Cynthia’s Strays
Chapter One
“I am the Earl, and it is I who makes the decisions,” said the large gentleman standing foursquare in front of the fire, thus preventing any of its heat from reaching the other two people in the room. “If I say this is where and how I wish to invest, this is where and how it shall be done.”
“Of course, my dear,” said his wife, a thin woman huddled in a shawl. “No one disagrees with you.”
“Sorry, but I beg to differ, Dottie.” A tall, slim gentleman with a fleeting resemblance to the man in front of the fire spoke up from the other side of the room.
“You know my opinion, Richard. If we are to raise money with the land as collateral, it would be far better to invest it in the land itself. You know we need pumps to prevent it from becoming waterlogged every spring. We are forced to plant late and our harvests are poor. With good drainage, the yield would be better and we would be able to feed not only our own people, who come close to starving when the fields they need to plant are unusable, but also the hundreds who are moving into the cities, looking for work. I am sick of standing by and watching it happen.”
“I’ve told you before,” responded the big gentleman, flushing with anger, “that type of investment takes years to show a profit. And there are no guarantees. What I’m talking about turns a pretty penny in twelve months.
And no one is asking you to stand by and watch anything.
If you don’t like it, take yourself off.
Join the army or take Holy Orders. That’s what younger sons do, isn’t it?
I don’t need you here, and it’s time you shifted for yourself. ”
The thin woman in the shawl stirred uneasily. “You don’t mean that, my love. Your brother will always be welcome here. It’s his home, after all.”
“No, Dottie.” The slim gentleman smiled kindly at her.
“It isn’t, not any more. Not really. I’ve been thinking about it for some time.
My brother and I can never agree on what is the right thing to do, and I refuse to live on the profits made in such an enterprise as he proposes.
It is time for me to make my own way. Not as a soldier, or even less as a parson, God help us!
” He laughed, and the atmosphere in the room immediately became less tense.
“No, I shall take to the highway and see what transpires. Perhaps I shall become a soldier after all. A soldier of fortune. I had already decided to leave once the Christmas and New Year’s festivities were over.
I shall be off early tomorrow, so I’ll make my goodbyes now. ”
“You can’t mean it!” cried his sister-in-law. “Wait for another month, at least. It’s freezing! You know you catch cold so easily.”
“Tramping along will keep me warm. I’m looking forward to it. It will be an adventure.”
“But how shall we know where you are or how to contact you?”
“I’ll send Parsons a note periodically to let him know where I am. No, don’t worry,” he added, as his brother began to speak. “I won’t ask him for funds. I intend to use my small inheritance on nothing but improvements to the land. Until I can do that, it will stay where it is.”
He walked over to his sister-in-law, bowed and kissed her hand. “Goodbye, Dottie, dear,” he said. Then he held his hand out to his brother, who said, “Bah!” and turned his back. The younger man shrugged and murmured, “So be it.”
And he walked swiftly from the room without looking back.
He mounted the wide staircase, regretting again as he did so that when his brother had substantially enlarged the house ten years before, he had seen fit to tear out the old Elizabethan one, and put in a French thing with oil lamps held up by scantily draped female forms in place of the old oak newel posts.
“Good riddance,” said his brother, as the door closed behind the younger man.
“I’ve yet to hear that a second son has any say in the running of the family affairs.
Anyway, it’s too late. I asked Parsons to get the papers ready and I’m going up to Town tomorrow to sign them.
If it works out the way I plan, you’ll be able to have that new carriage, my dear. ”
“That will be very agreeable,” said his wife, faintly. “But are you sure…”
“I believe the American Benjamin Franklin has remarked that in life, nothing is sure but death and taxes,” answered her husband with a brief laugh. “I’m not ready for the first and I’ll do my demned best not to pay the second. Trust me, my dear, trust me.”
The next day saw his lordship seated in front of a sheaf of official-looking papers, a pen in his hand.
“Just before you sign, my lord,” said his man of business, who defied the traditional dried-up, prune-like appearance of his profession by presenting a rosy countenance, plump cheeks, and a belly to match. “I would like to go over it one more time.”
“If you must, Parsons, if you must,” came the reply. “But I know what I’m doing.”
“The arrangement is as follows,” replied the other, ignoring his last remark.
“You are borrowing against the value of your unentailed estates the sum of thirty thousand pounds at five percent compounded per annum, the maximum allowed by law. Your agent, Mr. Bertram Harris, will use this to obtain and outfit as large a slave ship as may be found in Bristol. He will also purchase as much iron as may be reasonably transported to West Africa in that vessel and sail thither, where it will be exchanged for, er… persons to be transported to the West Indies. Mr. Harris will again travel with the ship. Having sold the er… cargo, he will then purchase as large as quantity of the best white sugar as may be obtained, and return with it and the balance of the return on your investment, in cash, to Bristol. Mr. Harris, who claims to have experience in this trade, estimates that the value of the sugar alone will be ￡70,000, or double your original investment, and that you will have cash in hand of between five and ten thousand pounds, not to mention the value of the ship, which may be sold afterwards for a similar amount. The figures are all here in detail. Although Mr. Harris says he will be back within the year, the loan is for eighteen months, which will afford you a little time for everything to be settled. At that time it becomes payable in full, with interest.”
The lawyer took a deep breath, and puffed out his cheeks. He looked even more like a jolly elf.
“I have already expressed to you my distaste for this commerce, my lord, and my fears that you are making a mistake in engaging in it, but if you are sure all this is absolutely clear, please sign this promissory note.”
“I’m not interested in your opinion, Parsons, and of course it’s clear, dammit, it was clear before you began your lecture. Here.”
The Earl signed his name to the various papers with a flourishing Doncaster, in his fervor inadvertently sprinkling them with ink drops. He then reached for the pounce box, liberally spread sand over the wet signatures and sat back with a look of satisfaction on his face.
“Time for some of your Madeira, I think, Parsons,” he said. “You’ve done a good day’s work here for a change.”