Sam replied, “I think I catch your drift. Do you have a special agency you use for hiring posts?”
“Yes. We're very careful about that. In the future have our servants arrange it.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't understand the risks. They aren't small are they?”
Mr. Talbot continued, “No they aren't, and it would help if she were carefully watched, had a bodyguard so to speak.”
“So that's what you'd like me to do? Stick close to Miss Talbot?”
“If you could.”
“Something tells me that won't be too hard.”
Dinner itself was nondescript, but what happened afterwards caught both Major Travers and Charlotte by surprise. In most households, after dinner the female host, in this case Mrs. Talbot, would signal to the other women that it was time to leave the men to their port and snuff. The port and snuff arrived at the end of the meal, but everyone stayed and participated in a free ranging discussion.
It was Mr. Talbot who started it. “Miss De Vere, I was looking over your books with your steward. You know if you could lower your rents, you might make a better return.”
“Lower my rents and make more money? Surely you're pulling my leg.”
“No, I'm not. If you leave the farmers with more money for their work, they'll work harder, and they can put more into their farms which results in a better yield.”
“That could be true.”
Elizabeth continued her father's argument, “If they have more money, then they'll spend more of it in the village, and don't you have rents there?”
“Yes.”
“So the more they spend, the more trade there is. The more trade, then the more revenue overall, and the more you can charge the shop keepers.”
“I never would have thought of that. Maybe when these mortgages are cleared up, I'll look into giving it a try.”
The next day started early in the morning at the solicitor's now vacant office. Mr. Bayliss and Freddy were having a difficult time sorting out the mess Mr. Cruise left behind when he bolted for America. They sat, together with Charlotte and the steward Mr. Barford, in Mr. Cruise's office going through the files. The farmers and merchants bank was the easiest problem to solve. Freddy simply wrote a draft on his personal account and recapitalized it in exchange for shares. Most of the capital was then invested in the four-percents which would ensure some level of stable solvency for the immediate future.
There were multiple layers of fraudulent and legitimate mortgage documents for the estate which in themselves were not too difficult to sort through. What to do about them was another question. Several of the documents that were left behind seemed to point to recoverable assets, and Mr. Bayliss scribbled letters about them as the first step toward seeing what could be salvaged. The next step, if cooperation was not forthcoming, would be to ask a magistrate for writs of detinue.
The absolutely, positively, most difficult document of all was the 'post obit' bond that John, Charlotte's late brother, had issued to cover his debts of honor. It was due and payable from the estate upon the death of John's father Lord Staverton. Somehow Newman's bank had acquired it and was demanding the fifty-thousand pounds from the estates. It would have to be paid ahead of the mortgages. Newman's were business rivals of the Talbot firm and while 'business was business' there was a certain grim sense of glee in the letter that accompanied the demand.
Charlotte sat in the light from a window in the office and read a novel. Occasionally, when a difficult point arose, either Mr. Bayliss or Mr. Talbot would politely ask her a question about the estate. Sometimes she could answer it, but many times it was Mr. Barford who knew the answer. More often, Freddy took a brief break from reading the difficult legal copperplate to rest his eyes. When he glanced her way, she smiled at him. For some reason he felt better when she did that. Then he would return to trying to sort out the mess. Other than matters of business, they exchanged few words.
It made for a long and wearying day. After supper, back at the hall, when Elizabeth and Sam suggested that a walk by the Avon would do them well, Charlotte decided that she should talk to Freddy. The gambler buried deep inside her insisted that she throw the dice one more time. She began “Mr. Frederick?”
“Yes?”
“You've been working so hard, why don't we join your sister and Major Travers for a stroll by the river?”
Elizabeth joined Charlotte in asking him, “Please, Freddy, you look so tired and it would do you so much good to take the air.” She had an ulterior motive as well, it would be much easier to slip away from her brother's chaperonage than her maid's. Especially if Charlotte was distracting him with conversation of her own.
They strolled the short distance to the river, then followed the footpath upstream. At first they walked in silence, but Charlotte finally had to speak. “Freddy?”
