at the Gate Series
Chapter Four
Rothwell led his bride, more strictly now his wife – they had been wed for nearly a year – carefully up the wide steps leading into the Jerseys' mansion. It was the Little Season and Silence, aging now but fighting valiantly against the years, was entertaining; Corinna, Lady Rothwell, recently returned from Italy with her husband, was five months gone with child but would not forgo an evening of dancing. Rothwell, resigned to his inability to guide her in such matters, contented himself with standing protectively between her and the crush in the anteroom where the guests were being greeted.
“When did you return to England, my lord?”
“Only yesterday, Lady Jersey – we have barely had time to settle into the Town House. Discovering your invitation we felt we really must attend, ma’am!”
“You will be travelling to Edinburgh soon, I presume, my lord.”
He did not know why he should, allowed his face to display his puzzlement.
“Your poor brother, my lord! So sadly injured in an accident of some nature and brought post-haste to the attentions of the best medical men in the Kingdom. Had you not heard?”
“Travelling in the Italian States as we were, ma’am, no messenger has caught up with us. Do you know just how severely poor Frederick has been hurt?”
If Silence did not know then no-one in London would have the information.
“A mention of a wound to the face, of the loss of some or all of his sight, my lord.”
“His eyes! Poor Frederick! If he had one ambition it was to become an artist, a painter!”
That she had not known and was much stricken by; she was perhaps a shallow person – she had for a while been mistress to the Prince Regent and that predicated no great depth of sensitivity – but she had sympathy for the tragically afflicted.
“So very sad, my lord!”
She turned, in duty bound, to the next in the receiving line and Frederick led his lady into the ballroom, sought a place at a table among the dowagers and those in mourning who would not dance. Corinna would wish to recruit her strength at intervals during the evening, he expected.
“I must go to the Marquis tomorrow, my dear. After that it may be incumbent upon me to visit Edinburgh. I am sorry, but there is no alternative.”
She had been brought up in the culture of manners and obligation and knew correct behaviour, even if she detested its constraints. Six more months and, provided the ungainly, disfiguring lump at her waist transpired to be a son and heir, she would have the freedom of the young matron, which she intended to enjoy to its very fullest; for the moment, she must exhibit the behaviour demanded of her place.
“You must, my lord. I shall, with your permission, remain in London. Travelling from Italy in this condition has persuaded me to remain close to home for a while!”
He smiled fondly at her, told her that he had not for one moment envisaged dragging her the length of the British Isles.
“Your Mama is situated in Town at the moment, is she not? You will no doubt wish to enjoy her company – there will be much to talk about!”
The orchestra struck up, a formal quadrille to open the ball. She remained in her chair saying that she did not much fancy the prospect of half an hour on her feet; ten minutes of a waltz was one thing, but the tedious parade of the quadrille was outside her powers she feared.
He could not offer her excuse, was obliged to step forward and seek a partner - there was always a superfluity of misses. He bowed to a suitably undistinguished-seeming young debutante and was enthusiastically accepted, there being nothing worse than to be one of the wallflowers, the unfortunate young ladies who could not snabble a partner.
“I have been in Italy these last months, ma’am,” he explained, excusing himself for not knowing her. “I am Rothwell.”
She was a Thesiger, some relation to Lord Chelmsford – it was a large family of many branches, there having been an excess of sons two and three generations before.
They spent the dance in the enumeration of mutual acquaintances, an occupation that seemed to afford her pleasure, although he knew very few of the fashionable young gentlemen she mentioned. He returned her to her mother with some relief when the music ended and his duty was done.
“You seemed to find much to talk about, my lord,” Corinna idly commented. She knew that she need have no fears for him – they had stayed two months in Naples and he had not strayed there in the loosest society in the whole of Europe.
“One of the Chelmsfords and with less brain than is the ordinary run among them. The young lady spoke much and said very little, I am afraid. Did you have any entertaining company?”
“A dozen of dowagers, all seeking to discover just what Lord Frederick had done and what had happened to him. None of them actually knew a thing, sir – but every damned one of them was fishing for a scandal! He has certainly committed some form of an indiscretion, George. Was he not in Vienna? The height of the stodgily conventional, or so one is told.”
“I could post into Kent tomorrow, to my sister and Captain Hood. They will know.”
“If they are there – it was hinted that they had found the need to be at the convalescent’s bedside or in consultation with the Marquis for much of the summer.”
“Four horses to Kettering at dawn, I fear.”
Lady Massingham appeared, swept down upon her daughter and enfolded her in a perfumed and brandy-scented embrace. She had been unable to visit them earlier, the press of demands upon her so great, as her daughter, her darling chick, would remember.
“Papa is not here, ma’am?”
“Unable to attend, my love: his old enemy, the gout, has him bedfast. He is indeed somewhat unwell in himself; as, one understands, is your brother, my lord.”
He answered the unspoken question, admitted that he had known nothing of his brother’s sad state until a very few minutes before. He confirmed that he would inform her the instant that he knew anything at all. She was content, she would be ahead of the gossip; she signalled a waiter in celebration.
