Upcott Manor: Book I 1815 - 1881

By Martin Byrne

Book I: 1815 -1881

Part 1

1815 - 1856 Inheritance and Renewal

In 1815 Godfrey Carey, my great-grandfather, unexpectedly inherited a title, manor and estate from his uncle. Upcott Manor and Estate had been grossly mismanaged, and the whole of the inheritance was undi

• Language: English
• Publisher: Martin Byrne
• Release date: Oct 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781802274998

Book preview

PART 1

Inheritance and Restoration

1813

Godfrey Peter Carey

Godfrey Peter Carey inherited Lower Essworthy Farm, North Devon, upon the death of his father. Godfrey was 26. He was unmarried and lived with his mother. Also living at Lower Essworthy were his sisters, Susan and Margaret, and his brother, William. Margaret was engaged to a young man who farmed with his father to the south of South Moldon.

In common with his neighbours, and the times, Godfrey managed a mixed farm. He had cattle of various varieties, although there were a number of the Devon breed. It was Godfrey’s intention to phase out the odds and sods and build a herd solely of Red Devon cattle. The cattle were dual-purpose, with the production of butter being prominent. The butter was sent to Barnstaple twice a week. The cattle were managed intensively in that the calves were taken away from their dams at fourteen days and hand-reared. The rest of the farm was given over to various arable and root crops.

July, 1815

Godfrey Peter Carey, Lord Upcott

Due to the death of his cousin at Waterloo, Godfrey inherited the Title, Manor and Estate of Upcott. His inheritance comprised manor house and grounds, estate land, tenanted farms, village cottages and land, corn mill, public house, coaching house, vicarage and church patronage. Acreage, tenanted and estate together, totalled approximately five thousand acres. The exact acreage was unknown at this time. Unsettled capital amounted to £61,863. Rental income from farms and tenants did not exceed £3,000 a year.

In late July, John Westerman, partner of Reynolds, Westerman and Son, Solicitors, Okehampton, wrote to inform Mr Godfrey Carey of Lower Essworthy Farm, North Devon, that, upon the death of his cousin, he was heir to Upcott Manor and Estate. He further wrote that The Estate had not been closely managed these past many years and, as a consequence, much was needed to be discussed. ‘It would be greatly to your benefit if you would attend me, at my office, as early as you are able,’ John Westerman wrote.

Godfrey, now Lord Upcott, wrote back acknowledging John Westerman’s letter. He also wrote that the meeting would, by necessity, be delayed until he was in possession of a better understanding of his inheritance. ‘It would be greatly appreciated if John Westerman be so generous and, by return post, explain and detail the particulars of my inheritance. With particular attention to The Estate in terms of estate land, tenanted farms, acreage, capital investments, rents, indeed, all known factors. Also, I would be obliged if you would advise me of any unfavourable circumstances that should be made known to me.’ He assured John Westerman that ‘when the particulars of my inheritance are known to me, I will be delighted to meet with you at your office in Okehampton.’

Godfrey also wrote a letter to the Land Steward, c/o Upcott Manor, Upcott. He introduced himself and asked that he receive a full appreciation of the land, tenants and production.

Godfrey then proceeded to pen a letter to his solicitor in Barnstaple. He informed Joshua Tremlett of the change in his circumstances. Godfrey asked that Joshua provide him with his considered opinion of Upcott Manor and Estate, ‘as it is known to you and your business associates,’ he wrote. He then went on to ask Joshua to provide him with a view as to the price he could expect if Upcott Manor and Estate were sold on the open market, given the prevailing conditions.

Interestingly, as this shows the cast of Godfrey’s mind, he also asked Joshua to draw up papers for the transfer of Lower Essworthy Farm to his brother William.

Godfrey was a man of medium height. Thickset, broad of chest, strong wide shoulders and a big neck. A bull neck. Brown hair that went to baldness early on in his life. A man of little conversation. A man with endless energy and stamina. A prodigious worker. But Godfrey Carey was a cautious man. He was not about to attend a meeting in Okehampton when he knew so very little and the man opposite, his counter-party, knew all.

August, 1815

Harvesting was at its height. Dinner at that time of year was a busy and somewhat chaotic affair. All the family were present. Two long-serving farm labourers were present. All were hungry. All had something to say. Talk criss-crossed the table. What had been done that morning. What still had to be done. The weather. The harvest. The neighbours. Which animal was poorly. By common consent, Godfrey’s inheritance could wait until supper was taken.

