Born To Privilege: A Poor Man at the Gate Series, #3

By Andrew Wareham

Erstwhile smuggler, Caribbean privateer and now a wealthy but unscrupulous businessman, Thomas Andrews is married with teenage children. He exerts increasing influence in the corridors of power. His wife Lady Verity plans to see daughter Charlotte wed to a suitable match. Both Tom’s and partner Joseph Star’s sons venture out into the world as a rite of passage into adulthood.

Family members become involved in dubious adventures and misadventures in post-Revolutionary War, America. Although a land of opportunity, being an Englishman in the States in the years following the bitter war doesn't come without its perils. Two of Joseph’s boys find themselves on different sides in a battle at sea.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Electronic Book Company
• Release date: Jun 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781498958974

Book preview

Born to Privilege

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Book Three: A Poor Man

at the Gate Series

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Digital edition published in 2014 by

The Electronic Book Company

The Electronic Book Company

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A New York Times Best-seller

Listed Publisher

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www.theelectronicbookcompany.com

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This ebook contains detailed research material, combined with the author's own subjective opinions, which are open to debate. Any offence caused to persons either living or dead is purely unintentional. Factual references may include or present the author's own interpretation, based on research and study.

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Copyright © 2014 by

Andrew Wareham

All Rights Reserved

Contents:

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Scene Setter

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Book Four in the Series

Scene Setter

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Born to Privilege follows the fortunes of small-time fisherman and petty smuggler, Tom Andrews, who in earlier adventures, escaped from England to avoid the hangman’s noose. He was shanghaied onto a privateering ship. The privateer sailed to the Caribbean and enjoyed success before Tom fled to New York, accompanied by Joseph Star, a part Carib freeman. Carrying a large amount of booty they devised illicit ways to make more money, until they were betrayed and were forced to return to England.

They settled in industrial Lancashire at the beginning of the first great industrial boom; as unscrupulous businessmen they quickly became wealthy. This wealth allowed Tom to buy a landed estate and soon after moving in to his new home, he met the beautiful, Lady Verity Masters, the daughter of an impoverished local aristocrat.

Tom is now married with teenage children and exerts an increasing influence in the corridors of power. Both Tom and Joseph’s offspring go out into the world as part of their passage into adulthood. Tragedy befalls the Star family when two of Joseph’s boys find themselves on different sides of a battle at sea in the Far East. Family members are also involved in dubious adventures in America. Although a land of opportunity, being an Englishman in the States in the years following the 1812 war doesn’t come without risks.

Author’s Note: I have written and punctuated Born to Privilege 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 Three: A Poor Man

at the Gate Series

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Chapter One

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Deathbed Secret

A message from the village, my lord. Old Harry Mockford, my lord, on his death bed, so Young Harry says.

Young Harry would not see sixty again; his father was ancient, and a tenant of the estate all of his life. He had rights.

Tell the stables, Morton. I must go down.

Gig, sir, would be best - not appropriate to ride at this time of night.

An hour and Tom was in the best bedroom of the cottage, one of the larger places, Mockford having been a skilled wagon-maker, one of the best paid trades.

The old man was propped up in his bed, frail and catching his breath, head lolling on the pillows.

Thank'ee, me lord, 'twould not 'ave bin right to go wi'out saying my farewell.

Tom smiled, said he was pleased to have the opportunity to do so.

The tiny, worn-out figure smiled and nodded.

Allus bin polite to us, me lord. Allus liked that about 'ee, since first you ever did come. Do 'ee remember that old night, me lord, must ‘ave bin some fifteen years since, maybe more? I does still remember it. That 'orrible sod, Smythe?

The old man coughed and his son, long widowed, went downstairs to fetch a drink for him from the womenfolk, leaving the two alone.

I were awake early, dunno why, forgot it. Out in the old garden I were when I did 'ear a 'orse out on the old back way. Don't never see riders there so I did poke my old nose out and see your  boy Quillerson leadin' a nag with summat on 'is back. Next day they finds old Smythe dead down the quarry. I puts two and two together-like, but I never did say bugger all to nobody. Better dead, that old sod, or so I reckoned, but I ain't so sure now, not on me way to see me Maker. I reckons I ought to tell parson, don't like goin' wi' that on me mind!

