Privilege Preserved (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 5)

by Andrew Wareham

  “My father has been very generous to me, Mr Gosford, since my military career was cut short.”

  Gosford nodded, pleased by the young man’s respect for his elders.

  “Rifles, were you not, sir. Too new-fangled for me, there never were such things in my days. I sent in my papers after my father died at the time of the Peace of Amiens, when I was a captain in the Leicesters. You have been in India, I know, sir. What is the Company doing in Burma, do ye know? Seems to me there’s a lot of the King’s regiments pulling their chestnuts out of the fire for them. The same in Ceylon.”

  “I heard it said, Captain Gosford, that the Company was very happy to start wars for the country to finish for them.”

  “And pay for them, I doubt not. I believe that the day of John Company may be very nearly over, sir. I hear that Lord Andrews has some interest in India these days, sir.”

  “The planting of tea, I understand, sir, in Ceylon. Major Wolverstone, he who made his name at Vitoria, is acting as factor.”

  “Hah! Is he one of yours now? Damned good man from all I’ve ever heard of him. He’ll do the job for you!”

  Gosford moved on, was succeeded by half a dozen others who wished to be courteous to the Andrews interest. Finally Peel appeared, smiled in friendly fashion, waved James back to his chair as he made to rise.

  Peel was perhaps ten years older than James, light on his feet, sparely fleshed, alert in every way. He was dressed by the best of tailors to be unobtrusive – Brummel had laid down that a man could be seen to be well turned out when one did not notice what he was wearing, when everything was simply right, and Peel had taken his words to heart and used his father’s money to best effect. He was an intelligent and cultured man, one who could talk knowledgeably about music, literature, the arts; he found James hard work.

  “I have some interest in policing the country, Mr Andrews, as you may have heard. I do believe that our present reliance on a badly trained Militia is satisfactory neither for the ordinary people nor for those of us who wish for good order.”

  James was moved to display more than a courteous response for the first time.

  “Whilst the police force is local in its nature then it might do very well for us, sir. From what I have heard Bonaparte had a national police, controlled from Paris, and they would seem to have been instruments of tyranny, or so I am told.”

  “But who could exercise such local control, Mr Andrews? The Bench? The Lord Lieutenant? Mayor and Corporation of the cities? Any of them might turn quite equally to tyranny.”

  James had no ideas to offer, other than a vague hope that men of good will might be found.

  Peel had little patience with such wishful thinking.

  “We really cannot afford to pander to the vagaries of localism, Mr Andrews. The country is going to the dogs, insurrection the order of the day, to a great extent because of the failures of local men to look after their own people. I am given to understand that there has been a major outbreak of incendiarism in your own county, indeed!”

  “Not on the Andrews estates, sir! Five miles away, a little less in fact, and none of my father’s people involved. I stood, well, sat most of the time, at the trial and at the hangings and scanned every face, and recognised not one of them!”

  Peel accepted the rebuke instantly – he had been surprised, he said, knowing that Lord Andrews, like Lord Rothwell, tended to be much in advance of general opinion in his relations with the poor.

  “The gentleman in question, the landlord of the estate whose boundaries march with my father’s, is perhaps remarkable for the degree to which his opinions, and actions, are the precise opposite, sir.”

  “And that, of course, Mr Andrews, shows why we would have difficulties relying upon local initiative in policing. Could a Board of, say, eight or ten local gentlemen agree on any policy?”

  James had to accept that they probably could not, but ventured to suggest that the sole question that could unite them would be government interference.

  “Then what, sir, do you suggest we should do?”

  “Solve the problem, sir, before it needs policing. Recruit more soldiers, build roads to make work, pay young men and women to take ship to the Americas, to the Cape, even to settle as free men in Botany Bay. Where estates fall vacant due to the death of the family, which happens every year I am told, then the government should buy the land and sell it on long loan as smallholdings of fifty or sixty acres.”

  “It would cost millions, Mr Andrews. The tax-payer would never stand for it.”

  Peel stood up, nodded a farewell. The young man obviously had no concept of the realities of existence, was not worth more of his time.

