Britannia’s Son (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 4)

by Andrew Wareham

  Elizabeth, young, blooming, fresh, aware of being as well-dressed as any and with better taste than most, proud of the ruby she wore for the first time, made an instant favourable impression, not at all harmed by a quiet, slightly nervous modesty. An eyebrow twitch to Lady Sefton and she appeared naturally at her lord’s side.

  “Maria, my dear, may I introduce you to Lady Harris and Captain Sir Frederick Harris?”

  “Of the Navy, I believe, Sir Frederick?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “I believe I saw you once before, sir – had you not been wounded?”

  “I had, ma’am, healed now, happily, and I expect to return to service before the year is out.”

  “I am so pleased, Sir Frederick! You are with Lord Alton’s party, I see – but, of course, Harris is the family name! I do not recall meeting you before, Lady Harris?”

  Nose carefully poised to catch the scent of trade or the merest whiff of that dreadful new phenomenon, the middle class, Lady Sefton smiled her kindest, ready to cut the acquaintance dead.

  “No, Lady Sefton – we lived in Leeds and I never came out in London. My father became Lord Partington last year and I met my new neighbour, Sir Frederick, in Dorset. I believe Papa had formed the intention of bringing me to London this Season, but Sir Frederick, to my great pleasure, forestalled him.”

  The Partingtons were old in their barony and if the last lord had been somewhat unorthodox, the present man was, by all reports, of a solid conventionality. The Harrises, of course, could be met anywhere.

  “We have a club, we ladies, of which you may have heard, my dear. It is called Almacks. I will send you vouchers if you would care to join us.”

  Almacks – the Marriage Mart – offered the height of tedious gentility and could not conceivably be refused. Entry was the ambition of every mama who hoped to marry a daughter or son into the ranks of fashion and privilege and was, besides, the English equivalent of the Almanach de Gotha – proof positive of one’s membership of the elite of the powerful and well-born. Few naval officers danced at Almacks, but those few were cosseted in their profession.

  “Almacks, Sir Frederick! You must attend regularly, dance and simper and make vapid conversation, for you will be on your probation, as it were. Being in the first year of your marriage, you may dance with your own wife, but not more than twice in an evening.”

  Lady Alton was well-versed in the rules of society and wholly unquerying of them and was determined to ensure the success of her husband’s protégés.

  “Court dress is demanded of men, but not for ladies – hoops and feathers do not dance well! Knee-breeches and silk stockings, Sir Frederick – but I need not lecture you on your tailoring, sir! You, my dear, will dress as you did last evening, in admirable taste! But not the ruby, that for the most formal of occasions only – when it will not arouse too much envy! You will receive invitations to fifty balls and assemblies and at-homes and evenings. Bring them to me and we will discuss which you must attend, which you certainly must not, and those which are optional.”

  She noted Frederick’s expression – he was not used to being given orders.

  “There are those on the fringes of Society, Sir Frederick, who you cannot know but I do. Parvenus, mushrooms and Johnny-Come-Latelys in part, and those not the worst! There are gull-catchers who make a living as parasites, luring the unwary into gambling-hells and selling bad horses and worse women! As well, there are those disgraced for various reasons, and the less-desirable hangers-on of the Prince’s set – he has a way of attracting the vulgar and louche to him. The pit-falls are many and the grande dames are unforgiving, especially in your first Season.”

  Suitably crushed, Frederick bowed his acceptance, excused himself to wait on his tailor.

  A month of tedium, of idle days and evenings filled with unamusing pleasures in the company of the shallow, the ignorant and, too often, the stupid. Courtesy demanded that conversation should be maintained at a level that all could understand and join in. Consequently, the weather was much discussed; fashion was followed avidly, the latest quirks reported in detail; dull sexual innuendo was hinted at whilst open scandals were pursued in all the available detail; when invention failed the silences were filled by empty, meaningless laughter.

  “Moronic they may be, but such happy morons, Sir Frederick!”

  “Well met, Mr Russell! And tell me, what do you think of the weather?”

  “Ah! A deep question, Sir Frederick, but, all in all, and bearing in mind the various possibilities, I think I can venture to say, that if it is not dry, it will be wet!”