At supper, and at many suppers to come during that August, all conversations were one conversation. Namely, Godfrey’s title, Lord Upcott of Upcott Manor. And with the title, his inheritance of Upcott Manor and Estate. Godfrey’s mother was vocal. Mary Carey was an uneducated woman. Mary Carey’s life to date had been confined to North Devon. It was incomprehensible to her that her eldest son was now a Lord. That Upcott Manor and Estate were his.

Mary Carey’s greatest fear was that they would all have to leave Lower Essworthy Farm. That Godfrey would take them all to live at Upcott Manor. She would be removed from North Devon. Leave her friends. Leave her world. It all frightened her. Mary latched onto her eldest daughter’s decided opinion that was freely given. Susan, a sharply spoken woman who was not happy with her lot in life, stated that given Godfrey was head of the family, his responsibilities were to their family and their farm. Therefore, Susan concluded, Godfrey should sell Upcott Manor and Estate. Susan went further and said, ‘Godfrey, with the sum received, it would be possible for you to buy more land or another farm, and you would be in a position to provide dowries for me and your sister.’

And what said William? William had very little love for his brother. Godfrey’s dominant character and massive physical presence left very little room for William. William was a less than forthright person. Somewhat sly. Disinclined to spend all the daylight hours and more on their farm. These factors did not endear him to his brother. Part of him was thrilled. With Godfrey gone, the farm would be his. Surely, he thought, Godfrey would not keep the farm now he was Lord Upcott of Upcott. With Godfrey gone, he would own the farm and he, would manage the farm.

A larger part of William was tense with anger. An anger brought about by jealously. William couldn’t abide the fact Godfrey was Lord Upcott. Whatever their relationship had been in the past, when Godfrey rode out to make his way to Upcott to take up his inheritance, it ended. If asked his opinion about his brother William, Godfrey would give a short reply. In truth, he was indifferent.

And what said Margaret? She had the utmost respect for Godfrey. They were close. At this time, Margaret was fully occupied with her love for Stephan. With organising her upcoming marriage. With the thought, the sheer relief, of getting away from her mother and sister. Now, she perceived that she would lose her friend, her brother Godfrey. All her life, it had been Godfrey who had shielded her from her mother and sister. He knew when she was low. Godfrey would extend a hand, and she, gratefully, would take it and join him. Margaret felt Godfrey’s inner excitement. They exchanged private smiles. Even though she was pleased for him, she had little idea of what it meant.

Godfrey kept his thoughts close. Godfrey became increasingly taciturn as he waited upon the post.

Responses from Okehampton and Upcott duly arrived. Godfrey already had Joshua’s response. In the farmhouse, many eyes were upon him. Too many people coming and going. Too many questions hovering in the air. Godfrey needed space and solitude to read, reread, consider and reread.

The weather held fair. Across North Devon, the harvest continued apace. For the next five days, after tea was taken, Godfrey left the farm. Ignoring the demands of the farm. Ignoring the fact that harvesting was at its height. He saddled his cob and took to the lanes. Slung across his shoulders, he carried a satchel. All the letters, all the documents he had received pertaining to Upcott Manor and Estate were contained within. Also in that satchel was a large notebook.

Godfrey’s travels were slow and meandering. He stopped frequently to pull a paper or a letter out of his satchel. Staying in the saddle with one leg across the cob’s withers, he would read the paper or the letter. More often than not, Godfrey would write a line or two in his notebook. Godfrey was allowing the knowledge of his inheritance to sink in, be absorbed. The Title. The Manor. The Estate. Realities that were unknown quantities to Godfrey. He disciplined himself to go slowly. Read and reread. Make notes. Organise his thoughts.

Godfrey occasionally dropped in on a neighbour. On seeing a neighbour’s field being worked, Godfrey would walk his cob into that field, tether his cob to a wagon and converse. The men and women were hard at work gathering and loading. Nevertheless, his neighbour, seeing who it was, would come across and offer a mug of cider, which Godfrey would gratefully accept. All had heard about Godfrey’s inheritance. All were consumed by curiosity. Few would question Godfrey directly.

Mrs Alma Hatton, a woman in her forties with a broad face and broader hips, showed no such reticence. Holding the cob’s head, Alma looked Godfrey square on and said, ‘Godfrey, Godfrey, what’s this talk I hear that you be selling Upcott Manor? You can’t think you can live here and work Lower Essworthy as Lord Upcott?’

Godfrey smiled and replied, ‘I think you’ll find that selling Upcott Manor is my family’s solution.’

Alma nodded, laughed and said, ‘Of course it is. Be off with you. Leave me and mine to gather this field in. Mind, Godfrey, you come and see me before you go. As go you surely will.’

The weather turned. Clouds, wind and rain came in from the west. It was too wet to ride out on the cob with his precious papers, so after tea, Godfrey removed himself to the Cross Keys.

