Charlotte added, “Had a little accident? You, Mr. Talbot are a horrible driver, I've never seen worse.”
An idea slowly dawned in the dim recesses of the publican's mind, “Sir, Mr. Talbot, aren't you that young swell come to look at the hall?”
“As a matter of fact, yes I am. Do you know where I can find the De Vere's blasted solicitor or even better, their steward?”
“It's evening sir, best if you call on Mr. Cruise in the morning. Mr Barford lives in the village. I'll send for him.”
“Now about that parlor, and where can I send an express to London?”
With Charlotte safely ensconced alone upstairs in the one private parlor, Freddy began to write his express to his father describing what he'd found. The noise and chatter in the common room of the pub was disturbing and making it difficult for him to concentrate.
“Landlord? Is there another place I can work?”
“Nay Sir, only this room and the parlor. Miss De Vere is in the parlor.”
“Bugger it. Is there a maid or someone who can attend Miss De Vere so that I don't compromise her?”
“My daughter Betsy was a housemaid at the Hall, would she do?”
“Don't see why not. Send her up to prepare Miss De Vere for my arrival?”
“Sir?”
“I don't want to surprise her.”
Shortly thereafter, seated in an opposite corner of the parlor and as far from Charlotte as he could be, Freddy began his express while Charlotte switched between studying the fire and glaring at him.
Mr. G. Talbot
Portman Street London
Dear Father,
I've looked at Staverton Hall, and it appears to suit our needs. The house itself is poorly maintained, but appears sound and dry. The land is mostly in corn, appears fertile, but could be managed better. The location is ideal. The new canal runs just to the south and it's not far from the Bath road to the north. The land is heavily mortgaged. If you move quickly, before the creditors find that we're buying the house, you may be able to purchase old Staverton's debts for pennies on the pound. His credit was not good. The one De Vere left standing, his daughter, couldn't even get service in a local pub without my help.
I'll start negotiations with their solicitor and check with the steward to discuss the expected income on the estate.
I know you and mother are a bit ambitious and have hopes that I'll marry into a country family like a real country gentleman. I don't expect that will happen with the Staverton family. The daughter, while pretty, is insufferably proud and disagreeable. It will be best if she goes to Bath or some other safe place for spinsters.
Sincerely & etc.
Frederick.
He folded and sealed the sheet, then left the parlor in search of a messenger. He found his groom instead. Having safely delivered the horses to the stables and what was left of the curricle around behind the pub to await the blacksmith in the morning, he was just sitting down to a well-earned pint and a meal.
“Henry, old chum. I have a job for you.”
Henry looked at his master in dismay. He had just had a trying walk, bringing a broken curricle, a lame horse and a healthy but skittish horse to this benighted little public house in the middle of nowhere. London never looked so good as it did this evening. “Old chum nothing, Mr. Talbot. What now?”
Freddy showed him the letter. “This needs to get to my governor, as quick as possible.”
“Just quickly?”
“Well, privately too. That's why I'm asking you to take it. Important business correspondence.”
Henry understood. Freddy was usually an easy master, willing to defer to his groom's superior knowledge of horses and carriages, but when it came to business matters, he demanded and expected instant attention. Of course he paid well for it.
Freddy continued, “I'll hire you a horse and you can ride up to the Bath road, then catch the mail into London.”
“If you're going to hire a horse, then this might be useful.” Henry held out Freddy's pocket book.
“Damn me, you found it. Thank you, dashed useful to have cash, you know.” Freddy quickly pulled out a large note and handed it to his groom. “So you'll be off?”
“Can I finish my dinner first?”
“If you hurry. It is dashed important.”
“I can always sleep on the mail.”
“Good fellow.”
