“What of your Radical enthusiasts, James? Will there be a revolution soon?”
“The possibility is there, ma’am. I do not think the organisation exists to create a bloody uprising as a deliberate policy – these people talking of a Charter are determined to avoid violence, in fact, which is why they are not to be taken up. Arrest the peaceful men and one leaves the way wide-open for the bloody-handed! What I fear is famine, ma’am, and we are close to that. The French Revolution grew spontaneously from bread riots that took place, unplanned and without coordination, all over the country; it would be only too easy for the same to happen here. If we do not get rid of these damned Corn Laws which force the price of bread up and at the same time ensure that there is too little of it in the country, then we will, almost of a certainty, see the same here. The greedy few of landowners will destroy this country if they are left unchecked – and they have the power of the House of Lords behind them!”
“Are we truly close to starvation, James? Things are not easy in Norfolk, but I have seen no actual cases of families unable to feed themselves, though often needing the aid of the Poor Law. These Workhouses have their drawbacks, but at least they put some sort of food into their inmates’ bellies!”
“Joseph tells me that his workers, who are amongst the better-paid in the richest of manufacturing parts, are barely able to feed their children. He has increased wages again, but where they have the cash in their purses there is often a lack of bread on the shelves of the shops! As for butcher’s meat, ma’am – simply not to be seen five days out of the seven! Joseph is talking of the firm keeping chicken now, to provide eggs and occasional meat for their own people! To some extent, he says, the poor in the Workhouses are better off – they may only be fed bread and gruel, but at least they get that every day; men who have a job are not entitled to anything from the Poor Law but may often see an empty larder.”
“Something must be done, James!”
“Shoot every member of the House of Lords, ma’am? I can see little else that will provide a solution. I can assure you that the Prime Minister himself is aware of the state of the country, and also knows that he will be able to push nothing past the Lords that will cost landowners a penny a year.”
“I am considering taking Verity on a tour of parts of Europe this winter; it sounds an even better idea.”
James agreed; the state of desperation was less overseas, or so he had heard.
“Better to go to America for the next five years, ma’am – far safer. Mind you, you may have an interesting time of it with her dog, Jim. I know that young misses are often accompanied by their lapdogs, and I am sure she would not leave him behind, but he could present a difficulty in the best of hotels.”
“He is very well-behaved, James! I will not hear a word against his manners!”
“I have no criticism, ma’am, but he does weigh more than a sack of flour – substantially more.”
The Dowager admitted that the mastiff might well be some forty pounds more than a ten-stone sack, and that one hundred and eighty pounds was generally regarded as out of the ordinary in a dog. He was, however, perfectly house-trained and was truly gentle; he had never even chased a cat in the whole of his life.
“Very true, ma’am, yet I believe the French and the Italians, for example, to have less of an understanding of the essential nature of the dog – they might well be less tolerant than the English generally tend to be.”
She had to accept James’ argument; Jim could not be left to pine in England and could hardly be taken overseas. The thought of America did not appeal – it was simply too far distant, nearly three weeks even on the fastest of modern ships with steam to assist the sails. Besides that, she was a poor sailor.
“You might consider the South of England, ma’am? Weymouth, for example, or Poole Harbour, tend to be mild in winter and have an outstanding countryside. They are not far from our… relative, shall we say, in his Dorset estate. The Burleighs would always have a welcome.”
“I should make a visit to them soon in any case, James. I shall say not a word about the patrician change in their spelling!”
The plebeian ‘Burley’ had undergone a transformation in the past couple of years, to the Dowager’s amusement.
“The gentleman is rising in the world, ma’am, and one does, after all, cut one’s coat to suit the cloth. It also places a distance between him and his mother’s past, which is only a wise move from the point of view of his children. I have reason to suppose that his name has been put forward as a Member, Tory of course, and he would certainly be elected if he became the candidate. Ten years as a reliable vote and he will be knighted; twenty and he may be translated to the House of Lords or pick up his baronetcy. He is an able man and would probably become a Minister of the Crown as well, and that provides any number of connections for the children. Very sensible to make the name suitable to his increased dignity!”
“You make a good and sensible case, James. I still find it funny. I shall discuss the matter with Verity and discover her preferences. We should overwinter where there is the prospect of good company for her to keep – Weymouth is popular and many families are to be found there, I am told. Jim will attract attention and protect her from the overly importunate and she might well develop a circle of acquaintances, which she will not in the depths of Norfolk. The sole drawback, of course, would be the presence of my own dear brother; we should out of courtesy be forced to spend Christmas and the New Year in his company.”
James had met the tedious gentleman just once and for half of a day; he sympathised with her.
“Two weeks might be seen as a penance, ma’am. I trust he has a piano in the house?”
“He has indeed; whether he has recently had a piano-tuner is another matter, I fear! His taste goes little further than ‘Ho, Ho, Ho, the Jolly Green Bottle!’”
James began to laugh – the song was one of those popular among the officers of the Mess when they raised their voices of an evening, full of port and brandy and with a two fingered accompanist on a battered upright piano.
