Virtue’s Reward (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 11) Read online

  Control of the labourers would be made far easier if the farmers were to play their part. It was rather like shipboard life, in fact, where the warrant and petty officers were vital to the proper, disciplined behaviour of the crew.

  He marshalled his thoughts, noted them down under a series of Heads so that he could present his suggestions to my lord in proper form.

  “The air of the English littoral, my lady, has frequently been described as ‘bracing’, and that of the East Coast to be superior in such a quality to that found elsewhere.”

  Lady Andrews gravely agreed; she had thought there was half a gale blowing, but if Mr Rodwell was braced, then so be it. He was a neighbour with an estate of moderate size some five miles to the north of Cromer and was entitled to her courtesy. He was also a widower of some years’ standing, and tedious beyond measure; his poor wife had probably died as a last defence against his conversation. She was beginning to develop a suspicion that she had been chosen to be the fortunate object of his attentions, that she was in fact to assuage his loneliness.

  She was suddenly nudged from behind and a large, wet nose was thrust into her hand; she grabbed at the puppy’s collar before he could greet Mr Rodwell.

  Rodwell made a play of ignoring the mastiff; he did not approve of so large an animal, and felt as well that ‘Jim’ was an inappropriate name for a dog.

  “Ah, I see Miss Verity has come out to join us, my lady, a book in her hand, as so often. I am sure the pictures must be of great interest to the little one! I remember my own little sister having a volume of flower fairies at much the same age!”

  “Actually, my daughter is reading a story about olden times – she much likes tales about knights and the archers of Old England.”

  Mr Rodwell could not wholeheartedly approve – leaving aside the unwisdom of encouraging the weak female intellect to dabble with novels, there was no overwhelming reason for little girls to read at all. Surely there was sewing to learn, or perhaps the first skills of the kitchen?

  “She does spend an hour at the piano every day, Mr Rodwell, but she is a little too young yet to be introduced to the skills of the household.”

  Mr Rodwell trusted that she was being restricted to proper music – she should not be exposed to these wild waltzes and suchlike.

  “I am sure that her taste is being guided most carefully, sir.”

  It was none of his interfering business what her girl was learning, she thought, rising to her feet and making it clear that she was escorting him to the door.

  “Ah! I am sure you are busy today, ma’am. I shall do myself the honour of visiting you on Friday, ma’am, when I must be in Cromer again!”

  She smiled politely, said how delighted she would be.

  Lady Star and her children were due to arrive next day, to enjoy the bracing airs and indulge in sea-bathing; she could not flee to London to escape the boring little object.

  “Charlotte, my dear! How was the journey – other than tedious, of course?”

  “Fascinating, my dear ma’am! We took the railway train to Manchester! No more than thirty miles, unfortunately, but traversed in less than two hours. The carriages are not perhaps especially comfortable – they do bump and bang more than a little, but at one stage we reached the velocity of more than twenty-five miles to the hour!”

  Frances shuddered, managed to convey her amazement and delight at such an achievement.

  “Are there to be more such devices in the rest of England, my dear?”

  “The plan is to join Manchester to Birmingham and then, separately, another line is to be built from London to Birmingham. Eventually, I have no doubt, every major city will be connected by its own set of tracks to every other town in the country.”

  “I had not realised they would reach quite such headlong speeds… Still, it is all progress!”

  “Exactly so, ma’am. From the family’s point of view it is a source of great gain as well. Both Sir Matthew and Mr Joseph Andrews made purchases of shares when the enterprise seemed like to fail. They are showing a vast rise in price, naturally, as I always expected they would.”

  Frances was delighted that it must be so, she was so glad that their judgement had been vindicated, and so profitably. She turned to the children politely waiting her attention.

  All three had grown since last she had seen them, which was to be expected, and appeared bright and healthy, which was always a cause of relief and rejoicing – too many children died too young.

  Verity was led in, book in hand, Jim at her heel, and brought to the notice of her nephews and nieces, the relationship a source of much amusement. She had been told of their arrival and reminded of their names and was able to greet them properly, as her seniority demanded.

  “Are you to stay long?”

  “A month, I believe, my dear,” Charlotte answered.

  “Good! You will enjoy the seaside, ma’am. Mr Rodwell tells us that it is very bracing, and that must be true because he has said so on six separate occasions.”

  Charlotte fought for a straight face – one must not laugh at the unfortunate comments made in all innocence by the very young. She asked who Mr Rodwell was.

  Frances answered that he was a neighbour and tended to be encroaching. No doubt a very good man in his way, but little more than a squireen and blessed with the landholding his grandfather had bought, from the proceeds of smuggling, or so the locals insisted.

  “A man of slight distinction and less taste and learning, Charlotte.”

  “’Encroaching’, ma’am?”

  Frances grimaced and nodded.

  “Climbing socially, one presumes, ma’am?”

  “Not at all, my dear, merely seeking to establish himself where he naturally belongs!”