That was the last thing Tom wanted - digging up ancient scandal would do no good at all. The old man was dying, hardly had another hour in him... A hand over his mouth and all would be solved within half a minute... gone before he could say another word.

He debated what would be best; he could hear Young Harry calling out to his daughter, asking why the parson was taking so long. His hand hovered, undecided.

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A polite knock and the library door opened.

Tom looked up in irritation – a servant would not have knocked so it was one of the family come to disturb him in the morning hours he devoted to work – it needed to be something important. He set a ruler across the long column of figures he was checking over, a randomly selected set of accounts for the last month from the South Wales iron works in which he was senior partner. He could not watch everything in his business empire but each month he made a point of thoroughly examining some of the books of one or other of his concerns, as his managers well knew.

It was five years since last he had caught a fraudster. He had used his influence with the government to have him transported to the Van Diemen’s Land penal settlement, the most severe of all, and with his papers marked for him to be carefully watched by the convict authorities, to be given no clemency at all, to go to the flogging post at every infraction, however minor, of the many rules. All of his people knew the tale and trod the straight path of virtue very precisely indeed.

Yes, Robert?

I would like to talk with you, Father, if it is not inconvenient. Privately, sir.

‘Father’, not ‘Papa’ – that meant it was something important to the boy – young man, rather, he supposed. How old was he now? Quick calculation made him rising eighteen in a couple of weeks. He had been shaving for the better part of two years now which led to one possible reason for the need for privacy – got one of the maids pregnant, maybe? Whatever, best to get it out in the open, especially if that was what he had been doing. Tom grinned, nodded to a chair.

Sit down, tell me about it, Robert.

The boy sat, diffident, polite, apprehensive but not physically scared, not frightened, Tom was pleased to see. A good-looking youngster, almost as tall as Tom and with some more growing to do still. Fair as his mother but square in the face, Saxon solid like his father. He was still a stripling but showed evidence of muscle and adult bulk to come – he would be a big man, fat if he wasn’t very careful. Intelligent and strong-willed, as Tom already knew – there had been a number of clashes during his childhood days.

It’s school, Father. Harrow. I do not wish to return, sir, to be one of the ‘chaps’ any more. They are just silly boys, sir, and they all intend to grow up to be wastrels, young men about Town. I want to be more than that, sir – idleness bores me! I know I am the heir, will one day be the second Baron Andrews, and you and Mama have both explained, and I know that you are right, that I must get to know these people and be known to them. But I don’t want another term at school and then three years at Oxford in their company, sir.

First reaction was to order the boy to do as he was told – his parents knew better!

Tom held his tongue, choked the words back – he did not want to provoke the lad into doing something silly like running away to sea. He knew that his father had made his first money on the high seas, might well decide to do the same. If he obeyed and stayed at school and then, ‘went up’, was it, to Oxford then he would be resentful, less willing to fall in line as an adult, and he was trapped in his position – the heir to a rich barony would enjoy a life of luxury but would be forced to conform or be ostracised. Golden chains, certainly, and far less irksome than those grinding down the poor, but nonetheless he would not be at liberty to be his own man, every day he would have to ask himself whether what he wanted to do was what his position demanded that he should do. Give him his liberty now and he could grow into his adult shackles gradually, possibly unaware of what was happening to him.

Easter is upon us, you will be back to school next week unless we take a decision now. You are too old for the Navy, of course. Do you want a pair of Colours?

No, thank you, sir, not the Army – too much like school, especially now that the wars are come to an end. I would like to go overseas, sir, to America, perhaps? Have we any interests abroad, sir, where I could go to work for a few years? I would like to pay my way, sir. I know I must not go to the foundries or pits in England, sir, must not dirty my hands where it can be seen, but abroad is different.

Tom had been about to enquire just how he had intended to keep himself if he did not intend to take up a profession, swallowed his words. The boy wanted to become a man, it would seem – he had no objection at all to that, but his mother might be unhappy.