They danced a waltz, announcing their presence to observers and exposing her state to the many interested. Knowledge of an heir to the Grafhams was important to the distant relatives of the clan who had a potential claim to the title if the direct line failed. Lady Rothwell spent much of her time acknowledging the salutes of young men known to her from her one Season before she was wed, assessing them again from the perspective of the young matron who would soon have the freedom to cut a dash in Town. She made a mental list of gentlemen who might well be granted the freedom to come into close proximity with her – very close in some cases. She was a little disappointed in her husband – ardent but rather unsophisticated from all Mama had ever vouchsafed to her; she felt it was time for her education to progress to levels of subtlety unknown to him.
She sat with her mother for a few minutes more later in the evening, idly commented that she had not known her Papa to be a victim to the gout.
“He is not, my dear. The old fool’s brain is softening! Too many bottles over the years, and indulgence at Prinny’s court as well – I have not let him near my bed this last twelve years, my dear!”
Corinna was shocked, had only heard the vaguest whispers of such matters – she would have been first to admit that she had much to learn, and she had every intention of filling the gaps in her education.
“You mean he has that illness, Mama?”
“Poxed up to the nines, my dear! If he lasts out the year we shall have to send him away to Massingham Court and have him locked up in an attic with a pair of attendants to keep him close. He is seeing phantoms already!”
“Then my poor brother must soon inherit, ma’am.”
“Do not fear, my love! The Will has been attested and creates a Spendthrift Trust; he will have access to five thousand a year and debts beyond that will be repudiated – the provisions to be publicly announced and known throughout Town. His note of hand will be worthless and none will permit
him to Punt on Tick – he will be given no credit at all in the gambling houses or on the racetrack. Your husband is to be one Trustee and our lawyers have been nominated as well; only a High Court Judge will be able to break the Trust in open court, and any action that presented that weak little idiot in the box to plead his case would instantly fail. When he dies, my dear, you will inherit; actually, Rothwell will of course, but the money will not be lost to you.”
“If this is a son, then he will come heir to the Massingham estates as well as Grafham, you say, ma’am?”
“Just so, my love.”
“Worthy of a dukedom, perhaps…”
“Wealthy enough to support the dignity. Your husband would be obliged to earn the honour, of course – a significant degree of prominence in public life would be essential. His father and grandfather were both Public Men – it might be expected of the family. It would require service as a Minister of the Crown for at least ten years, and at a reasonably eminent level - not Foreign Affairs, you would not wish to be rushing about Europe for months at a time; War, or perhaps Secretary of State for Home Affairs. Not the Exchequer, I think, that is more suited to a banker than a gentleman.”
They discussed the ball idly as they were driven back to the Town house, concluded that it was in most respects less lavish than the entertainments of Italy.
“In far better taste, however, my dear. The company was restricted to the ton – none of the demi-monde entered the doors. In Italy no fewer than one half of the guests would have been of a, professional nature, shall we say, selling their wares almost openly.”
“While in London, of course, my lord, the same favours are only to be given away. Did I not see Caroline Lamb among the older ladies present?”
He admitted her point – as Lady Caro had grown older so she had become more desperate in her search for admirers; from being the admitted, and often envied, mistress of Byron she was now the night’s companion of any gentleman with nothing better to do.
“Sad to see such a one aged, is it not? How are the mighty fallen!”
“It is indeed a pity, my lord. One is inclined to suspect that one should make the very most of youth!”
They reached the house at two o’clock in the morning, Rothwell sending the night porter off to the post-house to order four horses for seven o’clock. It did not occur to him that his demand was in any way out of the ordinary and the porter did no more than raise a knuckle to his forehead, needing to keep his job. Rothwell’s valet, waiting to put his master to bed, betrayed no emotion when ordered to have all ready for a journey of indefinite duration, to Kettering certainly, possibly then to Edinburgh.
Rothwell discovered his parents in residence and was immediately relieved of his greatest fear; had his brother been at death’s door then they must have been with him. He listened increasingly stony-faced as the Marquis outlined Frederick’s actions in the period leading up to his injury.
“What is to be done, sir? He cannot stay in England. I doubt it would be wise to send him back to Vienna, or indeed to any part of Europe. India? I am told of tea plantations there where an English gentleman might subside into insignificance.”
“We have been thinking of the States, of Virginia say; a plantation there, out in their more rural areas.”
“Slave holding! Is that for us, for any of our family, sir?”
“Ideally, no, George. Suggest an alternative. The Cape is out – too Dutch. India has only a few of Englishmen still; he could become known. The Antipodes, perhaps, but Botany Bay is no place for a gentleman born. The West Indies, the Sugar Islands, are falling into decay and poverty and inevitable disorder. Canada is a possibility, but he would have to be found an occupation, and one that would keep him out of the public eye. We are reduced to the States for lack of any more suitable location. The northern parts are given to the small farmers, the settlers, so we come back to the plantations.”
“Slavery, willy-nilly.”
“Just so.”
“Cotton or tobacco, is it not, sir?”