With his message sent, Freddy could turn his attention to normal things, like dinner. The groom he sent to Staverton with a message for his valet, Phelps, hadn't yet returned. More importantly, neither had Phelps. In the meantime his appetite had arrived with a vengeance. It felt like he hadn't eaten in a week. He was about to look up the publican and see what could be arranged about it when a short, but rather chubby young woman with brown hair and a plain dress attracted his attention. It took him a few moments, but he recognized her as the maid from the parlor.
“Sir! Sir!”
“Yes, Betsy isn't it?”
She curtsied and continued, “Please Sir, Miss Charlotte wonders if there was any chance of a dinner, Sir?”
2. Negotiations.
Early the next morning the gig from the rectory arrived for Miss De Vere. Dr. and Mrs. Answorth drove to retrieve their charge from her dire straits. While Mrs. Answorth ascended the stairs to help Charlotte get ready, Dr. Answorth interviewed Freddy. Since his valet hadn't arrived from Staverton, Freddy was still dressed in his partially cleaned clothes from the day before. He felt embarrassingly scruffy, but compared to the rest of the clientèle of the pub, including the local farmers who dropped in to see this foreigner from London who might become their new landlord, he was still elegantly dressed.
Dr. Answorth began the conversation, “Mr. Talbot, how do you find our little village?”
“Primitive, but surprisingly pleasant.”
“Primitive?”
“Look at my clothes, I say, there is no launderer here that could properly clean them. This jacket is thoroughly ruined. On the other hand, I spent last night drinking in the company of the farmers. Decent hard working folk.”
“You liked them?”
“I'd better learn to like them, if I'm planning to plant my family here I'll have to work with them.”
“Is that your intent? To settle here.”
“The hall is in an excellent location, and the nearby land seems fertile enough. I still need to talk to the steward, but I'd be surprised if I don't. Do you think the locals will take to a new owner?”
“Not to speak ill of my late patron, if you invest in the estate, you'll be welcomed. It might take a 'summering in', but they'll take to you in the end.”
“That's what I thought. They certainly appreciated my standing them a round of ale.”
“True, but don't expect you can bribe them.”
“Bribe them?”
“They'll take your ale, but it doesn't change their minds. If they think you're trying to buy friendship they'll reject you.”
Freddy chuckled, “No I don't expect that. But it did get the conversation flowing. Now at least I know a few names and faces, as well as a little of the local history.”
Mrs. Answorth descended from upstairs, with Charlotte behind her. Her erstwhile housemaid Betsy supported Charlotte as she painfully limped down. At the bottom of the stairs, they stopped and had a few words of parting with Freddy. At least Mrs. Answorth did; Charlotte mostly spent the time glaring at him.
“Mr. Talbot,” Mrs. Answorth began, “I have to thank you for the care you extended to Miss De Vere. From everything she's said, you must have been most attentive to her needs.”
“It was nothing, after all it was my accident that-”
Charlotte's commentary abruptly stopped him. “Accident, Hmmp. Sloppy driving, that's what it was.”
Freddy smiled, “Perhaps, after we've concluded our business about the hall, you could give me a few lessons in how to drive in style.”
The Answorths laughed, while Charlotte redde
ned with embarrassment. She blurted, “I could, but not with such a backward student.”
Mrs. Answorth snapped, “Charlotte! Please!”
Freddy took it in good form, “No offense taken, Miss De Vere is uncomfortable, in pain from her ankle, and I'm sure that must try even the most uniform of tempers.”
“Which mine isn't?”
“I didn't say that, did I?”
Charlotte continued to glare at him as they left. Was there nothing she could do that would pierce his calm demeanor?
The steward paid Freddy a visit between Miss De Vere's departure and his valet's arrival. Mr. Barford was impressed with Freddy. This young man demanded, then carefully read and questioned, the account books for the hall and the farms that made up the estate. Neither Lord Staverton nor his son had ever bothered with them.
“Mr. Barford, this item, drainage and road improvements, doesn't add properly.”
“If you would look on the second page, you will see it is proper.”
“Ah yes, I see. Very good.”