Day after day, between the hours of six and seven, he would make his way to the Cross Keys. Pausing in the doorway, he would take a view of the room. To the left was the fireplace with two tall-backed, narrow settles, set at right angles to the fireplace facing each other. The settled quarters of the ancients. All bent of back, holding but rarely smoking their clay pipes. Their small pots by their feet or beside them on the settle. Godfrey nodded to them as he walked in and across to the table to the right of the entrance.

Placing his satchel on the table, he moved on to the bar at the back of the room. It was no more than a couple of planks on two trestles, really. Underneath the planked table was a barrel of mild beer, alongside a barrel of Marion’s hopped or bitter beer. On top of the bar were a number of jugs filled or half-filled with beer or cider. On a shelf on the wall behind the bar stood a bottle of Spanish wine in splendid isolation.

Godfrey conversed a little with Marion whilst she poured him a pint of her hopped beer out of one of the large earthenware jugs. He then took a sip, agreed ‘twas a fine drop’ and, as usual, asked Marion to top up the pots of the ancients. He then took himself and his tankard back to the table.

Back at the table, he placed his tankard beyond arm’s length to ensure it was nowhere near his papers. He pulled some coins from his pocket and laid them on the table. Out came the papers, which were assembled into two lots. Responses from Joshua, John Westerman and the Land Steward, who introduced himself as Martin Richards, were stacked as one lot. Papers detailing estate business, tenants, farms, production, etc. were stacked as a second lot. Out came his notebook. Out came a plan of The Estate, which was unfolded and laid out flat on the table.

Marion followed Godfrey with a jug in one hand and a lamp in the other. The lamp was placed on the table. Then Marion moved across the room to top up the pots of the three men seated by the fire. Godfrey nodded his acknowledgement of their raised hands. Marion held a splint of wood in the fire then, when lit, proceeded to light the lamp on the table where Godfrey had taken up residence. She picked up a couple of coins. ‘Making progress with all that?’ she asked, gesturing at the papers across the table.

Godfrey laughed. ‘Not much,’ he replied.

Marion patted Godfrey on the shoulder and went back to the bar area. She placed the jug back on the bar then went on through the door to her living room at the back.

The plan was the one document Godfrey constantly viewed. Titled Plan of Upcott Estate, it was crudely drawn, but it was pivotal to him. Viewing the plan helped Godfrey make sense of the papers that had been sent to him. Viewing the plan freed up his mind, allowing his thoughts to roam. Viewing the plan gave him direction. Viewing the plan gave him a lens through which to visualise the future.

On the second evening in the Cross Keys, Godfrey made a copy of the Plan of Upcott Estate.

Earlier, at home, he had made three large sheets of paper, each made by glueing together two regular sheets. Upon the first large sheet of paper, with pencil in hand, he projected his ideas. His ideas formed and reformed in his head. Upon his copy of the Plan of Upcott Estate he could visualise his ideas. His copy was drawn and redrawn. His copy was dense with scribbled notes. A vision was beginning to emerge.

On the third evening, Godfrey arrived earlier than usual. He reviewed everything. Every paper. Every document. Every letter. Every page of his notebook. Every square inch of his plan. Then, on the second large sheet of paper, he drew his vision. Two hours passed. Marion watched Godfrey deep in thought, papers everywhere, beer untouched. She understood from Godfrey that he had missed tea, hence his early arrival. Marion went into her room and made up a plate loaded with cheese, bread and pickles.

She accepted no payment, saying, ‘Soon you be off, yes? Not see you again, will I, Godfrey?’

Godfrey clasped Marion to his wide chest. Kissed her on the top of her head for her kindness and friendship and replied, ‘No.’

On the fourth evening Godfrey made a third copy. Carefully and neatly. The first and second copy went up in smoke by way of the fireplace. This third copy was clean and detailed. A plan, a map of the Estate of Upcott Manor as seen in Godfrey’s mind. The future.

Godfrey found it near impossible to stay at home and face the daily tasks of managing a farm. He was constantly on the move. Unable to relax. Why? Because Godfrey had made his decision to be Lord Upcott of Upcott, Lord of the Manor and Estate, by the time he had finished reading John Westerman’s letter informing him of his inheritance. Godfrey knew deep in his soul and heart that this was his chance to be himself. Make something of himself. And Godfrey wanted to be at Upcott Manor yesterday.

From that hour of reading John Westerman’s letter, Godfrey’s days were consumed by examining himself. Visualising himself as Lord Upcott. Visualising the Estate as described in the papers before him. Visualising the Estate fashioned to his own vision and ideas. Conversing with himself. What does it mean in tasks? What tasks are required to transform the Estate into his vision? Could he manage The Estate as he wanted to do? How do you manage such an estate? How to manage the upheaval to bring about his vision of the Estate?