  James left the House, waited a minute or two whilst a cab was summoned by the very helpful porters, reflected that Peel was a nasty little man when all was said and done – he wanted to change the country, but only while he could keep the strings of his own purse tightly closed. Another one of those something for nothing types, the sort of officer who would be found in the rear rank, he suspected.

  “Your cab, sir. Mr Andrews, is it not, sir? I was a sergeant in the 60th, sir. I believe I saw you when you returned from the West African expedition, sir!”

  That explained why the porter had been so kind to him and the cab had arrived so quickly. It seemed very likely that some other member who had called for a cab before him was still waiting. James smiled, and very carefully did not tip the man; he would make him a present at Christmas but he would be offended to be treated with offhand generosity.

  James dined at Mount Street next afternoon, commented to Tom that he had met Peel and had not been impressed by him.

  “I have hardly spoken to him myself, James, never had the occasion to. What’s wrong with him?”

  James found it hard to put his instinctive dislike of Peel into words.

  “He is very clever, sir, and I am sure he has thought very deeply about the problems the country is facing… but, you know, sir, I don’t think he feels very much at all. He knows what is right and wrong, what is good and bad, but I don’t think he has an idea of what is proper.”

  Frances came to his rescue.

  “Are you perhaps saying, James, that he is at home with ideas, with words in books, but not with people?”

  “Why, yes, ma’am, I think that is it! I know that I was sure he would never be a good officer, he would never be one to ‘get his hands dirty’, that was what the men said, when they thought I wasn’t listening and they were talking over a pipe and discussing the other officers.”

  “But they never said that of you, James, I am sure!”

  “No, ma’am.” James reddened, pride showing. “All they ever said of me was that I wanted to have another pair of fingers cut off. Murphy told me, when I was very low, soon after the leg, that the men all expected me to try to come back to them again. He said that they had sent messages of good wishes, which they would not have done for many young officers!”

  “Then you must see what you can do for them in your new life, James.”

  That had not occurred to James. He gave the matter a little, slow thought, realised he could speak sometimes for better conditions for the men, more money to be spent on their barracks and rations, even an increase in their pay. He wondered whether there were others amongst the many ex-officers in the House who felt the same way.

  “It will give him an interest, Thomas, something to keep him busy. He may be seen as slightly eccentric by other members, but they will know there is neither malice nor self-interest in his actions.”

  Tom agreed, the young man had to be employed at something, and spokesman for the soldiers was respectable at least.

  Tom spoke to James again later in the week, asked whether Peel had said anything about the Gold Standard.

  “Nothing, sir. What is it, exactly, sir?”

  “Convertibility, essentially. The right to take paper money into your bank and demand that it be changed for gold at face value. It makes trade overseas ea
sier in some ways, and it is supposed to make government behave itself, prevent it from issuing notes without backing and devaluing the currency.”

  “It sounds like a good idea, sir, the pound note and the sovereign to be one and the same.”

  “What weight?”

  “Sir?”

  “How heavy should the sovereign be?”

  “Oh!”

  James thought for a few minutes and then suggested that a sovereign should contain a pound’s worth of gold.

  Tom gave up.

  “Will you come north with us for Joseph’s wedding, James?”

  “Of course, sir. What do you think I should buy them?”

  Tom had no idea but Frances had several, confirming again his wisdom in remarrying.

  “We go from Lancashire to West Wales, Joseph, to Mr Thomas Miller’s wedding. He will be returning to America almost immediately afterwards, his bride to start her new life in her new country.”

  “Better out of sight in many ways, sir,” James commented, somewhat infelicitously. “Should I go with you, sir?”

  They could see no need for his presence.

  Mark Star was present at his sister’s wedding, naturally, and spoke to Tom for a few minutes, a perfectly ordinary event, on the surface of things.

  “Is all well with you, Mr Star?”

  Mark hastened to assure Tom that everything in his life was for the best, particularly professionally.

  “I have been briefed to appear for the Crown in a number of cases this year, my lord. Indeed, I seem to have become favoured as a prosecutor at the Assizes, a first step to being considered to become a judge, I believe, sir.”