“Well… that is a very old song, ma’am, and in the English way…”
She scowled, unable to see anything in the least amusing. In matters musical ‘English’ was a polite term for tasteless and vulgar. She changed the subject.
“What is the word of the King, James?”
“Decaying fast, ma’am. The little brain he ever possessed is rapidly taking flight – he is in effect incapable now, but he was never good for much! His Prime Minister has long performed all of his functions and, with a little of good fortune, will continue to do so under his successor. The young lady who will come to the throne is of good average understanding but has been brought up and educated rather poorly. The man Conroy intends to rule through her and has intentionally limited her knowledge of the world, which will be much to the advantage of her Ministers, I believe.”
“Will the Prime Minister seek to come to an arrangement with Mr Conroy? Lord Conroy, one presumes he will soon become.”
James smiled and shook his head.
“I am to say nothing, ma’am; indeed, I am to know nothing! But Robert, who almost fell into his toils, as you will be aware, has spoken with Mostyns and Goldsmids Banks, and they have had converse with others of the City concerning Mr Conroy’s convoluted financial affairs. The effect has been to inform the appropriate ears of the nature of his activities. He is blown upon to such an extent that he will be invited to accept a mere baronetcy in recognition of his services, which will come wholly to an end on the day that the young princess ascends the throne. He will be brought to relinquish his stewardship of the funds of the royal ladies and will be instructed to provide immediate and attested accounts; on his certain failure to do so he will be ordered to retire to his own estates and to not show his face in London for many years. Unable to obtain further credit or to use monies held in trust to his own advantage, he will very soon find himself encumbered by debt – and there will be no
ne to tow his boat out of the River Tick!”
“Good! He is a nasty man!”
“He is all of that, ma’am. The young lady will become Queen without his influence in the background, but that, of course, leads to the question of who is to hold her hand and guide her through the toils and turmoils of her reign. None of our great families will be permitted to supply a husband – for that would be to offer far too much power to that house.”
“Then we are to have another Virgin Queen, you suggest, James?”
“From that family, ma’am? There is not, I would suggest, the slightest possibility of such an eventuation! If she is not, and rapidly, presented with a young and vigorous husband then she will no doubt seek to supply the lack by her own enterprise – and will probably not restrict herself to but the one!”
“One must admit that her uncles tended towards enthusiasm in that field… Oh dear! It would not be well for our Queen to take Catherine the Great as an exemplar. Something, James, must be done!”
“Not to be mentioned, ma’am, but I am given to understand that our ambassadors in the German states have been instructed to identify unwed, young, healthy, Protestant and insignificant princelings to be chosen from. A knowledge of duty and a degree of education have been mentioned as desirable as well, but the most important factor is influence – they must have none. The Courts of Prussia and Austria must have no knowledge of the fortunate man, nor must he have close kin in the royal houses of Sweden or Denmark; it goes without saying that he must have no relationship at all with France.”
“Poor little chap, whoever draws the short straw. I presume he will be medically inspected before he is permitted throw his hat in the ring?”
“Checked very carefully, ma’am – that family has a sufficiency of hereditary ailments without adding more.”
The Dowager reflected upon the changes that had occurred in so short an age; it was only twenty-five years since Leigh Hunt had been imprisoned for publicly disparaging the Prince Regent as a wastrel. Now it was allowable to mock the royal family in casual conversation; there was much to be said for modern times!
“What is the girl called, now? Victoria? Will she be permitted to mount the throne under that title or will she be required to choose a more convenable name?”
“A little on the militaristic side, I will admit, ma’am. I suspect that she will keep it, however. The mood of the country is changing – it is long enough since the Wars ended that the people are no longer tired of the military. With the expansion of our powers in India, and the slow movement into Africa that is taking place, we have a need for a greater military and for a willingness to pay taxes to arm them. Victoria will not be seen as inappropriate.”
“Will she have actual power, James? Will she not seek to gain at least that authority which accrued in his youth to Mad King George?”
“She may seek, ma’am, but she won’t get! She will be informed of all that is happening, but whether before or after the event is moot; she will have the power to select her Prime Minister, always providing that the man she chooses is at minimum acceptable to the House of Commons. She will have the right to appoint peers, at the recommendation of her Prime Minister. Given a weak Prime Minister, she will exercise some actual power, but a strong man will inevitably follow to claw all, and more, back again. The day of kings is done in this country, ma’am. Who actually rules is not at all clear, but it won’t be the inhabitant of the Palace, that is for sure!”
“She is to be a figurehead, you suggest, James?”
“More than that, ma’am. She will be a source of restraint who will ensure that the Prime Minister is no President. Very little more, however. The nation needs a figure to respect, a leader, if you will. There is no other figure to be loved – can you imagine the Archbishop of Canterbury trying to offer himself as Father of the Nation? He is the sole other possibility, for all of the rest are mere politicians! No, she will be very useful, but no more than that.”
“The man Conroy has been equally useful, I would suggest, James. We all now know that the Queen must be protected from those who will seek to abuse her position. There must be no royal favourite who will be in a place to usurp power. No male Pompadour for this country, James!”
