‘The bank’s failed,’ a voice called from the crowd. ‘They can’t pay out! We’re finished!’
It was Hardwick who had come in with news of the rumour. He had entered Gilbert’s office and closed the door firmly behind him. ‘I don’t know how true it is, sir, but there’s a nasty whisper going around that Willard’s bank is in trouble.’ He looked anxious. ‘I thought you ought to know.’
‘No!’ he said in disbelief. ‘Surely not? Do you – do you think I should go down there?’ he asked, unsure of what to do in such a situation.
Hardwick’s eyes flickered over his employer’s face, then he said decisively, ‘I think you should.’ He’d paused. ‘Would you like me to come with you?’
Gilbert felt a great cloud descending on him and he stared at Hardwick as he considered. Then he rubbed his brow and said, ‘No, you’d better stay here. Keep the clerks busy, don’t let them chatter. I don’t want them to hear of this. It’s probably nothing,’ he added half-heartedly. ‘Somebody panicking; that’s how these stories start.’
He knew that Hardwick wasn’t convinced. He
wouldn’t have come to him in the first place if he hadn’t thought that there was some truth in the report. He wasn’t a man for gossip or hearsay, but he always had his ear to the ground; he had a shrewd knack of knowing all that was happening in the business and shipping world; which ships were in, which were sailing, which whalers were coming in full and which had had a bad voyage. He discerned the details almost as soon as the shipping masters themselves.
Gilbert stood now on the top of the steps outside the closed and bolted bank doors. He felt no anger, as did some of the men beside him, who were banging on the doors; but only bewilderment and despair, and struggling below these emotions, a surge of shame. Shame that he alone might have brought his company to the brink of failure. For it was at his insistence that the company capital and shares were moved to Willard’s bank and into Billington’s safe keeping.
He looked down into the crowd, all below him looked anxious, some showed wide-eyed fear. Some of the men were tradesmen, bakers in their white coats, cobblers in leather aprons, as well as businessmen in top hats and morning coats. There were seamen who had maybe saved their money rather than swilling it away in ale houses, and it was as he looked at the latter that he remembered that he had transferred the insurance of the
Polar Star Two
and the
Arctic Star
to Billington, who was acting as agent to an underwriter.
‘We’ll be all right,’ he murmured. ‘Billington will have made sure that everything is watertight. He’s family – he wouldn’t risk his daughter’s future.’ He cast his eyes around the crowd looking for someone that he could count on for support, someone who would reassure him that it was all a ghastly mistake. But there was no-one.
‘If only Father was here,’ he muttered. ‘He would
know what to do. But he’s not. There’s no-one who can help me.’
Someone pulled on his sleeve. It was Hardwick, and he whispered into his ear, ‘A message has just come from Mrs Rayner, sir – your wife that is, not your mother – she requests that you go to her mother’s house immediately.’
Gilbert nodded absently; if Harriet and her mother had heard the rumour they would be bound to be worried; Austin Billington might have been absent from home for a day or two if the bank had been experiencing difficulties. Yes, he would go there straight away and find out what Mrs Billington knew. No point in hanging around here.
‘I’ll be as quick as I can, Hardwick. I, er, I don’t suppose you have heard anything more?’
Hardwick unrolled an umbrella and handed it to Gilbert. It was just starting to rain. ‘No, sir. But I’m afraid ’rumour is spreading around ’town. I’ve just had ’accounts clerks from ’ropery and ’chandler’s office asking if any outstanding monies can be paid immediately.’
‘Great heavens!’ Gilbert raged. ‘They don’t waste any time, do they? Do they think that we’re not going to pay their paltry little bills?’
Hardwick stood silently for a moment, the rain became heavier and started to run down his face. ‘I don’t think that is the situation, Mr Gilbert,’ he said quietly, with just a hint of reproach in his voice. ‘But both companies bank with Willard’s. They may find it difficult to pay their men.’
‘Oh. Of course. Yes. I wasn’t thinking,’ Gilbert said, crestfallen. He turned to move away and then on impulse handed back the umbrella. Hardwick was wearing only his office suit, which already was soaked about the shoulders.
‘Take this,’ he said. ‘I’ve got my coat and hat on, and I’ll call a cab.’
But he didn’t; several hansoms slowed down as they
approached him during his walk across the town towards the Billingtons’ home, but he waved them on. He put his head down and hunched into his collar, letting the rain engulf him.
