Chapter Two
Mr Raphael Morton was bored. That was a terrible thing to admit, when what he was doing was going over the business ledgers with the man he employed to do his accounts. Mr Manning was excellent at his job, and the ledgers were neat and clear. They showed just how wealthy Raphael was – just how well Morton Empire Imports was doing.
Most men would be excited by what they saw – not bored.
But, bored he was. For Raphael, the exciting part was the planning, laying out the path that led to this, that ensured that, if all the steps were followed, the wealth would grow. After years at war, the inactivity of sitting in an office, or walking the warehouse and speaking to customers, was slowly driving him mad. To make it worse, his ship’s captains came back not only with cargoes of exotic goods to make him even wealthier, but with tales of distant lands, strange sights and different people.
He envied them. He wanted to see those places himself. No amount of wealth and rich living here could change that. London was a gilded cage.
For, no matter what they had vowed to each other, the world would go as it did – his friends, those who had been closer than family for those long years of war, would be forced away from him. It was simple fact. They were all titled, and he was not.
He was, in fact, that worst of things (from the ton’s point of view), a Cit – a merchant, one tainted by dirtying his hands with trade. No matter that it had made him wealthier than most of them, no matter that they craved the luxuries he imported, he was, to the ton , to be disdained for his lower class existence.
How could his friends ever overcome that? He would not wish them shunned by their peers for associating with him. Yet he missed them sorely. Better to travel the world alone, than to live here in luxury, so close, yet never able to see them.
“That will do for today, Manning. Your work is excellent, as usual. Make sure that the Captain of the Morton Venture receives a suitable bonus – he has done far better than I expected with this cargo.”
Manning blinked in some surprise, for they were barely half way through the review of the ledgers, then nodded, closed the books, and left the office.
*****
Two hours later, Raphael was still sitting there, thinking. He had reached the rather depressing conclusion that there was no easy answer to his boredom, or to his sense of being trapped. Perhaps it might be more bearable if he had something new and different to do, some new venture?
At least then he could sink himself into the planning, into bringing something new to life, and making it profitable. But what? He had warehouses full of exotic materials, objects, spices and other things – was there some new way that he could use them, something new he could create, that could be cleverly brought to the attention of the most influential of the ton , or perhaps even the Prince Regent? Raphael knew that, for something new to become a profitable venture, it would have to draw the attention of those with money to spend.
The idea took hold, it was a puzzle to be solved – what new thing could he create, using goods that he already had, which could take the fashionable people by storm, and make him even wealthier? (not that he cared about the money, he had enough – it was the challenge that mattered…)
He spent the next few days stalking through his warehouses, looking at everything, terrifying his managers and warehouse labourers, who were certain that he must be seeking evidence of wrongdoing on their part.
He could feel an idea, an insight, at the edge of his thoughts – but it refused to surface.
He went home to toss and turn in restless sleep, dreaming of exotic oddities.
*****
With Mrs Johnson’s dress completed and delivered, Serafine took a little of the money that she had been paid, and went to the market. She would add some more food to their supplies while she could, and getting out and walking felt good, after the last few days of sitting and sewing.
At the little shop on the corner she stopped, looking at the items in the window again.
Surprised at what she saw, she considered a moment, then turned and entered the shop.
“What can I do for you, Miss?”
The shopkeeper looked at her, obviously assessing her possible wealth from her clothes.
“In the window – those little… favours? I noticed them the other day, and meant to come in earlier – I particularly liked the heart shaped one, but I can’t see it now – has it been sold?”
“Oh yes Miss, you’ve got to be quick to get a nice one of those – they sell all the time, any that I get. The young gents are always looking for tokens to give the girls they’re courting. The heart shaped ones go fastest – seems they like it to be obvious what they mean when they put it in the girl’s hands. Don’t often get a young lady asking about them though.”
Serafine thought for a moment, as the shopkeeper waited, his expression curious.
“Where do they come from? I mean, who do you buy them from?”
“Well Miss, it’s not always the same. Used to be my old mother made some for me, but she’s gone to God now, and m’wife don’t like to sew fiddly things. So now it’s only when someone brings some in, that they want to sell, that I can get any. Pity, because there’s always those as wants to buy ‘em.”
“How much do you sell them for?”
Serafine waited for the answer, almost holding her breath.
When the shopkeeper, after some time thinking, named a figure, she was pleasantly surprised, even though she suspected he might have inflated the number, because he thought she looked like she could afford more. That idea almost brought a bubble of bitter laughter to her, but she repressed it. An idea was forming – maybe there was a way for her to earn more, to keep them surviving a bit longer.
“What if I had some to sell you? New ones, heart shaped ones with pretty beads or ribbons, not just lace?”
The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed with avarice, and Serafine knew, instantly, that her instinct was right – this was a way to earn more.
“Likely I’d be interested in buying… if the price was right…”
Twenty minutes of haggling later, Serafine left the shop, with a bounce in her step that hadn’t been there for a long time. They had agreed that she would bring him three as a sample, in a few days’ time. For those, he would give her about half of the price he normally sold them for.
If they sold well, he would buy more – and give her a better percentage of the price, especially if she made things that he could sell for a higher price to begin with.
By her calculations, she could earn as much from making four or five of the pretty little favours as she could from embellishing a dress – and she would need to use less materials to do so. After a quiet luncheon with her mother, who declared it far too cold to go out, and wanted only to huddle by the fire and read, Serafine went out again – to buy beads and lace, and some heavy paper.
It was time to get to work.
*****
Some hours later, tired but satisfied, she carefully put away the collection of beads, laces and little paste gems that she had bought – the amount it had cost her, even buying mismatched and second-hand (for small favours did not need many beads, unlike dresses!), worried her, for it had taken far more of their money than she was comfortable with, but there really was no choice – she had to earn money somehow, and that meant spending some first.
If these did well, though, she would need to find another source of materials – both to get better quality, and because, with today’s purchases, she had quite exhausted the supply from the places she usually shopped.
Continued…