An Uncertain Peace (The Making of a Man Series, Book 3)

by Andrew Wareham

  They saw little of London, due to the weather which had provided the makings of a London peculiar – a massive, brown mixture of coal smoke and fog that had reduced visibility to a matter of a very few yards. Louise gained an impression of a great mass of bricks and people, all disappearing into a thick blanket of cloud – it was very close to the illustration of the Gates of Hell in some of the books she had read as a child.

  The comfort of the train north was welcome after the hour in London. First Class travel had much to recommend it; she could not imagine why everyone did not use it.

  The country changed as they progressed into the north and passed through great urban areas covered in smoke and dirt but at least visible.

  “Birmingham, my dear. Second biggest city in England and renowned for the gun trade as well as all sorts of engineering and metalwork.”

  She peered unbelievingly at the streets of redbrick terraces: unending, tiny, dirty.

  “Where are the fields? What do the children do?”

  “Work, mostly.”

  Later in the day they passed through the Potteries, becoming known as the Black Country.

  “Do they live all the time in this grime, Sir Richard?”

  “Sometimes it is worse, my dear. The sun is shining today.”

  Crossing the Cheshire Plain made her more at ease – it was very different to her Dorset, but at least there were fields and cows and horses. In the distance, to the north as the train rounded curves in the track, there was a black cloud.

  “That is Lancashire, my dear. Not as bad this year for the bulk of the cotton spinners and weavers being closed down due to the lack of bales from the States. This damned war of theirs is hurting men and women thousands of miles away. I will show you our shipyard and the factory in Liverpool, so that you can have an idea of what we do, of how we are so well off.”

  “Are we, Sir Richard?”

  “Very much so, my dear. And I have every intention that we will become more so. If we stay in England then we will need money, and a great deal of it, to make a life for ourselves. And, of course, for our children in later years. To live well in this country demands either the right sort of parents or wealth.”

  “What sort of parents are the ‘right’ ones, Sir Richard?”

  “Yours are good enough, my dear – born to a known family. Mine were not. My father was not even English. His name was not, I believe, Burke. He made money and was able to finagle a title, but he was never acceptable to the gentlefolk. I am rich; I am second baronet, which is far better than being first; but I am still not welcome in the houses of the well-born.”

  She had some idea of this already; her mother had made veiled references to her husband’s social status.

  “Can this be changed, Sir Richard?”

  “Of course! I am in process of doing so. Not ever to be mentioned, my lady, but I work for the government in part, performing nasty little tasks that must be done in a clandestine fashion. Those deeds of darkness are necessary to the well-being of the country, and they will one day result in a title – a barony. Coupled with money, that will mean we become part of the aristocracy, and our children will be welcomed as husbands and wives for their offspring. It does not always happen that a title means acceptance, but with riches in addition we shall become part of the ruling class.”

  “Do you want that, Sir Richard?”

  “If we stay in England, then yes. My father once said to me that he would rather be a hammer than a nail; he had a point.”

  She had seen hammers and nails, at a distance, and had some idea of what he meant.

  “Will we stay in England? You have said ‘if’ twice.”

  “I own land in America, in the Old North-West. I shall probably buy more over time. We could live there. I have a half-share in a large and growing firm. We might be rich and respected in the States, though the living would be far less elegant than in England. I suspect as well that we would live a comfortable life but one far removed from the excitements of the political world. I do not know. You must also gain an opinion on America – it might be that you did not like it, and I shall not force you to an uncongenial existence, be sure of that. A man must live a more active life than a lady, so it is important that you must dwell where you can be happy.”

  “I think I may be happy wherever you are, Sir Richard. Being a married lady is rather different to living at home as a sheltered miss and I am coming to enjoy my life increasingly, sir.”

  “I am glad of that, my dear. I am also very pleased to be wed to you, be sure of that!”

  On reflection he decided that was true – it was very pleasant to have a young lady trotting along beside him. He had never had a dog, suspected that it might be much the same – the obligation to offer care with the return of an uncritical affection. Not to worry; she did not demand too much of his time.

  She was amazed to observe a shipyard, to see great iron vessels in their manufacture and then to be told they were actually quite small ships, no more than gunboats of a few hundred tons and carrying a single turret and two guns.

  “They are clad in iron plates, my dear. That armour is almost impenetrable by cannon fire and they can as a result be sunk only by ramming them. It will not last – new guns will be devised in time. For the while, one of these gunboats could sink any wooden ship in the British navy. They have turned the naval world upside down. Luckily, the iron ships are costly to manufacture and demand an iron industry behind them – only the richest countries can build them. Within a few years all naval ships will be powered by steam and covered in iron. Thousands of them must be built, and we shall take a profit from many.”

  “Riches indeed, sir. Is it right to make money from war?”

  “Who knows? We must ask a vicar one day – if we put enough in his collection plate first he will undoubtedly explain that God is on our side and that we are virtuous people.”

  “I believe that may be a blasphemous statement, sir!”

  “Probably – pay a little more and the vicar will prove that it is not. Religion is owned by money as well, my dear, and the priesthood will always support the rich. Look at Ireland – the peasants there are treated worse than the slaves in America and yet their priests tell them not to rebel, to accept their lot, because the English have the money and that is more important than justice or decency.”