“Indigo, rice and sugar as well, but cotton probably the best for the profits in the long term.”
They discussed the possibilities, the Marquis saying that he had already sent letters to their contacts and agents in the States.
“Mr Henry Star has responded immediately with offers of his best assistance. You know of him, I believe.”
“A villain, I had understood, sir – the black sheep of his family.”
“Less so than his brother John, of course, George. There is in fact a streak of oddity running through them – you have heard of the antics of Mr Luke Star, the one-time divine?”
George had heard some of the stories, was quickly brought up to date.
“Very wild, sir! Most undesirable.”
George’s mother appeared and turned the discussion to his wife and the progress of her pregnancy; she promised that they would make a visit to Town in the immediate future.
“Should I go to Edinburgh, do you think?”
His parents thought he should not – it might be to draw unwanted attention to his brother and he would, in any case, be brought down to the estate within a very few weeks.
“Captain Hood has been most attentive, George; he probably saved the poor boy’s life,” his mother said. “I had harboured doubts about his suitability as a husband, but can now only be thankful that the dear girl attracted his attention!”
“And that brings me to a matter on which I should consult you, George,” his father interrupted. “I have it in mind to pick up a few fields in Kent, marching with Captain Hood’s little estate. It would be possible to buy out a pair of small places, perhaps a thousand acres between them, that would round out his lands in a very attractive way. It is money from your grandfather that would otherwise come to you in time, so you have the right to be consulted at least.”
“I believe that I must not argue, sir. We have a debt to Captain Hood, and I would be pleased to see Margaret mistress of a proper estate of her own.”
“Well said, my boy! The sum will not be small even though it is not the best of land, more suited for sheep and orchards than wheat. Some twelve thousands, I expect.”
“I had thought it might be more – are land prices lower in Kent, sir?”
“There is a sniff of doubt in the air, George. Agriculture is a little blown upon, due to uncertainties about the Corn Laws. They cannot last, you know, George, and when they go the price of wheat will halve in a very short while. I suspect it may fall further than that. The good days are almost over, and the men with money are drawing their horns in and the price of an acre of land is falling in anticipation.”
“We will always have the bank in the background, sir. It is a pity that we are not so much involved in the new industry as the Andrews clan – might we perhaps consider the possibility?”
The Marquis thought not; better they should confine themselves to a close acquaintance with the City of London.
“What of you, George? Have you an occupation in mind?”
“We are to dwell mostly in London, sir, as we have already discussed.”
The Marquis had already made George free of the Town House, seeing little point in the purchase or hire of another.
“So you will wish to occupy yourself – you will not have the estates to manage.”
“I had not yet considered that, sir, but you are right; I cannot stay in idleness.”
“It would be simple to find you a seat, sir. Show your face in the House of Commons and you would soon find a place on the Government Benches. There are worse ways of spending your days.”
Lady Rothwell agreed, quite vehemently; Rothwell must become a Public Man.
“The standing of our family will be greatly enhanced, George – and that will be much to the benefit of the children. The Grafhams have become somewhat eclipsed by later, newer clans; you should re-establish your family in its proper place, at the centre of our nation’s life!”
He was not espe
cially enamoured of the concept of a political existence, too many Parliamentarians were drawn from the vulgar and he would have to rub shoulders with any number of low individuals whom he might much prefer to snub. But, for the sake of the family, for his own children – for the sons and daughters he discovered he much hoped for – it was a small sacrifice indeed.
“The family will be able to find a seat for me, that will be no difficulty. I should sit in the Tory interest, I presume, but that will place me in regular contiguity with Peel, and there will be no love lost between us, especially because I believe myself to be intellectually his superior. He is arrogant in his assumption that he is the master of all in public life.”
“Better with the Tories than lowering yourself to sit next to the rather vulgar young men who have recently adhered to the Whig interest. Chapel-going Methodist ranters, I am reliably told!”
Her source of information almost had to be her mother. How had she ever come into contact with a Methodist?
The word spread rapidly around Town that Rothwell was to take a seat in the Tory interest; a number of offers were rapidly made to the family in case it was not convenient to vacate one of their own constituencies on his behalf. He was invited to speak with Wellington, addressed him quietly and with courtesy and came away unbitten and with his support in his ambitions.
“The Party needs more young men with something between their ears, my lord. You will be welcome.”
He retreated to James’ offices, family ties far outweighing the political differences that might be supposed to exist between them.
“How do you stand on the matter of Reform, Rothwell?”
“I cannot be persuaded that Democracy is good for the people, James. Shall the Oxford don and the village idiot have an equal say in our nation’s political life?”
It was a good point, James was forced to admit. He hastened to say that he had no brief for universal suffrage – the vote should be reserved for those who could comprehend it.
“But what of the middle order of people, Rothwell? The merchants; the small shopkeepers perhaps; the doctors and apothecaries; the attorneys at law; even schoolteachers, though I am not so convinced of their merit – none, or very few, have the right to vote and they surely have much that is worthy to say.”
Virtue’s Reward (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 11) Page 9