  They clasped their hands behind their backs, nodded gravely to each other and surveyed the cream of British Society sipping weak tea and lemonade and yelling at each other in a break between dances at Almacks.

  “You are retiring to the countryside earlier than most, I hear, Sir Frederick.”

  “Lady Harris’ condition, Mr Russell.”

  “Ah! My best congratulations to you both! Who is that talking to her? A family resemblance, I think.”

  “Her brother, George.”

  “Only son and heir to Lord Partington. Estate currently encumbered but will clear and be worth an easy four thousands well within his lifetime. He is not a great prize, but is eminently respectable, and the barony is old – the mamas will have him high on their lists! He should land at least a twenty thousand pounder, could well do much better.”

  “Poor lad! He came up to Town to visit us and be taken to the bookshops for a few days. I bullied him to my tailors and dragged him to the Jersey’s ball two nights since, and my lady strictly bade him to attend Almacks, as was his duty. His sister, when appealed to, only reinforced Lady Jersey’s command – no escape there!”

  “Lady Jersey has firm ideas about the function and place in the world of young men – do not, by the bye, be so unwise as to discount her intelligence – she chatters unceasingly to hide the fact that she has an intellect most unbecoming to a mere female – and she is tireless in her assertion that the role of men is to provide women with children and estates to raise them on. Those of us who fail to meet one or other of her criteria are disregarded, unworthy of her notice – a common bow in passing, no more. I believe I see her bearing down upon your brother-in-law now, indeed – in naval terms I understand this to be a ‘cutting out’.”

  They watched as George was removed from his sister’s company, herded to one side and introduced to a slightly-built, quiet, studious-looking, large-eyed young lady, desperately ill-at-ease in the throng, smiling uncertainly.

  “Bridlington’s daughter, Augusta – and a girl less imperial I have never seen! The family fortunes have taken a very distinct upturn in recent years, due, I believe, to the fortuitous presence of coal seams on their pastures. She is eminently eligible, especially to a bookish young man. She is her father’s despair, one understands, he being unremitting in his pursuit of the fox and needing to have his spelling carefully checked on the rare occasions he manages to write his name. One brother, no sisters, her mama having no great turn for breeding.”

  Frederick chuckled, valuing Russell’s gentle stream of malice and his encyclopaedic knowledge of the whole of Society.

  “She would be quite ideal, I suspect, for George, from a common-sense viewpoint…”

  “Not the lushest of armfuls, I would agree, however. Pretty face, and she could be dressed to make the most of the figure she has – though the good Therese might not thank me for the challenge! It is easier when there is a large degree of natural beauty to work with, Sir Frederick.”

  “She has done very well by Lady Harris, Mr Russell.”

  “Your lady dresses very well, Sir Frederick.”

  They stood quietly for a few moments, observing the scene as George, a dutiful but uninspired dancer, performed correctly while his partner managed to display even less of elegance than he.

  “Well matched, I believe, Sir Frederick – and he has made her laugh! A first, I believe! I had hope
d to meet you here tonight, sir, for I find I would value your advice.”

  “It is, of course, yours, Mr Russell – but what aid I could give you, I know not, unless you are inspired by a sudden desire to sink some Frenchmen?”

  “Less unlikely than that, Sir Frederick – though I could think of no better source for information on that particular endeavour! The member for the family’s borough has just died young – most foolish but at least not habit-forming, he will not repeat his error! My father demands that I shall replace him, thus being, for the first time ever, of service to the family. As second son I have faced few demands, and those few I have avoided, but I believe that filial duty must in this case be all. My father has no views on politics, so long as I do not sit in the Whig interest, and I have myself but little knowledge of government and the country as a whole. If I merely assume my seat I shall be plagued, I doubt not, by factions seeking to recruit me. I need, therefore, a patron to tell me how to think and where to vote, and I have, amazingly, no direct acquaintance to fulfil the role.”

  “My uncle?”

  “Indeed – if it is not an imposition!”

  “I shall have the greatest pleasure in waiting on him tomorrow, Mr Russell, and informing him that a friend has just come into a seat.”