“Miss De Vere?”
“Please call me Charlotte. I just want to thank you for what you're doing.”
“It's nothing.”
“No it's not. You could just leave me to go to the poorhouse.”
“I made the mess. It's my fault.”
“No it's not! Freddy, my spendthrift father and brother made the mess. You've been patient with me from the beginning. I've been very rude to you, and you were still patient. Why?”
If she was expecting a heartfelt declaration of love, she was disappointed. Freddy stopped walking and said, “I don't know. You've been haunting my thoughts since the day I met you, but so have our shares in that blasted canal.”
“You want to get rid of the canal shares, don't you?”
“Some of them. Not you though. I guess that's the difference.” She smiled and suggested they sit on a convenient log some farmer had pulled up as a seat for his fishing.
A faint, but pungent, whiff of pig wafted over the breeze, and cast a pallor over the romantic sunset downstream.
“This is too much, We're going to have to get father to move his blasted piggery. Where do you think it should go?”
Charlotte was not to be distracted, “Freddy, you've been haunting my thoughts too. I don't understand it. Maybe that's why I've been so rude at times. I'm sorry.”
She reached for his hand and held it. “Those mortgages. What's the difficulty with them?”
“They total more than your land is worth. I can't clear them without redeeming them and you can't pay even if you sell everything.”
“Just tear them up!”
“What! I can't do that.”
“Why not?”
“It's not legal. I can't destroy a contract.”
“Can you hold a mortgage against yourself?”
“No. I guess technically you could, but it's meaningless. You'd be paying yourself interest.”
She squeezed his hand and turned to face him. There was a mixture hope and fear in her face when she whispered to Freddy, “Then tear them up in three, four weeks, however long it takes to post banns.”
For once in his life, Freddy did something unplanned and spontaneous. With his free hand, he reached around Charlotte's far shoulder and pulled her to him placing her into a firm embrace. Kissing her firmly, a kiss which she gladly reciprocated, they sat locked in each other's arms for a few minutes. He broke for a breath and asked, “Does that mean you would marry me?”
“Yes, my love, of course.” They resumed their embrace.
It was a few minutes later that Elizabeth and Sam, returning downstream on the footpath, found them. Charlotte blushed as she retreated from Freddy. Elizabeth laughed with joy, while Sam joked, “I never thought I'd see that, old man, Freddy falling for the divine passion. When is the wedding?”
Freddy dryly replied, “We hadn't discussed that yet.”
“I can see, you had better things to do, didn't you. Not saying you weren't justified.”
The four of the walked back to the hall. Charlotte asked Freddy, “That just leaves my wastrel brother's 'post-obit' bond, doesn't it?”
“Yes, it’s a might in
convenient, but I could just pay it. It's just there are a lot of other things I could do with the money.”
“Like moving the piggery.”
“Yes.”
“Why don't you do a debt swap? Was that what you called it? Give the bank fifty-thousand pounds of shares in the canal company and take the bond for the estate from them.”
“It's the company's shares, not mine. I could go to prison if I did that.”
“When is the bond due?”
“In a few years. It's just you couldn't pay the premium, and they won't hesitate to foreclose on you.”
“Your father could, couldn't he?”
“Easily.”
“In a few years, if he keeps at it, this estate will be worth far more than fifty-thousand. So it would be a reasonable investment for the firm wouldn't it?”
Freddy stopped, pulled Charlotte to him again and kissed her. “You're right my love! I'm so glad you understand these things.”
11. The Dead Shall Rise at the Last Trumpet.
As Charlotte with Freddy and Elizabeth with Major Travers emerged from the path to the Avon into the yard, they were greeted by a young man dressed in the scruffy remains of an officer's uniform.
“Hello sister!” He effused to Charlotte, “Good to see you're in full bloom.”
“John?”
“The same.” Charlotte ran and embraced her brother. “What happened? We heard you were dead, that you had.” She paused.
