The Pinchbeck Peer: Book 4, page 21
“They ain’t going to take to her in Mayfair, not coming from nowhere like she do.”
“Lady Powell was born in America, daughter to an English officer who settled there before the war. On her father’s death, she returned to England and met Sir Onesimus Powell, to the pleasure of both. That is the story and I, my wife and her father, the Duke, will vouch for the truth of it.”
“Will it work?”
“It will. Less likely tales have been accepted before now. She has money and will behave as a lady is expected to. None will argue with the Duke of Mendip about so insignificant a matter.”
“Could you do better than this Powell?”
“Not easily. Particularly because he has the votes I want.”
“Right… Ten years and he makes baron?”
“Provided Mr Pitt keeps power, yes. If he does not, I may have to make an expensive deal.”
“With my bloody money!”
“With Mendip money. I do not renege on any agreement I once make, Mr Brown!”
“Right. Sorry!”
“That is no problem, Mr Brown. You would have to keep out of sight. Visit your daughter and her children by all means but not to make a great business of it.”
“I can do that. My Mary is in our rooms here. Do you want to meet her?”
“If you are willing, yes.”
Twenty minutes and a small but well formed young lady made her curtsey, wobbling and unpractised.
“Me Dad says I can be married to some sort of sir and then one day become a baroness, and maybe countess before I’m forty?”
The voice carried a strong taint of Liverpool.
“You can, Miss Brown. Sir Onesimus Powell will take you as his wife and will, with your willing aid, help you to become ladylike. In a year or two, you would then go to London in the Season and dance with the ladies and gentlemen there. Your children would grow up as sons and daughters of the aristocracy.”
“I want to meet ‘im first. If e’s a drooling idiot what you can’t get married off no other way, I ain’t ‘aving nothing to do with ‘im.”
“He is an ordinary gentleman who will know he is obligated to your father, Miss Brown. You should certainly meet him before any marriage can be considered.”
The little lady nodded, decisively.
“Right. What about you? Who are you and what’s it to do with you?”
“I am Lord Oakham – a title I have possessed for a bare five years. Your father will have found out what I was before. What it is to do with me is simple. Sir Onesimus has an estate, naturally enough. It contains the remnants of an ancient borough which still retains the right to elect two members of parliament. I work for Mr Pitt and we want those two votes.”
She was not stupid, quickly worked out the meaning of Fabius’ words.
“Right. You supply this sir with a rich missus and he gives you his votes. I’m the missus. Plenty in it for me. What about you, Dad?”
“No sons to leave the running of the business to, Mary. I sell up over the years, bit by bit so the price ain’t hit. You gets the money. You end up with rich sons, one of them an earl. You gets the money anyway, whether you marry ‘im or any other bugger. This way, you gets a son what is big in this country, like what I can’t never be.”
“That’ll do me, Dad. You want me to work out the details, the money and that?”
“No need. I’ll look after you.”
“Right. I better find some bugger what’ll teach me to talk like me lord ‘ere. Quick time.”
Fabius nodded – that was the first need.
“A retired governess will be the simplest. They always teach the little boys and girls to speak the King’s English and that’s the language used by Society now. Advertise in the local newssheet, Mr Brown. There will be ladies in their fifties, their charges grown up and too old to take on another family and at their wits’ ends for an income.”
“Do that today, so I will. Now, what about money?”
“The final deal will be with Sir Onesimus. I would suggest you put fifty or so thousand into a Trust for Mary. That will set an income of about fifteen hundred a year into her own hands, in her name. She can live on that and run the house.”
“Not bloody likely! A measly fifteen hundred! Double that, me lord.”
“If you wish. A sum to Sir Onesimus as well, in cash. Ten or twenty or more thousand as a sweetener. You might want to consider the purchase of additional land, running with the estate if possible. A large acreage always sounds good, even if it’s no more than moorland.”
“You ain’t talking about more than two hundred thousand, me lord. That’s cheap.”
Fabius shrugged.
“He’s a baronet, Mr Brown. You are going to make him a lord.”
“So I am, too. What about you, me lord? What do you get besides these votes?”
“Nothing, except a good name with Mr Pitt for finding him the money and the votes he needs. Believe it or not, that is all I want, Mr Brown.”
“Like I said just now, they all reckons you’re an honest dealer, me lord. They’re right.”
“I try to be, Mr Brown. There will be a war, almost certainly, next year. I will try to get word to you in advance if I get to know just when it’s likely to start.”
“That’ll be worth a mint to me if you do, me lord. When do you reckon?”
“March or April, early spring, when the armies can march.”
“I’ll buy in extra guns for me ships now, me lord, before the big rush. If you can get me the word, I’ll have privateers hovering off every French port. Make a bloody million, so we will!”
Fabius laughed – he liked the horrible little man and was sure the sentiment was returned. They could work together.
“If you hear word of organisers, men calling for red revolution, tip me the wink, if you would, Mr Brown. I am not convinced they exist, think they are more likely to be ordinary men made angry by the sight of hungry women and children. Any trouble-making French or Americans you come across, a letter to me and my department will see to them.”
