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

by Andrew Wareham

  Thomas' wife, Lettice, added that society in Richmond was also far more restricted than in London, but paradoxically perhaps, more open - the sons and daughters of the merest tradesmen were to be met in the best houses.

  "It is nothing to greet a young miss and discover her Papa to be a doctor or an attorney or even a minister of the church. There is no concept of a proper distance, Lord Frederick, such as exists in London and, even more so, in Vienna."

  From the little Frederick remembered of family history, this was a delicate topic - he believed that Mrs Miller's father had remarried out of his station in life, that her mama was in fact little more than a farmer's daughter. There was something about that lady, he was sure of that, but could not quite place what. He noticed that Mrs Miller had a quite remarkable shape, and that almost triggered his memory, but not quite.

  "I believe it is incumbent upon me to take a wife, ma'am, and presume I might be in the way of discovering a young lady in Richmond."

  "Very easily, Lord Frederick. The difficulty might lie in remaining unwed for any length of time."

  Thomas Miller roused himself to agree, to joke about the pursuit, the hue and cry that must soon be occasioned.

  "An English lord, unwed and looking about him - you may well find yourself abducted in the street and forced to the altar, sir! To be serious, there is far less insistence upon birth and social eligibility here, Lord Frederick, among the menfolk, that it. The women will flap and fuss, but the men will talk money!"

  "Thus it might not be wholly appropriate to enquire about a young lady's lineage, you say, Mr Miller?"

  "One would not expect to do so, sir - though no doubt one will be informed by the gossiping ladies, of whom many are to be found, if there is anything untoward to be discovered."

  It was a different land, it seemed.

  Richmond was a small town by any English definition, and one that had substantial interests in the tobacco trade. When the wind carried across the warehouses the town stank of the noxious weed.

  "I had understood Virginia to be the home of the finest tobacco, Mr Miller."

  "It is indeed, Lord Frederick! But that amounts to perhaps one tenth of the crop. Best snuff and cigar leaf is to be found, but so, unfortunately, are the coarser grades, all the way down to the chewing plug!"

  "I have seen some of the lesser mortals in the street smoking what appear to be paper-wrapped little cigars, Mr Miller - a habit new to me."

  "A Spanish habit, I believe, Lord Frederick, certainly brought here from Mexico or Cuba. There is a substantial trade, long has been despite the wishes of governments, with the Spanish colonies and the newly independent states of South America. It is the case, as you may know, that there has been much thought given to the possibility of bringing those benighted lands into the protection of the United States, eventually in fact to make them part of our Union."

  Frederick was not aware of that possibility.

  "The cigarillo has been known for many years but it is only more recently that men here have taken to shredding tobacco and rolling it in fine paper. It has become known as the 'cigarette', or so I am told. I do not believe that a gentleman would have much to do with it."

  Frederick listened gravely - he would not lower himself to that habit.

  "Cigars, as you will know, need to be protected to retain their virtue - they are best kept in the humidor. Cigarette tobacco may be carried in an oilskin pouch and will keep for many weeks, and the papers, so long as they are dry, make no demands of their own. The cigarette is consequently popular among the frontiersmen and those who come to town only infrequently."

  The cigarette was in fact the preserve of the lesser mortal, and must to an extent serve to identify them as such. It was not for the genteel.

  They walked slowly along the sidewalk, raised above the mud of the street, and reached the house that Mr Miller's man had identified for Frederick.

  It was in every way suitable, as he had expected and he signified his intent of making an immediate purchase.

  "Will a letter drawn upon Goldsmids Bank be satisfactory, Mr Miller?"

  "It will to me, Lord Frederick. I shall, with your permission, draw cash from my own bank to complete the contract and make your deposit in its place. Richmond is somewhat remote from the world of high finance, I am afraid. Money is seen as a dollar bill, and even then gold is much preferred - the banker's cheque, or letter of credit, is hardly known to most of the community as yet."

  Book Eleven: A Poor Man

  at the Gate Series

  Chapter Nine

  “I beg your pardon for disturbing you, Mr Star. My name is Brooks, sir. The surveyor, sir?”

  “Ah yes, Mr Brooks. You are the gentleman who made our geological surveys at the lead mine; you are now seeking coal I believe.”

  George Star leaned back in his chair, gestured to Mr Brooks to sit down opposite him. He waited for the surveyor to speak, remembering that he had asked him to keep an eye out for useful deposits of metals. Brooks was employed by Roberts Foundries to seek out coal and iron ore; he was not being entirely disloyal to the firm by coming to George with details of finds that were of no interest to them, but they might feel entitled to sell any knowledge he came across working for them.

  “That is correct, sir, and you told me that I could earn a reward if I discovered commercial deposits of the more useful metals. Zinc, sir, is becoming less common in Britain yet is essential for the alloying of brass. It is used as well, sir, in the construction of naval ships for a lining to their food stores which will not rust away. A valuable metal, sir, particularly where found in shallow deposits that may at first be quarried rather than mined underground.”

  “I am familiar with zinc, Mr Brooks, and would certainly wish to work a deposit such as you have mentioned – provided, of course, that it was accessible.”