Questions. Questions. And slowly the notebook filled up. Godfrey’s thoughts and plans centred on the land. Centred on the many tenanted farms. Centred on farming. Godfrey gave little thought to his role as Lord of the Manor of Upcott. That role was unknown to him.

Godfrey made good his promise to Alma. Late in the day, the two of them were sitting up in bed. Alma asked, ‘Will you go home tonight?’

‘No,’ replied Godfrey. ‘Alma, tomorrow will be my last day farming Lower Essworthy. On Thursday I will ride to Okehampton. Meet the solicitor. Sign the documents. And, I assume, take formal possession of Upcott Manor. That, Alma, will be that. I will return. Hand over the farm to William. Pack my bags and say goodbye.’

‘Good.’ Alma prodded Godfrey and enquired, ‘Enjoy being m’Lord, will you?’

‘It’s the land. The Estate is five thousand acres. Maybe more. Alma, it’s the land. It’s all I have ever dreamed about.’ Godfrey slid down and looked at the ceiling. ‘I have an opportunity to farm as I want to farm. God let me take it.’

Alma leaned over him and said, ‘You have the strength. God knows you have the strength. Godfrey, never doubt yourself.’ Then she kissed him and all conversation ended.

On the last Thursday of August, Godfrey was on the road.

He had risen at four and saddled Rolly a Cob. Once seated and settled, he had said goodbye to Margaret and set out west along the top of North Devon. Godfrey took breakfast at The Green Man, Great Highton, then rode due south to Okehampton by way of Upcott. Riding south on the Great Highton road, he began to appreciate that the land hereabouts was markedly different to the land around where he lived and farmed. Here in the south and west of the county, the land undulated in a gentler way. The landscape was more rounded. The valleys wider, shallower. Oaks dominated. Godfrey particularly noticed that, by and large, the soils were loamier than the clay-dominated soils around Lower Essworthy in North Devon.

Godfrey stopped at the Upcott Arms and took the saddle off Rolly. He rubbed the cob’s back down with some loose grass, then a cloth, and freed him to graze the grass in front of the public house. Putting his head through the door, he shouted for a beer. From one of his saddlebags, he pulled out a wedge of cheese and a large chunk of bread. Taking a seat on the bench outside the public house, he drank, ate and rested. From where he rested, he could see most of Upcott village. His village. His public house. Godfrey shook his head and laughed. He let out a bellow of a laugh as what his eyes beheld was his.

Before he left for Okehampton, Godfrey crossed the road and walked down the drive that led to Upcott Manor. Keeping his distance, he took his first view of The Manor, the grounds and his first glimpse of the land and the valley that stretched away to the east. Lower Essworthy it was not!

From Upcott, Godfrey carried on south in the company of two carriers. He led Rolly and conversed with the two men, each leading a horse and cart. Informative they were not. It was not more than two miles before Godfrey entered the outskirts of the town. Upcott was much closer to Okehampton than he’d realised. He led Rolly down Fore Street and had a good look at his new local town. Busy.

Godfrey walked Rolly into the stable yard at the back of the Upcott Coaching House. A groom materialised. Godfrey gave his precise instructions to the groom, who accepted the reins with a wide smile and a ‘right you are, sir.’ With the saddlebags over his arm, he walked in through the back door of the Coaching House and bespoke a room for the night.

A pleasantly attractive, talkative young woman, who introduced herself as Sam, ushered Godfrey to a long table upon which he placed his saddlebags. He agreed with what she offered in the way of food and drink. Godfrey asked Sam to send a boy over as he had a note to be delivered. Sam smiled. ‘Be right over,’ she said. Godfrey tore a page out of his notebook. Sam returned with his beer and a boy.

The boy was sent to Reynolds, Westerman and Son, Fore Street, with the note and a ha’penny. The note he delivered. The ha’penny he kept. Godfrey settled back and took a long sup. Then took his ease. Then took his dinner. Then, eventually, his bed.

On the morning of his second day on the road, Godfrey met with John Westerman. Lord Upcott was respectfully received. Was shown into the client’s room where introductions were made. John Westerman walked Lord Upcott through the details of his inheritance. Answered the precise and detailed questions from Lord Godfrey, as Godfrey preferred to be addressed. Then, Lord Godfrey’s instructions with regard to The Manor, The Estate and the tenants were discussed.

