Louise Allen - Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1

‘How could you? How could you lie and cheat just to gratify yourself? How could you risk everything, not just for yourself but for me as well? You are selfish, Philip, selfish beyond belief!’

He stepped back from the force of her fury, his face crumpling again. Philip had always traded on his looks, his charm, his happy-go-lucky attitude. To face criticism from the one person he believed would indulge him in anything rocked his entire world.

‘Katy, Katy don’t be like this.’

‘Like what? Angry? Afraid? Oh, sit down, Philip, this will do us no good. Is there anything you can think of, Arthur? Anything at all?’

‘I have been giving it some thought actually,’ he said, his relief that her outburst was over apparent. ‘The only thing for it is marriage.’

Katherine regarded him as though he was mad. ‘To whom, pray? Our breeding is good, but Philip has no title, which is the only thing likely to recommend him to some rich cit wanting to marry his daughter to the gentry. And good blood is nothing in the face of huge debts, a reputation for heavy drinking and no title. And who do you think is going to want to marry me, pray? No dowry, on my way to the debtors’ prison … I do not hold myself cheap, Arthur, but I cannot delude myself that I have any of the charms necessary to attract a husband blind enough to pay my debts as part of the bargain.’

Arthur looked distinctly uncomfortable. ‘That was not quite what I had in mind, Katherine.’

She thought his meaning unmistakeable and felt the blood rise hot in her cheeks. ‘If you think I am going to make myself some man’s mistress in order to pay Philip’s—my—debts, you must be mad, Arthur. Or are you offering me the position?’

‘Good God, no! I mean, would be honoured, of course, but I have no money, trust fund doesn’t pay up until I’m thirty … not that I wouldn’t want … ‘

Katherine waved a hand at him. ‘Stop it, Arthur. I did not mean it. If it comes to that, why does Philip not find some wealthy widow to squire about? One sees it all the time.’ She did not wait for an answer to her bitter enquiry. ‘But I am not selling myself: I would rather go to prison.’

‘No, you would not,’ Philip muttered.

‘How do you know?’

‘We were in Newgate this afternoon. There are debtors in there; it is hellish.’

‘What on earth were you doing in Newgate?’ Even the name made her shudder.

Arthur cleared his throat. ‘Because I had an idea. We were finding you a husband.’

He had been right. His display of anger in throwing his plate at the visitors had not been forgiven. The dark man raised his head as the familiar early evening sound of shuffling feet penetrated the heavy door. There was the thump as the stew pot was set down, a rattle as grills were opened to ladle out the disgusting slop in one cell after another, the duller sound of the water bucket grounding on the flags.

But the sounds reached his door and passed by. Resigned, he reached for the beaker and tipped it to his lips. A small trickle of water touched them. He was used to the taste now, grateful he could not see clearly the colour of it. Thoughtfully he ran his tongue round as much of the damp interior as he could reach and set it down again.

He had spent six years of living the life of a rake and an adventurer, the course he had chosen for himself in defiance of everything he had been brought up to respect. It had given him freedom, amusement, some moments of intense pleasure, some fear, much insecurity. He could have been said to have lived to the full those past years. Was it worth the price of his life? It seemed someone was calling in the debt and he had no choice. He had never been one to rail against fate: you changed what you could and put up with what you could not. Pride was all he had brought with him out of that old life, it was just going to have to be enough to see him out of this one. The rats, who knew the prison’s routines even better than he, skirmished in the straw, waiting for their dinner, which unaccountably had not appeared.

In the study of the house in Clifford Street Katherine stared at the two young men as though they had sprouted feathers and began to cluck. ‘You went to Newgate prison to find me a husband?’

‘Let me explain,’ Arthur said hurriedly. ‘I know the son of the Governor and he plays cards regularly with the Assistant Governor and some of the wealthier prisoners who can afford to pay garnish—that’s the money for better food and accommodation and so on. So that’s how I can get in and out of the prison.’

‘I don’t wish to get in and out,’ Katherine said tartly. ‘I want to stay out in the first place.’

‘Yes, I know that. But me knowing the Assistant Governor and Christopher Hadden—that’s the Governor’s son—means that I can see how we can put my plan into operation. They are both in debt to me, you see. Not much, but Hadden’s on a short string from his father and the Assistant Governor knows there’ll be hell to pay if the old man finds out he’s been involving him in deep play.’

Katherine sank back in the chair. This was like some insane dream. Any moment now she was going to lose all touch with reality and that was dangerous; she could not let herself sleepwalk into whatever desperate scheme the two young men were hatching.

‘And your plan is what, exactly?’

‘Well.’ Arthur steepled his fingers and suddenly became an almost perfect copy of his uncle, a very senior and pompous family lawyer. Katherine stifled a hysterical giggle. ‘You are aware of the situation as regards women’s property?’

‘I think so,’ Katherine said dubiously. Not having any property meant she had given the matter little thought.

‘Well, let me explain in detail,’ Arthur continued. ‘An unmarried woman is effectively the property of her father until she comes of age and marries, at which point she becomes the property of her husband and all her assets come under his control. With an unmarried lady who is of age, or a widow, then you do—subject to any trusts and so forth—have control of your own property.’

‘Arthur,’ Katherine said patiently, ‘the entire problem arises because I do not have any property.’

‘Yes, indeed. But the reverse also holds true. If you are under age, any debts you incur are your father’s responsibility. If you are married, they are your husband’s.’ He paused significantly. ‘Even debts incurred before the marriage.’

‘So you think that by marrying someone in Newgate prison I will be able to pass my debts to my new husband?’ He was obviously mad—she must just humour him. ‘Why should anyone saddle himself with more debt? I assume you are talking about one of these card-playing debtors. It would only make their position worse.’

‘I am not talking about them, Katherine.’ Arthur’s pose of legal dignity dropped away and he looked down at his hands, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. ‘When a man dies without any assets his debts die with him. They do not revert to his wife.’

‘But how do you know who is going to die?’ she began, still trying to humour him in this insane game. Then what she had just said penetrated her consciousness. ‘You want me to marry a condemned man?’

‘It is the only way, Katy,’ Philip suddenly burst out. ‘Don’t you see? The five thousand pounds would be wiped out at a stroke, as the gallows trap dropped.’

‘Stop it! That is an obscene thing to say—how can you even suggest it?’