Virtue’s Reward (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 11)

by Andrew Wareham

  “I know nothing about silver, George, and precious little about the East India Company, but we must have some contacts who do. A letter first of all to young James Andrews – the Minister of the Crown, if you would credit it! I still find it a source of considerable amaze!”

  “He was always a pleasant lad, as I remember. Army mad, of course, but it says much that is good of him that he has been able to make himself another life. Would he know about silver in his department?”

  “He should know who to talk to. Would it be Exchequer or the India Office, I wonder?”

  A fortnight and George was invited to pay a visit to London – these things were far better dealt with face to face, James wrote.

  George retired to his house and estate outside of Southport, debating whether he should beg the company of his wife on his excursion to the Metropolis. She had been mewed up in the rural depths for months and must surely wish for elegant company.

  “Not at all, Mr Star! I had not dreamed I could be so busy – so much to do, such a deal left untouched! The gardens are barely started on, though the house itself is now much as I wish and the maids all of them know just what they must do. Very peculiar notions of what was good enough they had, at first; they know their duty now. The children are happy as well, and I do feel that a fourth blessing may not be impossible – but it is early to tell just yet! I had not imagined that, born and bred in town as I was, I could so much enjoy the countryside and its ways – but it is so, and is yet another benefit of our so-fortunate marriage, sir. I believe that my dear father was very wise indeed to bestow his blessing upon you, sir, and hope only that you do not regret making a match of policy rather than romance.”

  “I could not have made a better bargain, nor found a more complaisant wife, ma’am. I am a lucky man in many ways, I know, and this marriage is not the least of my good fortune.”

  Another letter arrived, an Express, forbidding George to venture south for the while – the Cholera had made its long-feared descent and the bulk of those who could had left the City.

  “A wise move, one might say, ma’am, but one wonders how many infected souls have spread the disease elsewhere?”

  “The accounts of the Black Death, sir, all say that it was taken to every part of the Kingdom by those who fled. The stagecoach and the canal make it even more likely an occurrence today.”

  “One must not forget the steamships, ma’am. They too allow rapid travel around our shores.”

  She agreed, sadly. Many people would be taken, she feared.

  “You said that you wished to discuss the price of silver with the Honourable East India Company, Mr Star. Why is that, sir? Do they pay a special price for silver for some reason?”

  “They take much silver out of England, ma’am, having a great need for ingots to trade with China. Their need being so great – for tea and silk must be paid for, as you will appreciate – they are said to offer a few pennies more than the Mint or silversmiths will.”

  “The Mint? Of course, they must strike their threepenny bits and sixpences and shillings, and florins and half-crowns too; full crowns as well, though fewer of those in late years – all from the true metal. Indeed, my Papa once told me that with the rise in the price of silver, a shilling, whose weight is fixed, may actually contain some fourteen pennies worth of the metal!”

  George was struck dumb by the possibility - a coin that was valued at less than its metal content! All that the enterprising needed do was exchange say a five pound note for one hundred shillings, then smelt the coins down to bar metal and sell it for as much as five pounds sixteen shillings and eightpence, less the cost of the forging.

  It truly was something for nothing, the businessman’s delight. It was also criminal, of course, and carried the death penalty - but only if one was caught.

  How?

  The smelting side was simplicity itself and he had a mine that produced ingot silver – there could be no questions asked of the provenance of the metal. The problem that might arise was to lay hands on a sufficiency of coins; he could not set up shop on the High Street buying coins for paper money without raising some slight suspicion.

  Rents! The solution was obvious.

  The poor paid their four shillings a week in coins to the tally man who came round to their door on Saturday afternoon. Bulging, heavy leather satchels full of sixpences and shillings, and useless copper pennies and ha’pennies too, were taken to the offices in the evenings.

  A businessman who needed to lay his hands on coins to pay his hands every week might well arrange to do the rounds of the rent offices to buy their silver from them. Most would find it convenient to tuck away a few notes rather than a mass of coin.

  Many of the rent offices were run by attorneys – it was a common source of income for them, collecting as agents for their clients. Spinster ladies were often left a few houses in their father’s Will, the rents their sole income; they could not walk the rookeries to knock on the doors themselves.

  A visit to Mr Farlow was called for.

  Farlow was delighted to welcome George to his office; he said so at great length as he dusted a chair for him and then moved it to just the right position, and then changed his mind and shifted it another inch to the left. George sat down rapidly as he saw him about to move it again.

  “I have not seen you this year, Mr Farlow. Are you keeping well?”

  Farlow was indeed, apart from a slight twinge or two of the rheumatism, which was only to be expected, when one considered the matter. He trusted Mr Star could say the same.

  “Of course, sir, living in your grand new estate as you are and benefitting from the balmy sea breezes, you cannot but be well!”

  “Yes, indeed, Mr Farlow.”

  “And what of my master and mentor, Sir Erasmus, Mr Star? Is he in good spirits, do you know?”

  George did not, in fact. Although they lived close the two moved in very different circles and hardly ever came into contact.

