Page 20 of The Secret Word (Twist Upon a Regency Tale #10)
C lem was at the next meeting with Father and the lawyers.
She had met Harcourt, the senior man, before.
On every occasion, he had spoken to her as if she was no more than ten years old and a halfwit.
He glanced at Father in alarm when she walked in on Chris’s arm, pretending she had every right to be there.
Father did not object to her presence, but nor did he greet her.
“That countess you mentioned,” he said to Chris.
“Very important lady. No one wants to offend her, because she runs an assembly hall.” He shook his head.
“I don’t understand the quality, and that’s a fact, but the thing is, she’s a banker. And a countess. Just like you said.”
Chris nodded, which was agreement enough for Father, for he was talking again.
“Child, her gran’fer was. Robert Child. Left her the lot because he didn’t like his daughter marrying her Pa.
And his widow ran the bank till the gel was old enough to take over.
” He shook his head. “Smart women,” he said, and shook his head again.
“Like Clem,” Chris said, and Father barked a short laugh.
“Very well, lad. You’ve made your point. I get two for one, do I? Clementine? You’re going to help this lad of your’n, when he works for me?”
“Yes, Father,” Clem said, clutching Chris’s hand. Father appeared pleased, but he could not be trusted. Chris could. Chris would stop Father from hitting her.
“Lad, this earl, Jersey, that married Child’s granddaughter—he has just changed his name.
Child-Villiers, he is now. Think of that.
Goldsmiths, the family was, and before that, they tell me, cloth merchants.
Child was the name of nobodies, and now, through the daughter, it will be the name of earls. Think of that!”
“Wright-Satterthwaite has a ring to it,” Chris said, and Father beamed.
“Just so. Just so, lad.”
“Perhaps, like the Earl of Jersey, after the birth of sons,” Chris suggested. “Jersey took the name after his fourth son was born.”
Father narrowed his eyes as he thought about this.
“We can put it in the agreement,” Chris suggested. “What do you think, Clem? After the birth of the second child, son, or daughter?”
That touched on one of the clauses they wanted to renegotiate. “Let us discuss that when we reach that point in the document,” she suggested.
Father was still beaming, but the smile turned to a scowl when Chris read out their first point.
“You want cash for marrying my daughter?” he growled.
“Money to ensure I can keep your daughter in the style to which she is accustomed,” Chris said.
Clem was relieved to see Father assume his business face—the one he wore when he was negotiating a deal.
They had not been at all certain he would bend even a little.
On certain things, she and Chris would not budge.
If Father would not move, that would mean a dash for the border, and lean times as they lived on Chris’s savings while they found out whether the estate from the Thurgoods could support them.
Father baulked wherever they had expected him to object—the larger cash settlement on the day of the wedding, their wish to have their own house rather than living under Father’s roof, the limits Chris intended to place on his availability to Father’s enterprises—three days a week but for as long each day as Father wishes.
For those items and others, they had marshalled their arguments, and Clem was very relieved that Father was prepared to listen.
For example, Chris pointed out that a townhouse in a more fashionable district was one of the lures he had placed before Chris at the outset, and that the reason for it—to put his grandson’s mother in contact with the ton—remained valid.
Father pushed back—in the case of a townhouse, he agreed to pay the rent on one and review it after a year.
In the course of the long afternoon, they managed to hammer out most of an agreement.
On two topics, Father was obdurate. His entire fortune would go to his eldest grandson, and any other children of their marriage would get nothing from their grandfather.
He would not consider settling for a granddaughter—if Chris and Clem did not produce a son, the fortune would go to Clem’s unknown cousin, the son of Father’s only sister.
*
“On the whole,” Chris said to Clem as they left at the end of the meeting, “that went better than I expected.”
The lawyer was going away to write up the revised agreement—they would each have a copy by the end of the day tomorrow.
“I’ve been wondering if we should employ a lawyer of our own,” Clem said. “I know you have a lot of experience reading lawyer-speak, but are we certain nothing is hidden in the contract that we have missed?”
Chris didn’t know any lawyers, except those who worked for Billy. “I could ask Billy if I could use one of his legal men,” Chris said. “Though I hate owing him even more than I do already. I have no idea what price he’ll exact!”
