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

by Andrew Wareham

  Tom nodded.

  “A diamond of good colour and perfect cut, suitable to a young lady rather than a dowager. May I suggest, sir…”

  A very few minutes saw Tom a thousand pounds the poorer and not at all displeased with his purchases; Bridge had insisted that he should not spend more on larger, showier pieces, that he should in the first instance be content with necklace and earrings in impeccable taste and medium size.

  “It is possible to be accused of vulgarity, sir – and that would distress Lady Verity, I am sure.”

  Tom agreed, was pleasantly surprised that Bridge was willing to let another two or three thousands walk out of his door. Bridge was not at all concerned – Mr Andrews would be back for birthdays and Christmases and the celebration of children, he would be an investment over many years.

  “If you will bring Lady Verity tomorrow, sir, we will have her ring available and will be able to ensure that it is precisely correct for her.”

  Tom sent his card in at Masters’ house, not at all sure that he should do so for fear that he should be seen as encroaching; Crane the butler, aware of his identity as all good servants should be, ushered him inside and informed Mr Masters and Lady Verity and the Marchioness of his arrival. He was joined by all three in quick order, Masters in considerable curiosity – he had never before heard of a civilised manufacturer, wanted to meet so rare a bird, and to welcome his hundreds of thousands – he discounted the idea of a million, it was hardly a likely sum, more the sort of thing that the imagination might supply as a measure of untold wealth.

  “I felt I should confirm my presence at the Clarendon, ma’am, and I wished as well to invite you to accompany me to Rundell and Bridge on the morning – I think it better to select rings there than at a provincial house, do not you?”

  It went without saying that that must be so.

  They met and entered the premises, Verity quite naturally on Tom’s arm and liking the experience – it was very comforting to have a large gentleman at one’s side and making it clear that one was precious and to be protected. It was also pleasing to be greeted and treated with distinction in the shop itself – Mr Bridge in person, not a mere polite young man. Her mother nodded and smiled to an acquaintance, a Mrs Bradbury, very well connected and possessed of a rich husband who owned large tracts of Somerset, in company with a daughter about to make her come-out.

  The ring was produced and admired and slipped on the appropriate finger, a decorous kiss on her cheek in salutation – all noted by the Bradburys – Lady Verity, almost on the shelf in her fourth Season, had caught a husband, somewhat scarred but a rich one, it was a very handsome ring and in the best of taste, not at all showy. The word would be spread around Town on the instant – the Society columns would be scanned for the interesting announcement. Who was he? What was he?

  “Elvira Bradbury is an inveterate gossip, Thomas, she will pass the news that Verity is to be wed to a dozen today and twice as many tomorrow. The Season is not really begun yet – the Cavendishes’ ball will be the first, and that is on Tuesday – but she will meet a hundred before then – every eye will be on Verry’s left hand when we arrive, will note your absence and draw the correct conclusions – it will really be very amusing!”

  The Marquis was a tired-seeming fifty year old, tall, straight and grey, his face heavily lined, once handsome, now aged by worry and unending work. He had come to the Clarendon from a meeting of the Navy Board and intended to speak in the Lords that evening in a debate on manning the navy and the use of the Press, which he would have to defend, somewhat against his will – but he was not prepared to support the rise in taxes necessary to fund a navy of volunteers.

  “How do you do, Mr Andrews? I am glad to meet you, sir – you seem to have made Verity happier than I have seen her in many years; amongst other things, sir, I am more than happy to pass you the burden of feeding those damned dogs of hers!”

  “I shall be pleased to do so, my Lord – they are enormous, are they not? I have never seen their like, but they are friendly, gentle creatures and I am glad to have met them. I am even more pleased that you think Lady Verity is happy, my Lord – it is my intention that she shall remain so as my wife. She is of age, of course, but wishes me to secure your blessing to our union – and quite rightly, too – may I have your permission to wed your daughter, my Lord?”

