Decorum (8 page)

C
HAPTER
11

Francesca decided to speak to Edmund Tracey about the marriage contract herself. She overruled Jerry’s suggestion that he himself or her lawyer be present. The suggestion seemed heavy-handed. Besides, surely Edmund would be reasonable. Instead she hit upon the idea that the Reverend Lawrence, Vinnie’s father, who would perform the ceremony, might come to luncheon to discuss the wedding. As long as they were talking “business” she might ask Mr. Lawrence for a few moments alone with Edmund. Mr. Lawrence was happy to put himself at Francesca’s disposal. Tracey, too, was eager to “get the ball rolling.”

Mr. Lawrence, satisfied with Tracey’s intentions, set appointments for Edmund’s instruction in the Lutheran faith so that he might be a regular communicant well before the wedding the following Christmas, 1891. Mrs. Lawrence was volunteered to help with the church arrangements and Mr. Lawrence would guide them through the spiritual aspects of their nuptial. The initial business concluded, he excused himself to her father’s library, leaving them in the drawing room, the door ajar. Edmund began.

“I thought that went rather well, didn’t you?” he said.

“Yes. I’m so pleased.”

She realized, now that the moment had come, that she felt a little uncomfortable.

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about, duchess?”

“Well,” she began. “I must admit to feeling a bit awkward, but I thought we had better make a start. It’s the subject of finance.”

He gave her a quizzical look.

“Oh, not of the wedding. Heavens no, that’s my bailiwick. No, I mean finance in general, yours and mine, after we’re married.”

He seemed nonplussed and didn’t speak for several moments. Walking to the fireplace, he drew his cigarette case from his inside jacket pocket, opened it, seemed to think better of it, slapped the case shut, and replaced it in his pocket. Francesca chose not to fill the silence.

“Certainly,” he said at length. “Frankly, I no doubt should have introduced the subject myself. It was remiss of me. Forgive me, duchess.”

“That’s quite all right,” she said. “I thought we might begin to talk about how we’re fixed and how we might manage it.”

He drew a sharp breath. “Certainly,” he said again, “how we might manage it. You must have given some thought to the matter or you wouldn’t have raised it.”

“Yes. Some.”

“Well?” He stood with his back to the fireplace and his hands clasped behind him.

“Well, the house, for instance. It is the house where I grew up and I’m attached to it, of course, but it doesn’t follow that we must live here. I don’t mind the idea of moving to a different house. And the house is part of our collective wealth, so to speak, so that is one thing I thought we should at least begin to think about. You’ve never expressed a desire one way or another about where we might live.”

“That is because I have no objection to living here and thought it was understood.”

“Oh. Splendid,” she said, forcing a smile. “If at some later date we want to move to a new home, we can talk about it then.”

“Of course. I am glad to hear that you are so amenable.” His expression did not exude gladness. He stood looking at her as if he hoped the subject was ended.

“Naturally, I assume that no matter where we live, you would want to add a servant for yourself,” she continued.

“Yes, I will. Perhaps more than one, and of course I shall probably have certain opinions about any changes or additions to the household in future.”

“Naturally, I would consult you. But for the most part I would expect that the majority of the household arrangements would be left to me.”

“Of course. But I’m glad you would consult me. Is that all?” He said it as if he had one foot over the threshold and only a word of extreme import would arrest him.

“No.” She felt awkward and feared she looked and sounded the way she felt. So again she confessed as much. “I’m so sorry, Edmund. This is so very awkward and tiresome—”

“Very tiresome,” he broke in.

“—but necessary, if we—if I—am to understand our relative positions in money matters.”

“May I venture a guess that we are discussing your money, rather than mine?” Light had gone out of him and good humor had followed.

“You’ve never talked much about your occupation, except vague references to business that has kept you occupied. I assumed you were a man of independent means and that business was more of an amusement. Of course I have no objection whatever to a man having no profession, as long as he has the means to support such a lack of profession. Clearly”—she gestured toward Tracey’s elegant new suit—“you’re able to support yourself. So I’m sure I needn’t worry about how our money is managed.”

“Of course, you needn’t worry.” He continued to face her. She waited for him to say more, especially to divulge his occupation or explain where he got his money. This time he took the cigarette from its case and lit it. Neither she nor her mother—nor any woman—would allow smoking in the drawing room, but she felt helpless to voice her wishes, not wanting to use an awkward moment to begin to nag him. She did, however, take it as a small act of rebellion.

“You seem to be implying that I might be a poor manager.”

“No, not at all,” she said with genuine feeling. “It’s just that since under normal circumstances my money would come under your jurisdiction, I would like to know what plans you might have and how I might be consulted.”

“Normal circumstances? How I might consult you?” He shook his head as if he were straining to understand her. “I believe it is customary for the husband to take over management of the finances completely—to relieve the wife of the burden, of course. I fail to see why any consultation would be necessary.”

Francesca could hardly believe her ears. Though she far from claimed to understand how the world worked, she couldn’t help but remember what Jerry had told her that awful day when he brought home the first balance sheets for her to learn to read.

“Look at this,” Jerry had said, putting before her a sheet of paper with figures on it. He was sitting at his desk in his library. She had just brought him a cup of coffee. “It’s your bank statement. I want to give your whole portfolio a good going-over. I could use some help. Why don’t you pull up a chair?”

“Help? From me? Why?”