  “Ah, yes, husband, but they are Papists, you see!”

  It was not worth an argument, for he really did not care; he merely made a mental note that he would oversee the religious education of his sons. His daughters could imbibe their beliefs at their mother’s knee, for it mattered very little what a woman believed in Victoria’s England.

  She also saw the factory that produced Mrs Bosworth’s Elixirs and took heart that she was now part of such a great enterprise, one that brought blessings to womankind. She knew that her mother and the great majority of her acquaintance took their nightly dose of Mrs Boswell or one of her several competitors, and all swore by their medicine. As well, she enjoyed the deference that was offered her - Lady Burke was of great importance in this environment.

  Shopping was a problem, for there was no mentor to guide Louise's taste, and she had no idea of what was or was not correct for a lady to wear. In the end Dick insisted that she took her maid with her and at least discussed her purchases with her. Merrett had experience in a big house and had some idea of what was not appropriate garb for a lady; she was also literate and read the new periodicals for ladies and was thus aware of the latest in high fashion and steered her young employer away from it. A Victorian female was to be properly dowdy - the sort of woman who wore a fashionable dress was highly unlikely to be a 'lady'.

  Dick was well aware that he was not respectable; it was therefore important that his wife must be doubly so - she must put up a front. It was useful to have a naive little girl trailing along at his heels - there could be nothing more in keeping with the tastes of Victorian men - but he rather wished she had more savoir faire -
it was, he admitted to himself, an irritating paradox. It occurred to him, repeatedly, that if it had been Liz Parsons at his side then he would not have faced any of his current problems.

  No instructions came from London and Dick began to wonder whether they had changed their minds about his future - perhaps they no longer needed him. Two weeks after they arrived in Liverpool he had a visitor, Major Hewitt appearing at the back door of the house and slipping in through the kitchens, much to the horror of cook, who was not used to such goings-on, or so she said.

  Dick ushered Hewitt into his bookroom and quickly went into the kitchen; a half-sovereign in cook's hand and a florin apiece to the maid and the skivvy and peace returned to the domestics. He would have to explain as well, but that could be done later; closed mouths was the pressing need.

  "Good afternoon, Major! Tell me, sir, why the need to be hidden in Liverpool? Who is watching you, and therefore, by default, me?"

  "Good afternoon to you, Sir Richard! Vice versa, sir!"

  "Oh, bugger! Excuse me one moment, Major." Dick put his head out of the door. "Plaistow!"

  His man came running, surprised by the abrupt shout.

  "Bring the locked leather case down, please, Plaistow."

  An eyebrow raised and the valet ran even faster, was back inside two minutes.

  "On my desk, please. Opened."

  Plaistow produced his own key-ring and proudly unlocked the gunbox.

  "We seem to have discovered a small problem, Plaistow. I would wish you to accompany Lady Burke whenever she leaves the house if I am not with her. You will be armed. You must keep your pistols with you at all times, I fear. Loaded, of course."

  They had spent time and money in London, equipping themselves for all American eventualities.

  Plaistow took a pair of long-barrelled revolvers from their holsters and thumbed five rounds into each, ensuring that the empty chamber sat under the hammer, as he had been taught; it delayed the first shot by as much as half of a second but was far safer, particularly for a man of limited experience. He returned them to their holsters on the belt which he rather self-consciously strapped above his hips.

  "That is right, Plaistow. Wear the belt high when the pistols must be hidden from general view. Normally you will drop them to a lower position, but it would attract a degree of distaste in Liverpool."

  Plaistow picked up another, smaller weapon and loaded it from a separate packet of cartridges. He took his coat off and strapped the holster under his left arm.

  "The popularly named 'shoulder holster', Major Hewitt. In fact carried more at chest height but well under the arm. A three-inch barrel thirty-eight, lighter and very accurate at close range. More than sufficient to do the work at fifteen feet or less."

  "Well-concealed, Sir Richard. What make is it, sir? I might well be tempted myself."

  "It is one of the so-called Smith and Wessons, Major. There are thousands of them for sale, far more than the true factory ever turns out. It is almost certainly Belgian made and with a false maker's stamp, but it is very well produced - accurate, true and of good metal. That cannot be said of all of the Belgian pieces, of course, but some of their firms make outstandingly good copies, and they use the standard round. We bought the four new forty-four calibres and two thirty-eights for much the price of a pair of the real thing in New York. I would recommend them to you and your people. They use the metal cartridge, which makes them more convenient than a Colt, and I am told that made rounds can be obtained over the whole of the North and West of America now."

  "It is not quite lawful to carry concealed fire-arms in England, you know, Sir Richard."

  "Very true, Major!"

  Hewitt surrendered, knowing that he was in a corner; should Dick be taken up for carrying a weapon then he would have to come to his rescue, possibly with undesirable publicity.

  "Very well! I will send notes to you, on official paper, authorising you."

