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

by Andrew Wareham

  “To the gutter, where he belongs, I should imagine!”

  She wept; then she dried her eyes, discovering her husband to be wholly unmoved.

  “I shall send him to stay with his brother Simon, Mr Sudbury. The influence of the Church must be exactly what is needed.”

  “The Reverend Simon Sudbury would not take him, ma’am. He made clear to me his distaste for Jonathan when last we met. ‘A spoiled brat’, was his comment, and I found it hard to disagree with him then. I now believe him to have understated the case. Jonathan should leave the country; there is no other solution. If he goes, then I will purchase a proper set of clothing for him and buy his ticket and put a few pounds in his pocket. Should he stay, then I shall simply forbid him this house.”

  “Leave the country? He cannot do so! He could not survive in the barbarity of the far colonies!”

  “The choice is his.”

  Sudbury rang the bell, directed the butler to bring Master Jonathan to them.

  He was, unfortunately, wearing his new clothes.

  “Jonathan! I did not give you the money for the suit you are dressed in. Your mother tells me that neither did she, sir! How did you pay for the clothes?”

  Jonathan shrugged, tried for an insouciant air, succeeded in looking like a pouting, tantrumish little boy.

  “It is only a tailor’s bill, Papa! Any gentleman has such!”

  “If you do not answer me, then you will be taken to the police station in Dorchester and will answer to a police inspector there. I repeat: how did you pay for your clothes?”

  “But, Mama! You will not let him!”

  “Answer your father, Jonathan. Do not shame me further!”

  He had never been rebuffed in all of his life, could not comprehend what had happened.

  “I just happened to mention that Sir Richard was married to my sister…”

  “Are you, my son, attempting to tell me that the tailor asked for no signature, for nothing in writing? In all of my experience in the courts-of-law, I have never known such.”

  “Well… I suppose I wrote something. It was not important, the merest trifle to a man as rich as he – I am sure that he would not notice so small a sum. Would you, Sir Richard?”

  He gave Dick his best smile, his most charming little boy look. It had never failed to bring round his mother.

  “I am here because I did notice, Master Jonathan. The sum is trifling, but then, so are you. You are a thief and I wish to discover just how you propose to repay me.”

  “Mama, you will not let him insult me so?”

  “You have stolen from him, Jonathan. I must let him say to you whatever he may wish, and trust that he will not call upon the police to bring shame to the whole family. I must hope that Sir Richard will be willing to hide your crime, so as not to bring us all down. Young Hilda is unwed, will be seeking a husband before too many years are gone by. How will she fare as the sister of a common thief? How will she enjoy the whispers behind her back? You have disgraced yourself, but you have hurt us all!”

  Mrs Sudbury found it easier to blame her darling son than to reflect that he was the product of her uncritical indulgence; she was not to accept fault herself.

  He did not know what to do or say; he had never faced blame before.

  “You must leave my house, Jonathan. I will not share it with a thief.”

  Mr Sudbury was unbending; he had foreseen a confrontation with his idle son but had hoped to avoid it, for preferring a quiet life. Now that he had an excuse for severity, one that his wife would not argue, he leapt upon it.

  “Leave? Where am I to go?”

  “To Hell, I strongly suspect; that is the normal resting place of the felon. In the shorter term, I shall pay for you to leave the country, to make a living overseas in America, or Australia perhaps. What you will do, I cannot imagine. It will be up to you to play the man’s part.”

  “But, I do not know how, Papa.”

  “You have forfeited the right to call me such, sir! I will not be father to a mere thief. Will you go to Australia or to America? Or will you walk out of the door with the money you have in your pocket now? Choose! Quickly!”

  He would go to America he said in the end.

  Mr Sudbury informed him that he would escort him to Liverpool and pay for ticket and his outfit there; he would watch him board his ship.

  “Second Class. You may have a cabin to yourself, but you will not ape the gentry in First.”

