Book Nine: A Poor Man
at the Gate Series
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A Parade Of Virtue
Copyright © 2015 by Andrew Wareham
All Rights Reserved
Contents:
Title Page
Copyright Page
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
By the Same Author
Introduction
After the introspective years following Tom’s death, events take a very dramatic turn as the Andrews clan continue to build their empire. In India, a catastrophic cholera outbreak spreads rapidly, decimating the families in Bombay. Meanwhile, haunted by past misdeeds, one of the settlers in Upstate New York panics when he spots a familiar character in town, leading to a bloody encounter.
The Star family face dramas of their own. Former Methodist minister Luke is dicing with death in the bitter guerrilla war in Greece, while in New Orleans, Henry is building his fortune and ruthlessly disposing of anyone who gets in his way. The villainous John Star continues to be a source of danger to both families, but plans are made to finally nullify his threat.
The march of steam continues apace; however, greed and a disregard for safety prove deadly for the crew of a ferry boat. Fear of revolution has re-arisen in England. The population is rapidly outstripping the food supply and there is a real possibility of famine and civil disobedience.
Author’s Note: I have written and punctuated A Parade Of Virtue in a style reflecting English usage in novels of the Georgian period, when typically, sentences were much longer than they are in modern English. Editor’s Note: Andrew’s book was written, produced and edited in the UK where some of the spellings and word usage vary slightly from U.S. English.
Book Nine: A Poor Man
at the Gate Series
Chapter One
Major Wolverstone sat at his writing desk, ink drying on his pen, tears running unheeded down his cheeks. He took a mouthful of neat brandy, shuddered and dipped his pen nib into the silver standish.
'My lord,
I know not how to write these words and beg your forgiveness if I express myself ill.
The cholera in its worst form is upon us in Bombay. It has lasted a week now and has already exacted the most dreadful toll.
I sat to breakfast this morning with my two little ones, chuckling at their artless prattle. I shall laugh no more, nor hear their words again. At four o'clock this afternoon I laid both in the communal pit - I cannot call it a grave - wrapped in linen shrouds, without the dignity even of a coffin. There was but a pitiful travesty of a service as no Protestant divine still lives in Bombay - five have died in the week.
My wife is sore stricken and lies as one dead. The army doctor, the only medical man left to us, has no hope for her and I wait only to hear the fatal words from her maidservant.
I am untouched, have felt not the slightest symptom of the fever.
What Providence is it that takes the fairest, freshest flower yet leaves the old weed to thrive?
I cannot enumerate those dead in the British community - it is not yet known who lives.
In the native parts the carnage is truly horrifying, or so I am told. The sky is black with the smoke of funeral pyres and yet many remain unburied, their whole family perished and none to perform their rites.
The garrison has been less affected than the merchant population, so their doctor informs me. The youngest, greenest subalterns have died almost to a man, and very many of the wives and children of all ranks, yet the old campaigners, like myself, have survived with few exceptions. Perhaps the fevers that are so common in war have left us hardened, less susceptible - I know not.
I am called away, my lord, will resume later.'
Wolverstone followed the quiet, solemn servant to the great reception room of his bungalow, found David Mostyn and his wife there. Both were dressed in unrelieved black.
"We lost Arabella this morning, Major, and have come to join our sorrows to yours."
"I buried both this afternoon, Mr Mostyn."
"And Mrs Wolverstone, sir?"
"I wait only for the news of her passing, ma'am."
There were no words to offer, particularly in the circumstances - Mrs Mostyn was frequently, so far discreetly, unfaithful to her marriage vows, and the Major had been a regular recipient of her quite widely dispersed favours. It was possible that Arabella had been his child, though Mostyn himself and at least two King's officers could have claimed paternity.
"What comes next, Major?"
"If we live, ma'am, then we pick up the pieces of our lives, insofar as that is possible. I do not know, doubt that I can know for many a long day."
"Do we remain in this God-Forsaken city, sir?"
"I do not know, ma'am."
After another week the cholera departed as abruptly as it had arrived - on a day like any other there were no more deaths, none taken sick. Presumably all those who might perish had done so and there were no victims remaining.
Major Wolverstone walked out of his empty house and took his carriage to his office; his wife was five days buried and he had nothing left, though in all honesty his grief was almost entirely reserved for his children.
Four Indian clerks stood as he entered; there had been nine. His most senior man remained, followed him to his desk.
"Many have died, sahib. In the go-downs at the waterfront there are not half of the workers there was used to be. Many wagons remain unloaded, sahib, for lack of hands. The stables were left empty of men for part of one day, but I found other grooms to work there and no horses were lost or came to harm at all, sahib."