In light of John Westerman’s comments, Lord Godfrey made one or two amendments to his instructions. These amended and signed instructions were handed over to and accepted by his now solicitor. They agreed to reconvene at four o’clock to review the prepared documents.

John Westerman personally walked Lord Godfrey down Fore Street and into the Devon County Bank. Introductions were made, then John Westerman shook Lord Godfrey’s hand and left him with a Mr Charles Leighton-Smith, Bank Manager. Matters were discussed. Accounts reviewed. Mr Charles Leighton-Smith received a number of instructions from Lord Godfrey. He carefully reviewed the instructions. He made a number of observations. He made the agreed amendments. Mr Charles Leighton-Smith stood, shook Lord Godfrey’s hand and confirmed that all agreed matters would be concluded by noon the following day. He personally showed his Lordship out into Fore Street.

Whilst waiting for his four o’clock meeting, Godfrey took the time to get acquainted with Okehampton. Two factors stood out. Firstly, Okehampton was a busy, prosperous market town. Secondly, his inn was one of two premier inns in Okehampton. He came to this judgement after putting his head through the door of each and every public house and inn. It was obvious to him that the ‘quality’ frequented either The White Hart or Upcott Coaching House.

At thirty minutes past four o’clock, Godfrey shook hands with John as business was successfully concluded. He smiled internally as he saw a wince cross John’s face as they shook hands. Godfrey, yet again, walked the length of Fore Street and collected Rolly. He tipped the groom, gathered the reins and mounted. With some encouraging words to Rolly, he set off on their long journey north to Barnstaple.

Godfrey rode out in a north easterly direction. Not north.

Postscript

Next day, John Westerman trudged up the stairs to the dining room at Upcott Coaching House. At the top of the stairs, Betsy greeted him with a broad smile and obvious pleasure. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Westerman, and how are you today?’

‘Betsy, you see me more often than my wife. I’m John.’

‘John, you are late. Mr Leighton-Smith is waiting for you.’

John reached out and held Betsy’s arm. ‘Betsy, I met Lord Upcott yesterday. He prefers to be called Lord Godfrey, and Betsy, make yourself known to him for he is a man of character.’

‘Well?’ enquired John.

‘Well, indeed,’ replied Charles. ‘Lord Upcott – my mistake, Lord Godfrey – is clearly a man who knows his own mind. Is a man who is very precise with regard to his instructions.’

‘I concur,’ said John. ‘Very precise. A big man, would you say?’

Charles barked with laughter. ‘I have never seen such shoulders and breadth of chest.’ They moved the conversation on to other more pressing matters.

Rolly was in good shape and covered the ground quickly. After the best part of two hours and fifteen miles or more, they slowed to a walk as Rolly climbed a short, steep rise to Iddesleigh. As they climbed, the church of Iddesleigh was high on a promontory, full square in front of them. Godfrey directed Rolly to the east-leading lane. It was past six o’clock and he was hungry. Lunch had been forgone. From the public house, on the breeze, he smelt dinner and the smoke of a good fire. Godfrey decided to call it day. The Duke of York was a welcoming place. Godfrey’s ‘Good evening’ was acknowledged from all parts of the long room.

Whilst he was enjoying a very good beer with an excellent mutton stew, the door opened. A young man, lean with sallow skin and dark hair, with a fiddle in his hand, entered with an older woman. Much older. The woman had words with the landlord. Godfrey clearly heard the landlord say with a wide smile, ‘Usual terms, Ma.’

The young man, Godfrey reckoned not quite a man, turned away from the bar and made his way to the end of the room. He held the fiddle with a flat left hand. With this style, you can only play the first two-and-a-half octaves. He also played with a shortened bow. Well, for dance tunes it was ideal as it enabled the young man to play quickly whilst maintaining a good tune. And he could play. From his fiddle, dance tunes from polka time to jig time swirled around the public house. Yes, he could play. The planked floor bounced. The planked floor thundered out the beat as the men hammered their metalled boot heels on the floor of the room. Yes, he could play.

Food was put on the table, and Ma called the young man over. Cheers and clapping accompanied him across the room. Godfrey felt for a coin. He placed a silver sixpence on the table. ‘Ma,’ he said, ‘you travelling folk?’ Ma nodded. ‘Ma, do you keep a good memory?’ Ma nodded again. ‘Ma,’ he said, ‘I am Godfrey of Upcott Manor, Upcott. Any time, any time you are passing, you call on me. You’d be most welcome.’ Godfrey gently squeezed the young man’s shoulder and said goodnight to Ma, the young man, the landlord and all in the public house.

From the Duke of York, he walked fifty yards to the west, to the church. The view was to the south across many miles of undulating West Devon land to Dartmoor. That night, Godfrey slept on a bench, facing south, set against the church wall at Iddlesleigh.