  “On the Yorkshire moors, sir and within reasonable reach of the new industries of the North Country, sir.”

  “Very good! You will wish to be paid, of course, and there are several ways by which this may be done. You have given thought to this question, sir?”

  Brooks had thought of little else for days since he had stumbled across the deposit.

  “Yes, Mr Star. It seems to me that it would be best if I were paid a royalty on each ton leaving the smelter. I do not know whether we are talking of one or two hundreds of tons in a surface deposit or of many thousands in a mine to be worked for several decades.”

  “No. You have performed a single function and should not be paid and repaid time and time again. One hundred pounds, sir, cash in your pocket.”

  “Oh, but Mr Star, do consider that this may be the source of many thousands of pounds to you.”

  “So it may, sir. I shall be generous, sir. Two hundred pounds and a promise of two hundred and fifty for the next prospect you bring to me!”

  Brooks debated walking out and taking his information to another firm, but realised that there was a risk in so doing. If Mr Star was to tell his employers that he had come with information discovered while he was working for Roberts, then he was in deep trouble. Knowing a little of Mr Star now, he thought that a likely course of events.

  On the one hand, an offer of cash; on the other a probability of losing his job.

  He thanked Mr Star for his generous offer which he was happy to accept.

  “Very good, Mr Brooks, I shall have the two hundred pounds for you in bank notes, to be collected at Mr Tonks’ offices at his mill. He will require from you an exact location, naturally enough, and any other details that may be useful. Will you be able to speak to Mr Tonks tomorrow?”

  Brooks thought of perhaps expostulating that the next day was the Sabbath and that it was his habit to attend chapel twice and generally conduct himself in a proper fashion on the Lord’s Day; then he thought again.

  “Yes, sir.”

  George sent a brief note to Tonks and arranged for the cash to be withdrawn from the appropriate bank account, then paid the m
atter no more attention. The mines were Mr Tonks’ affair and he would do the worrying.

  “Let us discover precisely where the deposit is to be found, Mr Brooks, on a map. You have sketches, I presume?”

  Brooks had, and he had made distant and oblique – really rather subtle, he felt - enquiries about the ownership of the land.

  “It is in many ways better if the miner owns the surface, sir. It is far easier to discourage any other miner who wishes to locate further up or down the seam.”

  Tonks had no doubt that he would always find it possible to discourage would-be competitors, but he agreed that it was always wiser to have legal possession of the land around any mine, particularly in a location where the farming was poor and the cost of an acre low.

  “To the north of Ilkley, sir, by some five miles, quite high on the moorland. Sheep land, of course and owned by a family located not so far from the spas at Harrogate. They are of the squirearchy, I believe, sir, and have acres down on the fertile lands of the lower valleys, dales, they are called in Yorkshire. The Bassingthwaite family are within reason well known in the county, but are of no great significance – they have never been public men, do not number a Chairman of the Bench or Sheriff or other officer of the county in the last three generations. They have a sufficiently large income that they could have influence, if only they wished it.”

  Tonks gave Brooks his money and thanked him for his time, giving him no hint of his plans. He sat down to think of a reason why he, a foreigner to the area, might wish to buy ill-favoured moorland, other than the truth that it contained a workable deposit of ores, which must multiply the price several times over.

  At the end of two hours he could think of no sensible reason; therefore a silly one must suffice.

  “High, wet, cold moorland, not quite mountainous, but not so far from it… Mountains… what does one do with them? What does one discover in them? Why might a weaver of cotton be interested in them, for they will enquire of my antecedents as soon as I show interested… Of course! Obvious!”

  Tonks made his way to George Star’s offices on the Monday morning and discussed a budget with him, then ordered a post-chaise for Wednesday. It was rather irritating, but he decided he must show with a pair of horses – four would imply too great a level of prosperity; he must put up with the tedium of a walking pair.

  He inquired in Ilkley of the best route up to the high moors, and was sent by the road Brooks had indicated, but he had made certain he was the cause of gossip in the small town; it should come to the ears of the land agents that a foreigner had been asking his way around.

  At the exact point indicated by Brooks, discreetly marked by a fresh cut cross on a stone by the track, he stopped and made a show of liking all that he could see. He admired the Romantic countryside, for there was a chance that he was observed. He noted that there was an obvious route for a roadway to take to the particular hillside which interested him, and several sheltered parts where a few dozen cottages could be placed, and three at least of streams of fresh water. It was a practical location.

  He drove back a way to a small, poverty-stricken farm; tiny house and sheepfolds, a large vegetable garden empty of all except a few last cabbages, a scattering of barefoot children testifying that farming hardly paid in these parts. He stopped and asked a middle-aged man if the master was to be found.

  “Master’s down to ‘Arrogate, sir. Tenant’s all I am.”

  Tonks asked him to repeat his statement, being unable to penetrate the accent at first attempt, then asked the master’s name and made a show of writing it in his little book. As a precaution, he asked if he had spelled it correctly, received the expected reply that he did not know of such things, he was no scholar.

  “This might be just the land I am looking for. Do you know how many acres your Mr Bassingthwaite owns here?”

  A shake of the head and a wave of the arm – a lot.

