Victorian Dawn (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 12)

by Andrew Wareham

  Robert made his way across to the Grafhams, as was his wont when he needed to discuss any problem at all out of the ordinary.

  “Schooling, Grafham! You never allowed your boys into Harrow or Eton, as much as anything because of their Jewish blood, of course, but do you think they benefitted from being educated by tutors?”

  “They were educated, St Helens, and that speaks for itself. Poor young Fred, of course, could not make much of the learning, but he did better than he might have sat on a bench in a boring classroom. Rothwell ended up with a vast fund of knowledge and a brain that could use it. He has made his inheritance from his lady into one of the most profitable estates in the country; Massingham’s lands are worth a good forty thousand a year now; a pity about her, of course – you know that he has been forced to have her put away? Her mother’s health collapsed under the onslaught of so many bottles of brandy and she has not been seen in the last two years and it transpired that she was the sole restraining force upon the girl. The young lady’s conduct first became outrageous – as you will know – and then demented; she has been in the madhouse for half a year now and Rothwell has no expectation of her ever being released into normal society.”

  Robert had heard some of the story, mostly much exaggerated in gossip. She had been well-known for her availability to any young – or for that matter, quite elderly – gentleman who expressed an interest in her person. He was not surprised to hear that the cause was mania.

  “A good thing that Rothwell knew what was the proper course to take.”

  “I doubt he would have known what to do if he had been beaten into stupidity at school! As it was he came to a discreet solution to her problems. Not only the boys - Margaret sat in on many of their lessons as well, and she ended up with a remarkable husband who has been a boon to the family. Her sons are bright youngsters, by the way, St Helens – they take after both her and him for that. I believe the younger lad is showing some degree of musical talent, greatly to her pleasure.”

  They were addressing each other formally because the Marquis had a guest in the house, his wife’s young brother, the Member of Parliament for the local constituency, now known as Mr Goldsmith, the name anglicised at the behest of the Party. The young gentleman was well on his way to achieving cabinet rank in the next Tory government, which would be a source of delight to the whole family.

  “I am inclined to take my two out of Harrow, Grafham; they are too intelligent for that place!”

  “I would most certainly do so, St Helens! What say you, Mr Goldsmith?”

  “I could recommend a young gentleman, his family known to mine for years, who is skilled in the mathematics and is seeking a place for a few years, my lord. He wishes to pursue his own studies as well, and being a Jew cannot do so at the Universities except by forswearing himself. There is much to be said for a grounding in number, my lord. Tutors in the Classics are two-a-penny, of course, and it should not be impossible to find a man with a knowledge of History as well. A pair of tutors will do far better, I believe, than a whole school full of ushers!”

  Robert came away with the decision almost taken; it remained only to persuade his lady.

  “Take the boys out of school? We should not, for it provides a simple way of bringing them into contact with the world, or that part of it of importance to them and us. On the other hand, sir, they are already being turned into dullards! Less than a year and they are forgetting how to think!”

  “Out they come! That determines the issue, my lady! We can discover the best of tutors for them and have them taught the mathematics and enough of Latin to get by with; that they will need.”

  “We could perhaps go so far as to have them taught French and German, sir. They would then be able to attend at the best of the universities of Europe, which could be of great benefit to them. In addition, it would be of value to them as adults if they had other tongues – a Foreign Minister who could speak directly to the French and Germans would be a rarity in British history, I believe, or an ambassador, for example. Was one of the younger boys to become a banker – and that opportunity is always there in the family – then he could be very well regarded for such an ability.”

  “That is the best of good points, my lady. I shall take a drive down to Harrow myself and pick the boys up; not tomorrow, I am busy then, but the day after.”

  “Tomorrow is the Bench, is it not, my lord?”

  “It is, and a nasty day it will be!”

  Three magistrates sat on the Bench, side by side, Robert in the middle as Chairman of the Justices of the Peace, and as the leading figure in local society, the Lord of the Manor, and in effect the man whose opinion would not easily be gainsaid. If Robert said ‘guilty’ then it would be an uncommon bold local worthy who disagreed with him. The lordship of the manor no longer had its feudal connotations but conveyed a deal of informal power and influence in County affairs, as well as on the Bench.

  A poacher caught with two pheasants and a rabbit in his gamebag was rapidly disposed of for six months; three men, known malcontents, suspected of setting fire to a farmer’s hayricks were reluctantly sent home as innocents – there was just insufficient evidence against them, having been discovered near a blazing farmyard but none having seen them actually to set a fire.

  The third case involved a respectable personage, the son of a wealthy and retired apothecary, the owner of several shops across the county, residing in Finedon village, a young man of twenty or so, not apprenticed to any trade for his father being able to provide him with an income before he inherited. He had been, it was alleged, in the habit of seeing a young maiden of the village, daughter to the shopkeeper, and had grown impatient of her maidenly reticence; he was accused of rape.

  In the nature of things, there was no eyewitness to the actual assault, but two young men who were acquainted with the gentleman stated on oath that he had said that he was going to have her, whether she wanted or not.