He stopped fussing with the papers on his desk and looked up at her. “You’re a woman of means, Francesca. You’re young and relatively unprotected. Even if you weren’t attractive, your money will be.” Jerry’s blunt recital of her situation made her feel vulnerable, naked to everyone but herself.

“But I don’t know anything about banking and figures and things. Besides, I’ve got you to look after everything for me.”

“You of all people should know that I won’t always be here to help you.” Yes, she of all people knew how fleeting life could be. “Francesca, there are two things that make people crazy—having money and not having money. If they haven’t any money of their own to control, they want to control somebody else’s. When it comes to money, if someone says he has your best interest at heart, don’t you believe him—not anyone. Even me. You don’t have to be a banker to learn to read your own statements. If you don’t understand something, question it. Keep questioning it until you’re satisfied that you’ve gotten the right answer—not necessarily the answer you want, but the right one. Don’t let anybody bully you. You’re a bright woman. No one has the right to make you think otherwise. You have a right and an obligation to be a good steward of the means that have been left to you.”

Now, facing the man she intended to marry, she said, “It is my money, after all. And we never have discussed what sort of settlement I might make on you at marriage.”

“Settlement?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “What sort of settlement were you about to propose?”

“I hadn’t thought of any particular percentage—”

“Percentage?” He stood at the fireplace with his foot on the fender and his elbow on the mantel. “Am I to believe that we’ve known each other for more than five years and yet the trust you bear me only extends to the management of a percentage of the whole?”

“But even a percentage would be a generous sum, considering the whole. I think it only wise that the majority be held against catastrophe.”

“Held by you?” It was more statement than question. His displeasure was evident, though he governed himself impeccably.

“Presumably, yes,” she said, adding hastily, “This is why I wanted to talk with you, Edmund, because I wanted to know your expectations and intentions, so that we might work out any differences and come to a workable agreement.”

“My expectations, as you call them, were that we would be following the modern—and legal—custom of my taking over the management of our, how did you put it? Our collective wealth.” His tone was condescending and sarcastic. It grated on her. “Of course, I have no objection to your keeping a portion for yourself, as I expect you will have your own expenses and, as you say, you will have a household to run.”

“Do you expect me to have an allowance of my own money?” She stared at him in incredulity. A deep flush crept over her cheeks and her whole body suddenly felt over-warm. Defensiveness and indignation rose in her that took all her strength to suppress.

“I believe that it is the custom in many households.” He drew heavily on the cigarette and expelled a plume of smoke into the air.

“Let me get this clear. Am I to understand that your expectation was that I turn all my money over to you and let you then parcel it out to me?” Her voice rose. She hated her own reaction, but she could hardly believe what she was hearing.

He tossed the cigarette end onto the hearth. “My dear duchess, there wouldn’t be any ‘letting’ about it. I would have the management.” He changed his tone. “Either you yourself or Mr. Jerome have had the management of your finances until now. As your husband, I see no reason not to take that burden from you. Not that you haven’t managed nicely up until now, with Jerry’s help, but I can hardly expect you to take an active interest once we’re married.”

“I’m afraid it’s quite the contrary. I am very interested and expect to continue to be.” She felt quite cross now and looked for a way to exert her control. “And since the sum in question is no inconsiderable one, I feel it may be necessary to draw up a marriage contract.”

It was he who looked incredulous this time. “Marriage contract? So that I may not exercise my right as head of our household?” He was angry now. “So that I may come to my wife with my hand out?”

“Of course not, Edmund.” She felt bludgeoned by guilt as well as anger. “I understand what a difficult position this is for a man. That is why I’m suggesting a generous settlement be made on you that you may control without asking me. For heaven’s sake, I don’t want you to have to come to me whenever you want something.”

“Certainly not,” he said. She thought he looked like a whipped puppy.

“But by the same token, I don’t want to come to you to get permission to use my own money. That’s absurd.”

“Many a marriage is run on such absurdities.”

“That’s true. And some of them are amiable, and some of them are not.”

“Your assumption is that ours would not be.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you do think it. There must be some question in your mind. Well, I see where I stand.”

“That’s nonsense. I only want to be practical when so much money is involved.” Francesca could feel all self-control slipping away. She feared that if they went on much longer she would commit to something she would later regret. His situation, it appeared, was not as easy as she had thought.

“We’re both overwrought. I’m so sorry, Edmund. We have plenty of time to work out something that will be to our mutual advantage. And this whole discussion in no way diminishes my regard for you.” As she said this, there was a momentary qualm in the pit of her stomach that belied her words. “I understand this is quite common, to talk about the money side early on. We’re bound to have differing views. Please don’t be angry.” She came to him and put her arm through his. She could feel the tension in his frame. “I know you are, and I don’t blame you. Please think about it, and let’s talk again at another time. Perhaps Jerry or Mr. Grimly will have some ideas.”

“Who’s Grimly?”

“My family lawyer.”

“That’s just fine. Let’s let the whole world in on our private concerns.” He loosed himself from her grasp and made for the drawing-room door.

She ignored his remark. “We can talk about it again when you’re—”

“When I’m more reasonable? Since I believe I am being as reasonable as any man can expect to be, I hardly think the passage of time will make a difference. But if you wish to take up the subject later, I shall try to be as reasonable as possible so that we may dispense with this disagreeable subject.”

“I do agree,” she said, “that the sooner we deal with this, the better.” She followed him out to the entryway. “Will you say good-bye to Reverend Lawrence?”

“You make my excuses for me, duchess,” he said, taking his hat. “You may as well become accustomed to it.”