The church was built on a small promontory. In the morning, Godfrey, sitting on the bench, with the light from a rising sun flooding the land, could see all the way to Okehampton. Could see across the top of Okehampton to Dartmoor. He thought somewhere, in amongst this undulating West Devon land, is my valley.

September, 1815

By the end of the third day, he had made it to Barnstaple. At the Red Lion, he treated himself to a long soak. A pint or two with a deeply satisfying beef and oyster pie sent Godfrey to bed. He slept long and deep. In the stable, Rolly, with a slack back leg, nodded off.

The morning of the fourth day was spent closeted with Joshua. Documents were considered, amendments considered, amendments made. Documents finally signed, Joshua took his friend, from school days onwards, to lunch. With regret, Joshua and Godfrey shook hands as they said their goodbyes. Joshua watched Godfrey’s broad back disappear down the main street. It will be do or die, he said to himself. Do or die.

Godfrey, on his journey’s last leg, now made his way south back home. Back to Lower Essworthy. Godfrey was late. Tea had already been taken. Nevertheless, he asked that all his family attend him whilst he had his tea. Margaret moved her chair alongside Godfrey. Close. Godfrey told his family that he was Godfrey Peter Carey, Lord Upcott, in title and law. That he had inherited Upcott Manor, The Estate and much more besides. Also, after much thought, he had accepted that he had also inherited responsibilities.

He was going to leave Lower Essworthy, take up his title and live at Upcott Manor. Margaret sat close, holding his arm for comfort. Godfrey handed William a letter in which Joshua stated, on behalf of his client, Lord Upcott, that ‘the property known as Lower Essworthy Farm has been transferred to William Carey, along with such sums of money as are held in the name of Lower Essworthy Farm with the North Cornwall & County Bank, Barnstaple.’ Godfrey stood up. William shook the offered hand. Godfrey’s mother was angry and tearful. Susan aggressive and resentful. William quiet as the enormity of what was happening sank in. Margaret kept hold of Godfrey’s arm.

Early next morning, Godfrey saddled his poor cob Rolly. He loaded a mule with his possessions, which amounted to no more than some clothes and books. He held Margaret close for some seconds, then left.

Postscript

Godfrey duly attended his younger sister’s wedding and gave Margaret away. Some weeks later, Margaret received a letter from North Cornwall & Devon County Bank, Barnstaple, informing her that an account had been opened in her name with a balance of of one thousand pounds. She had her dowry. Susan failed to find a man to take her on so did not receive a dowry.

Postscript

Over the following eighteen months, Lord Godfrey became one of Charles’ most active clients. Charles must have felt reasonably secure in their relationship as he took it upon himself to speak to Lord Godfrey about the matter of his tailoring. Given the breadth of his shoulders and the size of his neck, very little in the way of clothing sat well on Lord Godfrey. However, the quality of cloth improved markedly.

September, 1815

Godfrey Peter Carey, Lord Upcott arrives at Upcott Manor

The evening was well advanced as Godfrey and Rolly arrived at Upcott Manor. The cob was now reduced to a slow walk. Godfrey gently pulled back on the reins. The cob came to a standstill in the stable yard, and its head dropped. He lifted himself up, swung his leg slowly back and across and stiffly dropped to the ground.

A groom materialised from the stable. Lord Godfrey introduced himself and the groom took his cap off in acknowledgement. The groom, a small man with a nut-brown face that was all creases and whiskers, introduced himself as Joe Wagstaff, Head Groom. Lord Godfrey asked Joe whether he would be so good as to find Martin Richards. As Joe moved off, a second groom came across. He accepted the reins offered. Lord Godfrey again introduced himself. The groom touched the side of his head in acknowledgement.

‘Your name is?’

‘Rob,’ replied a decidedly younger and taller groom. ‘Robert Wainsfleet, m’Lord.’

‘Well, Rob, this old boy is named Rolly. Please rub him down. Feed him well. Make sure he is rested for three or four days.’

‘I will, m’Lord,’ replied Rob. He unstrapped the saddlebags and handed them to Lord Godfrey.

‘Thank you.’ Lord Godfrey turned towards the mule and rubbed its forehead. ‘This is Fancy. Rob, give him the same treatment. Oh! I will need a steady horse for the morrow.’

‘Yes, m’Lord,’ replied Rob.

A man of some age slowly walked across the stable yard on none-too-steady legs. He introduced himself as Arthur Benson, Butler. Lord Godfrey introduced himself whilst shaking Arthur’s hand. Arthur bid Lord Godfrey welcome to Upcott Manor. Lord Godfrey pointed to the load the mule was carrying. ‘My belongings,’ he explained.