  “I believe Mr Thomas Clapperley has returned from his travels in America, Mr Farlow. His father will certainly be glad of his company again. He has his daughters at home still, but a son is more of a companion to a man, or so I am told. My own boys are too young as yet for me to tell.”

  “I have, in fact, spoken with Mr Thomas Clapperley, sir. That was in part the reason for my enquiry.”

  George picked up upon the implication that Sir Erasmus might be in poor spirits because of the presence of his son. The young man had, he recalled, left England in rather a hurry a couple of years previously.

  “I wonder, Mr Farlow, whether I might not find occasion to pay Sir Erasmus a visit?”

  “I expect to see Mr Thomas Clapperley in this office again tomorrow, Mr Star. Possibly I might suggest then that he should call upon you?”

  To speak frankly, without the constraint of his father’s presence, George presumed.

  “Why, yes, Mr Farlow, if you consider that the better idea.”

  Farlow made it plain that he did and that only professional constraints prevented him from telling George a graphic story.

  “Now, Mr Farlow, I am come to beg your assistance on a matter that is becoming an increasing nuisance to me. Coins, sir! Specifically silver pieces of the lesser denominations. Not the crown, because it is inconvenient to the men, but the half-crowns and shillings especially which are needed to make up their weekly wages. It is often hard to lay hands on the coins – there are too few in circulation, as the bankers call it.”

  Farlow had heard the same – unsurprisingly, even the newspapers had referred to the difficulties caused by a lack of coins.

  “It seems to me, Mr Farlow, that many of your fellow-attorneys act as rent collectors and must bring in hundredweights of coins each Saturday. Could it only be arranged, I would much appreciate the opportunity to exchange banknotes for them.”

  Farlow was struck by the sensible nature of the proposal. His own office, he said, took care of the houses of a score of clients and collected
as much as ninety pounds on a Saturday, almost all of the sum in sixpences and shillings and florins. They did not always see a coin as large as a half-crown.

  “Three hundred and sixty ounces of silver, Mr Star, fills a very large bag and is a nuisance to move about. Besides that – there is no bank open until the Monday and the sum must stay in the office for the weekend. Was it to be changed for banknotes then it could be placed in the safe or taken home with me – far less a risk!”

  “I am told that there is at least one office whose main activity lies in this field, sir. They must carry even larger sums.”

  “Gribbin, Goddard and Weare, Mr Star, an old partnership much fallen in the world, I fear, since their sons stepped into their places. Almost the whole of their activity lies in renting terraces in the rookeries – collecting and evicting and finding tenants new.”

  George gathered that such activities were really rather low; a reputable attorney-at-law would undertake such trade only as an additional service to esteemed clients.

  “Would they wish to assist me in my need, Mr Farlow?”

  “I am sure, sir, that they would be very happy to do so, possibly hoping that you might pass a little of your business in their way.”

  “That could well be possible, Mr Farlow… I am considering the question of railways, sir. It could be advantageous to purchase land – and the houses on it – on the route a railway might wish to follow in a future year. Bought quietly, the odd half of a terrace at a time, and one might be able to sell to a railway very profitably.”

  Farlow applauded his wisdom.

  “It is not entirely my idea, Mr Farlow. I believe Lord St Helens to have done much the same some years ago when the idea of the steam locomotive was first mooted. I am given to understand that he will be looking at profits in excess of one hundred thousand over the next few years.”

  “What a wonderful man, to come up with such an idea, sir!”

  Mr Thomas Clapperley rode across to the Stars’ house just three days later.

  George welcomed him with pleasure – near neighbours who should see more of each other – and begged him to take a glass of wine. He sat Clapperley down in his study, asked how he found England on his return.

  “Much as it always was, Mr Star. Rather slow and stuffy, I fear, but with many an opportunity that the States does not possess. I came into contact with your esteemed brother, Mr Henry Star, while I was there, sir.”

  The lack of expression of face and voice suggested that he had not enjoyed the encounter; George suppressed a grin – his younger brother was a businessman to be respected, he believed.

  “A rare man, brother Henry!”

  “Perhaps fortunately so, sir. The world could not do with too many of his ilk!”

  “I have had little contact with him over the years, of course, Mr Clapperley – the postal services are hardly frequent or reliable.”

  “With the assistance of Mr Luke Star, he is currently indulging in a war with Mexico regarding the ownership of the area known as the Texas, Mr Star. I suspect that he will proceed to annex California thereafter, and probably the island of Cuba in the following week. He is a man of some ambition, sir!”

  “One has always suspected that he was destined for great things, Mr Clapperley.”

  “That or to be hanged from a very high gallows, Mr Star.”

  The concealed grin very nearly became a snigger – Henry had really rolled this man over!

  “Not to worry, Mr Star, one may live and learn, after all. I am far more concerned with the state of affairs I discovered when I returned to the paternal home. I presume you may have heard some rumours yourself?”

  “None, sir. I spend little of my time in this locality, other than at the end of the working week, and I socialise not at all because of the demands of business.”

  “My father, sir, is not perhaps attuned to a life of leisure, to idleness, and has found an undesirable occupation for his many free hours. He has turned to God, sir!”