  Breakfast, taken at eleven o’clock, Frederick making a hearty meal of meats, observed in shuddering horror by George, himself partaking of tea and bread and butter; Elizabeth excusing herself of a queasy morning.

  “Frederick, you are returning to Dorset on Friday sennight, are you not? It would be easier, and cheaper, for me if I was to extend my stay with you and join you on the road, would it not?”

  A very casual, idle-seeming thought of no apparent significance

  “Of course, George. You will not be bored here?”

  “Oh, no! I received an invitation last night, in fact.”

  “Our hostesses of the next two nights have both extended their welcome to you, George – an extra young man is always welcome.”

  No more was said and Frederick left about his business with Lord Alton.

  “Young Mr Russell – I do not believe I know him, Sir Frederick.”

  “Little reason why you should, my lord. About five years my senior, a close friend of the late Lord Partington, acted as his second, which was how we came to be acquainted. Despite his tastes, I like the man, my lord – we have a degree of friendship, I believe.”

  “Not my cup of tea, as a general rule, but politics makes for strange bedfellows, Sir Frederick – and that is not a comment to be taken literally! Would you beg him to do me the honour of a visit of a morning next week?”

  Russell’s vote would make Alton’s faction up to ten in the Lower House, sufficient to make him very useful to either party. In practice his support was rarely available to the Whigs, but had to be courted and could never be taken for granted by the Tories – a factor of some value to Frederick’s career. The less formal groups that crossed Party boundaries were also assiduous in their pursuit of the Alton vote: those opposed to Slavery, and, more quietly, those lobbying in its favour; the Public Health lobby, with its rather low insistence upon the consideration of sewers and their contents; the Catholic Emancipation supporters; the Irish groups – those, simply, who were pro-Catholic, those rabidly Protestant, those for independence and those who sought relief from the overwhelming poverty of the land; the Reformers; the Children’s groups; all needed votes in the House, all wanted speakers who could raise their cause, who would attend Committees. Many could offer a quid pro quo of influence and interest. Most offered a moral stance as well, though the pro-slavery people substituted very large sums of money derived from the sugar plantations. All would do their best for their adherents.

  Packed, farewelled and bound south and west, thankful to be gone in the case of Frederick and Elizabeth, though George had thought of perhaps extending his stay, to the silent amusement of the other two. They shared a post-chaise, Bosomtwi and Ablett and Elizabeth’s maid in a second, the remainder of the staff, with the exception of Wymington, occupying a massive wagon with their trunks on a four day trundle down to Abbey, a holiday excursion, all paid for and much looked forward to. Wymington, being indispensable, had taken the night mail to Poole, would be met there so that he could be waiting for them at Abbey, all organised in his world.

  Elizabeth had harboured grave doubts about the effects of the journey on the servants’ moral well-being. She had toyed with the idea of separating male and female in two smaller vehicles, to stay at different inns on the way south. Frederick had overruled her, giving cost and inconvenience as his reasons but in fact reckoning that they deserved some fun in their lives. He had, himself, no doubt whatsoever about the probable effects upon their morals, merely hoped that not too many would fall pregnant and that those few would be able to identify a father.

  “Will rural Dorset be very boring after the excitements of the Metropolis, George?”

  Frederick was happy to pry, to poke a little fun at his sober-sided brother, was also hopeful that he might have found a possible wife. He had made an effort to talk with Augusta, had found her very quiet, very reserved and very intelligent; he suspected as well that she was very much in love.

  “It will be, Frederick, but I am invited to a house-party in Yorkshire in three weeks time.”

  “You are going back to Leeds, George? Elizabeth mentioned that she would like to look up some of her old acquaintance there – but not this summer, now, of course.”

  “Not Leeds, at the Bridlingtons, in fact.”

  “Not so far from Leeds, I believe, Elizabeth?”

  They were in the comfort of their own rooms, settled back at Abbey, at home.

  “Perhaps twenty miles, I think.”

  “I suspect we shall have to visit at the Bridlingtons, could well take in your cousins then.”

  “I do hope not! Much too languid. I have no patience with these dying-away, touch-me-not misses! What use would she ever be in my brother’s bedchamber?”

