Nouveau Riche (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 2)

by Andrew Wareham

  “What of furniture?”

  “We have some, sir, Alice’s mother moved into a smaller house when she was widowed and it is over-furnished. We will get more over time.”

  “Can you buy in Kettering?”

  “There are half a dozen men there and in the village – jobbing chair bodgers and cabinetmakers who will build pieces to order, sir.”

  “Excellent – the estate account will take the bills for a full and proper refurbishment of the farmhouse – I will not have my bailiff living in a half-furnished house, Mr Quillerson – it would not be at all right. We shall have a housekeeper soon, the Marchioness is seeing to it, and Lady Verity has done me the honour of accepting my hand so we shall have a mistress for the Hall as well. Not to be made officially public until I have spoken to the Marquis, but it will be known to half of the village by now, I should imagine.”

  “All of the village, I expect, sir. May I give you joy, sir?”

  “Thank you, Quillerson – I suspect that that is exactly what I shall experience – the more I think of this marriage, the happier I find myself.”

  “Brown, I am to be wed within a fairly short space of time, in London – a ‘semi-private ceremony’ due, I am told, to my aged grandmother having recently passed away – a convenient fiction which none are expected actually to believe. I plan at the moment to go to London next week, to meet the Marquis and discuss business with him, then return here for a few days before London again. We shall take our wedding trip to St Helens first and then to the Lake District, yourself and Lady Verity’s maid to accompany us. Hotels and post-horses and all necessary arrangements, if you would be so good. I do not know where I shall stay in London.”

  Tom wasn’t sure, but it might have been the excitement of the announcement that made Brown’s lisp more noticeable that usual.

  “At a hotel, thir. The Grafhamth no longer poth… poth… have a town house of their own and are to be guestth of their cousin, Mr Masterth, for the Season. He is the son of the Marquith’ father’th younger brother and inherited from hith mother’th only brother, who had remained unwed. He ith, I believe, comfortably well-off, married with two schoolgirl daughterth and no boy.”

  “Thank you, Brown. Tell me, what is the etiquette for the situation in which I find myself? How do I hand several thousands of pounds to my father-in-law without humiliating him?”

  “You do no thuch thing, thir! You enquire of Mr Telford who expertly overthaw the thale of the Hall, for a respectable man to handle your affairth in London and he will talk with the Marquith’ man and arrange the whole matter at a remove; the wedding, Lady Verity’th trousseau – all accountth to the attorney, thir. You will wish to make a gift of Lord Jack’th commission as Cornet of Dragoonth, a light regiment, thir, and arrange for hith allowance to be paid the thame way. The lieutenant hath made an amount of prize-money and will probably not be a burden on you, thir, but Viscount Rothwell ith a gambler and a wastrel, thir – you may well have to pay to keep him out of the clink – it never theemth respectable for one’th wife’th brother to be in debtor’th prison, thir.”

  Tom made a note to contact his banker, Mr Martin in St Helens – he would need to realise the better part of ten thousands of the money he had out in investments. It would be an idea as well to have a little conversation with the young Viscount, to explain to him that the family had not married a gold mine which he could tap into for ever; he wondered if the young gentleman could be persuaded of the virtues of a rural existence.

  The dogs were delivered to his care on the Thursday. They were settled into the loose-box where they would sleep and presented with a large meal of roast leg of mutton, probably better food than any farm labourer would be eating that day. The dogs eyed Tom suspiciously, but they ate their bowlful and settled down to sleep, their invariable habit after every meal. Wilkins shook his head and produced a pair of large old blankets in case they should get cold at night – they were too big to be dogs, he said, needed be treated as if they were horses; they could sit at his fire in the evening, being unmarried they would be company for each other. General opinion was that the dogs weighed half as much again as the groom – it could be entertaining to watch the competition for the warmth.

