Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 62

62. The Other Side of Autumn

“It’s getting colder. Summer flew by so quickly.”

Mary Montague shivered slightly and tucked her neck into her shoulders with a hint of regret. Anthony Montague, seated beside her, immediately stood up and wrapped her snugly in a soft shawl.

Richard had been shifting his attention between the wall clock and the entrance for some time now, on edge. It was already late into the evening—they had finished dinner with the Montagues, enjoyed tea, and emptied a bottle of wine—but Grace Gurton had yet to return.

He knew well enough that lingering in someone else’s home at this hour was improper. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave. It felt as though a dry, crumbly scone was lodged in the middle of his chest, refusing to go down.

“The social season will return soon. It starts just as the weather begins to chill.”

He responded to Mary’s remark without showing any emotion. Her earlier request to “avoid becoming too close with Grace Gurton” still lingered in his mind.

“When you think about it, autumn is such a dual-faced season. For the nobility, it’s the time of year we’ve eagerly awaited. But for the poor, the cool breeze must be unwelcome.”

“That’s true.”

“By the way, the whole of Westminster seems to be in chaos over the recent Poor Law reform, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

Recently, both Ingrint’s Parliament and the royal court had turned into battlefields. The two opposing parties were fiercely clashing over the reform of the Poor Law, which had been established during Queen Elizabeth’s reign. The uproar gave Richard, who represented the Earl in Parliament, no respite from the cacophony.

“With the welfare budget ballooning year after year, reform is necessary. At this rate, the national treasury will soon be drained. Many people feel wronged by this situation, too,” Anthony Montague added his opinion.

Indeed, the rapid increase in relief funds had prompted the government to hike taxes significantly each year. This sparked relentless complaints across society, with public sentiment hitting rock bottom.

The influx of factories into urban areas had driven rural residents to abandon their hometowns for life as factory workers. However, wages and working conditions were abysmal, and many ended up as urban poor, with the residents of Dockland being prime examples.

Struggling to make ends meet, these individuals had no concept of hygiene. As a result, the poor were plagued by poverty, disease, and constant exposure to crime.

To address these issues, the Ingrint government had continuously increased welfare spending. Yet the impact was negligible. As with most things, funds rarely ended up being used solely for their intended purpose.

Moreover, the constant influx of people into Lydon made it impossible to keep up. With limited funds and ever-increasing demands, finding a solution seemed hopeless.

Ultimately, Parliament resolved to revise the Poor Law and cut welfare budgets. However, the process was fraught with conflicts of interest and differing values, leaving lawmakers screaming until their throats bled, their eyes bloodshot.

“But if the budget is slashed all at once, many will starve or freeze to death this winter.”

Mary Montague spoke with concern, her tone heavy with worry. She was one of Lydon’s most generous philanthropists, known for sparing no expense to help those in need.

“There is a saying, ‘He who does not work shall not eat.’ This reform aligns with that principle. When even those who do not labor can receive public funds, it’s only natural for diligent workers to question why they should continue working and instead choose to idle away while living off taxes.”

Richard glanced at the clock once more and addressed Mary Montague. She merely shrugged.

“Richard, have you read the paper recently published by Lord Malthuson?” Anthony Montague asked Richard.

“It argues that the more food provided to the poor, the more their population grows. Once their hunger is sated, other desires arise. Ultimately, it concludes that population growth must be curbed.”[1]

“By either lowering birth rates or raising mortality rates, of course. You’ve grasped the argument well.”

Anthony smiled approvingly at Richard’s concise summary. At that moment, Mary Montague interjected.

“To lower birth rates, we’d have to educate the poor about contraception from start to finish. But is that even possible?”

“Aunt, why do you refrain from mentioning ways to raise mortality rates?”

“Oh, Richard, that would be far too cruel. Starting wars, spreading diseases, or leaving people to starve to death in the name of reducing the population would be unforgivable in the eyes of God.”