It might be possible, Robert, and I am glad you wish to stand on your own feet, I will certainly back you in that. I will not, however, take the decision without consulting your mother. As well, take a closer look at my face, my son – that knife missed my eye by a hair’s breadth, my throat by little more. There is another scar on my chest that would have killed me if I had ducked to the other side. I was lucky – I lived. Go to the wild places and you might not be so fortunate. You want to become a man, but you might become a corpse instead!

Yes, sir – but I will risk it, with your permission. I have no great wish to go to war, but I do want to grow up, sir, not like the little boys at school who want to do nothing at all!

So be it, my son. I would prefer to keep you safe, but I want you to grow up as well, and that means you must leave your mother’s apron-strings behind, as you say. I will speak with your mother now, but I tell you straight, Robert, if I am forced to a choice then I will find it hard indeed to gainsay your mother’s wishes!

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He really ought to spend his terms at Oxford, Thomas – getting to know young men from the other schools who he would not have met otherwise. After that, perhaps four or five years with the embassies in Vienna and Paris or St Petersburg would give him an insight into world affairs, as well as meeting some interesting people. That done, he could become a member and would be invited to join the government before he was thirty and would be well-placed to be First Lord of the Treasury and claim his earldom at an early age.

Tom sat back in his wing chair in Verity’s sitting-room, stretching his legs in front of the fire, choosing his words with some precision.

Has he discussed politics with you, my love? I have never noticed him to be interested in the greater government of the country. I have talked long with him about our businesses and the farms on the estate, and I know he has frequently ridden out with Quillerson on his daily affairs as the estate’s agent, but I do not recall him ever saying a word about the wars, for example, or about Reform and revolution. That he must be active, I certainly agree – we do not want him to become a Bond Street Beau, a lounger about Town – but I see no gain in setting his nose to the wrong grindstone.

Neither mentioned her dead elder brother, broken by the pox before finally, wisely, putting a bullet through his head – but the thought was there.

He should not go into the business, Thomas, not as heir to the title. Eccentric we may be, as a family, but that would be seen as excessive, as crazy as old Lord Cochrane.

The sailor? The one who rigged the Stock Exchange?

No, his father – a mad inventor who bankrupted the family. It was, by the way, more likely his uncle the governor who actually worked the fraud on the Exchange, but he would not admit to his part in it, and Captain Cochrane was not well-loved by the government or Admiralty, Papa tells me.

Cochrane-Johnstone? I had some dealings with him soon after we were wed – a nasty, untrustworthy man. I believe that my man Clapperley had to speak very sternly to him at one stage.

She wondered just what had been the story there, but knew that he would say no more unless she very specifically asked him, and she was not entirely sure she wanted to know too much about the threats that Clapperley, a very nasty little lawyer, politician now, had evidently made.

You are right, of course, my dear – he must be acceptable to all, unlike me. I can, and sometimes do, stand in the House and speak about steam or coal or iron or the supply of great guns, and they listen to me with great, indeed flattering, attention, and I believe government has once or twice amended its policy as a result of my words. Was I, however, to turn my mind to foreign affairs then I would address deaf ears, for I would be out of my place, ‘not the right sort’. He must be careful not to be tarred with my brush, but experience overseas is a different matter – an English gentleman may do anything in the company of foreigners.

She nodded seriously, knowing him to be correct. Foreigners were different, lesser beings and even the comparatively civilised ones among them, such as the French and Austrians, were inferior to the English.

My cousin by marriage, Cavendish, is Governor-General of Bengal, and he would be pleased to take Robert as an aide-de-camp, I know. But it would take a year to send a letter out and receive a reply, and then another six months at sea for him; a long delay.

He wants to be doing now, he tells me. He mentioned America. Now that that silly war is over he could be of great use to us there.

Cotton?

Tom nodded; they had frequently discussed the possibility of buying their own plantations to supply their own mills and the Star empire, perhaps more cheaply, certainly more reliably than at present. Tom owned only a pair of spinning mills, picked up by default from a bankrupt speculator and retained more by accident than intent, but they provided a steady income and demanded very little of his time and kept him in regular contact with his old friend Joseph Star. Now, the wars over, the ex-Emperor, Napoleon exiled on the island of Elba, it was time to take the idea forward.

