The word would be spread, an explanation that would be acceptable to all except the highest sticklers.
"Pleasant girl, Joe, but she will have to do something about that accent - she has got her aitches already, so she is working on it herself, but she must need help. Alec Fraser's wife would be a source, but she is too far distant from Bob's farmhouse."
"Miss Martynside, perhaps? She was governess to our girls and was too old to seek another place when they left her charge. Just at that difficult age, poor soul - she was past fifty, too young to retire ordinarily, too advanced in years to take on another family. We pensioned her, of course, and put her into a cottage down in Billinge, in the hope that she might find an occupation as well, but there is small demand for genteel education there, it seems. She is a kind-hearted lady and would probably be able to help without causing offence. Was she to live in at the farmhouse for a twelvemonth then she might well do all we require. An offer of another ten shillings a week, and her keep, her cottage to be held for her, and I think she would be pleased to do her best."
"Will Bob accept her, and his Ida? Unusual name, that one, never come across it before."
"Family name, I gather - the mother came from over on the East Coast, where it is less uncommon. I don't know, Tom. I shall ask them."
Bob was inclined to be offended but his lady was more sensible, saying that she had to fit in, that it would be better for the children.
"For, my love, only the one will inherit the land and t'others must find work - as reverends or lawyers or even army officers or in that sort of line; not as farm labourers, I don't think! So they will have to talk proper, like the nobs do, and they got to learn that from thee and me, so I got to learn firstest."
Bob surrendered.
Book Seven: A Poor Man
at the Gate Series
Chapter Nine
"This country is not meant for travel from west to east, Thomas!"
"The roads are simply not meant for travel, my dear! This country works by sea and the roads are good for movement from one parish to the next and no more!"
They had driven from Freemans to Manchester on an acceptable highway - not a turnpike but kept in good order down to the lower land by Joseph Star's money, for his convenience. From Manchester they had made an early start and had bumped across the hills all the way to Sheffield, overnighting there; then it was the turnpike to Nottingham and south to Stamford, a more comfortable day, compensated for by the crawl across the Fenland that followed. They spent two nights in Lynn Regis, recuperating - it was an interesting town, they told themselves, with the Greenland Fishery and the big Tuesday Market to visit, quietly, arm-in-arm and unknown, just two of the gentry passing through, unremarked upon in a prosperous town. Norwich took the whole of Wednesday and they reached Cromer around midday on the Thursday, nearly a week on the road.
The Lodge was fully staffed, all rooms open and thoroughly brushed out and every fireplace blazing - the message that they were arriving to stay for a few days had been received and properly acted on.
"Who is in charge here, Thomas? A bailiff, or is it an agent as such? Whichever, the man has certainly gained my respect. This is the first time in a week that I have been thoroughly warm!"
February was going out in traditional fashion: grey, wet and miserable, and, on the East Coast, rawly cold, a bitter, lazy half-gale freezing to the bone.
The German Ocean was wind-swept - short, steep waves white-capped - just a furlong or so from the big windows of the old house; the curtains stirred unceasingly in the draughts, but a well-placed pair of fire screens kept the two big wing chairs warm.
Tom sneezed.
"Another damned cold! Must be the fourth this winter!"
Frances was a little concerned - he had been unable to shake the illnesses off entirely, not particularly unwell but not wholly fit either.
"In answer to your question, my dear - I am not at all sure. The circumstances were such that I did not have the opportunity to make the ordinary investigations, ask the normal questions. I did not see a butler, but that is no great surprise, if there was no family resident. The bell is beside you, ring and see what happens."
They had been greeted exclusively by females - a housekeeper and three maids dealing with the baggage and taking them up to their rooms.
The door opened and the housekeeper came in, curtseying uncertainly to both, very evidently not used to greeting a master.
"Mrs Perrin, was it not?"
"Yes, your ladyship."
"Are you in charge here or is there an agent, perhaps?"
"I do 'ave the running of the 'ouse, ma'am. Me and a cook-maid, as a general thing, but us put a pair more on for the last month and whiles you are stayin', like. The two farms be each separate, like, wi' their own masters as tenants. Each Quarter Day the man do come from London to visit and take the rents and look each place over to see there ain't no waste. That was 'ow it used to be, like."
"What happened at Michaelmas and Christmas Quarter Days, Mrs Perrin?"
"Nothin', ma'am. There warn't nobody what come. We 'ad bin told that the old lord - what we 'adn't never seen, was no more, and by his own 'and, poor man! Then us did get word by letter - what I could read but neither of they could, the 'and-writing being small and they being better used to print, like - that the two places 'as bin sold and that my lord Andrews 'ave bought they and would be makin' the arrangements. So us waited till we was sent another letter in January what said you would be 'ere some time in February and we was to make ready. So we did."
"And you have done very well, Mrs Perrin. The house is well looked after and warm and welcoming. Thank you."
"Cook 'as done her own bill of fare for today, ma'am, not knowing what you might like - a good bit of codfish, fresh caught, and a piece of well-'ung beef, and trimmings with 'em and a lemon-curd pie and meringues and cream, if so be that takes your fancy. But if you got any special fancies like," she glanced meaningfully at Frances' belly, "then us must see what us can do, like."
