A Convenient Gentleman. Victoria Aldridge

Wilks is not prudent,’ he pointed out patiently.

      ‘But I am!’

      ‘But you, Miss Morgan, are a young unmarried female.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘And the bank does not lend to young, unmarried females, no matter how…prudent they may be. That is the bank’s policy, it is a sound policy, and it will not be changed, Miss Morgan. I’m sorry.’

      She took a deep breath. ‘And if I were married?’

      ‘But you are not married, Miss Morgan.’

      ‘I am engaged,’ she said brightly.

      ‘Then I offer my congratulations, Miss Morgan. But you are not married.’

      ‘I will be next week,’ she said recklessly, prompted by the dreadful vision of the Castledene Hotel falling into ruin. ‘I shall be a married woman then!’

      ‘Then, given the standing of your father, we might revisit the possibility of extending the period of the loan,’ Mr Froggatt said cautiously. ‘May I ask the name of your intended?’

      ‘My what?’ Caro said blankly, her mind whirling at what she had got herself into.

      ‘Your fiancé. The young man to whom you are affianced.’

      ‘Oh, him!’ she said quickly, trying not to panic at the note of suspicion in the banker’s voice. ‘You wouldn’t know him. He’s not long arrived from England. He doesn’t know anyone here. Well, he knows me, but he doesn’t know anyone else…’

      ‘My congratulations, then, Miss Morgan. I shall look forward to meeting him when you’ve tied the knot.’ He stood, terminating the meeting. ‘Until then, Miss Morgan.’

      Somehow she managed to hold herself together until she returned to the hotel. She ran into the kitchen, took one look at Mr Matthews sitting huddled on the kitchen stool and burst into tears.

      ‘Mr Matthews, I’ve got to get married!’ she wailed.

      In a trice he was at her side, pressing her down on to a chair, patting her shoulder in helpless sympathy. ‘Oh, girl, girl. These things happen. Don’t you fret…’

      She wiped her nose on her sleeve, struggling for control. ‘But I have to get married immediately! Within the week!’

      He sat beside her, finding a large handkerchief from a pocket and dabbing ineffectually at her eyes. ‘Now, it won’t have to be that soon, you know. It kin happen to the best of us. Why, me and my missus—’

      ‘You have a wife?’ Caro was so amazed by this information that she almost forgot her own problems for a second.

      ‘Had a wife. Might still have one. Dunno. England…’ His voice trailed off and she dared not ask further questions. Mr Matthews had once, a very long time ago, been a convict, and no one in the family ever spoke about his origins, respecting him as deeply as they did. He took back the handkerchief and harrumped loudly into it. ‘All I’m saying, girl, is it’s not the end of the world. When did it happen?’

      ‘Just now, at the bank.’

      ‘At the bank?’

      ‘Yes. Mr Froggatt the banker…’

      ‘The banker?’

      She nodded miserably and Mr Matthews sat looking positively stricken.

      After a while he cleared his throat. ‘Didn’t realise you wanted the loan this bad, girl.’

      ‘Oh, I do. That’s why I have to get married, you see.’

      ‘Yes, but you didn’t have to… Oh, blasted bankers!’ He slammed his fist down on the table. ‘I’ll do fer him, I will. And when yer pa finds out…’

      Caro gave a final sniff. ‘Father doesn’t have to find out, Mr Matthews.’

      ‘Well, how’re you going to hide a baby, girl? Be sensible!’

      ‘What baby?’

      ‘Ah.’ He stared at her puzzled face and after a moment said carefully, ‘I think you’d better tell me what happened, girl. Slowly, this time.’

      So she told him, stalking up and down the kitchen in indignation as she spoke, oblivious to the look of dawning relief on Mr Matthews’s face. He was smiling by the time Caro finished, which cheered her up no end.

      ‘So, you think it’s a good idea, Mr Matthews?’

      ‘What?’ He sobered up swiftly. ‘No. No, it’s a real bad idea. You can’t do it.’

      ‘But I have to. I have to find a husband in the next day, if I’m to get a special licence. The problem is, how?’

      ‘The problem ain’t how to get married quick, girl—the problem is the forty years after! You can’t just go and get a man off the streets…’

      ‘Yes, I can!’ She stared at him as if he was a genius. ‘That’s exactly what I can do! I’ll marry…oh, someone, I don’t care who, but someone who needs the money… That drunk in the bar this morning, for instance! All I have to do is pay him off out of the money the bank will give me, and then later I can get the marriage annulled! I mean, I don’t ever want to get married, but I might, one day, and no one need ever know… Oh, it’s a wonderful scheme! Thank you for thinking of it!’

      Mr Matthews slumped on his stool, clutching his chest. His heart was surging in a way that terrified him. ‘You can’t…’ he said weakly, but she wasn’t listening.

      ‘Now, I want you to go and find that man and offer to pay him…well, I’ll leave that up to you, but don’t make it too much. I’ll go to the Town Hall this afternoon and arrange for a special licence and then… Oh, I’ve got so much to do!’

      She spun around at the door and raised a cautionary finger. ‘And you will check his name, won’t you, Mr Matthews, please. I don’t want to be saddled with a name like Ramsbottom, or Piggot or…or Froggatt!’ She laughed gaily and the door slammed behind her.

      Mr Matthews sat alone in the kitchen and listened to his charge’s feet exuberantly pounding up the stairs. Bleedin’ heck, he thought. What am I going to tell her pa?