‘Oh, Gilbert! What a terrible thing to have happened. Mama is distraught, I can do nothing with her. She only talks of the shame.’ Harriet grasped his hands as he entered the drawing-room.
‘But what have you heard? What has happened? No-one seems to know. The bank doors are locked, and rumours are flying that the bank has failed.’
She sank into an armchair and put her hands over her face. He knelt beside her. ‘Harriet. Tell me what you know,’ he said quietly. ‘I have to know so that I can act. Our livelihood depends on it.’
Suddenly he felt stronger; he would be more capable of making decisions once he knew the facts.
She raised her head. ‘We shall have no livelihood. Not if you have banked with my father.’ She searched for a handkerchief in her skirts and Gilbert took one of his from his pocket and handed it to her.
‘Don’t you see, Gilbert?’ she said tearfully. ‘We’re ruined, and it is
his
fault.’
‘You’re being melodramatic, Harriet,’ he said firmly. ‘Now take a deep breath and tell me what in heaven’s name has happened.’
‘
I’ll
tell you what has happened, Gilbert.’ Mrs Billington’s voice boomed from the doorway and Gilbert rose to his feet as she entered. Her hair was dishevelled and her eyes were dull with fatigue, but behind the tiredness was a glimmer of anger.
‘For years I have put up with his whores and his mistresses. No, I make no excuse for my language, Harriet,’ she said, as her daughter drew in a sharp breath. ‘You have to know all of the truth – you too, Gilbert – and we’ll soon know if you are man enough to stand by us.’ Her mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘Your father, Harriet, has been spending
my
money for years
on his excesses.
My
money!
Old
money, not tainted money of doubtful origin, as I discovered his was.’ She lowered herself into a chair. ‘But now,’ she said bitterly, ‘an official has been from the bank. He says that he’s been using the bank’s money for his own schemes. He’s been speculating with clients’ accounts.’
Gilbert felt himself grow cold. He had given everything over to Billington, trusting him to open the accounts and accepting only his signature. He had disregarded Hardwick’s misgivings on the procedures. ‘But what – what did he say? It can’t be the sole reason for the closure.’
She nodded. ‘He said he is solely responsible for the mismanagement of funds. The liabilities are eighty thousand pounds, and the bank’s assets only twenty thousand.’ She clasped her hands to her chest. ‘They will notify the authorities that he has committed fraud.’ Her voice was a muffled whisper. ‘He will go to prison.’
‘Where is Mr Billington now?’ Gilbert asked in a low voice. ‘Is he at the bank?’
Mrs Billington lifted her head. ‘He’s upstairs. Locked in his room. He refuses to come out.’
‘May I go up?’
‘He won’t speak to you, Gilbert,’ Harriet grieved. ‘I’ve tried, but he refuses to answer.’
Gilbert walked to the door, and Mrs Billington called after him, ‘There’s nothing he can say. Nothing that can change anything. He has ruined my life.’
And not only yours, dear lady
, Gilbert deliberated as he walked up the stairs.
There are many who will be cursing his name this day
. He tapped on Billington’s door and called out to him. ‘Mr Billington! It’s Gilbert Rayner. Can I come in?’
‘No. You can’t. Leave me alone.’ Billington’s voice was clear and decisive.
‘I must speak to you, sir. Your wife and Harriet, they are most distressed.’
‘Ah! My wife! Yes, she will be. But tell Harriet not to worry, she’s got you to look after her, after all. Are the constables here yet?’ he asked suddenly.
‘No.’ Gilbert had his face pressed against the door. ‘Won’t you let me in, sir? You need to be represented. I could arrange for a lawyer to act for you.’
‘Hah! Too late for that, old fellow. One gamble too many, I’m afraid.’
There was silence and Gilbert waited for Billington to speak again. He could hear the sound of drawers being opened and closed. ‘Sir!’ He knocked softly on the door. ‘Arrangements have to be made. I need to know what must be done. What about Mrs Billington? How does she stand financially?’
There was no answer for a few moments, then Billington answered in a low voice, ‘I expect her relatives will rally round,’ he said, ‘and the house is hers anyway.’ He sounded very weary. ‘And I expect that you will help out. You’re a decent sort of fellow.’
Gilbert was suddenly angry. ‘How can I help if I’m bankrupt?’ he said sharply. ‘I trusted you. I moved all our assets over to you when I could have left them where they were safe.’
‘You wanted a gamble, Rayner. A bit of excitement, a chance of making more money.’