“Thank you.”
“The farm leases all seem to be short term. Surely a longer term lease would be better?”
“Lord Staverton was always in need of ready money.”
“Ah. That explains many things. This land could produce much more if it were properly managed.”
“Mr. Talbot, not to speak ill of the dead, but Lord Staverton was not able to maintain the estate as it should be.”
“I thought so. I would very much dislike to waste my blunt. In its current state the estate is hardly worth anything, but it has capability. To make it really profitable will need a serious investment.”
This exchange left Mr. Barford in the tentative hope that Mr. Talbot intended to develop the estate as it should be developed, to bring it up to its potential. Lord Staverton's continued neglect and disinterest had been a constant thorn in his side. Even his proposals for inexpensive and simple improvements had been consistently ignored for various abortive 'get rich quick' schemes that further impoverished the estate.
Having reviewed the books, and more importantly received a message via his long-suffering groom that his father approved the deal, Freddy approached the Staverton family solicitor. Though first he told Henry, “Good Lord man, you must be exhausted.”
Henry admitted that maybe, perhaps, he was a little tiny bit fagged. Since Henry never, ever admitted weakness, Freddy understood this to mean he was ready to drop where he stood. “Well then, I'm not planning on a trip for the next few days. Why don't you get some sleep?”
Three days after their initial meeting, Miss De Vere and Mr. Talbot met in the offices of her solicitor. Somehow Mr. Talbot brought his solicitor, Mr. Bayliss, up from London and the steward, Mr. Barford was invited. Dr. and Mrs. Answorth accompanied their friend to the negotiations over the disposition of her inheritance.
Freddy was resplendent in a yellow and blue striped waistcoat, a tight-fitting coat of red superfine, yellow calf-clingers, high starched collars, and an intricately tied tie. His man, Phelps, had restored most of the gloss to his boots, but their sojourn on country roads was not completely repairable with the resources at hand. He cheerfully rapped on the solicitor's door and then walked in.
“Am I late? My sense of time has become deplorably inaccurate recently.”
While the others merely acknowledged his entrance with a nod of their head or a brief wave, Charlotte glared at him. Impervious to hints, as usual, Freddy continued, “Miss De Vere, how is your ankle?”
“Better.”
“Good, capital, capital. Are you up to dancing yet? There's always a ball in Bath and it isn't too far away to make a dash for a day or two.”
“No.”
“Not up for dancing or not interested in a trip to Bath?”
“Neither.”
“Neither? What an odd female you are, next you'll tell me you don't care about dresses. Oh well then, pleasantries aside, on to business.”
Mr. Cruise began, “Mr. Talbot, do you have an offer for the house, contents and the demesne, that is the grounds surrounding it?”
Freddy, suddenly serious, replied, “That's barely worth a thousand, but I'll be generous, say eleven hundred.”
“Please be serious and don't waste our time.”
“I am always serious about business, the hall is run down, and the demesne is not large enough to produce income. Now if you were talking about the whole of the estate, I could go higher, say twenty thousand.”
Charlotte interjected here, “The farms are not for sale. I intend to run them myself.”
“If you say so, but they are heavily mortgaged and you are already late on the payments for this term.”
“Moulder's bank has always understood that we will pay after the harvest, when we receive our accounts from the farmers.”
“True, they are a bit overgenerous when it comes to business matters, but have you checked with the new bond holders?”
Charlotte gasped, surprised at the news, “New bond holders?”
“Yes, the mortgage bonds were for sale, for little more than pennies on the pound. Your father's and now your ability to repay was considered highly suspect and the bank was very happy to settle. They are often willing to write off bad debts for ready cash. It clears their books and eliminates risk to simply take a known loss rather than wait and lose everything.”
“Oh, and I suppose you know the new bond holders.”
“Intimately.” Freddy smiled at her.
Charlotte suddenly realized what he meant. “You, you own them, don't you?”