Arthur nodded. ‘M’Lord, do you want to wash first or dinner?’

‘Arthur, I am sorely in need of a bath,’ replied Lord Godfrey. ‘And I’m too tired for dinner.’

Martin Richards strolled into the yard with Joe alongside. The men introduced themselves and shook hands. They embarked on an inconsequential exchange. Lord Godfrey’s answers were: ‘Yes, it has been a tiring journey.’ ‘Well, in truth, I have been on the road for a number of days now, putting my affairs in order.’ ‘Yes, these are all my worldly possessions.’ ‘No, nothing more of mine will be coming.’

Lord Godfrey asked Martin to join him in the yard the following morning at eight o’clock. ‘Tomorrow, I wish to begin the process of acquainting myself with The Estate. Martin, I wish to start with the farms and tenants.’

Lord Godfrey followed Arthur round the side of The Manor and in through the front door. Once in the hall, Arthur introduced Lord Godfrey to the gathered servants. It was an apprehensive gathering. All looked steadily at his Lordship. Lord Godfrey told them that he had a farm in North Devon; that he had handed over that farm to his brother; that he was a farmer and nothing more; that he did not have a wife and that the Manor was now his home.

Lord Godfrey went on to say, ‘if you are surprised that I am the Carey that inherited, well, I was not surprised.’ He paused. ‘I was astonished.’ Some grins, some smothered laughs, many smiles received his comment.

Lord Godfrey asked the servants not to introduce themselves to him. He apologised and explained that he had a notoriously bad memory for names. He said he was exceedingly tired and by-the-by, he would meet with one and all in better circumstances than today. Godfrey then claimed himself a bath, a glass of whiskey, a plate of meat, pickles and bread, and his bed.

Next morning began five days of Godfrey acquainting himself with The Estate. Each morning, Martin Richards accompanied him and showed his Lordship the tenanted farms, estate farmland, valley and moors. He introduced his Lordship to the tenants. Gradually, the geography of the valley, with its many farms laid upon the valley landscape, was revealed to Godfrey.

The Estate, its land and the tenant farms, framed by the moors, formed only part of Godfrey’s inheritance. In the days and weeks that followed his arrival, he barely acknowledged any part of his inheritance that was not part of The Estate and Valley.

This was particularly true of the Manor house. The Manor went unnoticed. The fixtures, pictures and furnishing, which Godfrey passed daily, went unnoticed. Godfrey used the library; took his meals there. Undertook his correspondence there. Relaxed on an evening there. Used the bedroom; slept there. Completed his ablutions there. All other rooms were ignored. Save the kitchen.

After two mornings had passed, Arthur made bold and asked, ‘Concerning breakfast, m’Lord?’ Lord Godfrey informed Arthur that he would have breakfast about seven o’clock. He would not wait on breakfast. ‘Arthur, I will eat anything that is to hand, including bread and cheese, as I go through the kitchen. As to other meals, feed me when you see me.’

Arthur related this conversation on to Mrs Webb; that his Lordship will breakfast as he passes through the kitchen as he had been doing these past two mornings and his Lordship will partake of what ever is on the table and available. Arthur predicted to Harding that Mrs Webb would not be amused. Mrs Webb was not amused.

Next morning, Mrs Webb barred Lord Godfrey’s passage through the kitchen. The maids averted their eyes. All the servants averted their eyes. Indicating with her hand, Mrs Webb said, ‘m’Lord, please take a chair.’ Lord Godfrey hesitated, thought for a second, then sat on the offered chair. ‘M’Lord, I can feed you, water you and have you out of my kitchen in ten minutes. Now, m’Lord, what is it you fancy for breakfast?’

Lord Godfrey looked across the kitchen at a young woman standing by the range with a skillet in her hand. ‘Whatever that young...’

Mrs Webb interrupted his Lordship. In a firm voice, she said, ‘m’Lord, I do ask what do you want?’

Godfrey took a long look at his cook, Mrs Webb. He saw a woman in her forties, late forties, determinedly holding eye contact with him. He saw a woman of average height, of generous proportions, with a broad, heavy face and predominantly grey hair. He saw a woman with liquid brown eyes. Kind eyes.

He relaxed. He smiled. He said, ‘Mrs Webb, I desire a thick slice of ham lightly fried in butter on both sides. The slice of ham to be spread with mustard and topped with three lightly fried eggs, runny eggs. With my ham and eggs, a beaker of fresh milk will suffice.’ He looked across at the young woman standing by the range and asked, ‘May I know your name?’