  The doctor testified that he had been called to the young lady and had found her bruised and much distressed and, he had no doubt, taken against her will. She had named the young man to him and had showed him blood under her fingernails where she had scratched his face.

  The magistrates listened to the evidence, observed the healing marks on the defendant’s cheeks and retired to discuss the case.

  The father had donated freely to Party funds and was regarded as a genteel personage, respected in the village; the girl’s father was, of course, no more than a shopkeeper, chapel and Whig at that. The two lesser worthies looked to Robert for a lead.

  “Proven beyond any doubt, I believe, gentlemen. Young Mr Whiteside must be remanded into custody to appear at the Assizes before a High Court judge.”

  “He will hang if that course be taken, my lord. A jury hearing that the magistrates have remanded him after trial will certainly return a guilty verdict – they always do in such cases. The judge as well will take his cue from the Bench and assume they wish the felon to hang, not having dealt with the case themselves; he will certainly oblige us in his sentence.”

  “True indeed, Mr Mason. I shall speak to the Lord Lieutenant and recommend that he should not offer clemency. Rumour insists that this is not the first local girl to have suffered a vigorous seduction at his hands; his father is believed to have paid out at least once. I am convinced that it is more than time to bring this man’s disgraceful and criminal misconduct to an end.”

  The result of their deliberations was announced and the young gentleman, to his loud dismay, was put into manacles and led out to the cart which would convey him to Northampton and the common cell where he would wait upon his trial.

  The older Whiteside came knocking at the door of Thingdon Hall that afternoon.

  “Mr Whiteside! It is obvious why you are here, sir. Take a seat and speak your mind.”

  Robert did not send for refreshments, made almost no attempt at a welcome.

  “My son is in the hands of the prison in Northampton, my lord. I
do not believe that I have paid my hundreds into the funds of the Party to be used in such a way, my lord!”

  “Your son committed a vile crime, and not, I believe for the first time. I understand that a previous victim was paid off, Mr Whiteside, and so nothing came to court. On this occasion there has been a complaint, and the case was heard and found to be good. Your son, sir, is in the place where he belongs. The sole question is whether he should hang or suffer lesser punishment.”

  “It is always possible to send an erring youth overseas for a few years, my lord. A voyage to America and not to return for five years could always be arranged, I am certain.”

  “No. If he goes overseas, then it will be to the Antipodes, and never to return.”

  “My lord! All of this just for some village girl, who was probably no better than she ought to be in any case!”

  “All this for a rapist, Mr Whiteside. You may take yourself to the Lord Lieutenant of the County, if you wish, but I cannot imagine that you will experience any great success there. The young man’s crime is indisputable, I fear. All I can say to you, sir, is that you have another son who will now become your heir; bring him up to be better behaved, sir! Now, Mr Whiteside, I am a busy man, sir…”

  Whiteside left, stamping out to his carriage; he was discovered to have allied himself with the local Whigs within the week.

  The Headmaster at Harrow was displeased when Robert appeared and announced that he was so dissatisfied with the education he provided that he was withdrawing his sons. The protest was made that he had himself been educated with them.

  “I was indeed, sir. I discover that your curriculum has not changed a jot since I wasted those years of my life, sir. My sons were intelligent, curiously-minded lads when they came here; they have now been forced into dull compliance with their betters, so-called. It is not good enough, sir! Farewell!”

  The boys mounted the carriage and the staff were instructed to pack their trunks and send them on the carrier to Thingdon Hall.

  “We should be able to make half-way today, boys. Wave your goodbyes – you will not see this institution again.”

  “But, Papa, are you quite sure it is the thing to do? The chaps will all be very surprised, you know!”

  “I do not care whether it is ‘the thing’ or not, Thomas. You are to receive an education that will fit you for adult life. You will learn useful things, and, importantly, you will use your brains!”

  “Will there be tutors, sir? In the schoolroom, with the little ones?”

  “Good point. You will have your own work place, that is only fair. There will be tutors, yes; well-chosen men of great knowledge, and not just of Latin and Greek.”

  “That will be a change, sir. I am tired already of hour after hour of Classics!

  “I am glad to hear that, Thomas. What would you like to learn?”

  That was a hard question for a young boy; he knew only that he would like to be interested.

  “What of you, Robert?”

  “We have talked, sir, Thomas and I. He is to be Lord St Helens, which is only right, and I am to make a profession mine. I would wish, sir, if it be permissible, to do as you did. I would dearly like one day to join grandfather’s bank, sir. Thomas to be busy in the House of Commons until he inherits and takes his seat in the Lords, while I am to look after the family in the City of London, sir. If not that, sir, then I might have to join the Army, and I do not wish to become a soldier, sir, sitting a horse in fancy dress, or acting as a clothes-horse in bearskin and scarlet.”

  “Well said, my son! It will cause a few of raised eyebrows, St Helens’ next brother in a banking house, but I am in favour! I enjoyed my years in the bank – there is true power in money, Robert! You have brothers who can perform the parts demanded by convention, I do not doubt; they can be soldiers, if they wish. If you still think the same in two years, when you are visibly a young man rather than still a boy, then be sure that we shall make your wish possible.”