“There’s one or two reds in Liverpool now, me lord. No more nor flash culls what sees trouble and the chance to profit off its back. I can deal with them meself, if the need arises. If so be I do come across them what has dealings with France, I will send word, but I’m doubting we shall find such.”
“So am I, Mr Brown. There are men in this country who are angry. That does not say they are traitors. Still, we must look out for the reds – they may exist. When war comes, we may expect the French to stir up trouble, if they can.”
They parted on good terms, Fabius arranging for Brown to meet with Powell in the immediate future – Powell travelling to Liverpool to see him, making it clear who was the supplicant.
“Home, Euphemia, and all is well with the world.”
“Was your Mr Brown as villainous as you feared, Fabius?”
“Much more so, my love. His daughter is a little sallow-faced thing with a mind of her own and a superior understanding – she will not be a down-trodden spouse. I think she will accept Powell - and will probably make a man of him. She wants to rise in the world – she would love to hold court in Mayfair. Give her three or four years and she will likely do so. They could be the most useful of allies in time. Brown himself is clever. He will profit from this war that is to come, I do not doubt. He showed some willingness to act as my friend. I must find him a knighthood at soonest. No more, for that would make him stand out, he could become a target. I doubt he will ever come to London. If he does, I shall offer him a lodging here, with your permission. I think you might come to like him – he is another oddity like the Frenchman Cochon, learned but not educated and a man of many facets.”
“Cochon is in London now, husband. Your Mr Cuthbert informed so yesterday. He has him in hand, set up in the best of lodgings.”
“I must see him tomorrow. He may be of the greatest value to us in the department.”
“Excellent. There is a musical evening on Saturday, you will recall…”
“We must attend, my love.”
“That is true, husband.” She scowled, sounded almost tentative. “You are to listen to more than music, I do not doubt.”
“Who and what, Euphemia?”
She sat, her face troubled.
“I do not know, not of a certainty. Emily Hutchings dropped a careless word in conversation and she was taken up by Lady Kilbride, the Irishwoman, you know?”
He did, vaguely.
Both were ladies in their forties, widowed and with sons just of an age to be seen in Society. The young men, boys in his opinion, were foolish little fellows, had recently come down from Oxford, their heads full of nonsense. Both dressed towards the extremes of fashion, their doting mothers tolerating ridiculous tailors’ bills.
“Foolish females at a silly age, I believe.”
“Exactly! Both are of the opinion their sons are supporters of the revolution in France.”
“That is their privilege, after all, my love.”
“To the extent that they might have it in mind to relieve us of our monarch?”
“Oh, lord! Truly?”
“I do not know, Fabius. I could not but tell you.”
“A Gunpowder Plot, or its like?”
“Possibly… They are no more than boys and likely given to the flamboyant gesture…”
“Ah! A public assassination, them to be seen to throw a bomb or trigger a pistol in a public setting. Having once achieved their aims, they will, in their own expectations, be recognised as heroes and feted by all as the new saviours of England.”
“Just so, Fabius. Romantic stupidity – they live in a world of their own dreams. In the same way that they believe their extremes of fashionability make them handsome and outstanding – rather than a laughingstock, pointed at and mocked by their contemporaries. Silly boys, no more. Yet, if they actually make their attempt…”
She was unwilling to say the words, rarely hiding from her own wisdom.
Fabius completed her sentence.
“If they pull a trigger or toss a bomb, they will stand on the gallows, and in short order. Irrespective of their success – and the chances are they will achieve little, being what they are – they will hang.”
“Exactly so, husband. What is to be done?”
She seemed to imagine that he could instantly provide a solution, could find a magical answer that would save the boys’ necks, prevent them from doing harm and protect their mothers’ places in Society.
It was all very well to know that his wife loved him – and it was the source of all of his content – but that affection came with the belief that he could move mountains if the need arose, did not do so habitually out of a sense of tidiness, no more.
“If I speak to them, I simply warn them that their activities, such as they are, have been noticed. Worse, I imply that the authorities regard them as a threat, as true conspirators capable of any act of daring.”
“By taking them seriously you might turn them more determinedly towards an act of violence. I can see that, Fabius.”
“If I know of their desires and ignore them, I might be setting the life of the King at risk.”
That was equally undesirable.
“I cannot easily have them watched – my people can hardly play the spy in the salons of Society. They will have servants, grooms and valets, who will probably display an unthinking loyalty to them. The grooms especially may have grown up with them and may be used as loyal hewers of wood and carriers of water. They would purchase the ingredients for bombmaking and if they understood what they were, would still say nothing. No access to them through their personal people. Servants are generally a useful source of gossip – the ordinary maids and boot boys and footmen, that is, the retinue of a great house. We hear much that is going on in the various embassies that way, Mr Dundas has told me.”
She was interested, and shocked, to discover that.