  Tom’s ever-dutiful butler, Morton, ushered the ladies into the Hall, sat them in the best salon, offered wine, cakes and biscuits and macaroons, all readied for the occasion. He played the role of the old retainer to perfection – he had a family again, and of the proper sort, and there would be house-guests as well in the near future – he would be happy again!

  “The Hall needs a mistress, your Ladyship – menfolk never seem to be quite able to run a house satisfactorily. We will wish to refurbish your chamber, as well, and specify your sitting-room and work-room. I am given to understand that there will be a housekeeper, ma’am?”

  The Marchioness, much more used to dealing with domestic issues, promised that there would be, that she should, in fact, be making her appearance on Monday sennight.

  “Excellent! We shall have all ready for your entry, my Lady!”

  Tom appeared and Morton withdrew, full of his plans for the future of the Hall and its family – the nursery must be refurbished, the gardener warned to reseed at least one of his lawns with sturdy rye-grasses for children to play on, there must be a schoolroom again. Did Lady Verity play on the pianoforte? He did not know, a shocking lapse, he must find out and, if necessary, speak to Mr Quillerson about ordering one from Broadwoods, for there was none in the house.

  “I have met none of your brothers, Verity – will any of them be able to attend our wedding?”

  “Jack will be at school – it will be possible to obtain an exeat for the day, Mama?”

  “Of course, my dear.”

  “My eldest brother and heir to the estate, Rothwell, lives in London and he will be present and sober, Thomas – under pain of my severest displeasure. Young Frederick is at sea – we do not know quite where just at the moment, for the last letter we received from him was some six months ago and said that he was en route to the West Indies.”

  “Jack is what, sixteen or so?”

  “Barely, Thomas, but he wishes to join, is tired of school and certainly has no desire to go to Oxford, might well find Responsions difficult. However…”

  “What regiment does he want, my dear?”

  “Not the Guards, fortunately! He would wish to be a dragoon, I believe, a light, the sort they are starting to call hussars, after the Hungarians, I understand.”

  “That can be done, if you would permit me?”

  “I hoped you might,” the Marchioness said, “for we could not possibly do so – there will be a premium on the cost of the commission, and his uniforms and horses would be beyond us.”

  “We are at war, ma’am, as you know. Would you prefer that my man should identify a regiment that is not due for service overseas or should he be given his chance to shine? Does he wish to be a real soldier or would he prefer to display himself in Hyde Park?”

  “Harsh reality, Thomas! One forgets that you fought, although, looking at your face, one should not, of course. You would wish him to go to war, I presume?”

  “I would, ma’am – it was the making of me, I now think, for I am quite sure that I would still be a fisherman, making a few shillings on the side as a petty smuggler, had I not had occasion to become part of a privateer’s crew. By risking my life I discovered its value, ma’am, and by being forced to lead men into a fight or two I discovered that I could lead myself as well and that I had ambition. I still have some, though I have now found much of what I have been seeking these last years, I believe.” He smiled at Verity, sat silently, disturbed at the prospect of her little brother becoming a man in the way of danger, instinctively wanting him to be kept safe, indignant even that Tom would wish him to hazard himself. “I was no older than Jack when I first boarded a French ship and decided that I was a boy no longer. I suspect that Frederick, as a midshipman, had made that same discovery
even younger.”

  The Marchioness, who would much rather have kept her youngest in the nest, reluctantly agreed – better he should become a fighting man, with all of the risks attending that state, than a self-indulgent lounger about town like his eldest brother, Rothwell.

  “I think you must be right, Thomas – but I wish you were not! A regiment bound for India, do you think?”

  “Seven years away, certain to be fighting, a risk of fever, a very strong chance of loot, I am told, a probability of rank in the field – more than one young cornet has come back a brevet-major in his early twenties.”

  “And a lot have never come back at all, Thomas,” Verity quietly interjected.

  “True – it is the price – nothing is free in this life, or nothing that is worth having, I believe.”

  She wondered what price she would have to pay for her husband, because she found herself increasingly convinced he was worth having.