‘Ann Hargreaves, m’Lord.’

‘Ann, when the eggs are done, I ask that you put a slice of bread in your skillet. Please fry the bread until it is a golden brown on both sides.’

Ann, who possessed thick, slightly curly, light brown hair that fell to her waist, blushed and nodded.

Lord Godfrey turned back to face Mrs Webb. He stretched out a hand and gently held Mrs Webb’s upper arm. ‘But not on Sundays,’ he said.

At the other end of the table, Harding started to laugh. Quietly. Lord Godfrey looked across at Harding. A smile spread slowly across his face. All of a sudden, Lord Godfrey erupted in a bellow of laughter. The hitherto silent kitchen burst into laughter. On her way back to the range, Mrs Webb walked passed Lord Godfrey, and as she did so, she placed her hand on his shoulder and patted it.

The tension in the kitchen dissipated. The servants lifted their heads. They felt somewhat more relaxed. More secure of their new master and, many for the first time, took a proper look at their new master. They saw a heavily built young man. Broad shoulders. A mighty neck supporting a head that was deeply tanned, hair that was thinning and a broad face with large, wide-apart brown eyes. To them he appeared to be utterly relaxed, demolishing the plate of food Ann had put before him. Conversation restarted.

‘Rob, how’s Rolly this morning?’ asked Lord Godfrey.

‘Saddled up and ready to go, m’Lord. Reckon he needs some exercise. He’s on his toes, like.’

Ann slid the slice of golden brown bread onto his Lordship’s plate. He nodded his thanks.

‘Ann,’ said Lord Godfrey.

‘Yes, m’Lord.’

‘I enjoyed my ham and eggs.’ In a quiet voice he went on to say, ‘Ann, on every second day, I will eat whatever you place before me.’

Ann, allowing herself a shy smile, nodded and said, ‘Yes m’Lord.’

He reached for the dish of fresh cheese that was run through with honey. Lord Godfrey’s mouth was full of fried bread, fresh cheese and honey. ‘Mrs Webb, this cheese of yours is truly tasty.’

Harding watched Lord Godfrey depart. He looked across the kitchen to Mrs Webb and remarked, ‘Mrs Webb, I believe his Lordship has a purpose about him. I predict much will change.’

Mrs Webb returned Harding’s look and said, ‘This Manor has been a doleful place for many a long year.’ Mrs Webb paused to look at her friends and colleagues round the table. ‘It doesn’t strike me that our Lord Godfrey is a doleful person and, to my mind, that is to the good of us all.’

That comment was well received.

Mrs Webb soon realised that lunch was a meal that his Lordship was not going to stop working for. Dinner, on the other hand, which was set for half past the hour of seven, was a meal he keenly anticipated. Upon interrogation, Lord Godfrey let Mrs Webb understand that he was partial to slow-cooked stews. Certainly vegetables. Bread was preferred to potatoes. Cake preferred to pudding. Unless, unless the pudding on offer was of a steamed variety.

As long as the food placed before his Lordship was hot, very hot, piping hot, and wholesome, she would receive no complaints. His Lordship’s healthy appetite was duly noted. His Lordship’s liking for mustard was duly noted. His Lordship’s penchant for drinking tea out of a bowl was duly noted.

Arthur introduced Lord Godfrey to wine. Not one of Arthur’s finest moves as he was rebuffed. Arthur stood his ground. Arthur asked his Lordship to understand that an appreciation of wine was a prerequisite to the level of society he had entered. ‘Besides,’ he said with a smile, ‘we have a cellar full of the stuff!’

Godfrey had grown up taking his dinner at half-past twelve o’clock or thereabouts. Upon arrival at Upcott Manor, upon riding out on that first morning, Godfrey found he had neither the time nor the inclination to stop for dinner. He asked, instead, that his saddlebags be packed with some cheese, bread, whatever was available and a bottle of cider or beer. Only when he was married did he accept the gentry’s practice of luncheon at midday. A meal that he personally never indulged in. And dinner was taken in the evening. Which he did.

During those first five days, Godfrey traversed the valley with his Land Steward, Martin Richards. Godfrey, recalling from his memory the two- dimensional map that he had looked at and considered for hours upon hours. He was fleshing out the map he held in his mind by the reality of the land with all its swells, hollows, woods, hedge lines, buildings and, waterways.

During those first five days, Godfrey was meeting, greeting and assessing people who, last week, were just names on paper. Inspecting each farm, reviewing their stock, assessing the fields and moors, inspecting the infrastructure, be it buildings, outbuildings or barns. Tallying what he observed with the notes, papers, rent lists and produce descriptions that Martin Richards had sent on to him.

All observed