Master of His Fate Read online

  “There’s nothing wrong, Grans, not really. Mum’s sick. Dr. Robertson says she has a heavy cold, and he gave her a bottle of medicine. He said she should go home to bed. That’s where she is now. Dad sent me for some of your raspberry vinegar concoction, as he calls it. Oh, and some camphor bags.”

  “I understand,” Esther answered, her sudden anxiety dissipating. “I’m sure the doctor’s right. Unfortunately summer colds are hard to get rid of, James.” Putting her arms around him, she hugged him to her. He hugged her back, then stepped away, and said, “I’m sorry if I frightened you, Grans.”

  “I’m all right. Your sudden arrival alarmed me, though, at least for a split second.” She gazed at him, her eyes roaming over his face. It had been only ten days since she had seen him, and yet he looked more mature and was now an inch taller than she was.

  Staring back at her, he asked softly, “What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Esther shook her head. A faint smile crossed her face. “You’ve changed a bit, and you seem to be, well, more mature. You might be only fourteen, but you are growing up rapidly.”

  He smiled at her, and then laughed. And she was dazzled by him … the even white teeth, the natural charm, the most stunning blue eyes, filled with sparkle and life. Women are going to fall at his feet, she thought.

  Brushing incipient worry to one side, she now said, “Let’s go down to my parlor and I’ll tell Cook to make the raspberry vinegar concoction. She’ll also make you something to eat.”

  Esther led James downstairs to the long corridor where her parlor was located, and Philip’s office, as well as the kitchen and the wine cellars. Showing him into her room, she went to the kitchen to speak to Cook.

  * * *

  Left alone in the parlor, James went and sat in a chair near the window. He liked this room. It was comfortable, nice to be in, and full of light.

  There was a fireplace, a sofa and chairs, and his grandmother’s desk. She had once explained that it was Georgian, a very good antique piece which Lady Agatha had given her. Basically, the room was an office where Esther did her menus, her household accounts, and other paperwork, but she could also relax here between her many duties.

  His grandfather’s room was a few doors down the corridor. It, too, had a desk, and was full of books, mostly about wine and the vineyards of France.

  Philip Falconer had become an expert on wine over the years, and Mr. Montague had allowed him to create a wonderful cellar.

  The two men frequently went off to Provence to visit vineyards and purchase stock, and they enjoyed these trips to France, hunting down the best wines.

  James knew how lucky the whole family was, because of Philip and Esther Falconer. Their very long service in the Montague household protected them all. His father and two uncles worked and made decent livings, but there was, most importantly, the reassuring knowledge that the older Falconers were there for them, should they need help of any kind. Lucky indeed.

  People giving over their entire lives to one aristocratic family was not unusual in this reign of Queen Victoria. They were kept on because they were excellent at what they did, and they were usually well rewarded by their employers. In a sense they became part of the family, were often given many small privileges which were much appreciated. James’s grandparents had many perks because the Montagues thought so highly of them. His grandmother had recently confided that Lady Agatha had told her that she was not the best, but better than the best, and so was Philip. Esther had sounded very proud, chuffed, when she recounted this statement to him.

  James looked across at the door as it opened and his grandfather came in, a huge smile on his face. Jumping up, James ran to him. They embraced and Philip kissed his cheek before releasing him.

  “What a nice surprise to see you, my boy. I notice that you’ve shot up a bit since I last saw you.”

  “That’s what Father says.”

  “Your grandmother told me your mother’s not well; that’s why Matthew sent you for the raspberry vinegar. He’s all right himself, isn’t he?”

  James nodded. “Fighting fit, he says.”

  Philip seated himself on the sofa, and James took the chair opposite. “Has Lady Agatha gone away then?”

  Philip smiled, knowing how much James enjoyed the way her ladyship fussed over him. “She has indeed, with the Honorable Mister and Miss Helena and Master William, plus two maids, the valet, and enough baggage to fill two coaches. Gone to the Riviera to enjoy the sun and the festivities by the sea. They will stay in Nice and then progress to Monte Carlo. They will return in September, unless the Honorable Mister wants to come back in August for the grouse.”

  Esther arrived and announced, “Let’s go to the staff dining room and have a bite of lunch.” Beckoning to them, she went on, “Cook has made a cottage pie, and she’s now preparing another one for you to take home, James, and an excellent chicken soup for your mother. Nothing like chicken soup to cure a sore throat.”

  Philip and James followed Esther as she hurried down the corridor and into the staff dining room, where they sat down together. They would have it to themselves for the next hour, while the other staff cleaned the house and went about their duties.

  For a long time Esther had wanted to discuss the future with her grandson, eager to know if he had any special plans about his work. She realized this was a great opportunity to bring up the subject.

  Turning to look at him, her pale green eyes filled with love, she began. “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you intend to spend your life working at the Malvern with Matthew on the two stalls. Or whether you might have other ideas, perhaps?”

  Taken by surprise, James stared at her, his eyes wide, his expression quizzical. He did not answer for a moment. Finally, he said, “I don’t know, not really.”