  “Ah… do you think that the Dowager will approve, sir?”

  Thomas posed the question in the most tentative fashion, aware that his father was not himself the Dowager’s son, she being his grandfather’s second lady.

  “I believe so, Thomas. There is one simple way of finding out, of course. I shall send her a letter. I do not know if she intends to pay us a visit this summer; she is in Town with your aunt, Verity, for the Season, observing only, Verity being as yet young to be exposed to the mob in Mayfair.”

  “Next year, perhaps, my dear Verity, or better still the Season of 1840. I can see little gain in putting you into the marriage stakes before you have had some experience of grown-up life. What would you say to a visit to Paris and then to Rome, possibly continuing as far as Vienna in the spring before making a leisurely return to England in mid-summer of next year? A winter in the warmth of the Mediterranean would have much to recommend it. My old bones would much appreciate a respite from England’s winters – for I was not a young lady when you were born, you know!”

  The Dowager laughed, but recognised to herself that she had her share of the aches and pains of a lady in her fifties; given her time again she would probably not have chosen to produce her only child in her late thirties. It would have been easier to be a grandmother now, she acknowledged. Not to worry, one did all one could, and she had a blessing in her girl.

  Verity, in her adolescence, showed that she would never be a Society Beauty; she was too tall, too slender and far too intelligent for the demands of the role. She was possessed of a dowry of not less than twenty thousands, however, and was in line for the inheritance of her mother’s estate in Norfolk and for a sum in the Funds that Society could only guess at, but knew not to be small; she might not be beautiful but she was very handsome indeed in the eyes of mamas with impecunious sons in train. The Dowager, recognising this, thought it might be far better for her girl was she not to marry at all, or certainly not until she was into her twenties when she could take her mature pick of the male population rather than be swept off her feet by some handsome young wastrel of the high aristocracy.

  She discussed the matter with James, taking tea with him on one of his regular calls; he seemed to enjoy her company and took pains to visit at least twice weekly when she was in Town. She had found that she liked James best of Verity’s half-brothers – he lacked the incipient pomposity of Robert, and the growing self-interest and pursuit of profit in Joseph was entirely alien to him; add to that, he enjoyed tea, far preferring it to alcohol during the day. It was pleasant, and uncommon, to talk to a gentleman who was entirely sober in the hours before dinner.

  “The Season is all very well, James, but the company is terribly limited. Well-bred, I will give you that, but from a tiny part of our world. I know it is a shocking thing to say, but there are educated and very able, and well-mannered, men to be discovered outside of Mayfair!”

  “Appalling, ma’am! You will next be saying that bankers and merchants and even, God forbid, lawyers are members of the human race!”

  “Bankers and merchants, certainly, James. Lawyers and their close colleagues, politicians, would probably be black-balled should they apply for membership of humanity!”

  James grinned – he did not see himself as a politician, for lacking the overweening desire for promotion that characterised the breed; he was a Public Man, in the old-fashioned sense, he believed. He thought that he would, one day, become a member of a Cabinet, but he was devoting no time at all to the creation of a faction of Members of Parliament to support that aim. He would never become Prime Minister, that was a certainty, and he did not want the position, and he believed that Chancellor of the Exchequer was simply beyond his powers; Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs would demand that he spent too much of his time considering the strange ways of overseas Johnnies. Home Secretary, perhaps, or even the Board of Trade, but nothing more demanding than that, though he might consider War if it was offered him, but he was simply not ambitious; he would serve the country a
nd his family, and was jolly glad he had the opportunity to do so.

  “Bright little thing, young Verity. Too much so, I would suggest, ma’am, to bury herself in some country estate, Lady of the Manor to some back-woods earl or somesuch. Married to a banker or some other big man in the City, then she could do so much in Town. These blue-stocking Literary Societies, for example, where, I am told, one can talk with all of the best brains in England – and from Scotland, too; or the new Charities – Prison Reform and Female Education and such – very worthwhile and using talent such as hers to do good work. She has much to offer, ma’am; let the butterflies play in their Society drawing-rooms, ma’am – young Verity has far more about her than the great bulk of them. Talking of which, by the way, the tastes of Society seem to be changing! Many of the young ladies making their debut seem to have a very substantial bulk to them – the restrained elegance of twenty years ago has turned to an untrammelled voluptuousness!”

  “The Masters from Wales should be well-represented then, James!”

  “The cynosure of all eyes, no doubt! Talking of the Masters, ma’am, have you heard anything of the progress of young Lord Frederick in Virginia?”

  “I saw Rothwell last week, James. He tells me his brother has a large plantation now, recently expanded, and growing tobacco which promises to make him rich. He is well-wed, in the terms of the plantocracy, I understand it to be called, and is quite settled in his existence as a slave-owner.”

  James curled his lip; he could not approve.

  “All very well, for those who find it so, ma’am. It would not do for me, I fear.”

  “Nor me, James. It is, however, grossest hypocrisy, I believe, for a country that depends upon the spinning and weaving of cotton to condemn the Institution of Slavery!”

  It was a tender point, so much so that most civilised people in England simply ignored it; they turned the conversation to more comfortable ground.