  Dick left to send a brief note to the tailor that he was off to Birmingham for the week but would personally clear the account on his return.

  He informed Louise of the happy outcome of the afternoon.

  “I suspect we may be better off for Jonathan taking up residence three thousand miles away, Sir Richard. He might well have caused a scandal, sooner or later. Do you think he will make a success of a life in the States, Sir Richard?”

  “He may, my dear. Unlikelier events have occurred, I know. He may find himself forced to become a man. Pigs, they say, may fly, as well. He is not unhandsome in his person; if worst comes to worst he may well find himself a protector.”

  She thought she understood what he was saying; she hoped she did not.

  The engineer and inventor, Mr Daniel, was an enthusiast. He was very tedious. Dick estimated him to be of some thirty years, stooped and scrawny and dressed at anyhow, careless of his appearance and probably unaware of conventional ways. He could not imagine that Daniel had a wife; he probably kept a steam engine instead.

  He had a small factory in Birmingham, in which he employed a score of metal workers of various sorts and a pair of much put-upon carpenters whose job it was to produce gun carriages to meet the latest, ever-changing set of specifications. The woodworkers complained bitterly that oak was not iron. Change the shape of a piece of ironwork and all you needed to do was hit it with a hammer; change the nature of a wooden beam and it was throw away the original and start again from a fresh piece of timber, at much greater cost and expenditure of time.

  Daniel would have none of their complaints.

  “They do not comprehend the needs of an engineer, Sir Richard!”

  “Can you not draw out full plans, Mr Daniel, in advance?”

  “One can, Sir Richard, but it is so much more satisfying to run up a prototype and then modify to the elegance only one’s inner eye can see!”

  Dick was not an engineer, he admitted, but he knew bullshit when he heard it.

  “Have you produced a firing, working example of your new cannon, Mr Daniel?”

  “Not quite, Sir Richard, but we have great hopes of the current model.”

  “What of ammunition for the gun? I presume you will use a metal cartridge rather than a linen powder bag. Will the explosive shell be separate or attached to the cartridge in the way that a revolver works? Will your barrel be rifled?”

  Daniel had not entirely finalised his thinking on all of those issues.

  “How many months, Mr Daniel?”

  “Less than a year, Sir Richard.”

  “I wish you good fortune, sir. I am afraid your enterprise does not meet quite the conditions I am seeking. Thank you for your time, Mr Daniel.”

  “I will be unable to complete the work, Sir Richard, without more money. I had much hoped…”

  “You are playing, Mr Daniel, tinkering and pottering! I do not believe that you will ever run a successful business, sir, and therefore I will not hand you money to throw away. Can you give me an absolute assurance that on January the First next you will present me with a working and proven cannon that I may take to the military range at Shoeburyness in Essex, there to test it in the normal fashion, in this case by firing the required thirty rounds in ten minutes?”

  “That is to ask more than I can promise, Sir Richard.”

  “Then I must bid you farewell, sir.”

  “Could you lend me five thousand against my personal sureties, Sir Richard? A year and I would have your gun for you, or a satisfactory model at
very least.”

  “What security have you to pledge, Mr Daniel?”

  Daniel’s father had been a successful builder and he had left his son and heir some two hundreds of terraced houses on the outskirts of Birmingham – not slum properties but of three and four bedrooms and earning an eight shilling rental.

  “An income of some four thousands, Mr Daniel. Worth, at seven years purchase, some twenty-eight thousand pounds. I will lend you ten thousand pounds sterling, repayable at two years, against one hundred of those houses. I will add the proviso that if there is a working and efficient cannon of a quality that could be sold, then the loan will be converted into a shareholding of, say, thirty per centum of your business. In effect, Mr Daniel, if you produce your gun, then you will have every opportunity to make your fortune; if you fail, then you will lose one half of your patrimony.”

  “A Sword of Damocles, Sir Richard.”

  “Just so, Mr Daniel. You have the chance to be successful, sir. I believe that you have the knowledge and the inspiration that may bring you to a wealthy conclusion. The choice of whether you work, or continue to play, is yours, sir.”