  Frederick was seized by a coughing fit, recovered to suggest that the young lady could learn, no doubt benefiting from a sister-in-law’s practical hints.

  “All skin-and-bone and skeleton!”

  “I must admit I much prefer a properly made woman, but your brother’s taste is his own affair. She is very clever and they must share many interests, are both of a literary persuasion. As well – and I very much doubt George has discovered the fact – she has a very substantial portion, certainly not less than twenty thousands, quite possibly twice as much!”

  It was amazing how many defects could be remedied by the possession of an income of a thousand or more from the Four Per Cents. ‘Skinny’ became ‘slender’, and ‘reclusive’ was instead ‘quietly intellectual’ when Elizabeth informed her mother of the background to her brother’s sudden taste for a social life.

  “Good. Jenny left us last month, and she did not go back home to her mother in Bridport.”

  “She is on the Harris estate, near to Long Common, but not too close. I saw her last week, ma’am – she has been given a wedding ring to wear and fifty two pounds a year and her own cottage – freehold! Her man was a sailor, drowned in Sir Frederick’s service.”

  “A grandchild I shall never see!”

  “One Papa will never know of.”

  “It is better that he should not – he would be so upset. He worries about Charlotte.”

  “Mr Chalfont will be unable to support a wife for another four or five years, Mama. If we bring Charlotte out next Season then we will discover whether we can turn her mind and heart in another direction. If not, then so be it!”

  “But … he is even more a man of blood than your husband, Elizabeth!”

  “Frederick tells me he is one of those who can kill without second thought, Mama. Not a cruel man, not even unkind, but able to destroy quite uncaring if the need arises. He would do very well in America, Frederick says, in their wild lands, and he would give him five h
undred pounds and his passage except that we are sure Charlotte would go with him. Instead, he will stay in England, become a manufacturer and be very rich.”

  “Which will comfort Papa very little – he has slight love for the breed.”

  “Then an unexceptionably genteel marriage for George must be a comfort to him, Mama. As, I hope, must be my offspring.”

  “Do you expect many children? You speak of ‘offspring’ as if there were to be dozens, my dear.”

  “I understand that one normally takes these things one at a time, Mama – and all will be as the Lord disposes – but I would like a large family. Sons for the Navy, the Church, the Army, the Honourable East India Company, daughters to ally us with the best in the land.”

  Lady Partington, still in her own mind Mrs Hackett and uncomfortable in her new life, was shocked at what she saw as wordliness and ambition, too far a cry from Chapel and Good Works, a possible jeopardy to her daughter’s salvation.

  “It is only a year since a piano and a pussy-cat were your greatest expectation from life, housekeeper to your academic brother. You have come a long way from that – as has he!”

  “Shabby-genteel is as shabby-genteel does, Mama! We stepped back into the aristocracy when Papa succeeded to the title, while I, Mama, I had the great good fortune to meet and love a true gentleman, one of England’s Heroes. My life is changed, Mama, and it is change so much for the better that it still seems as a dream to me!”

  “We had always hoped you would marry, my dear, though we never thought of a great marriage such as this! You must know that Papa cannot approve of all that Sir Frederick does, yet he values him truly for the man he is – kind-hearted, generous and upright in his dealings with all, one who always urges mercy when they sit in court. How such a man can be the warrior of the sea that he has been, will be again, you tell us, I cannot comprehend.”

  “Sailors live two lives, Mama – the man at sea is not the one who dwells on shore. You remember Captain Jackman, so scarred on his face, a man who has fought fiercely, who has boarded the enemy at hand-to-hand as well as fired his guns. When he stayed with us the staff loved to serve him for being so polite and kind to them. And Bosomtwi and Ablett, to be found about the estate every day, the one as horse-doctor for the valley, the other working on anybody’s gun who needs it, all for free, and Marc and Jean at Long Common, always at their neighbour’s beck and call, all four have fought at Sir Frederick’s shoulder. Ferocious warriors, I am assured, yet the kindest and gentlest of souls as well, with wives who dote on them. I do not pretend to understand it, Mama, but I have come to believe that our God of Love is also God of our Battles – think, after all, of Oliver Cromwell!”