Frances laughed and thanked her again.
"I would like to see the two farmers, Mrs Perrin. Can we organise that?"
"They do know you's 'ere, my lord. And I wouldn't mind betting they both got they best coat on waiting for you to call 'em across. I could send Maggie to tell 'em, sir?"
"What's the time? Three o'clock? Yes, do so, if you please."
Mrs Perrin came back in half an hour, said the two were in the office-room at the back of the house, led Tom through. Frances asked her to return and take her round the house, an inspection.
Two tenant farmers, dressed respectably in bought breeches and jackets rather than in homespuns, both wearing calf boots in good leather. Profitable farms or very low rentals, Tom assumed.
"My name be Holtby, my lord, and this be Mr Taverham. Us both been 'ere the whole of our lives, my lord, our dads before us."
"The farms have been enclosed for many years, I presume, then?"
"Since time out of mind, my lord, back to Queen Bess' days, so they say. Far as I knows, and it's only what the old chaps say, they took the old manors and turned 'em into sheepwalks back in the early days of selling wool across the sea. Land like ours on the coast 'ere, what was better suited to the plough, they made into farms instead. Our two families bin 'ere since then, or so I reckons."
"What of rent, Mr Holtby?"
"Still done the old way, sir. Each year I puts maybe a third part of the land to wheat, and when that goes to market half the value gets put aside as rent, to be paid in equal parts at the Quarter days. I grows turnips and peas and beans, and some spuds these days, and sells they to old Pooley down in Cromer, 'im what's got a ship what 'e runs to London Town, and I got a dozen milkers besides, and they gives I a bit of cream and some cheese to sell and some milk for the little 'uns."
"And you the same, Mr Taverham?"
"Just about, my lord, save that I got a herd of pigs, not cattle."
"These farms have come down to L
ady Andrews, and when I pass on - not, I hope just yet - she will live here for much of the year. My agent from the Thingdon Estate, whose name is Captain Thame, will visit you at least once a year, to look after all that needs be done. For the while, have you any needs? Repairs to roof or barns? New roads or ditches or any other thing that must be done by the landlord?"
They shook their heads, Holtby venturing to say that things didn't work that way round these parts of the country.
"We just pays us rents, my lord, which ain't, from all I 'ave ever 'eard, so great as may be found elsewhere, acos of I don't reckon we pays out much more than ten bob an acre, and that's while wheat is good and 'igh. You don't do nothing more, except unless maybe we got burnt out or there was a great storm like what we 'ad sixty years back, what flattened every bloody thing!"
"Then so be it, gentlemen - it is not what I am used to, but I am not here to turn your world upside down."
"Thank'ee, my lord. We was worried, a bit, being as 'ow you was a foreigner. Two quarters' rent, my lord, what nobody come for, we 'ave put on account in the Norwich and Cromer bank - a 'deposit', Mr Carpenter what owns the place, did call it. About three 'undred quid between us."
"Income from these farms is about one half of what I expected, Frances, but expenditure is nil."
Tom explained the unusual circumstances applying in the area.
"Six hundred a year? Together with my own money that gives me an income of over a thousand, which should be ample."
"While the little one is under age there will be as much again in your hands from the Trust Fund. He or she will inherit a thousand a year in cash, as well as the farms, of course. At Robert's insistence, I would add, and I suspect he will make it up as he sees fit as he grows richer. He believes that he is custodian of the wealth of the whole family, rather than the first-born who takes all; strange for a banker, but very welcome!"
"He is a good man, as you say, surprisingly so for a banker. It says much for his upbringing, I believe. Have you canvassed the opinions of James, Joseph and Charlotte?"
"James has told me that he believes I have already been 'beyond reason generous' - his words, not mine - and that the Will should make no further provision for him beyond Lutterworth. Joseph, when last we spoke, was proud to be his own man, his share of income from the tool making firm in Wigan and from his inventions making him free of the family, if he should ever wish to be. He has holdings of land, a house of his own, savings in the bank - while he had wife and potentially a child of his own, he valued all of those things. Now? I do not know what he will think, cannot guess what he will do; my sole hope is that he will not drift into wildness."
"He needs to meet a good woman, I suspect."
"Perhaps. I think a bad one would be much better for him in the short term. In a few years I would hope he might make another marriage - but not yet."
"And Charlotte?"
"Was very well provided for on her marriage. A small legacy - a couple of thousands - will be more than she expected."
"Thus I do not deprive the existing offspring by my impetuous action?"
"Not at all, my dear. Do I, by the way, detect the voice of your brother?"
"A deeply thought out missive; from, one understands, the bottom of his heart - but I may have that the wrong way round! I could lose patience with that young gentleman, Thomas! My parents beg that they may make an extended visit in April, by the way."
"You have, I trust, already instructed them to come as soon as they wish for as long as they desire? I would certainly expect you to have your Mama at your side for your time."
She nodded, not having been able to imagine any other reaction from him.