‘I didn’t want to risk the company, lose our ships, throw the men out of work.’ He was full of emotion. ‘I didn’t know that that was the risk. My family has worked hard for their good name. I trusted you.’
Again there was silence, then, ‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry.’
Gilbert turned away. Harriet was right, it was no use. There was nothing he could do. Only wait and let events unfold. He had reached the bottom of the stairs when a shot rang out. He stopped and turned, his heart racing. Harriet and her mother appeared at the drawing-room door.
‘What was that?’ Harriet’s shocked face stared at him and her mother clutched her arm.
‘Send for a doctor!’ Gilbert raced back up the stairs to Billington’s room. ‘Tell him there has been an accident.’ He put his foot up and crashed it against the door. It was solid and held, jarring his foot. He moved back and kicked again and he felt the lock shudder. Once more he put his strength behind it and the lock broke, bursting the door open.
Sickened, he stood in the doorway and surveyed the scene in front of him. Austin Billington lay, unrecognizable, his face down on his desk, a pistol in his hand and his brains splattered over the carpet.
Luke Reedbarrow stood at the door of the mill, blocking Tom’s way out. Though Tom was tall and broad, Luke towered over him, his wide shoulders filling the doorway.
‘Where’s Betsy?’ he demanded. ‘I’m sick of being fobbed of wi’ excuses. Tha’s sent her away, hasn’t tha, so that she can’t see me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, man.’ Tom flushed with anger. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because tha doesn’t think I’m good enough for her! Tha’d somebody better in mind. Somebody with a bit o’ brass, not a common labouring lout.’ Luke’s blue eyes glared at his employer. He was taking a risk in talking in such a manner.
Tom stared back at him. He didn’t dislike the man, but he disapproved of his careless lackadaisical attitude. Though he was generally polite to those of higher rank, he also appeared indifferent regarding their opinion of him.
‘You do yourself a disservice, Reedbarrow. If Betsy wants to go out with you, she can. My father said as much.’ Tom made to go through the door but his way was barred as Luke put his brawny arm across the doorway.
‘Thy fayther said – but what about thee? Tha doesn’t approve?’
‘Look!’ Tom grew exasperated. ‘It has nothing to do with me. Not any more. Betsy can do as she likes – she does do as she likes. She doesn’t ask my opinion.’
‘So where is she then, if tha hasn’t sent her away?
She’s been gone over three weeks and never a word.’
Tom took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know. She’s staying with friends in Hull. She hasn’t given us an address.’
Each time she has written
, he thought,
she has left off the address. Neither has she mentioned her friends by name. Why hasn’t she?
A niggling doubt rose to the surface as it had so many times recently.
Why doesn’t she want us to know?
‘Tha doesn’t know?’ Luke Reedbarrow’s face creased in disbelief. ‘That’s a bit odd, isn’t it? Somebody must know. Miss Rayner – doesn’t she know?’
Tom shook his head. ‘No, she’s as flummoxed as we are. But Betsy’s letters are cheerful,’ he added. ‘She’s enjoying herself while we’re here worrying.’
Luke folded his arms across his chest as he pondered. ‘She’s not been ’same since she went to that wedding.’
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘Well, I know it was a shock when tha got back and found thy da injured, and then Betsy was ill, but after that she was restless somehow, as if she couldn’t settle.’
He’s right
, Tom thought.
She was jumpy and nervous; she didn’t want Sammi to leave at first, and she spent time in bed and wouldn’t get up, saying that she was ill, but wouldn’t have the doctor
.
‘Right then,’ Luke said determinedly. ‘I’ll go and look for her.’
‘No.’ Tom was adamant. He had made the same decision. ‘No. You stay here, there’s plenty you can be doing and I’ll have to dock your wages if you go.’
‘I’m not bothered about that,’ Luke began. ‘I’ll manage.’
‘I’ll go,’ Tom insisted. ‘If there are official enquiries to make, then I can make them as her brother. Besides, I shall ask our relatives first; if she’s in Hull they might have seen her.’
Luke clenched and unclenched his big fists. ‘If
she’s in trouble tha’ll tell me?’ he said. ‘I’ll stand by her.’
For two pins I’d fight you
, Tom considered as he discerned Luke’s meaning.
But I might get the worst of it and I can’t go into Hull with a black eye or a cut lip
. He had seen the results of Reedbarrow’s temper in the shape of a blooded farmhand who had the misfortune to say something disparaging about a member of the Reedbarrow family.