Page 49 of Marry in Secret
Thomas had to leave. It was that or commit murder.
***
He called in on his bank on the way back to Ollie’s, hoping for some good news there. He gave his name to the clerk and asked to speak to the bank manager. The bank manager emerged from his office and approached Thomas with a smile.
“Mr. Beresford, how very good it is to see you.”
Thomas shook the hand the man offered. “Yes, as you can see, I’m not dead, after all.”
The manager gave him an odd look. “No, quite. I can see that. Were you after an advance? Because you’re earlier than expected—quarter day is not for several weeks yet.”
“Quarter day? I’m not sure I follow you, Mr....?” He hadn’t made any kind of appointment, so how could he be early?
“Filbert, Matthew Filbert, sir. You won’t remember me. I was just a clerk when you were in here last. But I’m very glad you’ve come. There’s a small matter I need to discuss with you. Will you step this way, please?” He ushered Thomas into his office and shut the door.
Thomas proceeded to explain his situation. Filbert’s eyes almost popped.
“You mean, you were reported dead? For the last four years? Bless my soul, what a shocking situation. I had no idea. But how—?” He broke off, frowning, then rang a bell. A clerk arrived a moment later. “Be so good as to fetch the Beresford account files,” Filbert told him.
A few moments later the man returned bearing a heavy, clothbound ledger. He laid it on the manager’s desk and withdrew. Filbert leafed through it and muttered something under his breath.
“You say you were reported dead four years ago?”
“That’s correct.”
“And that until three days ago the navy had you listed as dead—definitely dead, not merely missing?”
“Definitely dead. There were witnesses to the destruction and sinking of our ship, and they reported it as sunk with all hands lost.”
“But you survived?”
“Yes. I and five others managed to make it to shore.”
“Ah, so you’ve been back in England all this time.”
“No, we were trapped in a hostile country for the last four years—the other five men are still there. I escaped, and arrived back in England three days ago.”
Filbert frowned over the account book, and Thomas added, “What is all this about? I assume you were notified of my so-called death. I understand there might be some difficulties in releasing funds immediately, but I assure you, I am Thomas Beresford.”
“Yes, yes, I know that. I recognize you from before, sir.” Filbert tapped the ledger book. “But if you’ve been ‘dead,’ how is it that you have been withdrawing funds from your account every quarter day for the last four years?”
“What? I haven’t!”
“Well, someone bearing your signed authority has. Every quarter day, the money held in trust for your allowance is deposited in your account—”
“You mean the money from my late mother’s trust fund? I thought that could not be touched until I turn thirty.”
“Yes, yes, that one can’t. I’m speaking of the allowance your uncle set up when you first went to sea.”
Thomas stared at Filbert, his brain reeling. “You mean he didn’t stop it? He continued supporting me financially?” Four years ago, Uncle Walter had rejected Thomas’s appeal for ransom in no uncertain fashion, denying any knowledge of him, refuting any claim Thomas made of him and ending with a statement that Thomas was not even a member of his family.
And yet, according to this man, he’d continued to pay Thomas’s allowance into his account? It made no sense.
“Yes, it’s paid into your account every quarter day, and three days afterward, your agent arrives bearing your authority and withdraws it all.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. I don’t have an agent and I’ve never signed any authority.”
For answer Filbert passed over a small sheaf of documents. “Is that not your signature?”