  “It has occurred to me, from time to time, that you love architecture, and I know how intrigued you are about John Nash and his Regency buildings. Grandpa and I would be prepared to send you to school to be trained in architecture, if you want that,” Esther announced, and sat back in her chair, looking at him expectantly.

  He shook his head vehemently. “No, I don’t want to be an architect, Grans, but thank you for offering to send me to school, and you, too, Grandpapa. That’s generous of you.” He was sincere, and this echoed in his voice.

  “What about school in general?” Philip asked, leaning forward, his entire focus on his grandson. He was aware James was a special boy, highly intelligent, with the kind of class that was bred in the bone. He also had enormous charm and looks, and he was an achiever.

  When James was silent, Philip added, “There is no pressure from us, James, but think about it, maybe something will come to you. We just want you to understand we are here for you.”

  James nodded, looked at his grandfather intently, thinking how smart he was in his black jacket, pinstriped trousers, pristine white shirt, and silver silk tie. The perfectly dressed butler.

  His glance was now aimed at his grandmother, also well attired in a long navy blue skirt and matching blouse, with a white collar and cuffs. Her luxuriant silver-blond hair was piled up on top of her head. She was the epitome of tailored elegance in his opinion.

  He knew she was fifty-six, but she didn’t look her age. And neither did his grandfather, who was now sixty. They have worn well, he thought, and suppressed a smile, wondering what they would say if he told them this.

  Straightening in his chair, taking a deep breath, James decided to tell them the truth about his dreams, and plunged in. “I want to be a merchant,” he exclaimed. “By that I mean I want to own a shop like Fortnum and Mason, and an arcade of shops like the Burlington Arcade in Piccadilly. I want to be the most successful merchant in London! In the world!” His voice had risen in his escalating excitement and, as he sat back taking a deep breath, he realized his grandparents were staring at him in astonishment.

  Three

  James loved his grandparents and he would never do anyth
ing to upset them, or disrespect them, but he had a mischievous streak in him and he was tickled that he had rendered them speechless for once in his life. He felt a sudden laughter bubbling up inside him.

  But he realized he dared not laugh, so he swallowed hard and tried to look serious. Taking a deep breath, he repeated, “Yes, I want to be a great merchant. That is truly my dream.”

  “How wonderful it is to have such a dream, James,” his grandfather responded, the first one to break the silence. “Just as it’s important to know what you want to do with your life at an early age. Good for you, my boy.”

  “How are you going to make this dream come true?” his grandmother asked, always down-to-earth and practical, and James had certainly aroused her curiosity this morning with his announcement.

  “Well, Grans, I can’t put my plan into operation just yet. Actually, I have to wait a couple of years. As for my plan, I really will make it work. And I shall strive very hard to make my dream come true. When I’m the right age.”

  A smile of pleasure gleamed in Esther’s eyes. “That sounds very smart of you, and would you like to share your plan with us?”

  “Yes, I would—” James stopped as Cook came into the staff hall carrying a tray, followed by Polly, one of the young housemaids.

  Moving forward, her white apron billowing around her, Cook put the tray down at the other end of the table, brought a white ceramic dish over to his grandmother, and placed it on the table in front of her.

  “Here it is at last, Mrs. Falconer, the cottage pie, and Polly has brought a bowl of peas, the gravy boat, and the plates.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Grainger, and you, too, Polly,” Esther said, smiling at the women as they placed the other items to one side of her on the table.

  The women smiled back and departed.

  Esther served James and Philip, and then spooned some of the pie onto her own plate. It smelled delicious. She noticed that the crust of mashed potatoes covering the top of the minced beef was browned to perfection.

  After a mouthful of pie, James put his fork down and went on, “About my plan … it’s quite clear in my mind. For the next couple of years, I want to work with Dad, learn more from him. I’m going to ask him to take me with him when he attends estate sales in the country, or on the outskirts of London, and wherever he goes. I like to watch him wheel and deal, as he calls it. He’s an expert, and I must be an expert too. I also want to learn about other things, as well.”

  “Such as what, James?” Philip asked curiously.

  “The finer things in life. I think I should own a lot of knowledge about luxury goods, for instance. I need that information to run a store like Fortnum and Mason, and have an arcade full of fancy shops.” James eyed his grandfather, then looked at Esther, his expression questioning.

  “Good thinking,” Esther exclaimed. “Knowledge is Power with a capital P.”

  “I can give you an education about the noble grape, and all the great wines of France,” Philip announced with a smile. “I’d rather like to do that.”

  James’s young face took on a glow, and he nodded vehemently. “Oh, Grandpapa, what a wonderful idea! Thank you. When can we get started?”

  Philip and Esther glanced at each other and chuckled, amused, yet also pleased that James was so enthusiastic, and bursting to better himself.

  It was Esther who now suggested that she should take James on some trips, when he could manage to take time off from his work. “I’d like you to visit the Burlington Arcade again. I’ve only taken you there once before, and there are other arcades in London for you to see. And it is mandatory that we make a few trips to Fortnum and Mason. To study every floor and everything sold on those floors. You are correct, James. To be the owner of a shop selling high-class, luxury goods, you must understand the merchandise, your market, and your customers. And all the things they dream about and want to own. You must know their style, their way of living, what they wear and eat and drink.”