  “I must accept your offer, Sir Richard. I could not bear to leave the project unfinished.”

  Dick shrugged; he had protected his own money and really cared very little for Daniel’s peace of mind.

  “I will speak to a local attorney-at-law as soon as I leave you, Mr Daniel, and will have a contract drawn up as a matter of urgency. The cash will be in your bank within one week. You must inform your own man of the matter, preferably today. I will instruct my person to make contact with you tomorrow and he will arrange all, but it is essential that your own lawyer shall read the contract and give you his advice.”

  “Oh, I can trust you, Sir Richard! I have no time to deal with lawyers and their nonsense!”

  “You must make time, Mr Daniel. I have a good name in the world of business. I will not keep that name if I become known to have issued contracts without undertaking full and due process. No lawyer, no money, Mr Daniel!”

  A hundred houses at eight shillings a week amounted to just over two thousand pounds a year, which was a return of twenty per centum on ten thousands. Good business, and probably a better profit than he would make from guns. Dick found himself hoping that Daniel would fail. It seemed a strong probability that he would.

  He moved further into the Gun Quarter and spoke, separately, to a pair of manufacturers of small arms, men who produced military rifles and hunting and shooting guns quite equally according to the call at any time. They wanted to organise themselves, probably into a huge company that would encompass all of the major workshops of Birmingham into a single great new manufacturing plant.

  “All of the master gunsmiths, Sir Richard, to be members of the Board of Directors and to create one factory that will contract to the Army and the Navy, and, of course, sell overseas.”

  “What of the military’s own factory, sir. At Enfield, is it not?”

  “They may contribute to design, Sir Richard, but will not provide real competition. They cannot, being owned by government, be as efficient as our new firm must be.”

  “Very good, sir. I wish you luck. It is not quite the business that I wish to be involved in, I find. Thank you for talking with me, sir.”

  A great, cumbersome beast to be headed by a dozen of self-willed and knowledgeable masters of the trade, each with his own ideas and desires. It could not be a success, even if it should ever be created; better far to leave well alone.

  Dick took the train north to Liverpool, increasingly aware that he was not happy with this start to a life as a money-man, a half-banker as it were. He was, it seemed, to spend his days parading from board-room to office to lawyers’ chambers, all in solemn pursuit of a few more pounds, of a percentage point of profit. Better far to be on horseback on the Prairies, or carrying a rifle into some disputed line of trenches.

  He thought a little more and amended that last option; that was a game for boys to play and he was, probably, a man in his ways now.

  The Liverpool house was empty, he discovered; he was used to being a married man and was not quite comfortable without Louise at his side. A week or two and he could be back with her. That was a factor to add into the planning for the next few years, an unexpected variable at that.

  He showed himself at the Liverpool offices, found himself welcome but unneeded at Mrs Boswell’s. Mr Robinson and Mr William Williams had all perfectly in hand, were glad to see him and happy to make an hour or two for him in their busy day, but he was no longer necessary to them.

  “Profits, Sir Richard, you will be pleased to know are higher than ever and we are expanding despite the Depression in Trade that has overtaken the country. Our customers come back every week for our panacea irrespective of the state of the markets. There is a manufacturing warehouse in Glasgow now, and another in Swansea as well as the place in London, and all are working a night shift, as we long have here in Liverpool. We have purchased more chemists shops and will soon have our ambition of premises in every market town in the country as well as in the centre and suburbs of every major city. Within two years, Sir Richard, every lady in the country will be within reach of her nightly dose!”

  “Are you still inventing new medicines to add to the stock, Mr Robinson?”

  “A soother for fractious children, Sir Richard! A spoonful and the most fretful infant will experience a night of refreshing, roborative sleep, the parents equally blessed, their repose no longer to be interrupted.”