  “I must look elsewhere but this may be the place for me. There is a sufficiency of grazing here.”

  He needed to make an impression on the slow mind of the poor tenant, dug deep in his pocket and came up with two half-crowns. He doubted the man saw a shilling a week in cash from the way in which he grasped them. He would no doubt tell the agent that a rich man had been admiring his land.

  He made his way to Harrogate, a town renowned for its medicinal spring waters and with several hotels and any number of boarding houses, full in the summer season but far less attractive later in the year. He was easily able to take rooms in the best hotel and to ask where he might find the place of business of the agent for the Bassingthwaite family.

  The agent was expecting a visit when he came knocking next morning, and knew his name as well. The openness of his approach made Tonks seem far more respectable.

  “I am Mr Jeremy Tonks of the Star Mills, sir. I am manager to Mr George Star, who is, of course, brother to Lord Star.”

  The agent had heard of the names, but could not see quite what their relevance might be – the moors were sheep land, produced wool only, and these particular moors none too much of that.

  “My Master, sir, Mr George Star, is a man of vision. Cotton is all very well, but it does not offer the quality that many of the better-off denizens of our country demand. It has occurred to him that goat-hair makes a cloth of remarkable fineness. Not just any goat, of course, but the silken, long-haired variety that is to be found in the foothills of the great mountains of the Hindu Kush in India!”

  “Ah! I see, Mr Tonks! Such an animal, if it could only be brought to England, might flourish on our high moorlands.”

  “I can confide in you, sir, that a breeding flock of the beasts is upon the high seas even now!”

  The agent talked of three thousands of acres, showing them on his estate map, but saying also that he did not know if the family would ever consider selling their land. He must consult with Mr Bassingthwaite; could he perhaps send Mr Tonks a letter in a few days?

  Tonks was happy to agree that was a wise course; he would not be in his own office before the following week, being obliged to look at lands over in the area of the Lake District, close to Kendal.

  “They too are high moors and similar in many ways to these, though a little more costly, perhaps.”

  Tonks left the town and the agent scurried off in search of his master.

  “Indian goats, sir, from their high hills and needing a coolish sort of place to graze and flourish. The Star family is rich, sir, and I should think might not be inclined to bargain too hard, so long as we are reasonable. That moorland produces a profit of fifty pounds in a good year, sir, the income of twelve hundred in the Consols, sir. We might be able to take them for more than a pound an acre, sir, for the worst agricultural land in the whole area. That would give at least one hundred and twenty-five a year, sir, in the Consols.”

  “No coal there, or for miles around. Ten pounds and more an acre if there was – but no such luck. The land is useless to us, and if he can persuade his goats to thrive, then good luck to him! Tell him that I will be willing to listen to an offer. It is not like selling off farming land, more in the way of getting rid of a burden. There will be no gossip that the family is selling its acres.”

  Tonks took the letter to George Star, waving the sheet of paper triumphantly.

  “Got him, sir. With your agreement, I shall offer twenty-one shillings an acre, a genteel guinea, and settle for no more than twenty-five, sir.”

  “Go to thirty if you must. Zinc is in short supply, I find, and its price is rising each year. It can be smelted in Leeds. Separate and clean the ore at the pithead and then cart it downhill in drays to the town. Cheaper far than bringing coal up those tracks. What do you do when they see no goats but find a mine in their place?”

  “The goats died of a murrain at sea. We were so lucky as to discover valuable ores on the land and have been able to cover our losses by mining.”

  “They will never believe that, Mr Tonks!”

  “No,
sir, I doubt they will, but I shall read the contract of sale very finely and it will have no covenants relating to the future use of the land. They won’t like it, but I would never sell land without setting on a surveyor first, and if they choose to do so, well, that is their bad luck, sir!”

  “And we shall not be setting up house there, so will have no contact with local society who may cold-shoulder us as they will.”

  The purchase went through and the firm set marker posts out along its boundaries and employed the original tenant-farmer to slowly put up drystone walls along the accessible parts, paying him a wage in cash, greatly to his pleasure. Tonks promised him work for his boys as they grew old enough, gained instant loyalty from him; he then gave him a shotgun so that he could keep trespassers off their property.

  The local landowners were appalled by what they saw as duplicity on the part of the Stars and swore blind that they would have nothing to do with them, strictly forbidding all of the local people to have any converse with them.

  The offer of forty and more jobs, most of them to include a cottage up at the pithead in their own new village, persuaded a number of under-employed and badly paid labourers to change their loyalty and walk up the hill. Following that the manager of the new mine rode into Ilkley and spoke to the owner of the largest provision shop and then went across to the bakers and the butcher. The three conferred and discovered that the contracts to supply the workers at the new mine must be worth not less than two thousands a year; they instantly opened accounts for Star Zinc Mining. The farrier was offered the opportunity to look after the twelve dray horses initially to be used; he could maintain the drays as well in his blacksmith’s forge, all paid monthly in gold coin, rather than by accounts to be cleared after the next harvest.

  Money talked louder than old loyalties, or so it seemed to the local worthies who deplored the passing of a more honourable Age, while belatedly calling the surveyors in to walk their own countryside.