  Dick did not smile; the law on side-arms in England was very unclear and seemed to be aimed at discouraging the practice of duelling rather than restricting the carrying of arms. There was a strong suspicion that a poor man carrying a hand-gun would have far more explaining to do than his wealthy counterpart; that, in Dick's mind, was entirely reasonable, the rich being far less in the habit of armed robbery.

  Dick took the other thirty-eight and loaded it and tucked it away in the holster sewn into his day jacket. Evening dress was cut far tighter to the form and would not permit a concealed weapon, but the fashion for day-wear was for looser, more comfortable clothing, which was very convenient. He placed half a dozen spare rounds in his pocket, gestured to Plaistow to do the same.

  "Just the one revolver, Sir Richard?" Hewitt asked only half in jest.

  Dick patted his trousers' pockets.

  "I keep the Derringers on me at all times, Major. A nasty habit, but comforting in some ways."

  Plaistow retired and Dick called for coffee.

  They sat quietly until the maid had served them.

  "Who or what, Major?"

  "A good question, Sir Richard. The police were instructed to place your house and business premises on the watch-list after the little business with the Irish."

  Dick raised an eyebrow, he did not know the term 'watch-list'.

  "Most parts of the city have beat constables, men whose job it is simply to pace the streets, each of them with his own particular area. They work the same roads for years and come to know everybody - who should be there and who is out of place. They are, at intervals, given additional instructions and information - 'house number such and such is inhabited by a rich and single old lady' is a typical example, and they will keep an eye out for them. In this case the word was that Sir Richard Burke had fallen foul of the Fenians and of the Confederate Americans, so look out for Paddies or Jonathans loitering where they had no reason to be."

  "And they have discovered some of either sort, one presumes, Major."

  "No - that is the peculiar thing. They have spotted a particular gentleman who they believe to be French and paying attention to the shipyard and to your house."

  "French? Why?"

  "We suspect that it is because you are manufacturing small steam turret ships, Sir Richard. The French have also chosen that route - they have decided to produce fast vessels with one or two big guns. They will no doubt wish to know as much as they can about your ships. Incidentally, you would be well-advised to seek a buyer for yours, Sir Richard. The Navy has decided to build, or have built, more strictly, large line-of-battleships with a mixture of broadside and turret guns. As much as anything, they need vessels with far longer range than small ships can have - they will have bunkers to carry eight or ten thousand tons of coal - Portsmouth to the Cape and then to Colombo and Singapore and Hong Kong is the aim."

  "They will still need small vessels for coastal and river work, of course, but fewer than we had hoped. We must sell to the smaller nations of the world, places that have no colonies and seek only to defend their harbours. Denmark and Norway spring to mind, and the states of South America. We must hire a man to sell for us..."

  Hewitt was not especially interested in the commercial aspects of the shipyard.

  "For the while, there is this Frenchman, who may be no more than that, but could possibly be in the hire of others."

  "Was I to identify the gentleman, to discover him following me, for example, and march him at gunpoint into the nearest police-station, then I presume he would eventually fall into your hands, Major."

  "It might take a day or two if you did that, Sir Richard. Was you to hold the gentleman in your cellars for an hour or two while you sent your man with a note to my people in the station off Lime Street, then we could be talking to him before his own folk knew him to have gone astray."

  They said no more on the topic, particularly not enlarging upon the nature of the 'talk'.

  "What of America, Major Hewitt?"

  "Go, by all means, Sir Richard, but there is less need
than we had suspected. The Copperheads in Canada have exposed themselves rather foolishly and have been chased south of the border, pursued more by their own fears than by the authorities, I would add. We much suspect they were more in the way of fraudsters than underground agents of the Confederacy. They took some amount of Southern gold but supplied very little in the way of military action and fled very rapidly when made aware that the Canadian police were seeking them. The probability is that they made large promises and discovered that the gullible gentlemen of Richmond were willing to stump up good coinage without further investigation; so they made even greater promises after their first failure to deliver and ran laughing to the bank. We have passed their names - almost certainly false of course - to the Federal people and have closed our books on them. The very few that remain in Canada have been arrested and spoken to severely, and they have all promised to be good in future, to do no more than circulate pamphlets and write newspaper articles on the issue of Slavery and its associated problems; they have the right to open their mouths, after all, just as long as they do not support violence on Her Majesty's shores."

  "So, they will publicly support the Institution and condemn those who have smuggled runaway slaves into Canada?"

  "Just so, Sir Richard. Preserving the White Race, one understands, from contamination. There is mention of a concept of 'Eugenics', which apparently refers in some way to the healthy development of the Race."

  Dick's Greek was still good enough to trace the meaning of the word; he laughed.

  "Mr Darwin would not be pleased to discover his work to be corrupted in such a fashion. I presume they are suggesting that the White Race occupies a higher evolutionary niche than the black?"

  "One understands so."

  "Very silly! However, it probably keeps them off the street corners at night, sir, and prevents them from being a public nuisance with the ladies of the town. Perhaps Mr Gladstone should have discovered such an amusement!"

  Major Hewitt was not amused - Mr Gladstone's penchant for attempting to rescue unfortunate young females from the streets had caused any amount of cynical laughter overseas, and in England had been the source of more than one blackmail attempt which his people had been forced to deal with.