  “Good! I am very pleased to hear that, Mr Star. I understand that there is a feeling that more judges should be appointed as younger men, perhaps with fifteen years at the Bar instead of the thirty that seems more common at present. I am told that it was used to be the case that judges were commonly made at less than forty years of age, whereas of late years it has been closer to sixty.”

  Mark considered this statement, reading between the lines, listening to all that was not said, as a good barrister should.

  ‘Early promotion, provided I am good and keep my nose clean.’

  “Thank you for telling me that, my lord. I must do my very best to deserve the Lord Chancellor’s good opinion, I believe.”

  Christopher’s name was never mentioned.

  Joseph and Mary left on their protracted four day journey to London while the clans of Star and Andrews remained to celebrate, making significant inroads on Lord Star’s cellar.

  “I have bought another plantation on Antigua, Tom. Bananas, not sugar nor cotton. Cut green and put aboard a fast ship to Liverpool or London, they sell at good price. There are two importers in Liverpool already, both seeming to be making a very good profit. It’s worth a try, always wise to have another string to the bow.”

  “Tea, out of Ceylon, is my latest venture, Joe. Black tea, not green, but likely to come in at a much lower price than China tea, and in greater quantity. As good as Twankay, so I am told.”

  Twankay was the lowest, cheapest grade of China tea and much in demand in England where the addition of milk and sugar to the brew tended to disguise the finer nuances of flavour.

  “What of iron in India, Tom?”

  “Neither government nor John Company wishes to see competition from Indian producers, or from any other colonists, it would seem. The colonies to produce agricultural products to feed the English industrialists, seems to be the favoured policy. The old Mercantilism in new guise, I would guess.”

  “And all dressed up in Free Trade skirts, Tom! No tariffs, no embargoes, every producer to be allowed to sell wherever the market takes him, except for Corn, of course. What cynical hypocrites they are, Tom. It almost makes me ashamed to take a profit from them!”

  “Trade looking up, Joe?”

  “Night shifts since the beginning of the year, Tom. Seven days a week. If it carries on like this I shall be scraping the barrel for labour within a twelve-month, and a damned good thing, too. No machine-breaking riots in three months now, Tom.”

  “Will you be laying off the gatemen now, Joe?”

  Lord Star thought not, it might be a little early to take that particular risk.

  James stayed a fortnight in Lancashire, inspecting the Roberts Yard and listening, often in blank incomprehension, to the explanations given him by the various managers and foremen he came across. Steam, he gathered, was the future, the only possible way forward both on sea and on the land. He was told that at least twenty yards around the country were now producing paddle steamers, several of them paying fees to Roberts for the use of their designs and patents, and that even so they could not meet the demand from shippers and ferrying companies.

  Alec Fraser explained that the first steamers, the tugging boats, had been an instant commercial success, often paying for themselves inside six months.

  “You will appreciate, Mr James, that if you assume a tugging boat would have a working life of, say, five years, then you would wish for it to pay for itself within two years and make a profit for the three remaining. But instead you have four and a half years, a fifty per cent greater return than you had planned for! That, sir, is a very desirable state of affairs!”

  James made a note in his book, looked up to say that he could see it would be very pleasing to the average businessman.

  “As a result, Mr Fraser, I presume they will seek to purchase more of the boats.”

  “If they have a use for them, certainly, Mr James. But their competitors find that they are losing all of their business to the go-ahead men and they have no choice – they must get into steam or go under. If one of twenty shippers in a port buys a tugging boat then within the twelvemonth the other nineteen must follow suit. I am told in fact that in Glasgow one of the shippers has formed a ‘Tug Boat Company’, offering his services, for a fee, of course, to any who need a ship moved in or out of port. He started six months ago with two boats and has already ordered four more.”

  “Is Roberts following that lead, do you know, sir?”

  “I believe that Mr Rumpage is doing so on the Thames. We have already made a number of sales here and feel that we should not compete with our customers.”

  “What of overseas, Mr Fraser? Do we know of activity in France or the Low Countries or in the Germanies?”