  “Has he any claim to distinction in his own right, ma’am? The Bench perhaps or eminence in the County in another fashion?”

  A magistrate who acted as Chairman of the Bench at Quarter Sessions must expect to be knighted at minimum and could well become Lord Lieutenant and probably baronet. Such a man must be well-received as a courtesy to the Crown which had recognised him.

  “None, my dear. He is a singularly undistinguished gentleman, in nearly every possible way.”

  “Then let us reduce him to an understanding of his true position, ma’am! You cannot give him the cut, for having to keep the peace with the neighbourhood, but I can deflate his pretensions, and shall!”

  Frances was fairly much in favour of her so doing, but reminded her that there was unrest in the countryside and that the leaders of the County must display a degree of unity.

  Charlotte had not been aware of the problems in the agricultural community, had thought that the rioting was confined to the towns.

  “Little short of revolution, I fear, my dear. It would require very little to bring the farm labourers out en masse. Wages are still being reduced on some farms and are no more than holding steady on the best, and the price of bread and mutton is rising every month. The cost of the Poor Law is climbing and so the Commissioners are under great pressure to spend less at the very moment when more is demanded. The new machines are the last straw. At a time of great poverty the people are faced with a prospect of less work, of fewer jobs. Many are despairing, or so I am told. The rector in Cromer is not the most sensible of men, but he is able to listen to the concerns of the people, and actually spends a few pounds from his stipend for their benefit! He has passed his worries on to me, in the hope, I doubt not, that the family may be heard in Downing Street.”

  “Remarkable, ma’am!”

  Frances shrugged, it was unusual in a rector of the Church of England and not to be deplored, but even so good works were not high on her list of rural amusements.

  “What of the family, Charlotte? Is all well?”

  Joseph’s wife was very large but cheerful and healthy and the Stars generally were well and prosperous. All were worried by the upsurge in violence in the towns, but such things had happened before and the world ha
d yet to come to an end – it would all blow over, no doubt. There was no news from America, but there had hardly been time for letters since Mr Henry Star and his brother, Mr Luke, had sailed.

  “It is very difficult, you know, ma’am. Mr Luke Star is the senior brother by age yet Mr Henry far outstrips him in attainments and one hardly knows which should be given precedence.”

  Lady Andrews was less concerned with propriety, she feared, yet her husband’s daughter was correct in her desire to maintain common decency – Society had its rules, and, being rules, they must be obeyed.

  “Have you heard from James recently?”

  “He is very busy in government, and very worried by the rumours of the Asiatic Cholera, I gather. The disease has taken a virulent form in this outbreak and is spreading inexorably to the west. You are aware of the fate of Major Wolverstone’s family, of course; so distressing for the poor man! There is a fear that the like may happen in England, although there are many who say that the disease described in Bombay cannot have been the Cholera, its mortality so high. It must, they say, be a different plague, though of similar symptoms, perhaps. One hopes so. Whatever the case may be then the sole answer seems to be to avoid the close-packed contiguity of the cities; town-dwellers die, it would appear.”

  “Is it very close to our shores, Charlotte?”

  “James says it must reach us before year’s end.”

  “I had wished to go to Town later in the year – my wardrobe is empty! But I shall not expose Verity to such a risk. By the way, my dear, what is your opinion of the little one’s precocity in reading so much and so young?”

  “Envy, ma’am! I wish mine displayed such a delight in the written word. They are brighter than most, I believe, but their genius does not turn in that direction.”

  Frances sought for tactful means of agreement – she thought Charlotte’s children to be rather undistinguished but could not possibly say so.

  “What of Robert, my dear? I hear from him in a dutiful letter every three or four weeks, but he says very little.”

  “I believe his banishment from the firm has upset him, ma’am. He is now determined to do his political duty as thoroughly as he may and I am sure is aiming to increase the dignity of the house. I much suspect his son Thomas may become Earl of Thingdon!

  Book Eleven: A Poor Man

  at the Gate Series

  Chapter Two

  “The men need higher wages, Mr Joseph.”

  “Profits are already squeezed, Mr Fraser. We have contracts at fixed price and which cannot be amended. It will be possible to increase our prices a little when next we tender for business with the Stephensons, but not by a great amount. Besides, we are already one of the highest payers in Lancashire.”

  “Bread prices rise every month, Mr Joseph. We do what we can, particularly in the way of importing American wheat from Ireland, but we cannot avoid the rise in costs entirely. The men must eat, sir!”

  “Can we not demand action of the government?”

  “Perhaps, sir, but that will take time and the men must feed their families this week.”

  Joseph was irritated – he was a businessman and was being hindered by the politicians who should have been helping him to make a profit to the benefit of all.

  “How much does the firm put into the local party coffers, Mr Fraser?”

  “Only five hundred a year, sir.”

  “Cancel it! And tell them why. If they want their damned Corn Laws then they can pay for them!”

  Fraser did not think that to be a wise decision – politicians had long and vindictive memories.

  “Increase wages by how much, sir?”