  “I have already given her my blessing, Mr Andrews, and I am happy to welcome you into my family for her sake. I will not for one moment pretend that I had envisaged her ever marrying a manufacturer, and I will not disguise from you that I am somewhat dismayed that it has come about, but I do believe that the world is changing and I must change with it – and you are no vulgarian, sir.”

  The topic needed be changed, personal comments were to be avoided.

  “How does the enclosure of Thingdon go, Mr Andrews?”

  “Well, now that I have removed some of the obstacles – the man Smythe for one, Newton for another. I have started to urge Marchant into modernising his farm as well – and he will be a problem till the day he dies, but I cannot simply push him out because his face does not fit, my Lord!”

  “I agree, sir, he has rights because of his long tenure. That fellow Smythe is a very different matter, the whole parish will be better off without him! Newton had your Home Farm, did he not? I seem to remember him as a boot-kisser, sir.”

  “He had not an opinion of his own, would do nothing new and very little that was old for fear that it might not be what I wanted. I have paid him off, he cannot perhaps help his own nature, but the Home Farm is to become a Model and he could play no part in that, my Lord.”

  “I wish I could do the same, the estate is much in need of improvement – but it will have to wait another decade, I fear, as will my enclosure. I have been able to compound my father’s debts, but it will be just over nine years before they are clear. I can find Verity’s portion, but it will only be a bare thousand, I am afraid, put away in dribs and drabs over the years – the same for Anne.”

  As a member of the family Tom had the right to be told of the Marquis’ difficulties, but it behoved him to be very tactful.

  “Can I risk being offensive, my Lord, and suggest that you add Lady Verity’s portion to her sister’s? In twenty or thirty years time it may well be possible for you to find the sum and bequeath it to her children, to their benefit and yours, my Lord.”

  The Marquis nodded, reluctantly, it would be more convenient in every possible way, but he did not have to like it.

  “You are generous, Mr Andrews – and it is always easier to give than to receive, is it not? Verity says that she wishes to wed you at the earliest moment, because there is little point to waiting that she can see, and I must say that I do not disagree with her. A special licence would be possible – it is quite the normal thing in our circle, and a wedding on Tuesday week would fit her convenience, she says.”

  “That would suit me very well, my Lord. I could return to Thingdon Hall tomorrow and prepare for an absence of a month or so; we plan to go to St Helens first, to meet some of my old acquaintance, and then to the Lakes before returning to the Hall.”

  “Could you delay till Monday? I presume you will not wish to travel on a Sunday – the old women of Finedon would be horrified by Sabbath-breaking, and it would be wiser to cater to their little notions, I think, Mr Andrews. I would wish you to meet Mr Dundas tomorrow, to discuss the new member – he has evinced a desire to see you in person rather than send a messenger as is normal; curiosity, I expect – he spoke to me as your neighbour, unaware of our closer relationship, and made it clear that the tale of Martin’s Bank has aroused his interest.”

  Dundas was fixer extraordinary to Prime Minister, Pitt, a Scot and, like his master, a man of vast intelligence, leavened in his case by very little scruple – it fell to him to manage the government’s majority in the House of Commons, using bribery, blackmail and appeals to interest and patriotism in equal measure. It was his business to know the o
wners of every rotten borough in the country and to endeavour to recruit them to the Tory faction; he would expect Tom to be a Whig, being a manufacturer, yet had already received the message that he was prepared to point his man in the right direction – he would wish to discover the price of keeping him there, for it would not occur to him that there could be no cost.

  “Mr Andrews! Ye have not been described to me, sir, but I see that I will not easily forget ye! I am pleased to meet ye, sir!”

  “Thank you, Mr Dundas – once met, never forgotten, sir – there are advantages to my facial decoration!”

  Dundas laughed, having deliberately attempted to put Tom at a social disadvantage, prodding him to see how he would react, whether he would be vulnerable. He turned to the brief on his desk.