“That I had shot myself in Paris. Interesting story, that. Old Marceau, the maitre'd, a fine chap if ever there was one, helped me fake it. All it took was a few pounds in the right places.”
“But that's dishonorable.”
“So bloody what. Honor's for the stupid and the dead. I'm alive aren't I?” He looked at Freddy. “You're this Mr. Talbot everyone is talking about, aren't you?”
Freddy almost audibly ground his teeth. “Yes, Mr. De Vere.”
“Lord Staverton, please. I like what you've done to my place, except for the pigs. Soon have them out.”
“Your place? I bought it from your sister, she needed the money to survive. You and your father left her destitute.”
“That's a shame. Sorry about that sis. Anyway since I'm alive, she didn't have the right to sell it.” Then he asked Charlotte, “So old girl, did you get a good price from him? I'll want my share.”
“Your share. What share?”
John turned back to Freddy, “Sorry about that old boy, but it's not for sale. Give you a week to vacate. That's fair, say what?”
“Say nothing doing.” Freddy was white with rage. “You two have been running a fraud against me, haven't you?”
Charlotte stood there silent in shame and shock. This couldn't be happening, not now.
John just smiled, then added, “I wouldn't let you marry my sister in any case. She's destined for a better class of man. Thanks for the down payment on her dowry.”
Charlotte found her voice and her anger ran through it as she told him off, “John, you lazy good for nothing sot, there isn't any better man for me than Freddy. You'll spoil my best chance of happiness!”
It didn't help, Freddy wasn't listening to her. He simply pointed, “Out, both of you. Now.”
John unhelpfully added, “Looks like I came a few weeks too soon. Tough luck sis.”
Charlotte asked, “Can I pack first?”
Freddy pointed with a hand shaking from his all-consuming rage, “Lizzy, take her to her room and watch her. Then see that she goes.”
Charlotte and Elizabeth headed into the house.
John smirked then said, “I shall repair to my office, at the Royal Oak to await your company.” With that he sauntered down the yard towards the gate and Holt beyond it. Freddy internally stormed for a few moments, then yelled for Henry. “Henry, Henry, Come Here, Now!”
Henry came running. “Henry, get the carriage ready. You and Bayliss will be driving to London tonight.”
“Sir?”
“We're foreclosing on those blasted De Vere's, starting first thing tomorrow.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. Now just get on with it.” Freddy impatiently strode into the hall and searched for Bayliss. He had retired with a comforting and informative book. Freddy thumped on his door. “Bayliss get up!”
The door creaked open and Bayliss peered out. As an old-fashioned and precise lawyer he wasn't about to let the iniquitous tax on hair powder stop him from dressing properly for the law. He was wearing a night cap over his shaved head, while his wig sat on its stand. “Sir, What is it?”
“Those damned De Vere's, the two of them. They've run a dirty fraud on us. The young Lord Staverton wasn't dead. He faked his death in Paris, then skipped town to avoid paying his debts. They'd have waited until we voided the mortgages and taken the whole property back.”
“Sir? Even Miss Charlotte?”
“Even her. Bugger the pair of them, damn it.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Get packed, Henry is harnessing the carriage. You're going to London. I want the foreclosure started as soon as the courts open tomorrow morning.”
“Yes sir.” Immediate and correct legal action was why the Talbot's paid him a big retainer. “I'll be ready in a few minutes.”
“Good, Thank you, I know this is exceptional. I wouldn't ask you if it weren't important.”
“Sir, if I'm to go soon, I'll need to get ready.”
“Sorry.” Freddy left. He needed to take a long walk.
In the meantime, Charlotte and Elizabeth headed up to Charlotte's room. “Lizzy, please believe me, I had no idea my brother was alive.”
“I don't know what to believe Charlotte.”
“Please believe me, I didn't. That bastard, he didn't have the courage to do the decent thing in Paris, but he had plenty of bottle-inspired courage to come here and ruin my life.”
“Charlotte, I'd like to believe you, but I can't go behind Freddy. I just can't.”
“Lizzy, that's what I love about you Talbot's, you're hard as iron when you bargain, but fundamentally decent and honest. Please don't forget me.”
