

  “Will you require Court Dress, sir?”

  “I believe my brother may wish me to accompany him to a levee, sir.”

  Another hundred or more!

  “Very good, sir. If I may, as a first step, take your measurements, sir?”

  Joseph contained his impatience – it would be pointless coming to a tailor if he did not put his tape to work.

  “Have you any thoughts upon the style of your turn-out, Mr Andrews?”

  “Moderation, sir. I would be obliged if you would take note of the highest kick of fashion, and ensure that I do not accidentally embrace it! Neat, tidy and unobtrusive, sir. I have no wish to look like a squireen with straw still in my hair, but I will not be a Bond Street Beau either!”

  “A middle course, sir – not easy to achieve, in fact, but it can be done. You wish to be presentable but not to be a Smart. I notice, sir, that you wear no rings or pins or fobs or seals, no personal ornamentation at all, in fact.”

  “My father laid down that a large man must be plain – he must not be dressed up so that the urchins follow calling out to know where is the fair.”

  “One tends to agree, sir, but there is reason in all things. A small pin for the neckcloth, possibly a signet besides, might not come amiss.”

  “I will speak to my man.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  The tailor busied himself with his tape, calling measurements to the youth who had appeared with notepad and pencil.

  “Your brother Mr James, sir, is not one of our clients.”

  “Scott – he was a military man, would be still was it not for losing a leg. He is now, of course, a minister in His Grace’s government.”

  “Ah! That Mr Andrews! I had not made the connection, sir.”

  Joseph escaped from the tailors after a long and tedious discussion of cloths and colours, of waistcoats, pantaloons and trousers, none of which interested him in the slightest. Clothes existed, as far as he was concerned, to keep him warm and dry and to avoid complaints from ladies offended by indecent exposure, assuming that such actually were to be found. He was, he believed, far too intelligent to be concerned about the niceties of draping cloth upon his various limbs. He made his way on foot through the crowded traffic-jammed streets back to his brother’s new house, sniffing distastefully at London’s fouled air.

  “I had thought Lancashire to be both dirty and smelly, James – but, compared to London!”

  “I am forced to agree, brother. You would not wish to stand outside the House of Commons on a warm day, I assure you.”

  “Too many people, it would seem to me, James.”

  “And nothing to be done, for the increase of mankind is God’s will, we are told, and man must not intervene.”

  “The Reverend Malthus tells us that nature will provide its own solution.”

  “Famine and plague, I believe. He is almost certainly correct, Joseph. An excess of population is a problem that will solve itself, I doubt not.”

  They turned to more interesting, less distasteful topics – the inevitable could look after itself.

  “My lady wife has prepared a list, indeed a number of lists, of occasions that must be attended and of people whose acquaintance you are to make. It is her amiable intent that during the first four weeks of the Season you are to be free to cast your eyes where you wish; if at the end of that time you have not discovered a target for your matrimonial ambition then she will offer you direct assistance to discover and choose from a small group of the most suitable.”

  Joseph was amused, wondered just how the fortunate few were to be winnowed out from the many unattached young ladies who would be present in Town.

  “There are, in fact, three routes to success, Joseph. First, but not necessarily, I gather, best, is to select from the bluest-blooded, much as one might buy a horse by discovering its ancestry back to the Godolphin Arabian.”

  “With the similarity, brother, that many of those young ladies will bear a distinct resemblance to that noble animal.”

  “What matter if the dear girl is horse-faced, so long as it be a well-bred filly?”

  “Easy for you to say, sir, with a lady as handsome as yours!”

  James bowed, grinning.

  “Far better, she tells me, is to pick out young ladies of intelligence and education, and ideally humour as well. These will normally be girls in their second Season, obvious cleverness having deterred the bulk of young men, most of whom have had the native wit bred out of them, or beaten out at school.”

  “That sounds far the more attractive option, James. What is the third?”

  “At the end of the Season pass the word, discreetly, amongst the merchant population that a young lady of refinement could find a route upwards in the world for her children. You do not need the money or I would recommend this course the more strongly. There is more than one young lady of forty or fifty or so thousand pounds to be discovered in the City, brother.”

