‘But look, it says here that this bank is an agent for Praed and Company in London. Nothing could be better, because I know they act for Great Aunt Honoria, so they must be substantial and safe.’
‘You do not intend to deal directly with the bank, I hope. That would be most unseemly. We may have come to a pretty pass, but for a young lady of breeding to enter a place of finance is unthinkable. You will be writing to your man of business, will you not?’
‘No. That would cause a delay we can ill afford. I shall go the day after tomorrow,’ Antonia said, decisive now she had made up her mind. ‘I shall write now to the manager and make an appointment. Jem can take the letter.’
‘Very well, my dear, if you insist, but I cannot like it. However, needs must. We shall attend to your wardrobe. If you go into town with your kid gloves in the state they are at present, our poverty will be only too evident to all.’
The kid gloves, after much sponging and brushing, were all a lady could desire. Antonia stood on the steps of the Undercroft Bank wishing her courage were as easily restored, because despite her brave words to Donna she was feeling decidedly apprehensive. It was simply not done for ladies of quality to deal with matters of business, and she had neither knowledge nor experience of such proceedings.
Through the discreet veil which Donna had insisted on attaching to her bonnet, she stared at the burnished brass plate that gleamed brightly despite the dullness of the day. Agents for Praed’s Bank. James Pethybridge, Manager. Antonia stepped down again and took a few delaying paces along the pavement, glad of its height above the roadway which was muddy from the day’s light drizzle. Even the dismal weather conspired against her courage today, it seemed.
Perhaps she ought to walk along to the King’s Arms and order a cup of coffee in a private parlour. Even as she hesitated, the church tower clock chimed close by. Eleven o'clock, the hour set for her appointment in Mr Pethybridge's reply. Antonia swallowed hard and raised her hand to the door.
The clerk ushered her into the banker’s inner sanctum with due deference but with a sideways glance that betrayed his surprise at finding her unaccompanied. As she shook hands and sat down, Antonia was relieved to see only a look of polite enquiry on the banker’s face. She had been fearing outright rejection, if not incredulity at the thought of a woman carrying out her own business negotiations.
Donna assiduous work on her walking dress and frogged jacket had obviously passed muster, and the addition of a new ostrich plume to her bonnet had transformed its appearance. She smoothed down the garnet-red cloth of her skirts and smiled back at the banker with a confidence she was far from feeling.
Mr Pethybridge was an amiable-looking gentleman in his early fifties, rotund and greying. His avuncular manner encouraged Antonia as she began to explain her circumstances and the nature of her request, becoming more confident and persuasive as she spoke.
Twenty minutes later, having completely flattened both her optimism and spirits, he ushered her out into the main office.
‘I do hope you appreciate the force of my arguments, Miss Dane,’ he said fluently, with the air of a man long practised in turning down ill-considered requests for advances.
‘It would be most unwise for a young lady, circumstanced as you are, to enter into such an arrangement. Indeed, it would be most irresponsible of me to encourage you to take on such a debt at this time.’
He broke off as he became aware that another visitor was speaking to his clerk. ‘I do beg your pardon, Miss Dane.’ Mr Pethybridge was flushed, presumably with embarrassment at having been caught discussing her business in the presence of another client. ‘Allow me to see you out.’ He ushered her towards the door, bowing deferentially as he passed the newcomer. 'Good morning, Your Grace, I shall be with you directly.’
Chapter Seven
‘Good morning, Pethybridge.’ Antonia started at the familiar, lazily deep tones but managed to compose her features as she passed Marcus Renshaw with a slight inclination of her head. She regretted not replacing her veil.
‘Miss Dane, good day. I hope I find you well? May I be so bold as to enquire if your business has prospered?’
There was little doubt that the Duke’s business prospered. There was no sign of the angry man in country riding clothes of the previous day. He had obviously driven into town and his multi-caped driving coat was carelessly thrown open over immaculately cut long-tailed coat and breeches. His boots shone like ebony and had miraculously avoided contact with the mud that, despite her best efforts, had spattered Antonia’s kid half-boots.
He had also permitted his valet to trim some of the unruliness from his tawny-blond hair where previously it had curled unfashionably long on his collar.
Antonia, realised she was staring, swallowed a bitter retort and brought up her chin. ‘It has not prospered, as you will no doubt be unsurprised to hear, Your Grace.’
‘Indeed? I am sorry to hear that.’ He seemed not to notice Antonia’s disbelieving expression. ‘Perhaps I could offer some assistance? Perhaps with your man of business absent you found yourself at some disadvantage in explaining the circumstances to my friend Pethybridge here.’
Subtly reminded of the extent of his dealings with the Duke, Mr Pethybridge hastened to usher them both back into his office. ‘Allow me to send for some refreshment. Do sit down, Miss Dane, and permit me to explore the details further. His Grace is no doubt correct that in your understandable inexperience you have omitted to mention something germane to the case.’
In his desire to please his important client he was all unctuousness now, Antonia thought bitterly. ‘Doubtless,’ she replied with a smile that felt as though it was congealing on her lips. ‘I am sure His Grace is never wrong.’
To her intense embarrassment, the banker took this as permission to review the facts she had laid before him, exhibiting every detail of her financial circumstances to Marcus, who sat at his ease in a wing chair. He seemed unsurprised by what he heard.
Antonia scarcely attended to what the banker was saying. What was Marcus Renshaw about, promoting her cause? Yesterday he had made it plain he thought her foolish in the extreme. Why should he do anything so prejudicial to his own interests in acquiring her lands as to help her to a loan? That was not the way to snap up her property and expand his own.
Her speculation was cut short as Mr Pethybridge announced, ‘In view of these facts, I see no reason not to advance you the sum you request immediately.’
Antonia was so astonished at this complete about-face that it was as much as she could do to thank him civilly. What had Marcus said to sway the man? But she could hardly ask now and prove she had paid no attention to the proceedings. They would think her a perfect fool. I am a complete fool to allow my attention to wander for a moment with that man around.
The banker bowed them out with renewed protestations of his desire to assist Miss Dane in any way he could.
As she stood on the pavement, drawing on her gloves, she realised that Marcus was at her side. Startled into directness, she demanded, ‘What game are you about?’
‘What can you mean, Antonia?’ he enquired as he offered her his arm. ‘Allow me to escort you to your carriage, the pavements are so slippery.’