  “I will love visiting my favorite store.” His blue eyes were sparkling more than ever, and he tucked into his cottage pie with relish, obviously enjoying it. He was happy he had confided in his grandparents, and thrilled by their positive response.

  Esther gave him a loving look and began to eat her pie; Philip studied his grandson thoughtfully and most acutely, assessing him.

  The boy was undoubtedly extremely clever, and he had been well brought up by both of them and his parents. His mother, Maude, had seen to it that James read all the magazines and books he gave him, passed on by Lady Agatha, and Maude had helped him with his other lessons over the years.

  Matthew had shown him how to dress well, and in a suitable way, and how to take care of his clothes. Obviously James didn’t have a lot of things at his age, but they were always pressed and kept in good condition. His father was also teaching him to be the best salesman. His uncles, Harry and George, also took an interest in him and contributed to his life in various ways, showing their love for their eldest nephew.

  He certainly looks fit and healthy, Philip now thought, and was glad about that. Silently he thanked his employers for keeping him on the staff all these years, and Esther too. He and Esther had always made sure their sons and their grandchildren had good food and were aware of the importance of nutrition for their good health. Protein and vegetables were of prime importance.

  It enraged Philip when he thought about his country, which was now, in 1884, the greatest, richest, and most powerful nation in the world, and how it treated millions of its citizens. Without a second thought, the government allowed them to starve and live in filthy, foul slums.

  It wouldn’t surprise me if they rose up and created a revolution one day soon, he thought suddenly, and attacked the aristocracy, the gentry, and the government. The French Revolution flew into his mind, and he cringed inside, but it was not such a far-fetched idea that it could happen here. Not the way things were.

  The lower working classes and the very poor went hungry all of the time. Their daily sustenance was composed of a chunk of bread, and, if they were lucky, a mug of tea. Otherwise, it was water or a glass of ale. The latter was better than it sounded, because it was full of nutrients the human body needed. No wonder Victorians were small for the most part.

  Philip couldn’t help wishing there were more men like his master, who was unusually charitable. Arthur Montague gave plenty of money for philanthropy to his eldest son and heir, Mr. Roland Montague, who had started a charity with his wife, Catherine. They did a lot of wonderful work to help the poor and the destitute in Whitechapel and surrounding areas in the East End of London—

  “If you’re finished, Philip, I think we should collect the food from the kitchen and the raspberry vinegar, so that I can go with James to Camden,” Esther murmured as she pushed back her chair.

  Esther’s words brought Philip out of his reverie. He nodded and rose. “That’s a good thought, my dear. I’ll take James to my office for a few seconds to show him some of my books on wine whilst you deal with Cook.”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, when James and his grandfather joined Esther in the front entrance hall, Philip immediately insisted she take a hansom cab. “Those two big canvas bags look awfully heavy,” he protested, as his wife made a move to leave with them, one in each hand.

  “It’s fine; they’re not that heavy,” she answered, “and James can help me with the smaller ones over there.”

  James immediately exclaimed, “I think they are all extremely heavy, Grans, and they’re overflowing. Grandpapa is right. We should take a hansom cab.” He longed to ride in one of the horse-drawn carriages. He had never been in one before. But mostly he was thinking about the pain in his chest earlier that day. It had frightened him a little. He didn’t want it to reoccur.

  * * *

  Much to James’s relief, his grandfather won the argument. He had gone outside and found a cab almost at once. Now he and his grandmother were sitting in it, surrounded by even more b
ags. “Since we’re taking a hansom cab I might as well add a few things for Maude,” she had told his grandfather, who had merely smiled knowingly. He told her to give Maude his love and his hope that she would feel better soon.

  James sat opposite his grandmother in the horse-drawn carriage, one arm protecting several of the canvas bags on the seat next to him. His grandmother was doing the same thing. He had no idea what was in the extra bags, although he was certain it was food because of the nice smells emanating from them. Apple pie, he decided, and maybe sausage rolls.

  After a long silence, sitting with her eyes closed as if in deep thought, Esther opened her eyes and stared at James. “I’d like to ask you something,” she murmured in a low voice.

  “You can ask me anything, Grans.”

  “Have you told your father about your dream to be the greatest merchant in the world? And your plan?”

  James shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Only you and Grandpapa know.”

  “Don’t you think that perhaps you should tell your father your plan for the future? After all, he ought to know that you’ll be leaving the stalls in a couple of years.”

  “I might be with him longer than that,” James explained. “I might be seventeen or eighteen. I have to gauge what Mr. Malvern will say when I take my proposition to him.”

  “Oh, so you have a proposition for him, as well as a dream and a plan for yourself?”

  “I do, yes,” James muttered, staring hard at his grandmother, thinking that she had sounded odd. Sarcastic? That wasn’t like her. No, she wasn’t being critical. Just curious.

  He said, “I have some ideas that might make the market hall better, just small things, but they would improve the Malvern in certain ways.”

  “Do you want to tell me about them?” she asked, now smiling, more like herself.

  He shook his head. “No. I haven’t quite worked them out properly.”