  “Tempting, but demanding, James, for I would have, in all honesty, to enter into Society to fulfil my part of the bargain, and that I can hardly be bothered to do.”

  “Then my advice is to seek a love match, but be content with a sensible partner if such does not eventuate. A young lady who is prepared to queen it amongst provincial society and who does not wish to be a Mayfair butterfly can be discovered, I believe. Thomas Star did very well in such a search, after all.”

  James had always found Lady Star to be placid, attractive, comfortable and boring – he could not imagine himself leg-shackled to her like.

  “Father was very lucky, was he not, James?”

  “He was, and so am I… Robert assures me that George Star is content in his marriage, brother, and that can hardly be regarded as a love-match.”

  “True, but I have come to believe that George has a defect in his vision – he must suffer from night-blindness!”

  James thought a few seconds then snorted with laughter.

  “Unable to see what he is doing when the candles are blown out, brother!”

  “I hope so, for his sake!”

  Rothwell took up residence in the Masters’ town house and joined James, Jennifer and Joseph in their carriage as they left for the Cavendishes ball that opened the Season.

  “That is a very fine signet you are wearing, James!”

  “I was given rubies in Burma, had this one made up for myself, a pair of crossed pistols intaglio. I rarely wear it, but it is a good stone, is it not!”

  “I am tempted to make such a purchase myself, James – I have very little of personal finery.”

  Rothwell, like Joseph, was dressed very plain, and for much the same reason – he had never been interested in his appearance.

  “Rundell and Bridge are cutting me an emerald, George, a small star for Mary. It seemed appropriate.”

  Conversation stopped for a moment, then James performed the host’s duty, introducing another topic.

  “I understand that Lady Jersey has been made aware of your intention to change your single state, gentlemen – such being the case I believe we may say that the hunt is up!”

  “We shall be descended upon by Silence in full flow, I doubt not!”

  Jennifer smiled innocently, commented that she had been informed that a number of introductions had been planned, more for my lord than for plain Mr Andrews.

  “The heir to the marquisate is, one must appreciate, quite probably the chief prize of the Season. I believe that there is no bachelor of higher status and fortune to make an appearance this year. I am sure you are to envied, my lord!”

  Rothwell looked as if he was about to leap out of the coach and flee.

  “I shall take a back place to
you, George, and shall be content to be introduced only to those young ladies who you have spurned as unworthy of your further attention.”

  “Thank you, Joseph, that was a very kind thought. Am I really such a trophy, ma’am?”

  She nodded.

  “Every ambitious mama will have placed you firmly at the top of their list of eligible young men, my lord. Now that you have announced your presence in Town so early in the Season you can have only one intent and you may expect quite literally hundreds of invitations to appear in your butler’s hands. It will certainly be the case that you will be invited to several different functions every evening, and you will be forced to choose between them. I will be happy to assist you in that task, knowing more of Society than you possibly can. I will at least be able to keep you out of the clutches of the King’s set!”

  He made his thanks before bowing her out of the carriage and walking behind her up the steps of the imposing mansion.

  Jennifer had timed their departure from the new house carefully so that they arrived in the middle of the great influx of guests, the better to make little stir. Even so there was a drop in the level of noise as a hundred matrons turned as one to inspect Rothwell and memorise his features against a meeting in the street or the park. A lesser, but significant, number looked then at Joseph, a few going so far as to nudge inattentive debutante daughters.

  Young men were in generally short supply in the Upper Ten Thousand; rich young men were even fewer. Rothwell’s mother was less than wholly desirable, as was Joseph’s father, but the blueness of the blood on the other side more than compensated for these minor shortcomings. It seemed generally to be agreed that this pair was not to escape the Season unwed. Welcoming smiles appeared on every female face whilst cynical grins decorated most of the males.

  “The betting books will be opened in the clubs by tomorrow, brother,” James quietly commented. “Odds on who will bring you to the altar will be posted next to the entries for the Epsom Derby!”

  “Honestly?”

  “Truly!”

  “Good God!”