“I won't.”
“And believe me, please, I didn't have anything to do with my brother's plans. I thought he was dead, until this evening when he turned up and ruined everything. Now I wish he were.”
Elizabeth looked at her friend. “Charlotte, you've never misled me, have you?”
“No. I haven't always behaved well to you, and said things that I meant to hurt, but I've never lied to you.”
“Not this time either?”
“No. Please believe me.”
“I do, but you still have to pack. I'm sorry.”
Charlotte started to pack in silence, while Elizabeth watched her. Charlotte wasn't quite silent, but cried quietly to herself. She was nearly done when Elizabeth spoke up. “Charlotte, you've refused this twice before, but this time you have to take it. I won't let you live in a ditch.” She handed Charlotte a bank note. Charlotte started to reply, “I can't,” then realized that she really didn't have much choice. She had reached bottom, and Elizabeth's offer was one of genuine friendship and not misplaced pity, “Thank you.”
“Where will you go?”
“Tonight, the Royal Oak. I have a few choice words for that rotten brother of mine. Afterwards, I'm not sure.”
John was entertaining in royal style when Charlotte entered the Royal Oak. She yelled at him, “You slimy bugger, what the hades did you think you were doing? Everything was finally going to work out for me, I was going to marry a man I respected and loved. I was even going to be able to stay in the hall, no thanks to father and you. Then you have to show up and try to pull one of your little games.”
“That tradesman's son. He stinks of the shop. What makes you think he was worth it?”
John's popularity took a dip, a chill seemed to fill the room, not that he noticed. He continued his remarks, “Sure he has money, but this is our domain, the
se are our people. It's been that way for generations. We don't need jumped up interlopers from the city.”
One of the farmers put down his beer, the beer John had bought, on credit for him, and spoke up. “Them Talbot's are more than twice the man you are, My Lord. Even the old man. He's done more for this parish in the last few months than either you or your father did for years.”
“Come on man. You can't mean that.”
Another farmer joined the first. “This beer tastes sour.”
The rest put theirs down as well.
The innkeeper came out from behind the bar. “Lord Staverton, I'd appreciate you paying your tab. Fifty pounds, tonight can be on the house if you pay up.”
“I haven't got it. I told you this was on what's his name, Freddy. I expect he'll be here momentarily to negotiate my return to the hall.”
The scene started to turn nasty. John, as a chummy young man who joked with them and stood the occasional round of beer was accepted. John as a deadbeat Lord Staverton who badmouthed the very people he claimed were paying for the beer was not popular. Especially when the people he was badmouthing had tried to improve the farmer's lots. As the farmers prepared to forcibly eject him from the inn, Charlotte pulled Elizabeth's bill from her reticle and handed it to the innkeeper. “Here take this.” She turned to her brother, “John, go. Leave Holt. I won't ever help you again.”
“Thanks sis.”
“John, I mean it, if I ever see you again it will be too soon.”
He sauntered out, turned and gave the crowd a wink before disappearing into the night.
The innkeeper asked her, “Miss De Vere, what are you going to do now?”
“I don't know, that was all of my ready. Lizzy, Miss Talbot gave it to me so I wouldn't starve in a ditch.”
“I need a barmaid. My Betsy's gone back to the hall. I know it's beneath you, but you can stay here if you're willing.”
“Mr. Hobbes, that maybe all I'm worth. Thank you.”
The next day, in the mid-afternoon, an express rider arrived at the hall from London. The butler paid him off and brought the documents to Freddy. They were from Bayliss. The foreclosure papers had been filed, and the bills demanding payment were included in the packet. There was this minor problem, neither the address of Miss De Vere or that of her brother was known. They'd been delivered to the hall, and it was up to Freddy to see that they were properly forwarded and served. Bayliss also indicated that the fifty-thousand pound post-obit bond, should properly be charged to the estate, and that he had sent notice to Newman's bank to that effect.
Charlotte: The Practical Education of a Distressed Gentlewoman Page 13