“I suspect we are alert to that possibility now, ma’am. Conroy was a clever man in his way, but not the brilliant schemer he believed; he has been exposed and will disappear from Town and he will never be replaced. He has given us the alert we needed.”
The Dowager saw James out and went in search of her daughter, to discuss the problem of Jim and the change in their plans that was obviously necessary. She found the pair in the small back garden that was all a town house afforded.
The vast mastiff greeted her very kindly and she surveyed another day-gown well beslobbered and shrugged ruefully; her maid would not be best pleased.
“Mr James Andrews has just left the house, my dear. You may come inside now.”
Verity found her half-brother’s placidity irritating; he was a very pleasant gentleman, that she accepted, but he was uncommon tedious company.
“I am sorry, Mama, is it so obvious?”
“Not to him, my dear. We were discussing grown-up matters of politics and he would not expect you to be in any way interested, or to have any understanding of the topics. We paid particular attention to the new Queen who will ascend the throne, probably within weeks.”
“The Princess Victoria? Mary Beckwith says that she is a boring girl, neither bright nor handsome.”
The Dowager shook her head sadly, amazed at such a lack of perception.
“It is a known fact, my dear, that all princesses are both beautiful and exceptionally talented. Read the newssheets – they will assure you that this is so!”
“I shall explain Mary’s error to her, Mama.”
“Do that, my dear, but not in a public place. I find that we are obliged to recast our plans for the winter. It had not occurred to me, but there would be no place for Jim in a foreign hotel, and we can hardly leave him behind.”
“We most certainly cannot, Mama! What are we to do?”
“Mr James Andrews suggests the South Coast: Weymouth or possibly a house on Purbeck or around Poole Harbour. The weather is often mild and the company genteel, especially in Weymouth. There are subscription libraries in the town and, one is told, dancing is frequently indulged in and there are concerts. The countryside is not unattractive and there are many pleasant walks. It has much to recommend it, certainly more desirable than to be immured in the wilds of Norfolk. It has, however, one notable drawback…”
“The proximity of my Uncle Paynton, I presume, Mama.”
“Just so! We would be obliged to spend Christmas in his company, unless, of course, we could arrange for a prior invitation to a more desirable location…”
“Would that be possible, Mama?”
“Thingdon Hall or Lutterworth would either of them be far more attractive in the festive season. You have seen too little of your brother Robert in this last year, after all.”
“I should as well become better acquainted with my great horde of nephews and nieces, I believe, Mama!”
“So you must! I did mention that they had produced yet another pair, did I not? Such fecundity!”
“I have often wondered how the world came to be repopulated after Noah’s Flood, Mama. There is a possible pointer here.”
“There may well be – but not in front of the vicar, my dear. The poor man would be so upset! He is not very good at answering questions of that sort. He is better with simpler matters.”
“Perhaps he might wish to explain how it comes about that you are so talented on the pianoforte while I am not, Mama. I enjoy music, as you know, but my fingers are all thumbs when I sit down to the piano, while my attempts upon the violin were lamentable!”
“I am sure he would tell us that God’s ways are mysterious, my dear. It is a pity that you cannot play – you would find your days far shorter, lost on the piano stool.
You have a talent with the pen, however; nurture that, I would suggest. Be grateful that you are not as Rothwell’s sister, a pianist who could have been great if nurtured properly. Lady Margaret Hood knows that she is very good and must always be that fraction bitter that she was never afforded the tuition that might have turned her into a genius who might have graced the courts of Europe.”
“I had not known that, Mama. She must, as you say, feel her life to be unfulfilled.”
“Not quite that, my dear. She was lucky to meet Captain Hood in circumstances that threw them together so that she discovered him to be the very husband for her. He is a remarkable man, but of lesser birth than her – he is only barely one of the County, would not normally have raised his eyes to the daughter of a Marquis. Add to that, of course, the nature of his employment during the Wars…”
“Was he not a post-captain, ma’am?”
The Dowager debated her answer a few seconds, decided that only the truth would do, as was normally the case in conversation with her daughter.
“He was, and spent a small amount of time at sea. Most of his service was of a special nature, concerned with Intelligence gathering. He was a master of spies, it would seem.”
Verity comprehended immediately; spies were not gentlemen, the profession was in itself dishonourable.
“You do appreciate that information is given in the most absolute confidence, my dear. It must never be divulged and I, indeed, should not have known it, far less have told you.”
Verity nodded, proud to have been judged sufficiently grown-up to be told such a secret.
“Whilst on the topic of secrets, Mama, what is it of Sir William Rumpage that may not be discussed? We have met him three times on this visit to London, when he visited with my brother St Helens at his house in Mount Street, and on each occasion you were pleased to see him and speak to him but would say almost nothing about him, apart from the obvious that he runs the London and other Southern shipyards and is involved in several enterprises for the Andrews firms. He must have been a frequent visitor, for us to have crossed his path three times.”
Victorian Dawn (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 12) Page 10