  “Let me see, Mr Andrews – my information is that you appeared in St Helens in Lancashire towards the end of the American War, in possession of some funds, and that you and your partner, Mr Star, rapidly made a mark in the new industry, iron and coal and cotton, and then branched out into housing. Prior to the recent canal and banking collapse, you and Mr Star turned your assets into gold, thus remaining wholly untouched, and were able to rescue Martin’s Bank and buy out any number of collapsed enterprises at a fraction of their potential value. You will be worth a cool million within two years, as industry recovers, and already have an income of not less than ten thousands. You have recently purchased the Thingdon Estate near Kettering and need only to make a respectable marriage to complete your assimilation into society.”

  The Marquis, silent and appreciative in the background, looked up at that point.

  “That matter is in hand, Mr Dundas – my daughter, Verity, will wed Mr Andrews on Tuesday of next week. I hope you will be able to be there?”

  The politician was impressed – Grafham was useful to him and his financial instability had been a minor worry, now cured, and the marriage secured Andrews’ allegiance very efficiently. The Marquis’ son, Rothwell, would be of use to no party and his part of Northamptonshire would be politically unstable when Grafham died – there would need be a new focus of loyalty in the area, another vote in the Lords as well as a safe seat in the Commons. Mr Andrews would do very well indeed – a barony in a few years, a sweetener in the first instance while he demonstrated his reliability – the Fund could make use of a few of his many thousands! One of Dundas’ main worries was replenishing the secret party chest that covered the most pressing debts of members and paid off their embarrassing mistresses and catamites as well as offering simple bribes to the uncommitted; a millionaire would have an obvious value.

  “Mr Andrews – would a change of name be of interest to ye, sir? I am sure it could be very easily achieved.”

  Tom glanced at the Marquis, who nodded.

  “I believe I would welcome such a change, Mr Dundas.”

  “Then your baronetcy will be announced before your wedding, Sir Thomas! Please accept my congratulations, sir.”

  “’Services to the Crown’, Sir Thomas – it is a catch-all formula used for political knighthoods and baronetcies and peerages, and yours will be gazetted as such. You are now a titled commoner, Sir Thomas, and Dundas will probably bring you to the attention of the Lord Lieutenant of Northamptonshire – you may expect to be asked to serve in various functions – Poor Law Commissioner, perhaps, the bench almost certainly. Poor Mr Rockingham could not understand why he was not appointed magistrate as soon as he purchased the estate, believed it be a deliberate snub motivated by jealousy – it may have been in part, but mostly it was because his face did not fit; yours does, sir!”

  Tom tried to make a reply to the Marquis, but he could think of nothing reasonable to respond – he had taken great care not to offend the sensibilities of the local people, but he thought that was mostly a case of good manners – one should not disturb other people unnecessarily, their lives were hard enough without him treading on their toes.

  “Rather a surprise, my Lord – I had not thought of my face as particularly fitting in its present state!”

  “A nuisance, is it not? How did it come about, Sir Thomas?”

  Tom made the brief explanation of just how unnecessary it had been, received the normal rueful shake of the head in response.

  “Whilst I think of it, Sir Thomas – the Isebrook Stream that runs through your new farms and has a number of boggy stretches – have you any plans for it, sir?”

  “There is a patch of fifty or more acres on Briggs’ farm that ought to be drained, my Lord, or so I am told, I have not yet inspected it fully myself, no more than glanced at a distance. Apparently there is some fear that we may merely shift the problem onto our neighbours in the new smallholdings.”

  “That was my concern, Sir Thomas; Rockingham’s plans did not take that into consideration. I hoped that yours would. Needless to say, if you wish to make changes to its course you need do no more than inform me.”

  “Thank you, my Lord.”

  Sunday was spent at the Masters’ house, at his pressing invitation, and to Tom’s great satisfaction; it was a political household, Masters, like the Marquis, busying himself with public affairs and with a detailed knowledge of what was happening in the greater world.