"Then you have done very well, Patel! Did you come to the office every day?"
"Every day, sahib, though once taking off as much as three hours to attend the pyre of two of my sons."
"And your daughters, have all survived?"
"Three did not, sahib, but they were females and I shall not have to pay their dowries now."
There was no more to be said.
"We shall need four more clerks for the office, Patel, and labourers at the waterfront, of course. Will you be able to find the people we require? I would hope that some might be members of your family - I could not ask for more devoted servants for the firm."
The patronage should suffice as reward in the first instance. At a later date he would have to increase the wages paid to the man, but not immediately - loyalty should be expected, should not result in direct reward.
"What of other sahibs, Patel? Does Mr Barker survive? Do you have word of Mr Jackson or of Mr Harris or of Staveley?"
"Mr Barker died, sir, with all of his family, so sadly. I have, for the very moment only, sir, placed my brother in his seat to serve the honourable Roberts Company. I do not yet know of the other sahibs, sir."
An hour of enquiry, of messengers running from one office to another, discovered that Wolverstone's largest competitor was dead and that his firm was in disarray. Contracts for hundreds of tons of saltpetre - vital for the gunpowder mills at Faversham and Waltham Abbey and outside Cork - seemed to be up in the air.
"Make contact with all of Mr Harris' saltpetre sellers and have your brother buy up the contracts, Patel. Let your brother remain in Mr Barker's place for the while and if he does the job well than it is to be his as a permanence. The producers will all be short of money - Harris will not have paid any in these last weeks and none will be big men with reserves of cash."
Saltpetre production, involving contact with the most noxious of substances, was to a great extent in the hands of Untouchables, the poorest of the poor, excluded from the general run of commerce and certainly without access to local financiers.
Business had to continue, and gunpowder was an essential. Roberts would be best for this trade as there could be a degree of indignation in Bombay at the appearance of profiteering from other's grave misfortune. Roberts was London based and Wolverstone would be distanced from the transaction, his own firm of Bensons not involved to the casual eye.
At least one Indiaman loaded a full cargo of nothing but saltpetre every month and sailed irrespective of monsoon or anything short of a tropical cyclone. There had to be a continuous flow of the smelly stuff at the mills, and they paid high to attain it. A proportion of American powder relied on the output from India as well and, in the nature of things, the Yankee merchants were charged a steeper price still.
Saltpetre was a profitable trade, and Wolverstone having once cornered it would hang on very tight. He supposed that he should feel triumph at his coup - my lord would be very pleased - but in truth he could feel nothing at all.
David Mostyn was in much the same case.
Mr Jamieson had been taken ill but had recovered from the fever - in common with many of the old hands he had suffered before and was to an extent protected against the disease. This time, however, he had been weakened by the attack and was convalescing slowly, increasingly convinced that he would not regain his old vigour. His only son had not flourished in India and ran the firm's London office and had evinced no desire to ever cross the seas again. As a result David was to take another thirty per cent of the firm on the old man's death and act as over-all manager, the day-to-day business to be run, most unusually, by a family of Parsees long known to them.
"They will enrich themselves, of course, Mr Mostyn - they would be fools if they did not, and I have no use for fools in my firm! But they won't steal outrageously - they will ensure that you see a good profit every year, so as to protect themselves and bring their own children into their places eventually. To be frank, Mr Mostyn, I believe that they will be so good in their jobs that they will increase our profits, they will do better than any man brought in from England could. My son will retain the family's fifty-one parts of the shares, thus to keep control; you will have forty parts in your own hands, not to be sold in your lifetime but otherwise yours in entirety and free to your heir. That leaves nine parts and they must go to your wife - I owe that to her late father. Had my son been willing to stay here, he would have taken all - but he will not get something for nothing, that I have long determined."
The provisions soon became generally known and David joined the ranks of the nabobs, the wealthy and the powerful in Bombay, no longer just the representative of the bank but an owner as well. It meant almost nothing to him, he found - there was no point to it.
Bombay lost its charms for his wife - so many young men had died, so many older had lost their zest for life - the town had become a desert. She begged permission to go away, to leave India; she would like to live where there was life, not an enduring legacy of death.
David shrugged - he did not care and it had been a marriage of convenience rather than affection. He made efficient arrangements for her to draw a large income in London or Paris, or Vienna if her fancy took her there - it did not matter to him. She left in the convoy that sailed after the monsoon; they had had a single portrait taken of Arabella in babyhood - she bequeathed that to her husband.