  Fraser knew nothing of foreign ship builders, suspected that they would certainly be inferior to the British, the North British especially.

  James, very boldly, made the suggestion that a man might be sent on a tour of the French and Dutch and German ports, just to keep an eye on all that they were doing. Fraser passed the word onto Frederick Mason, who sent a letter to Tom, endorsing his son’s wisdom.

  “It could be me, of course, Frances. Was we to spend three or four months of the summer quietly pottering along the coast of the German Ocean then we would be useful to the firm as well as passing much of the load along to the younger men. Robert, I am sure, would approve.”

  “I cannot be persuaded that that is a good idea yet, Thomas. I think, from the little I have seen, that you should keep your hands on the reins for another five years or so, until Joseph is of an age to take charge of the two Lancashire iron works. I feel that Mr Robert, although a very able man, has little interest other than in the financial side of the businesses and James, of course, has his political career to further.”

  “What of the shipyards?”

  “Captain Star to be in over-all command. London to be in the hands of Mr Rumpage.”

  “What role do you see for Mr Fraser?”

  “The Welsh activities to be his, and all of the coal mines, as well as his general functions of Engineer-in-Charge.”

  “That leaves the building of houses and our two cotton mills as yet unassigned.”

  She scowled a moment, at a loss.

  “It must be a member of the family.” She laughed and enquired whether there were
any other sons unaccounted for who might be brought into the fold. He shook his head, told her that he was aware of two only.

  “None of the Masters, of course. Could the ancillary activities be sold off? The housing must remain under the aegis of Roberts, being the supply of accommodation to its own people, but the mills might be passed across to Lord Star, perhaps?”

  “Not easily, my dear. I have, in fact, just completed the process of placing them into a separate trust in your name, it seeming the simplest way of ensuring your income after my demise. I have put the house near Liverpool into the trust as well, so that you have a refuge at far from your brother if the need arises.”

  “So… my thanks are unnecessary, I think, Thomas! You know my feelings for your unfailing generosity. Who is to travel the Continent for us?”

  “A first independent task for Mr Rumpage. Not him to go, but to identify a man who can be sent. I must talk with Mr Rumpage – tell him what a fine chap he is and give him a very large pay rise and prod him towards marriage, just to settle him down finally.”

  “Just a little ruthless, perhaps, Thomas?”

  He looked surprised.

  “It’s for his own good, my dear.”

  Joseph arrived in Mount Street where he discovered the staff lined up at the door to officially welcome him and his bride, the ritual confirming their acceptance of his manhood. He was no longer a mere third son; he was a gentleman in his own right he now understood. Robert met him inside, having returned to London much more quickly, needing to be back in his office where any number of important events might have occurred. Mary was shuffled off to Miriam’s rooms, the brothers having business to discuss, she was told. Robert knew very well that any business in Joseph’s household would be hers to decide, but had been forcibly informed by his wife that a new bride might have any number of things to talk over that were not the prerogative of male ears.

  “Steam trackways, Joseph – I hear that there is some progress being made in the coal mines of the Newcastle area.”

  “Mr Stephenson, Robert. Uneducated, self-taught, and a genius. He has an intuitive understanding of steam, or so it seems. Ten years from now and he will turn this country upside down. We have spoken about this at some length, Mary and I, and are convinced that the answer is to buy land and be ready to sell rights of way, and rails and all of the additional requirements of a steam trackway. There is no sense that I can see in competing with Mr Stephenson. I am sure that I could build a steam engine to match anything he might produce, but I do not believe I could better it, or his price necessarily. Such being the case, why fight him? Better far to watch all he does and when he starts to build his trackways make sure we are his main contractors, doing the things we are expert in. There will be a need for literally hundreds of thousands of miles of rail to build the tracks. Quality, strong, flawless lengths of iron, whether wrought or cast I do not yet know though I strongly suspect rolled wrought iron will be best, because of turning bends. Talking of wrought, I must visit the yard and let this chap Rumpage explain to me exactly what he wants – he is not satisfied with the plates we are sending him.”