Page 33 of The Secret Word
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 wasfamous, 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 stilldetermined 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.
He also instructed Mrs. Bellowes to buy the wedding dress and organize a wedding feast for fifty people. Chris, Clem discovered, had been permitted to purchase the common license that meant they did not need to wait for banns to be called, buthe had had no say in any other detail of the wedding, and Father saw no need for any further planning.
Clem was not surprised when she expressed her desire to choose her own dress, and Father told her to button her lip. He then went out for the evening.
Mrs. Bellowes was no better pleased than Clem. The budget Father had given her was totally inadequate to hiring a half-way competent modiste to make a gown in time for the wedding, let alone putting together a breakfast that would meet Father’s expectations. Added to that, she had been told her services would no longer be needed after the wedding was over, and yet she was being kept too busy to seek another position.
Lady Fernvale, who had asked Clem to call her “Aunt Fern” in anticipation of the wedding, met Clem and Mrs. Bellowes in the Burlington Arcade one day just as the frustrations hit the boiling point. When Aunt Fern asked how they were, Mrs. Bellowes erupted, downloading all her frustrations, and then bursting into tears.
“Come,” said Aunt Fern. “My carriage is just along here. Clementine, dear, bring your chaperone. We shall go to Fourniers, eat as many of their delightful little cakes as we can, and discuss what is to be done.”
Fourniers, Clem discovered, meant a tea shop where Aunt Fern’s footman had soon secured a private room. By the time the three of them were safely ensconced in comfortable chairs within the room, Mrs. Bellowes was making apologies for her emotional behavior but was unable to stop sobbing.
“Mrs. Bellowes is worried and overtired,” Clem explained. “Father set her tasks to organize for the wedding, and has not given her a sufficient budget. Even if we had enough money, I do not know how we could manage a breakfast that Father would consider sufficient in the time we have to prepare. Our cook is certainly not capable, and we do not have sufficient servants forthe numbers expected. As for the gown, Father does not realize that modistes are booked up months in advance, and the money is not enough, even if we could find someone with time to make it. Not even the off-Bond Street dressmaker I’ve used in the past has been able to accept the commission. It’s quite a conundrum, and Mrs. Bellowes is most concerned that Father will blame her if all is not to his liking.”
Aunt Fern frowned thoughtfully. “What sort of gown do you want, dearest? Not, I think, the flounces and frills that make you look shapeless.” She seemed to avoid looking at Mrs. Bellowes’ as she said this, though—thanks to Aunt Fern’s words—Clem’s chaperone stopped sobbing and instead looked peeved.
Clem, who had been dreading wearing whatever Mrs. Bellowes chose for, agreed enthusiastically. “No, and not pastels that wash out my coloring, either.”
“Your father said…” Mrs. Bellowes began.
Aunt Fern raised an imperious brow, which temporarily silenced Mrs. Bellowes. If Clem didn’t soothe the silly women’s ruffled feathers, she’d have her chaperone complaining and scolding all the way home.
“Aunt Fern makes a good point, Mrs. Bellowes. While your taste is most suitable for a tall, slender debutante on the younger side, it has become apparent that it does not suit my form. So, if we obey what Father says, he is going to be angry about the results, and you shall not get your bonus.” Which gave Mrs. Bellowes thoughts a different direction, Clem hoped, but did not solve their problem. “But Aunt Fern, how can we find a modiste at this late stage, and with very little money?”
Aunt Fern waved a dismissive hand. “The money is not a difficulty. I assume my godson will receive your dowry after the wedding? Ask him for the money. Tell the modiste that your father has no understanding of the cost of women’s gowns, and that your husband will pay, but only after the wedding.”
Clem stared at her. As easy as that! Chris had already proposed that she completely replace her wardrobe once they were married. This would simply be the first gown in that wardrobe. Sharing that promise of future—and plentiful—orders would make finding a willing modiste that much easier.