"Who must we visit in the locality, Thomas?"
"None that I am aware of, though we must expect the squire to come to us. I went to the banker in Cromer this morning, as you know, establishing our account with him and making arrangements for the rents, and asked that question of him, having no other local source of information. Not a titled family within ten miles, no landowner living locally apart from the squire, who is a 'mister' and neither rich nor distinguished that I could discover. We must, in all decency, call on Morton, I think, on our way back to the Hall - he lives within reason close."
Squire Wakeley knocked on the door next morning, having left his riding horse with Holtby, knowing that they had not opened the stables at the Lodge.
"Gossip spreads fast, my dear - we have been talked about in the locality. What was in the cellar?"
"Very little that I would wish to drink, Thomas! Several bottles of brandy, five dozens of an undistinguished claret, a dozen of a sherry which I have had brought up but offer no guarantee for. Cook has baked, however, and she seems competent."
Wakeley was wearing leathers and topboots - the mud of the month leaving no alternative - and Tom could not assess him by dress. His accent was that expected of the gentleman and he had his manners. Best to treat him as an equal. He was a few years younger than Tom, had the weathered countenance of a man who spent more time outdoors than in the drawing room, was probably a typical example of the rural gentry, no more, no less.
"Mr Wakeley, I believe? My wife, Lady Andrews."
They exchanged bows, ventured a comment on the weather.
"Will you be staying regularly, my lord? I suspect it might be good for the locality to have a resident here."
"It is always better to have a visible landlord, I believe, but, in fact, the estate will be in the possession of Lady Andrews and the decision will be hers to make."
"I shall certainly wish to spend much of my time here, Mr Wakeley, the bracing sea air so healthy for the young!"
"I have found it so, ma'am, and the sea providing an occupation for the boys as well. Two of mine are sailors, a lieutenant and a midshipman and at sea now."
A statement that he possessed some influence - it was not easy for junior officers to find ships in the smaller peacetime navy. At minimum he must have relatives in commands.
"You have a large family, Mr Wakeley?"
"Four sons and three daughters, ma'am. The eldest has sat his terms at Cambridge and is now learning the estate, while the youngest boy is still in the schoolroom with his sisters. He wishes, I believe, to become a soldier but if so it will have to be in India; my cousin has the word with John Company and will be able to find him his place."
Thus unable to afford the two thousand or so that it would take to buy a commission and equip the boy, or the allowance to supplement his meagre pay.
"Will we see your steamships in Cromer now, my lord?"
"Only sometimes, I suspect, Mr Wakeley. Sir William Rumpage, who has my yard in London, is building colliers to run the East Coast, and I would be surprised if they did not sometimes make a call here, if only to shelter from a storm."
"Better at Wells or Lowestoft, where there is more of a harbour, my lord. We shall be glad to see them, though - we are behind the times here on this part of the coast and it will excite us all."
"I am not at all certain that excitement would be good for the locals, Thomas. It might lead to heart failures all round, so unaccustomed as they are to anything new."
"Deep in the sticks, indeed! Are you sure that you would wish to spend your later years here?"
"Three hours to Norwich, in summer, and then two easy days by post-chaise to London down good turnpikes. There are far worse places, I think, for the warmer months of the year. A closed carriage, a riding horse, and later on a pony, in the stables. A gardener to be employed full-time, and we should set him on now, I believe, Thomas. There are the better part of two acres of lawns and as much again of flower and vegetable beds, or so I am told."
"A man and a boy. Has Mrs Perrin any suggestions?"
"Of course - she went out of her way to show me the gardens and regret how they used to be 'bootiful', in the right time of year. Such being the case, there will be a brother or cousin or nephew just suited to do the job, and happening to be at a loose end just now.
I will speak to her."
The gardener and his twelve year old son started work next morning.
Tom paid a courtesy return visit to Wakeley, not absolutely necessary by convention, but welcome as an extra politeness.
"Do you know of any acreages likely to come up for sale, Mr Wakeley? A Home Farm would make good sense if my lady is ever to become resident."
It was possible - farms in the area were more often than not very small, many of them having been in the hands of yeomen who had, in the nature of things, sometimes left only daughters, their land split equally between them rather than going in a package to a son. Farms of fifty acres here, twenty or thirty there, could hardly be run at a profit - they were too far from town for smallholding to make sense. A generous bid to a small man could often be successful. Wakeley would speak with his own attorney, instruct him to keep his eyes open and contact my lord when anything came up.
"Put him onto my son, Mr Robert Andrews at Mostyns Bank in London, if you would be so good, Mr Wakeley. He will be able to deal with the business very quickly, and time is often of the essence when it comes to getting hold of land, I believe."
Wakeley would be very happy to oblige - he was already reckoning up the favours that might come his way in return.
"We landed folk must stick together, my lord!"
"We must, Mr Wakeley, and I can assure you that it is the intent of my family to meet all of its obligations in these parts."
They left for the Hall, having instructed Mrs Perrin to keep on the two extra maids because any member of the family might decide to pay a visit at any time to enjoy the sea air for a few days.
The Old Order (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 7) Page 24