  “A boon for all, Mr Robinson. The next-door neighbours even will be thankful, their own sleep no longer to be disturbed by the echo of wailing through the walls.”

  “Well put, Sir Richard! It is a delight to know that one is a benefactor of humanity, as well as a taker of profits. Adam Smith, sir, has once again been proved correct!”

  “One must wholly agree, Mr Robinson. Is all well otherwise with you, sir?”

  Dick had received an intimation in a letter from Sergeant Bill – he corrected himself, the sergeant was gone, only Mr William Williams remained – that Mr Robinson was contemplating matrimony.

  “It is indeed, Sir Richard, I suspect the glow of happiness shows upon me, sir.”

  Dick had thought the poor man was sweating; he was glad to be corrected.

  “Indeed, sir?”

  “Very much so, Sir Richard. I am to take a lady to my bosom! I am to be wed, sir!”

  Dick offered his rather florid congratulations, tailoring his speech to Mr Robinson’s expectations. He was delighted, he conveyed, at some length.

  “And you, Mr Williams?”

  “A second child expected soon, Sir Richard, to join our daughter in the nursery.”

  Dick expressed his more genuine pleasure in rational terms; Mr Williams seemed likely to have a fairy-tale ending and live happily ever after. It was a surprise to discover such in reality.

  “I have added some acres to my little estate out on the sand dunes, Sir Richard. Poor land, as goes without saying, but good for children and their ponies.”

  “And I, Sir Richard,” Mr Robinson interposed, “am in process of locating my own humble mansion!”

  Dick congratulated both.

  He dined with them that evening at Mr Williams’ house, guest of honour, the great man of the company. He was moderately amused but decided that he would not wish to repeat the procedure too often, especially on his own without his lady to intercept some part of the female flattery.

  He visited the busy shipyard next morning, discovering, despite the outward show of activity, a less satisfactory state of affairs.

  “We have three ships on the stocks, Sir Richard, as you see, and a pair of gunboats to follow, purchased by the government of Portugal. But, I am sorry to say, there are no orders at all beyond that. The cupboard is bare, Sir Richard; ship owners and governments alike unwilling to spend at the moment. We shall lay all of our people off by the middle of next year.”

 
; “Thus to lose all of our skilled men, quite possibly never to return because they will seek work wherever they can find it. Not a good outcome, Mr Bolton.”

  “Better even then than many others in the business, Sir Richard. You may have noticed that the yard next door to us, Heaney’s, a long established firm, has locked its gates.”

  “Gone under?”

  “Seeking a buyer for the premises, and with small hope of finding one, Sir Richard.”

  “Was the land to be purchased, Mr Bolton, would it become possible to create a larger slip, or two, to launch ships of war of, let us say, the size of a steam frigate?”

  “Heaney’s has been in the habit of launching sailing vessels, Sir Richard, and lacks the boiler shops, for example, that would be needed.”

  “But we have them.”

  “Oh! You propose to make the purchase, Sir Richard, and to bring the two yards into one?”

  “In part. I shall make the purchase, certainly, but you would combine the undertakings, Mr Bolton. I shall be out of the country, I suspect, for some little time in the next years. You are a shareholder in the company, Mr Bolton. Do you agree that we might keep our people together while they rebuilt the yards? I would much hope to bring in a contract or two next year, for steam ships of war capable of crossing from England to Canada at least.”

  Book Three: The Making

  of a Man Series

  Chapter Nine

  A few nights in the Liverpool house were a necessity; the staff needed to know that the master might appear without notice and stay for an unpredictable length of time; only that would serve to keep the housekeeping bills under control and prevent other abuses. Stories abounded of staffed but unoccupied places that were leased out to higher class ladies of the night for their assignations, the domestics sometimes serving up the master’s food and wines to their clientele. Butler, housekeeper and cook between them could lay up a respectable nest-egg for their eventual retirement into a world of low or no pensions and the temptation was great. Dick had sympathy for his servants, but had no wish to live in premises that served as a brothel in his absence.