A good suggestion in some ways, Thomas, though we should remember that the Quarringtons have not acknowledged us since their young Jonathan went to the plantation States!

Both chuckled, the young gentleman having been sent out to the States at Tom’s urging, to make a man of him, and having returned two years later sporting moustaches, wearing fancy clothes, smoking cheroots and drinking whisky and very loath to return to the bosom of his Quaker family. He had not become formally estranged from his parents, was still their heir, but dwelt in Bristol where he was understood to have become a very successful merchant, importing tobacco and sugar and cocoa from the Americas generally and, it was suspected, deeply into the now-illegal slave trade which was much more profitable since it had been banned. They had seen him many times since his return, had made him a standing invitation to the Hall where he visited at least annually and corresponded very frequently, seeming to feel a great deal of gratitude to them.

Have they spoken to Miss Hawker since your sister’s wedding?

Verity laughed out loud, shook her head.

Miss Hawker – Mrs Plenderleith as she now is – visits Bristol quite frequently, but she has not been seen in the vicinity of Jonathan’s parents, I understand. One is informed that she goes to see her old bed-fast aunt. I am quite sure that a bed comes into the matter somewhere!

Still? Tom’s eyebrows raised as he wondered again just what Jonathan had got that had made him so attractive to the adventurous young lady. He could imagine but refused to indulge in gross physical speculation in his wife’s company – the topic would be more appropriate over port with the men-folk.

Plenderleith – must be seventy if he’s a day! Married her last year, did he not? I remember hearing something in the club.

The wedding settlements were rather interesting, I understand.

Tom had not heard that, looked hopefully.

According to the gossip going about Town, reported to me by three separate sources, her father put twenty thousands in Plenderleith’s hand and the doting bridegroom then wrote his Will leaving all to his nephew, not a penny to his widow. Apparently they parted outside the church, which makes it all the more surprising that she was delivered prematurely of a daughter some six months later.

A thriving, healthy child, one presumes?

Remarkably so – one suspects the little girl would have topped the scales at fifteen pounds had she gone to term. Most unusual!

Plenderleith was one of those who lost greatly in the Crash of ’95, I remember. I know that I bought a coal mine that had been his and Joseph Star took up his mortgaged estates some five years later on his default. His wife died quite young and childless, I believe, and he never remarried and had speculated wildly in the year or two thereafter. An unfortunate gentleman, but no doubt he was glad to be put in the way of a partial recovery at least.

Tom grinned, rubbing at the scar pulling at his cheek.

Does the little girl bear any resemblance to the Quarringtons, do you know?

Verity shook her head. Much too early to tell, Thomas. Jonathan has certainly shown himself fertile – three children, one of them a boy, in the four years since he married – one of the Minchinhamptons, very respectable, a younger daughter of course.

That young leopard certainly changed his spots given the opportunity.

The opportunity you wish young Robert to have, Thomas?

Tom laughed, shamefacedly, sought for tactful words, then for any words at all. He was unwilling to say all that was in his mind, to say that he preferred the boy to leave his bastards, if any should eventuate, in foreign climes, not as an embarrassment on his own doorstep, so to speak.

He is growing up, my love, and I had much rather he did so and made his mistakes, which are inevitable, at a respectable distance. Young men always make fools of themselves; if they are lucky, they make a recover and correct their errors sufficiently to survive to be old men. The greater their wealth and prominence, the bigger the opportunity to be foolish; so for that reason alone I would prefer him to go overseas for a year or two. Additionally, there is the problem that we present him. We are neither of us meek, unassuming souls, my dear, and I suspect that, quite unintentionally, we overpower him. He must grow up to be his own man, and if he does so elsewhere he does not have to fight us to prove himself.

She accepted Tom’s message – she would not be able to live her political ambitions vicariously through her son, he must go his own way.

When do we tell him, Thomas?

Tonight, at dinner?

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What did Papa say, Robert? Was he cross with you?

Robert sat at the big table in the Hall’s school-room, opposite to his sister. His two brothers, both at school with him, stood to the side, anxiously looking on and remembering the rare occasions when Father had been cross with them and wincing in sympathy.

