Chapter Three #2
Crisis averted, and Hampton emerged from a hug with both his children with a broad welcoming grin. “I did not know we were expecting your brothers, my dear. Are they staying?”
“Will you?” asked Lark. “I can put you up if you do not mind sharing a bedroom. Will you at least stay for dinner? And then it will be too late to go on to Sheffield, so you should stay.”
Drake said that they’d left their bags at the inn, but Hampton said that would not be a problem. “I shall send a servant with a note to collect your things. It would please my wife above all things if you stay.”
Given the gulf that time and Lark’s mother had dug between them, the evening went off very well. Lark was keen to ask about friends of hers from their home neighborhood, and to hear about what Drake and Bane were doing.
They explained about their “dowries”.
“We put half of what Father gave us into the funds, and the interest is enough to cover our living expenses,” Drake explained. Rent, food, candles and heating, clothing—they lived frugally, but well enough.
As well as their money in the Funds, they had—at least on paper—another fourteen thousand pounds, the other half of Father’s original gift having grown nearly three-fold.
“Most of the rest of the money is out in various investments,” Bane said.
“We own shares in several ships’ cargoes.
We also hold stocks in a canal company, a venture seeking to grow tea in Ceylon, a woolen mill, and several other enterprises. ”
Drake added, “In the past eighteen months, we have been using a broker to trade on a Stock Exchange.” He had been given two thousand pounds with which to trade stocks, and had grown it to more than six thousand, plus his commission.
“I imagine you have working capital, as well,” said Phillip, Lark’s husband, and the brothers both nodded. It would almost halve if they decided to support the device they had come north to Sheffield to see.
“We are heading for Sheffield to look at a new investment. An innovative, new hydraulic press particularly optimized for silversmithing.” The inventor’s prototype had already attracted several orders, and the inventor had patented the design.
He was looking for investors to provide the money to allow him to build the machines.
Lark’s husband, Phillip, was intrigued, and asked many questions.
The brothers discovered he was a genial fellow with wide ranging interests beyond the canal system and the cargoes on which his family were making a second fortune to go with their first—they organized boats for people with cargo and cargo for people with boats, helping to make sure that neither side was kept waiting and that everyone made a profit, including Phillip’s family.
Lark had another brief bout of tears as they parted for bed.
“I have always admired you both, and I am thrilled to meet you again. Do stay in my life, brothers mine. I want my children to know that I have family, too. Until I met Phillip’s family, I did not realize how peculiar our family is.
And I love Phillip’s family, but I did not understand until you came today how lonely I have been for my own. ”
When Bane and Drake left for Sheffield in the morning, they were farewelled by Lark, Phillip, and the children.
The children demanded hugs, and then Lark lined up for hers, and Phillip vigorously shook their hands, saying, “This has meant so much to my wife.” They promised to keep in touch, and to visit again.
“Perhaps for Christmas,” Lark suggested.
They were easily on time for their afternoon meeting in Sheffield.
It turned out to be not only with Silas Pentworth, but with his wife, Anne.
Pentworth demonstrated the prototype, a half-size model, and it worked as well, if not better, than they expected.
Drake and Ben both had questions—about the design, the function, possible issues with scaling up, and costs to potential customers of refitting their factories.
Mrs. Pentworth answered as many of the questions as her husband, Pentworth deferring to her on all issues of design as well as some of the others. Bane put his finger on the notion that had just occurred to Drake. “This is your design, Mrs. Pentworth, is it not?”
The couple exchanged glances and Pentworth replied, “We worked on it together,” he said. His nostrils flared and he looked defiant when he added, “Anne had the original idea and designed the parts.”
“Silas made the parts, and put them together. He refined the design,” said Mrs. Pentworth, sounding defensive.
“I congratulate you both,” Bane said, and Drake nodded.
He wondered if the couple had encountered investors who did not want to work with a woman.
Those investors were fools, in Drake’s opinion.
His own father’s fortune was based on recipes developed by Colin’s mother, and Frannie was far more involved in the management of the business than Colin.
Drake could name any number of other merchants, artisans, and traders whose enterprises depended on a talented female member of the family.
Even in the upper classes, women often took a role in business.
The whole neighborhood knew that Lady Marple continued to manage her son’s estates, even though he was of age.
The brothers had several more questions, but the upshot was not in doubt.
Drake turned over and over in his fingers one of the small forks that the prototype had turned out, all the same, all perfect except for a little finishing and polishing.
Changing the shape would be as simple as changing the die inside the machine.
“Two thousand pounds in return for a fifty percent share, twenty-five percent for each of us,” Bane said.
“A forty percent share,” Pentworth responded, with a glance at his wife. “Twenty percent each.”
That was the percentage the brothers had hoped for.
“Done.” Bane held out his hand for Pentworth to shake and Drake offered his to Mrs. Pentworth.
Then Bane shook Mrs. Pentworth’s hand and Drake, Pentworth’s.
They had a deal. Given the potential for industries outside of cutlery making, Drake and Bane expected to make back their investment in three or four years, and after that, any earnings would be pure profit.
Money working for them, just as Father had recommended.