Mary squinted her eyes in reproach at Richard. He chuckled faintly before continuing to speak.

“The only fundamental solution is to stabilize the supply of food.”

Richard said this while thinking of the vast plains of the New World and the fertile granaries of Gallia. While it was no longer possible to lease all of Gallia’s land under the same conditions after breaking off the engagement with Eleanor d’Estrée, he had to negotiate for at least half of it.

“In any case, as Lord Malthuson pointed out, the growing population compared to the available food supply remains a troublesome issue. The Aire potato famine was temporary, but with the increasing population, we might face similar chaos again someday.”

Richard elaborated while checking the time again.

Lady Mary Montague had noticed her nephew alternating between glancing at the wall clock and his pocket watch every ten minutes but chose to ignore it. However, when the clock struck twelve, she could no longer pretend not to notice.

“Grace is quite late today.”

She tightened her shawl around her shoulders and gestured to a servant standing by the door.

“We should send someone to Dockland. Tell the butler to arrange it.”

“Yes, Madam.”

The servant quickly closed the door and disappeared.

“She’ll be fine. She has three guards with her. Perhaps she had more lessons to teach today.”

Anthony Montague said as he massaged his wife’s shoulders.

“This is far from proper behavior for a lady, Aunt and Uncle.”

Richard, however, found Anthony’s attempt to reassure Mary deeply unsatisfactory. What if someone saw Grace Gurton wandering the streets past midnight without an escort from a gentleman? How could that possibly be excused?

“Theresius Wilford should have accompanied her.”

Back in Bath, he acted like some champion of justice, preaching about welfare. What an irresponsible bastard.

“He’s been sending flowers and gifts to the mansion on the days Grace teaches. He’s quite apologetic about not being able to accompany her due to his busy schedule in Parliament.”

“That’s right, Richard. He’s a thoughtful young man. Two of the three guards accompanying Grace are from the Wilford family.”

The Montagues kindly defended Theresius, but Richard only grew more disgruntled.

I attend Parliament too, and I’m just as busy. Yet if it were me, I would have made time somehow. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Isn’t that the bare minimum for someone engaged to be married?

Richard Spencer simmered with quiet indignation, having mentally discarded his history of begrudging every minute spent with Eleanor d’Estrée into the depths of the Doven Strait.

Just then, the sound of bustling activity came from outside the drawing room. Following Lady Montague’s instructions, several attendants were preparing to leave the mansion.

“I should take my leave now.”

Richard rose slowly, carefully masking his urgency.

“Thank you for visiting today, Richard.”

“Grace’s engagement is approaching quickly. We plan to finalize her adoption on that day. Since she doesn’t wish for a grand ceremony, we’ll invite only a few close acquaintances to the mansion for a formal dinner. Will you attend?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Richard responded to Lady Montague’s invitation with a smile, though the slight twitch of his cheek betrayed his irritation with the foppish Theresius Wilford.

***

“Sebastian, let’s take a drive through Lydon before returning to the estate.”

“…Right now? Why?”

Sebastian had spent hours waiting for Richard Spencer at the Montague mansion and had even dozed off. Just when he thought he could finally rest, Richard dropped this on him.

“Because of the Poor Law reform.”

“What does that have to do with driving through the city?”

“As the Young Earl representing Ingrint’s Parliament, I need to observe the state of the poor with my own eyes.”

Wow, what a refreshingly absurd excuse!

Richard Spencer might have been generous enough to distribute gold coins to the poor, but he had never ventured anywhere near their dwellings. He was the same man who had coldly dismissed Graham Harold’s suggestion to volunteer.

“What could you possibly see at this hour? The poor can’t even afford candles. If you visit now, it’ll be pitch dark, and you won’t see a thing.”

Sebastian grumbled, but Richard remained unfazed. He instructed the coachman.

“Take us to Dockland. As quickly as possible.”

Author’s Footnote:

[1] Partially modified from the content of Thomas Robert Malthus’s An Essay on the Principle of Population