“I would rather not pay the cost of not doing it,” Clem retorted. “We need the document to be read by a lawyer who is on our side.”
She made an excellent point. Would Billy’s lawyers be on Chris and Clem’s side, though? Yes, he supposed, provided they had no conflicts with Billy. “You are right,” he told Clem. “I will ask Billy.”
Her smile was, as ever, a benediction. Chris had come to realize that Clem expected men to ignore her, and though she now trusted Chris enough to argue with him, her delight when he listened showed that her trust had very shallow roots.
Billy sent for him the following day shortly after his copy of the agreement had been delivered, and before he could request a few minutes. As usual, he did not bother with social niceties. “Christopher, how did you get on at your meeting with your father-in-law to be?”
“Quite well, I think,” Chris told him. He plopped the heavy sheaf of papers, still tied in red ribbon, onto Billy’s desk.
“This is version two of the marriage agreement. I’ve been over it with Wright’s lawyers twice, the second time yesterday, to propose the changes that Miss Wright and I want.
Those should be in this version, which has only just arrived. ”
“Summarize it for me,” Billy said, as he always did when his employees presented him with something in writing. Billy could read—Chris had seen him do it. But Chris suspected he found it hard.
“If you have the time,” Chris said. “I was planning to ask if one of your lawyers could go over it with me, but I’d value your opinion.” Also true. Billy had a keen mind and a devious one. If Wright had buried traps in the agreement, Billy was the most likely one to see them.
“Tiny!” Billy shouted, and the bodyguard-aide opened the office door far enough to poke his head inside. “Clear my timetable for the next three hours, and let Anderson know I need him.”
Tiny nodded and withdrew.
“Carry on,” Billy said. “Anderson can catch up when he arrives.”
Chris untied the ribbon and picked the first page off the top of the stack. “Names, addresses, and so on. The agreement is between Wright and me.”
“His full legal name is Bertram Wright,” Billy noted.
Bertram Wright, collier proprietor and merchant, of 17A Fullway Court, London and 5 Munstead Way, Sheffield, Yorkshire,” Chris read. He looked up to see if Billy had any comment, and, failing a response, continued to the next page.
“The first part states Wright’s motive for approving the marriage. It’s a lot of words, but in essence…” He stopped at the knock on the door, which then opened, and Tiny said, “Anderson.”
“Come in,” said Billy. “Anderson, you’re to read this agreement and make sure that Satterthwaite knows all the implications before he signs. Carry on, Christopher. ‘In essence,’ you said…? In essence what?”
They spent the whole afternoon on it, with Richard Anderson occasionally correcting Chris’s impression of the meaning of the words. Anderson found two loopholes and a trap hidden in the thicket of terms, and Billy found one that Anderson had not noticed.
“Thank you, Richard,” Chris said when Billy pronounced them finished for the day.
“And thank you, Billy.” He wanted to say more, but “I owe you more than I can ever repay” seemed like a dangerous thing to say to Ramping Billy O’Hara who was famous, at least in the world he ruled over, for never forgetting a debt and never doing a favor without expecting one in return.
The amusement in Billy’s eyes hinted he could read Chris’s thoughts, but all he said was, “We can’t let the coal man take advantage of you, Christopher. Can you let Anderson have the document overnight? Anderson, can your clerks make a copy by ten tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, sir,” Anderson assured him. “I’ll guard it with my life, Chris. Along with my notes for changes.”
After that, Chris was well-prepared for the next meeting with Wright and his people, where Chris politely pointed out the legal man’s “mistakes.” Wright was disgruntled, but could hardly complain, and the following day, both Chris and Wright signed the thrice-amended agreement.
Now Chris had only to wait for the wedding, and Clem would be his. No. Not that. He and Clem would be one another’s.
*
Father was still determined to go ahead with the wedding, to Clem’s relief, but had complained bitterly about young Satterthwaite being too suspicious by half.
However, he cheered up when he was notified one morning that one of the many weddings ahead of them in St. George’s calendar had been cancelled.
All of a sudden, the wedding was on with fewer than nine days to go. Father saw no problem with the short notice. He had booked the church, and invited his business cronies.