  The letter came from the Receiving Office in Kettering, the lad going in on two consecutive mornings in the hope of its immediate arrival.

  “Post chaise for Thursday, Brown, early, because I would like to see Mr Telford’s man before I meet the Marquis on Friday at two o’clock at the Clarendon.”

  “Wet weather, thir, the high road will be muddy, better tomorrow for then you can go to Rundell and Bridge ath well and talk with them about a ring, thir.”

  “I had planned to see Briggs tomorrow to discuss his drainage with him, but, if you say so, then Quillerson can do it on his own.”

  “Wilkins, you will look after Lady Verity’s dogs while I am away?”

  “I will, sir, don’t ‘ee worry none about that. I talked wi’ Charlie Barney and us’ll be walkin’ ‘em on ‘is acres, sir, well clear of that miserable old bastard Marchant – ‘e says as ‘ow you told ‘im ‘e could shoot any dog ‘e saw.”

  “If he shoots them I’ll bury him in the same bloody grave, Wilkins, and you can let him know I said as much!”

  “I’ll make good and sure ‘e gets the word, sir!”

  “Just mouth, Mr Andrews, nothing more.” Quillerson was calm, reassuring – had had to deal with Marchant’s tantrums over many years. “He knows very well that he would be out on his ear if he dared do any such thing and he wants to keep his tenancy and leave it to his son, but he cannot resist shouting his mouth off, sir.”

  “I shall take your word for it, Quillerson – but look after them, do – it would break her ladyship’s heart was anything to happen to them.”

  Quillerson grinned and nodded – in love himself, he thought he could detect the signs in the owner and was very pleased, for him and for the estate, both would benefit from a happily married master.

  “Mr Michael? My name is Andrews. Mr Telford of Kettering said that he would mention my name to you.”

  Michael’s clerk retired and the lawyer took Tom’s hand, noting that he was still a businessman, not a gentleman – one of the would-be aristocracy would never have shaken with a menial.

  “Do take a seat, sir! Mr Telford asked me to take care of your affairs in London, sir, and I shall be very happy to do so. Mr Telford has, of course, divulged to me none of your personal details, sir, but I presume you are shifting some of your business interests into the City? You are the Mr Andrews of Roberts the Ironfounders, are you not, sir – for I had been informed in the normal way of things that you had moved to an estate near Kettering. We do hear of such matters, sir – I think we gossip more than we work very often!”

  “I am indeed and I need a confidential adviser in London. Most of my investments are handled by Martin’s Bank in St Helens, but I will need to shift some considerable sums into your hands, much of them available for short-term speculations if such come your way. I am to wed Lady Verity Masters, daughter to the Marquis of Grafham, very soon, Mr Michael, and will be directing a number of bills to you to cover very discreetly indeed. As well, I wish you to purchase a cornetcy of Light Dragoons for Lord Jack Masters, and pay his allowance. It is the wish of the family that he should be given the opportunity to make his name and seek promotion rather than be an ornament to the Town, so a regiment that is under warning for overseas service would be the best.”

  Michael made a quick note in the thin folder on his desk, a set of documents that he now expected to grow much fatter, a source of fees for a generation. Mr Andrews must become a personal client, never to be fobbed off onto a partner or a junior in the office.

  “It may have to be Heavies, sir – one cannot guarantee a vacancy in such specific circumstances, unless you are willing for him to go to India, to a King’s Regiment, of course, not Company forces. One that is already there, sir, and will certainly have vacancies in its ranks.”

  “If needs be, but do ensure that it will be for a good five years – so that he has the chance of at least two campaigns, the first to find his feet, the second to make his mark.”

  Michael decided to probe a little further – his new client seemed to be a very sensible man but it could be as well to discover just how discreet their relationship might become.

  “Noted, sir – it will be done. Ah, I do not know, on so early an acquaintance with you, sir, whether I risk giving you offence, but the question of Viscount Rothwell arises…”

  “Candour will never cause offence, Mr Michael!”

