‘At twenty-three, my first wife had a family of three,’ he replied, sharply. ‘No, if Caterina is going to be so difficult to please, I may be obliged to make up her mind for her. She could do worse than accept St Helen’s, if he’s still interested. But he may not be, without a dowry, and I can hardly bear to think what Caterina herself would have to say about it, though I might be able to hazard a guess. She might be persuaded to see it as her duty, but I dare say it would go ill with her to see her sister marry a man of her choice when she was not allowed to. Still…’ he sighed ‘…a duty is a duty, though that won’t find me all of twenty thousand guineas, will it? Do you know, I could kill that son of mine. He must know that a man cannot turn his back on a gambling debt. His tailor is a different kettle of fish, but never a man who wins his wager.’ Then he rallied. ‘Oh, do forgive me. I should not be talking to you like this, Sir Chase. Not the done thing at all, is it?’
‘And would your wife’s family not—?’
‘Help?’ Mr Chester yelped. ‘Good grief, man, no! I would never let Mrs Chester hear a whisper about all this, or I’d never hear the last of it. Besides, she has enough troubles with four of her own bairns. Absolutely not!’
‘So Miss Chester would not tell her?’
‘That my son has got me under the hatches and cleared off to Liverpool?’ Stephen Chester looked at Sir Chase as if he’d taken leave of his senses. ‘I should think not. His stepmother has little enough good opinion of him as it is. And I can’t say I blame her. This would only add fuel to her sentiment that he should have been packed off into the navy.’
‘There are liabilities in every family, sir.’
‘Hum! Glad to hear it. However, the problem is mine and I must be left to deal with it as best I may. Leave it with me, Sir Chase, if you will be so good. I shall call on you tomorrow with my proposals. Are you staying at Mortlake?’
‘I wonder…’ said Sir Chase, glancing out of the window.
‘Eh?’
‘I wonder if you would care to hear my suggestion, sir.’
‘If it’s about borrowing from some cent-per-cent you know, forget it. I never borrow anything.’
‘It’s not that.’ Sir Chase stood on the opposite side of the table with his arms spread like buttresses, drawing the older man’s attention to him by the force of his considerable presence. ‘You want your daughter married, and you believe her chances are dwindling. Well, I may be able to help you there.’
‘You know somebody, do you?’ said Stephen Chester, despondently.
Sir Chase thought his host was the dourest of men, though his excuse was certainly a valid one. Not for one moment did he himself think that Miss Caterina Chester’s case was as serious as her father appeared to believe. At the age of twenty-three, many débutantes were already married, that much was true, but this one was obviously looking for something not on her father’s list and was prepared to wait for it. Nor did he believe that she was on the shelf. Not even approaching it. She was, in fact, the most prime article he’d ever clapped eyes on, but even a Johnny-Raw could see that her father and stepmother between them were handling her more like a child than a grown woman with a mind of her own. That being so, Chester might jump at his offer, and he himself would have to take a different route to achieve his aim. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I know somebody. Me, sir. Myself.’
‘Eh?’ Mr Chester said with a quick frown. From what he’d heard, bang-up coves like Sir Chase Boston did not marry, they took mistresses. His face immediately registered distrust. ‘Oh, I could not agree to that, Sir Chase. She’s had offers to be a man’s mistress before, you know. Only last month, the Duke of—’
‘No, not as a mistress, sir. As a wife. I’m talking about marriage. If I can persuade her to marry me, I am prepared to give you the IOU to tear up, and the cost of the phaeton and pair, too. You’ll be in the clear again.’
‘And what if you can’t? She doesn’t want to marry, Sir Chase. And you could see for yourself that she would never accept you as a husband. Not even as a friend,’ he added, sharpening the barb.
‘Well, then,’ said Sir Chase, straightening up. ‘It was simply a proposal. No offence meant. I’ll expect you at Mortlake tomorrow morning, sir.’
Mr Chester waved a hand, unfurling himself from the chair. ‘No…er, don’t rush off. Have another…oh, you haven’t…well. Now, may I try to understand you correctly? You’re making me an offer for my eldest daughter. Of marriage. Is that correct?’
‘Correct.’
‘And I get the debts written off. That’s part of the deal?’
‘Correct.’
‘There must be something else, surely? What do I lose?’
‘Nothing, unless I am unable to win Miss Chester, after all. Then we shall be back to square one.’
‘Then she must be told that’s what she’s going to do. But…’ he searched the shining tabletop as if for information ‘…I know very little about you, you see, and although I’m very tempted, and…er…gratified by your offer, I would like to know that Caterina would be—how shall I put it?’
‘Well cared for?’
‘Yes. In short, well cared for. But if you’ll forgive me, Sir Chase, there are some fathers, you see, who would look a little askance at your reputation in that department.’ And in plenty of other departments, too, he thought. There were some fathers who would not see this man as a suitable husband for their daughters under any circumstances, though their daughters might harbour sweet fantasies about it. However, the temptation to solve two major problems in one fell swoop was too great to be dismissed on the spot. ‘And if you don’t manage to persuade her?’ he said, still negative.
‘Then I’m afraid, as I said, the debt will stand. You fear I might not?’
‘Sir Chase, I cannot see how anybody could recommend himself to her as she is at the moment. Well, you’ve seen, haven’t you? Nevertheless, if you can recommend yourself to me, I shall do everything in my power as a respected parent to show her where her duty lies. I still have that authority, although I have not so far exercised it. Perhaps I should have done.’
‘I would rather take my own time, sir. In my experience, a lady like your daughter would not take kindly to being rushed over her fences.’
Neither man saw anything inappropriate in the analogy.
‘In your experience. Yes, you’ve had quite a bit of that, haven’t you?’
‘I’m thirty-two years old, sir. What man hasn’t, at that age?’
Stephen Chester hadn’t, for one, though his elder brother had. ‘And your parents are at Mortlake?’ he said, avoiding the question.
‘Boston Lodge. Sir Reginald and Lady FitzSimmon. Sir Reginald is my stepfather, and I am their only son. My own dwelling is on Halfmoon Street in London, sir. I’ve lived there for the last few years, and sometimes in my other properties in the north.’
Mr Chester had no need to ask