Freddy looked down, in what could be thought to be shame, but was, in reality, to hide his amusement. It was refreshing to deal with a novice, a pretty novice, albeit one who seemed to intensely dislike him, but a novice at business nonetheless. Once he had his facial expression back in control, he looked up at Charlotte, “Well, yes. Now are you serious about making a go of the estate without the hall?”
“Of course. In the past the income covered the interest, so I don't see why my plan shouldn't succeed.”
“If you say so, but foreclosure is such an ugly word. There is this little matter of principal as well.”
“Principles? I didn't think you had any.”
“In business, no, none at all. In private matters, of course I do. But I mean the principal of the mortgage. You can't just pay a part of the interest forever, the debt will just grow. After going over the estate's books with Mr. Barford, I don't think you don't have much choice in the matter.”
Charlotte gave a concerned look at her solicitor. She appeared lost and helpless. It made her look especially pretty to Freddy. He found himself unaccustomedly softening to her, thinking that she really was far out of her depth in dealing with business issues like these. It was a pity that Mr. Cruise wasn't giving her better advice.
“Tell you what,” Freddy continued, “Since you're new to this sort of thing, I'll go take a walk. Let you discuss it with your people. I'll be back in, oh, say a quarter of an hour or so.” Addressing his solicitor he continued, “Mr. Bayliss, if you would and if it doesn't put you in a conflict of interests, could you stay and advise them?”
“Advise them sir?”
“Assure them of my ability to pay, business credentials, general reputation, things like that they may question.”
“Sir, as long as you are not expecting me to advise them on terms.”
“Oh no, not at all. That would be highly improper. Don't do anything improper. If they start to talk about something you should not hear, I'll be over in the Kings Arms.”
With that Freddy left.
Charlotte shot a panicky look at her solicitor, Mr. Cruise. “What am I going to do? He wouldn't leave me destitute would he?”
Dr. Answorth interjected, “That would be wrong, wouldn't it?”
Mr. Cruise wasn't sure, so he asked Mr. Bayliss, “Your employer, Mr. Talbot, would he do such a thing?”
Bayliss coughed, and carefully conside
red his words before replying. “While they are personally charming and generous, if perhaps a bit vulgar and not to everyone's taste, the Talbot's are ruthless in business matters. They won't cheat you, but they will drive a hard bargain and expect you to hold to the letter of the contract.”
Charlotte queried, “Contract, what contract?”
“Your mortgages, for example are a contract where you promise to pay back funds with interest on a given schedule. They're all legal and correct, but if you default on them, he won't hesitate to foreclose.”
“Oh. Mr. Barford, doesn't the income from the farms cover the payments? Father thought it did.”
“On a good year, yes.”
“This year?”
“Maybe.”
“So I don't really have many choices, do I? It's either sell my estate to him or he will take it from me.”
Mr. Bayliss frowned, dealing with clients whom his employers had driven into a corner was his least favorite part of being the Talbot's solicitor. That this one was a pretty and personable young woman made it harder. He told her, “Miss De Vere, Mr. Talbot often arranges matters that way in business. I'm sorry for you. Why do you think the Talbot's are so successful in financial affairs?”
Mrs. Answorth added, in a very quiet voice. “You do have one choice, Charlotte. I hesitate to suggest it, but Mr. Talbot is single.”
“No!”
“It's not as if you would be able to marry for love in any case.”
“But not him. Not someone I detest.”
Dr. Answorth added, “You should consider it. He's personable, seems to have decent manners and morals, and more importantly, he is rich. That rich marzipan can help you swallow an otherwise bitter pill.”
His wife continued, “You know you can't marry freely, where you'd like. There are few of your rank who will or for that matter can marry a penniless bride. Mr. Talbot might, if you were nice to him. If he saw it as an advantage. At least he isn't vicious.”
Charlotte: The Practical Education of a Distressed Gentlewoman Page 2