  “India, Sir Thomas, the next five years must be spent in extirpating French influence there so that our trade can prosper there. We shall not become too much involved in the war on land in Europe, if we can avoid it – for we cannot maintain a large army there as well as garrisons in Ireland and all of the other colonies and outposts. Ireland is a great worry – the Catholics are traitors to a man and the Protestants are loyal only to themselves, and yet we could not dare to leave them to go to perdition on their own; an independent Ireland would be a colony of France or Spain within a year and would blockade our trade into the Atlantic immediately thereafter. If we made Ireland free of the English we would have to invade inside two years to free it of the French; so we keep the benighted country and know not what to do with it.”

  “There are but two choices, Mr Masters – keep Ireland as a weak enemy or a strong ally, if keep it we must. I employ several hundreds of Irish men and women in my pits, forced to leave their land by hunger, and I would be hard put to find workers without them. Given a good wage – and we pay the highest on the Lancashire coalfields – and they are hard-working, honest and reliable; given better pay in Ireland I am sure they would be the same there. If they cannot be paid well in Ireland then they must continue to be driven out – starve them, as we do now, and make sure there are emigrant ships in plenty to take them to the Americas.”

  Masters shook his head disapprovingly – government policy should never be expressed so crudely and simplistically, there should always be a civilised veneer to hide the brutal reality.

  “They are politically active again, I fear, Sir Thomas, and attempt to unite Catholic and Protestant to achieve peaceful independence. The political process will break down and that will lead to an uprising, I expect, in unity and great strength.”

  “Then offer Emancipation to the Catholics, Mr Masters; the Protestants will ally themselves to the Papists while they are in a position of subservience, but once give them equality and they will become too powerful a potential enemy for the Protestants and will have to be slapped down. Their unity can easily be broken.”

  Both men stared at Lady Verity, Tom with pride, Masters in near horror – her analysis was much too telling.

  “In fact, ma’am, government has been floating the proposal for some weeks now, and the Protestants have already approached the king to crush the whole idea. The Catholics are being made aware of the duplicity of their allies and it is already clear that any rising will be partial and will be directed as much at each other as at the English. That, of course, under the rose.”

  “Mr Masters means ‘confidential’, Sir Thomas!”

  “Thank’ee, Lady Verity – us poor manufacturers don’t understand things like that!”

  There was a silence whilst both
regretted their words.

  “Mr Quillerson, Briggs and Hammet, both will be affected by any works to the Isebrook Stream, I believe.”

  “And the Home Farm, sir, and possibly Marchant, and certainly the smallholdings on the village side.”

  “So what is to be done?”

  “Dig two new ponds, small lakes almost, one on the north eastern corner of the Home Farm where it joins Hammet, the other on the edge of the existing boggy patches, and then a new course for the stream across Briggs’ acres and along the boundary of the glebe and the smallholdings and following the road south to join the existing channel through the village. Weirs on the ponds will allow us to control the flow of the stream and we can stock them with fish and cattle can use them for drinking.”

  “That sounds highly practical; will there be any repercussions to our east? Would the Marquis’ lands be affected at all?”

  “Possibly, sir, I do not know for sure – but if problems arise we can amend them – another cut or a pond – it is not a great river, after all, sir.”

  “Good – we must inspect the site together, I think – I have yet to meet Hammet, after all.”

  “I feel I should warn you, sir, that he is a very peculiar man, one who has ‘bad days’ – though I cannot remember often meeting him on a good one – and can be thought to be somewhat irrational, indeed, quite possibly mad. He is a very good farmer, however, one who keeps himself up to date with everything that is published. He has no wife – she ran away the week after their wedding, twenty years ago – and reads voraciously when he is not working. The Catholic, Quiller family were afraid of him, feared for their lives, I believe, quite literally, he having views on the place of Catholics in England and having expressed his wish to institute the traditional auto-da-fe of the Inquisition as a high-point of Protestant festivals; they would have liked to see the back of him but dared not terminate his lease. I have not wished to get rid of him in the few years I have known him – I could not have done so under Smythe in any case. You must make your own mind up, sir – but he is a very good farmer, as I said, and now that I have joined the Church of England he will be very short of subjects for the fire, locally at least.”