Page 4 of The Marriage Debt
‘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.
‘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 anunmarried lady who is of age, such as yourself or a widow, then you do, subject to any trusts and so forth, have control of your own property.’
‘Arthur,’ she said patiently, ‘the entire problem arises because I do nothaveany 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. ‘You want me to marry acondemned 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?’
‘Can you think of another way out?’ Philip retorted.
‘There must be.’ But she heard the despair in her own voice as she said it. What choices were there to meet such a debt in so short a space of time? They had no assets, nothing to sell.
‘But what could possibly persuade a condemned man to such a course? What benefit to him would there be?’ Even as sheasked the question she knew she was on the verge of agreeing and it did not take the exchange of looks between the two men to see they thought she was won round.
‘Hard to say,’ Arthur shrugged. ‘I’ve heard of half a dozen cases from Hadden. I suppose in some of them the wife promises to take care of the man’s dependents. But you can’t afford to take on any more costs, which is why I have gone for the other option. It seems that for some of the most hardened cases, the ones with nothing to lose, or the ones who like to make a show, like the highwaymen, it is a diversion.’
‘In what way?’
‘Someone new to meet, the wedding, getting out of their cell for a bit, being the centre of attention. All those liven things up when you are sitting waiting to hang with nothing to entertain you but counting rats and wondering what the ballad mongers are going to write about you.’
‘And you have a convenient highwayman, have you?’ This was not happening to her. This morning she had got up with nothing more on her mind than the fishmonger, who was becoming pressing over his account, and whether she could turn the cuffs on Philip’s shirts yet again. Now she was discussing marrying a highwayman in order to avoid being sent to prison.
‘Yes, Black Jack Standon. Notorious, but not a lout. No gentleman, mind you, but by all accounts he behaves well enough when he holds up stages. Good looking, the ladies say. He’ll be expecting a lot of attention when he’s turned off and like all of them, he’ll be a bit of a showman. I think he’s our best bet.’
The hysteria which she was aware of just under the surface was threatening to break though again.My late husband, Black Jack Standon the highwayman…
Katherine fought it down. ‘And just how is this all to be arranged, assuming that is that Mr Standon is willing?’
‘You’ll need a Special Licence and then there’s the Ordinary –that’s the Chaplain – to fix and his fees to pay. There’s garnish to the turnkeys as well, but I’ve put it to Hadden and the Assistant Governor that if they make all the arrangements I’ll forget what Hadden owes me and nothing about the gaming will get to the Governor’s ears.’
‘Damn good of you, Arthur,’ Philip said with feeling. ‘We’ll go tomorrow, get it fixed up, put it to Standon. If he agrees we can get the Licence and the wedding can be the day after tomorrow.’
‘I think I will go and lie down,’ Katherine got to her feet. It was that or give way to the crazy laughter which was bubbling inside her. ‘Please will you ring for Jenny? I have a headache.’ As she reached the door she turned back. ‘And however lightly you take that debt I am not going to forget it. Somehow it will have to be paid back, however long it takes. I might be reduced to marrying a highwayman but I am not going to be a thief.’
The man they called Black Jack stood blinking in the morning light of the Assistant Governor’s office and wondered if bad food and water were making him hallucinate. Had he really agreed yesterday to marry some foolish spinster because she wanted to escape her debts? It seemed he had, or he wouldn’t be here. Goodness knows why, unless it was the instinctive reaction that any woman saddled with that dandipratt of a brother deserved some kind of help. And it passed the time more interestingly than sitting in his cell day and night and reflecting on his past sins. Of course there was the other benefit which the young lawyer had drawn delicately to his attention. Or perhaps it would not prove to be a benefit: he would wait and see.
The more intelligent of the two young men who had made the proposition to him, the lawyer, was speaking to Mr Rawlings. The Assistant Governor frowned, then nodded. ‘Very well, we will have the hand irons off him, no need to alarm Miss Cunningham, but the leg shackles stay.’ There was furtherhurried speech. ‘A bath and a shave? I think not, Mr Brigham.’ More muttering. ‘Er yes, there is that. I had set aside one of the better cells. Mr Wiggens left it only yesterday having cleared his debts. But it will have to be after the ceremony, I cannot detain the chaplain any longer than necessary.’
The dark man caught sight of his own reflection in a mirror hanging in one corner of the office and grimaced. He had not realised just how bad he looked and doubtless the smell was worse. The blushing bride would probably scream and run at the sight of him.
‘Ah, Miss Cunningham, do come in.’ Mr Rawlings was ushering in a tall, slender woman in grey, heavily veiled. A trim maid, wide-eyed with apprehension, was at her back. The woman lifted a hand and put back her veil and the dark man felt the impact as a catch in his throat. She was beautiful. Huge brown eyes, wide cheekbones tapering to a pointed chin, a mass of dark blonde hair just visible under her bonnet – lovely, terrified, brave.
Katherine sent one searching look around the office and fixed on the man in leg irons at its centre with almost painful attention. It was hard to look at anyone or anything else. He was tall, broad shouldered, dark, with eyes that looked black. It was difficult to see the rest of his face under a heavy growth of untrimmed beard but what she could see had a fading tan. She noticed with a strange pang that the skin under his eyes was pale. He was not well.
His hands were filthy and his wrists red raw where the shackles had chafed. His clothes were quite simply appalling: a torn frieze jacket, buckskin breeches and a pair of muddy boots. If he was wearing a shirt it appeared to be collarless and a ragged neck cloth, red with once-white spots, filled in the gap at his throat. She could smell him from across the room. Sweat and thesmell of the prison that seeped into everything. She realised it was part of the air of this place.