“Surely, Fabius, we can rely on our servants!”
“As much as any employer can, certainly. A little more for looking after them somewhat more kindly than most. A maid talking to a handsome and generous man on her afternoon off or a footman in the public house taking a quiet pint, both may be indiscreet in their speech. Why not? They see no harm in it. How are they to know what is or is not secret?”
“The maids know our most private doings, Fabius!”
“So they do, my dear. That is part of our way of life.”
She was not pleased.
“To return to business, my lord! The young men in question do not live with their mothers. They have bachelor apartments in Town and no doubt have the loyalty of those who own them.”
“Possibly so. If they wish to conspire in secret, easy enough to walk out and talk in the Park, or drive themselves in absolute privacy. We must accept that we cannot overhear them.”
“Then, how can you warn them off from their foolish activities, Fabius? They can simply deny any accusations, and act offended that they should be called traitor.”
“Exactly, my love.”
Fabius did not mention that letters addressed to the pair could often be intercepted and read by his people. She might consider that to be ‘spying’ and most ungentlemanly.
They left the discussion at that point, neither satisfied, both wondering what might come next.
Fabius took the names to Mr Cuthbert.
“Problem is the normal, Mr Cuthbert. Was we to take up every person who thought or said that we would be better-off without a mad King or a dissolute Prince, all of the prisons would be full to overflowing.”
“Just so, my lord. The difficulty is to distinguish between those who think the King should be removed and those who are willing to act to make it so.”
“Exactly, Mr Cuthbert. These two, seemingly little more than a pair of nancy-boys, may be nothing more than youths playing make-believe. I hope so. They have access to money and could buy the makings of bombs. They own pistols and will have had some practice with them in the ordinary way of things. They are not like a bookseller’s apprentice who has never handled a weapon in his life and cannot aim within ten yards of his victim.”
There had been a fumbled assassination attempt on the Prince just two years previously by a young man who had most cleverly discovered a way of getting close to his intended victim but had never previously fired a handgun.
“Aye, the possibility is there, my lord, if not the likelihood. They say it is the unlikely that trips you up, my lord. Any man takes precautions against likely accidents.”
“Exactly so, Mr Cuthbert. There is our difficulty! On another issue, my lady tells me that Mr Cochon has come to England.”
“He has, my lord, in the expectation of remaining here. He says that France has become randomly dangerous – the sensible man can no longer look after himself for not knowing where danger may come from.”
That was a difficult concept to take aboard.
“I must speak with him, Mr Cuthbert. What have you in mind for him to do?”
“A desk in this office, my lord. He can read as well as I and will be useful in sorting through the papers that come our way. When the occasion arises, he will come out with us to pick up those we wish to speak to or remove from our streets. He says he will be happy to work with us for a while, until he discovers another way of life in England or possibly in America. He will be here from next week, requiring today to settle himself, having moved into his own little property, purchased from his own funds.”
“I will talk with him on Monday, I expect, Mr Cuthbert. For the while, I must consider these foolish youths and speak with Mr Pitt on other matters.”
Chapter Twelve
“Thus, Mr Pitt, two previously unpredictable votes become wholly safe and there will be a steady flow into the special fund. Ten years from now, perhaps one or two less, and there will be a barony for services to the crown – and the gentleman in question will have been active in his county - to be followed by the prospect of a substantially increased flow of donations and an eventual earldom for a peer renowned as a benefactor to the whole of the North Country.”
Mr Pitt was impressed – Fabius had worked mightily in his interests. He felt the need to offer a quibble, however.
“The bargain does involve an immediate baronetcy, which isn’t very much, and a knighthood, preferably not a mere knight bachelor, to a pirate, slave trader, rack renter and general no-good by the name of Brown. This Brown known to be a villain and, indeed, glorying in the title. His daughter to wed the new baronet and bring the money with her, one presumes.”
“She will be worth five millions when her father turns his toes up, sir.”
Mr Pitt was appalled – how had such a sum been accumulated by a rank outsider?
“How much? Good God! Could you not find a duke for her?”
“Not with the seats we require, sir, and particularly, not to involve himself in the good governance of his county in the fashion we require. Sir Onesimus Powell will be a force for stability in the northern parts, sir. He will ensure the poor law is adequate and will press for the building of workhouses and alms cottages and will sponsor funds for free hospitals in the largest towns. Where there is a local famine, he will be there with his wagonloads of bread and potatoes. Should there be a disaster - a great flood or somesuch – he will be the guardian angel who sets up a pension for widows and orphans. And all the while, sir, he will make it clear to those that count that he is a good member of the Party, much-beloved by Mr Pitt for his many virtues.”
“Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you, Oakham?”
“The thicker the better, sir! We are to show our love for our fellow-countrymen, sir – all true Englishmen standing shoulder to shoulder. Not like these horrible Frogs, all cutting off each others’ heads with these nasty new gilly-o-tine machines. Old England is the Home of Virtue, sir, all as exemplified by the heroic Billy Pitt!”