  The lawyer smiled and relaxed from the tense, upright sitting position behind his desk; he was a chubby man, intended by nature to be a happy soul with twinkling blue eyes – he showed strain very easily.

  “You know something of his lordship, I presume, sir?”

  “I know he is a wastrel and a gambler and I suspect a drunk – his sister made an unguarded comment that might be read to that effect.”

  Good! Mr Andrews was no fool and was willing to take his lawyer fully into his confidence. They could work together and Michael need not mince his words.

  “He is, sir, in the confines of this room, a fool! Not very intelligent, he habitually keeps company with men richer than him and utterly without scruple or morality – they drink and whore and gamble incessantly, wholly without discretion. Mr Martin suggested that I might wish to familiarise myself with the young gentleman’s circumstances, sir, though not saying why - and the unpublished word is that he has been shown the door at one of the more expensive houses of assignation, sir, because he is considered to be unhealthy!”

  “Diseased?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Neither would say the dread word, ‘syphilis’, as unclean as leprosy had ever been, equally incurable and able to be kept in check only by the dangerous palliative of mercury, a nostrum that offered madness and early death in itself. Both knew that the disease raged through the underworld of prostitutes and whoremongers and that the only preventive other than chastity was a substantial degree of fastidiousness, patronage only of the more careful procurers of fornication; the wild, the drunk and the carefree tended to be early victims of this particular plague.

  “Do we know the name of his doctor?”

  “I can discover it, sir, but I believe that a professional man will keep his patients’ confidence, sir.”

  “Do you believe that to the extent of five hundred guineas in gold, Mr Michael?”

  “Not even to the extent of one hundred guineas, sir – I must confess, I had not considered that aspect of the question!”

  They chuckled together, liking each other.

  “Are there opportunities for speculations in London, Mr Michael, or is the market sewn up, as it were?”

  “I could put a few thousands to very profitable work, sir, of that I am certain.”

  “I shall be speaking in person to Mr Martin quite soon, Mr Michael, and will instruct him to place some monies at your disposal, exactly how much I do not know until I have talked with him. There will be a bill from Rundell and Bridge, Mr Michael, which will be covered by Mr Telford if you will inform him of its amount – I would prefer to direct them to you than simply write out a letter or cheq
ue on Martin because I want no delay in obtaining a ring and I am as yet unknown to them.”

  “With respect, sir, you will not be – two tons of gold coin has ensured that they will welcome you as a customer!”

  Brown had a loop of silk thread given him by the countess; he gravely presented it as he sent his master off to the jewellers.

  “My lady’th ring finger, thir.”

  “You amaze me, Brown! It had not occurred to me that I needed to discover that!”

  Brown smirked – it was his function, he felt, to amaze his master with his virtuosity, and to remind him occasionally that he would be lost without him.

  Tom entered the quiet, hallowed premises of the country’s premier jeweller, was met by a young man who very politely asked how he might be of assistance.

  “My name is Andrews; I am about to be wed and wish to purchase rings – a diamond and a plain band? I would like as well to consider a bride gift of matching stones.”

  “Mr Andrews…” the young man searched his memory; he knew that he had never seen the gentleman before and yet the name caught his attention. “One moment, sir, if you please, Mr Bridge likes to attend our new clients himself. If you would take a seat for a minute…”

  He scurried away, knocked on a discreet door in the corner of the room – one could not call it a shop – disappeared out of sight. Less than his minute later an elderly man in morning dress appeared in his place, grey-haired and distinguished, a loupe the only indication that he was not a gentleman customer.

  “Mr Andrews? Of Kettering and St Helens? I am glad to meet you, sir. How can I help you?”

  “I am about to wed the daughter of the Marquis of Grafham, Mr Bridge…”

  The thread was accepted and put carefully to one side, measured and re-measured and noted in a ledger.

  “Wedding ring a plain band, twenty-two carat gold, sir?”