  “One part in ten, Mr Fraser, and let it be known that we have it in mind to increase piece-work payments by a greater amount, that to be discussed case by case and trade by trade.”

  It was not enough, but it was more than the men could reasonably have expected. It would lead to complaints, and then possibly to riots when the next grievance arose in town. The whole country was on a knife-edge.

  “How is your lady wife, sir?”

  “Counting down the days, Mr Fraser!”

  “Is all well with the rest of the family, sir?”

  “I don’t really know, Mr Fraser – my lord has become somewhat less than communicative of recent months.”

  Fraser was well aware of that, hoped perhaps to stir Joseph into mending the breach between them. The family had always been very close and it would be a pity, Fraser thought, for them to grow apart.

  “Have you any word of conditions in Ireland, sir? I believe I have seen more than normal of raw Paddies in the local streets, families together roaming hopelessly in search of work and with no idea of where to go to find it.”

  “Famine I expect – I do not know. There is always something in Ireland – the number of people is rising there as well and there are none of the new industries outside of a little of shipping in Belfast and small works on the outskirts of Dublin.”

  Lord Nash of Claudy returned to the Bench with the other four magistrates who made up the special sitting of Quarter Sessions. There had been no High Court Judge available to deal with their particular problems so they had had to come together out of turn. They were grim-faced, two of them especially so for having no love for the politics of Coercion and no choice other than to support their own kind. All of the magistrates were Protestant, though of three different denominations, and owned estates, all except one very large.

  There were fourteen men crammed into the box, landless Catholics and all charged with arson, riot, unlawful assembly and use of threatening words. Six of them were further arraigned for the possession of unlawful weapons in a public place, two of these accused as well of attempted murder.

  The men had all been casual tenants of land near Londonderry, paying monthly rent without any lease or other agreement; they had no right of tenure or free possession of their tiny acreages. The landowner – more strictly his agent, the freeholder himself rarely seen in that area – had chosen to evict them, days before the potato crop came to harvest, as was his legally in his power. The land and all of its crops was the property of the landlord if there were no tenants, and he would feed his new herds of pigs for free in the coming winter while his ex-tenants were left with nothing. It was hard, but it was wholly legal.

  The men had come together and had begged for mercy for their families and had been sent away under threat of the Royal Irish Constabulary. They had stayed as a group and the landlord’s biggest barn had burned that night, the men caught in the act by constables who had been placed a little too far distant to prevent the arson. Naturally, there had been a fight as the arrests were made, some of the men either carrying sticks or snatching them up from a woodpile, and policemen had been hurt. Some of the peasants had been clubbed into insensibility as well, but that was merely ‘resisting arrest’ and drew no legal notice.

  The Chairman of the Bench proceeded first to announce the guilt of each man on all charges; he then drew out the black cap and placed it ceremoniously on his head as a necessary preliminary to sentencing each to death. Attempted murder, possession of weapons and arson were all capital offences. Riot, unlawful assembly and threatening words could all carry transportation and he added terms of seven years for each, announcing they were to be served consecutively in the event that any of them were reprieved, ignoring the fact that any reprieve must almost invariably be followed by transportation for life.

  Lord Nash was seen to be nodding his approbation of each sentence.

  The verdicts were conveyed by special messenger to Dublin Castle, together with a request that none should be commuted – the level of unrest locally demanded the most severe of responses.

  Confirmation came by return, was in their hands next day – there was no alternative to a show of confidence in the local figures of authority. Government policy placed a higher value on good order than on justice – there could be no mercy for trouble makers.

  The mag
istrates met again in the dining room of the largest hotel, discussed business over glasses of a very good port after their meal. The Chairman of the Bench refilled from the decanter and turned to the unofficial leader of their community.

  “Hang ‘em on market day, Lord Nash?”

  Nash was known to be well in with Dublin, to have talked policy in the Castle itself, and the local magistrates, theoretically all his seniors, deferred to him. He had been awarded his title – which they all envied – very recently and what one man had earned by loyalty others could well emulate.

  “Let them swing very publicly, gentlemen, in front of the largest possible crowd, and then put their broods onto a pair of wagons and take them to the harbour and dump them on the first ship out.”

  The Chairman demurred that this might be unnecessary expenditure.

  “The priest, Father Flanagan, has made arrangements for them, my lord. His parish has a little more money than most and he has been able to find them places to live and work for the widows.”

  “No! That Papist miscreant is concerned solely to take us at fault. He will display them as martyrs and victims, will use them for years to mock the process of justice. Get rid of them!”

  Armed police came from all over the county, every man of them Protestant, no Catholics allowed in the Ulster stations, and enforced silent order on the spectators. The pubs were shut all morning and the onlookers were sober and thoughtful; the message was hammered home. The men hanged to the accompaniment of prayers from a rector of the Established Church, their own Catholic priest forcibly taken away from the scene. The families, who had been forced to stand in the front row at the execution, were at sea on the way to Liverpool before sunset; none had money or food for more than the voyage.