A week and David had installed a pair of girls for his health - a man must remain active, he believed - and had returned to bachelor life. He would have no direct heir, it seemed, but India was no place for children, and at least he would lose no more. His business must provide his reason for living, his justification - if he could not have a family then he would make a profit for his father and brothers.
"Two more boys, Mr Michael! A fortunate thing that their maternal grandfather is a wealthy man, sir, and that his sons seem to be producing singly and sparely!"
Michael smiled primly, aware that to provide for five younger sons and offer portions for a pair of daughters was no easy task, even for a rich father such as my lord. It was not unlikely that the family was still incomplete bearing in mind the age of the couple.
"What is the word in Town, sir? I have been immured in the country this last few weeks, for obvious reasons."
Michael had prepared his files for this question, aware that my lord was an out of the ordinary way attentive husband - the majority of men, he believed, were inclined to take themselves out of the vicinity when their wives were in the straw.
"Politically, my lord, all attention is upon the repeal of the Test Acts, so as to emancipate the Catholics. The outcome is quite certain, there is a firm majority in favour of the Bill, and in both Houses. What is less evident is the effect that the controversy will have upon the Party. His Grace of Wellington has done himself no good turn at all by his opposition, based upon sectarian, Irish grounds - he has shown himself willing to put the interests of Irish Protestants before those of the nation itself. It may be no more than an adherence to Family, but it is seen as an unstatesmanlike act, not one to be expected of him."
"A pity - he is a strong and within reason honest man. What longer term effects would you expect, Mr Michael?"
"His Grace is no friend to Reform, and might well be begged to become Prime Minister for no purpose other than to oppose extension of the franchise. Both the King and his brother and heir, Prince William Henry, would wish all to remain as it is - after all, my lord, root out one abuse and the next becomes vulnerable! Wellington has lost support to the extent that he may well eventually find himself unable to command a majority in the Commons, and so Reform becomes the more likely."
"Short-sighted of the gentleman! What of business?"
"Flourishing, my lord, the setback caused by the failure of Country Banks in the year Twenty-Five is now wholly in the past. Advantageous in its way - the larger banks are now stronger and safer for taking up many of the smaller. The word is all of steam now. The railways - not trackways any more, my lord - are all the buzz. Very little is actually happening yet, while all eyes are upon the huge new venture between Liverpool and Manchester. Should the rails be laid and the 'railway trains' become a reality, then there will be a boom, my lord, one that will surpass that of the canals, because the country is richer now."
Robert was pleased to hear that - a large amount of his personal fortune, distinct from his holdings in the Roberts businesses, had gone to the purchase of sections of land that would be vital to any new railways. He was the owner of a number of valley bottoms and had bought up several lengths of canal that traversed the best routes between the cities of the North. When the railways were built there would be any number of projectors knocking on his door, cash in hand.
"What of the Family, Mr Michael?"
This was the part of the interview Michael had not been looking forward
to.
"Mr James is demonstrating all of those virtues one expects of him, my lord. He has added to his reputation during the controversies over the Test Acts - refusing to join any of the extremes and saying merely that he shall vote for Catholics and Jews and Dissenters to be treated with the respect that any human being may expect in a civilised country. He has been heard to comment that he has met brave pagans and cowardly Christians, good and bad men of all colours and creeds; it is his belief that every man should have the opportunity to show just what he is and that the law should discriminate against none. It is a viewpoint that not all agree with, but most can respect."
Robert was very pleased to hear that - he and James had spent several hours hammering out exactly what the young man's stance should be and how he should respond to those canvassing his vote.
"I understand that he met the Duke at a reception only last week, and upon being challenged on his opinion replied very quietly that during his short military career he met a number of Irish soldiers, mostly Catholic, for whom he found the greatest respect. He wondered that the Duke had not shared his experience."
"Well done the boy!"
"Very, my lord. I understand that the Duke gave one of his great laughs and said that there was a check for him."
"Even better!"
Wellington had long been observed to have far more respect for those who stood up to him than for the sycophants who said 'Amen' to his every word.
"What of Mr Joseph?"
"He has purchased but a single ball of opium in the month, my lord - unless he is using another supplier as well. One is informed that he smokes an amount of hemp, but that is of no concern at all, of course. He is, one must conclude, successfully walking his tightrope. He has given most of his attention to the development of wheels for the steam locomotive, a matter, I am told, of 'the bearing'. I fear, my lord, that my knowledge of such... mechanical devices, one could call them, one presumes... is limited. In the extreme."
A Parade Of Virtue (A Poor Man At The Gate Series Book 9) Page 1