  “What a strange thing to do!”

  “I agree, sir, I do indeed!”

  “He is not I trust proposing, as many of the mediaeval barons did, to leave his all to the Church?”

  “No, sir. His reading of the Bible is that he must leave all except necessary provision for wife and daughters to his only begotten son. I have to say that I am relieved, sir. The problem is that he has fallen under the sway of a ranter, a most undesirable little beast of a Methodist, would you believe!”

  “It does happen even among the respectable, Mr Clapperley, but one must agree that it is rather untoward. I presume the preacher in question is minister to a local chapel?”

  “He is, sir. Most unfortunately close to hand. They meet, sir, on days other than a Sunday as a result of such proximity. My poor, deluded father is thus brought deeper under his sway. One is given to understand that the nasty little man believes that he may score a great coup in his community by bringing a well-known local sinner into the fold of the Godly.”

  They shook their heads in unison, saddened that such people could exist.

  “Have you addressed the gentleman at all, Mr Clapperley?”

  “I have taken some pains not to meet him, Mr Star, it being better, I thought, that I should not be known to have an animus against him. Was I to come into contact with him then I might well fall into dispute and then be suspected should, Heaven forfend, the poor fellow suffer an accident. I gather it is his habit to indulge in something called ‘slum missionary service’, which involves penetrating the lowest colonies of the inadequate and poverty-stricken and ranting evangelically at them – by its very nature, a perilous business!”

  “It is, indeed, Mr Clapperley, and utterly unknown to me!”

  George hoped that would make it clear to the young man that he had no intention of arranging the ‘accident’ for him. The impertinence of this upstart son of an attorney-made-good! To believe that he might shuffle his dirty business across and into his hands!

  “I gather, Mr Star, that an integral part of the ‘missionary call’ is to overawe the minds of the weak to such an extent that they will stand before the mob and, often to the beating of a drum, declare themselves to be miserable sinners and then to announce, in explicit terms, all that they have done to blacken their souls. They will then declare themselves repentant and will discover themselves to be forgiven – the technical term appears to be ‘washed in the blood of the Lamb’, if you will credit such vulgarity! This example will then bring others to cry hysterically that they too desire forgiveness and they will also shout their misdeeds to the drooling mob - and them all ears and licking their lips in hopes of the salacious, no doubt!”

  “Distasteful, in the extreme, Mr Clapperley – one can see why you do not wish your father to become involved in such a… Wait a minute! Did you say to state their sins ‘in explicit terms’? To, in effect, admit to all they have done? Even worse, to state whose company they were keeping? Who they might have been said to be working for?”

  George was horrified as the actuality sank home.

  “This must not be, Mr Clapperley!”

  “My feelings entirely, sir!”

  George called for another refreshment, waited while the indoor man came with a tray, talking idly as befitted a host.

  “I was to have gone to a business meeting in the Metropolis, Mr Clapperley, but this great epidemic sickness has made London ineligible for a man with a family to protect. I must not venture into the vicinity of the Cholera, not while I have three children in my nursery. One reads that the poor are dying by the ten thousand, often without benefit of medical aid and with not even a clergyman to stand at their graveside.”

  Clapperley was quite genuinely shocked – burial without a minister of some sort to read a service was not the way of civilised society, of that he was certain.

  “If their own clergymen have all died then I am amazed, sir, that others have not brought themselves to the place of sacrifice. One does not ask much of the
cloth, but one does reasonably demand that they should seek to comfort the suffering in their extreme need!”

  George agreed, thought it was possible that many of the most willing and sincere of the servants of God were also very poor – working as they did among the needy. They might simply be unable to afford to travel to London.

  Clapperley said he was sure he was right and congratulated him on the quality of his wine, a very palatable glass.

  They started the second bottle and sipped reflectively.

  “Of course, Mr Star…”

  “Do you know, Mr Clapperley…”

  They stopped politely as their words crossed.

  “After you, Mr Clapperley.”

  “Thank you, sir. It seems to me that we might be well-advised to offer to pay the costs of tickets to London and of accommodation for a poor minister or two who wished to meet the needs of the despairing victims of this plague.”

  “The very thing that I was about to say, Mr Clapperley! What is the name of this enthusiastic ranter of yours, and where exactly might I find him? Better me than you, I think.”

  Barely two hours later George knocked on the door of the humble cottage on the outskirts of Southport and begged the favour of a word with Mr Ainslie.

  A lean young man with a piercing eye invited him to enter the house of God’s humble servant.

  “My name is Mr George Star, Mr Ainslie, living as you may know perhaps three miles from here. I am a mill owner, among other things, and comfortably circumstanced. You are aware of the Plague that has struck London, sir?”

  “The Will of God, I have no doubt, Mr Star. The sinners of the Great Wen to be struck down in their wickedness.”

  “Possibly, Mr Ainslie. The theology of the matter escapes me, but I am within reason sure that many a wife and innocent child has also perished. My particular distress is that it seems that almost every minister and priest has also died and that the suffering lie on their death-beds bereft of the comforting Word and too often go into their graves with none to speed them on their way.”