He was surprised, Charlie, but I do not think he was angry. He said he must discuss the matter with Mama – he did not say no.

Ha! That means yes, then, for Mama will never gainsay Papa – she will make sure to discover what he wants then suggest it to him before he can say it. As well, if Papa had wished to refuse, he would have done so, there and then – no roundaboutation there, I believe!

Charlotte was a well-developed, precocious, handsome sixteen year old, rapidly shedding the last traces of puppy-fat and hoping, expecting, to make her debut in the following year. She knew that she was no classical beauty such as her aunt had been – she was too tall, energetic rather than fashionably languid and far too intelligent – but with her silky tresses of blonde hair, she was aware that she would stand out in any crowd of well-bred damsels. Her parents had been very careful to make her cognisant with her financial assets, too – as the only daughter she would bring an income in trust of two thousands a year, secured to her own use, and forty thousands in her husband’s hand.

You will be probably the richest prize of the Season, my dear, and every out-of-pockets ne’er-do-well will be at your feet, in company with most of the eligible bachelors too. Be awake on all suits, my love, and talk to me if you have any doubts at any time. I promise you that neither I nor Papa will chase away a poor man who loves you – of proper station, of course - and neither will we push any worthless object upon you because he is rich and titled. Was I you, in fact, I would accept no man at all in your first Season – enjoy yourself and know that you have no need to fear spinsterhood.

She was, perhaps, a little too well aware of her own worth, as her parents had noticed, but better that, they thought, than to lack self-confidence.

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What will you do, Robert?

What I am told, I expect, Charlie!

He laughed and patted her on the head, knowing how much it infuriated her with its implications of ‘little woman’.

I don’t know – but I do know Papa and I am sure he will send me somewhere where there is work to be done, if I am man enough to do it. He was younger than me when he took his scar, and he will look to me to be as much a man as he was. Mama will not, of course, have any such expectation, knowing full well that no man could ever match up to Papa!

My husband will.

The two eldest left the school-room to change for dinner, both having been declared sufficiently adult to dine in public.

The younger boys, James and Joseph, who would eat the same food but in the school-room, rather than in the Hall’s dining room, sat to the table in their place.

So, just the two of us, James, without big brother in the background.

James, considerably less bright than his younger brother, had never been aware of the protection from bullying and buggery that a large relative provided. As blond and handsome as they both were, their early years at school could have been unpleasant otherwise.

Just one more year for me, Joseph – Mama says I may join when I am sixteen. Uncle Jack was that age when he went out to India.

Major Lord Jack Masters was rarely seen at the Hall, his regiment having gone out to the Peninsula soon after returning from India and he preferring to take his furloughs in London when he was in England. The children knew him only as a distant, straight-backed military figure, awe-inspiring to Army-mad James, nothing to the other three.

You will make a fine Hussar, James! Does Mama still prefer that you should go into the Blues?

James shrugged, that was the Grafhams’ tradition, but he wanted to go overseas and win glory, not be a fixture in London with the Household troops.

The Lilywhite Sixth, if there is a vacancy, would be the only heavies I would consider. If not, any lights will do, but not one of these new-fangled lancers, I think!

Joseph dropped the topic – he had no interest in soldiering or in girls, James’ only other conversation at the moment. He wondered when he should raise the question of his own future with Papa, and how. As third son he knew that he could only have a very small inheritance – the estate must not be cut up – probably about fifteen thousands in trust, an income of some five hundred a year, ten times as much as a farm labourer and sufficient to live on in a quiet way, in rooms in Town or in a small country house. Was he to become a diplomat, then there would be an addition to his allowance in his lifetime and to his inheritance, sufficient to keep his end up, the same if he chose to take Holy Orders and become a clergyman. Otherwise, if he wanted a respectable income it was up to him to make his own way, probably in the Law, just possibly with John Company in India; a post as an official with the Honourable East India Company carried with it the privilege of trading in silks and other rare goods, at a huge personal profit, while the Law was more likely to open up a political career, with all of its rich opportunities. Unfortunately, he wanted none of those courses – he was fascinated by steam and coal and iron, had already built his own model beam engine which worked, after a fashion. He wanted to go into the manufactury