Chapter 6
“I’d like to discuss something with you, Caroline,” Thomas said at breakfast the next morning. Mason always took breakfast
in his room, citing the need to give young couples as much privacy as possible. Caroline suspected it was because Mason needed
time to recover from his habitual hangovers. Thomas probably knew this, but kept up the pretense. He felt sorry for Mason,
she knew, but she also suspected something more—that Thomas felt protective of Mason, an older relative, his only remaining
family.
“Yes, darling,” she said, scanning the morning post. Shanghai’s postal system was surprisingly good, with deliveries three
times a day. There were a half dozen invitations on the silver tray. “Is there a problem?”
“I’ve reconsidered how to go about raising funds for this railway venture,” he said, “now that we’re here and I’ve seen for
myself it’s an incredible opportunity. The Chinese government wants to expand railway networks using foreign companies and
foreign money to do it. We want a larger controlling share, and for that we’d need to put in more capital.”
“Are you thinking of selling your silver mines, Thomas?” she asked, putting down the paper. She opened her eyes wide, a guileless
young woman. She had a horrible feeling she knew what was coming.
“No, not at all,” he said, “those are doing well.”
“Oh. So does it mean Uncle Mason is putting in more capital?” she said, still in her most innocent voice.
“Uncle Mason,” and here Thomas cleared his throat, “he’s, well, he isn’t prepared to invest any more. In fact, he’s backed
off a bit on the amount he’d promised to invest.”
“Wasn’t it his assurances that made this a good move?” she said. She clenched one hand in her lap and rested the other on
the newspaper. But she had to stay calm, appear trusting. “Has he changed his mind? Thomas, exactly how much is Mason investing?”
“Very little,” he said, reluctantly, “less than I first believed. Now, Caroline, your inheritance is yours to use as you wish,
always. But I would be very grateful if I could borrow some. I’ll return it, of course, once the railway is making money.”
Thomas explained he was looking at a scheme where the company would loan money to the Chinese government, and the government
would then use those funds to finance the railway’s building and development. Then Burnett and Stanton Ltd. would run the
railway and retain most of the profits until the government paid back the loan in full.
“But given the state of the Imperial finances,” Thomas said, “the Chinese won’t be able to pay back the loan, not in our lifetime
anyway. It’s going to be a cash cow, earning more than any other venture out there, any stocks or savings. But for this to
work, I’d want our family to control a majority shareholding.”
He continued cutting up his ham and eggs.
Our family. He meant Mason. But wasn’t she, his wife, also family?
Did he want her money because he had such confidence that he was willing to go ahead even if Mason put in less than promised?
Or was it because he needed to make up the difference for what should’ve been Mason’s share?
Either way, now he needed more money and he wasn’t going to raise it from selling his own silver mines.
A wife’s inheritance was like found money, easier than a bank loan, not to mention interest free.
In New York, whenever the Dominics threw a party, she had loitered at the peripheries. Guests oblivious to her presence, she
had become an expert at invisibility and she had listened. Listened and then pondered, lying awake in her bed musing upon
the secrets that New York’s society ladies revealed to each other in quiet corners, behind screens and potted plants.
The Ingraham sisters, for instance. Their conversation had been a truly useful lesson, a cautionary tale. One sister confessed
to the other that she had loaned money out of her inheritance to her husband, who needed funds to get over a rough patch.
“But there was no end to the rough patch, Ida,” she said. The two huddled together on an upholstered bench partially screened
by a large potted bamboo, their voices low. “And then he borrowed more, throwing good money after bad, but I didn’t want to
hurt his feelings by saying so. Now my legacy from our parents is gone and he can’t ever pay it back. I’ve nothing of my own
anymore.”
Nothing of my own.
Those four words haunted Caroline. The Dominics moved in circles where young women entered a marriage with money of their
own or the anticipation of an inheritance. Caroline had witnessed how the kindest of husbands could turn when it came to money.
Money and pride. When that happened, they inevitably presumed their wives’ money was there for the taking. When his debts
mounted, a husband could ask, even demand, that his wife hand over her wealth. He might use words such as “borrow” or “just
until it gets better,” but “asking” for a loan was only a formality. What choice did women have but to comply? To maintain
their marriage and family, to avoid the shame of bankruptcy. To keep up appearances.
Caroline had vowed she’d never let that happen to her.
No one would control her money, however little or however much she had.
The Dominics’ will had appointed one of their lawyers as Caroline’s legal guardian, charged with managing her inheritances until she turned twenty-five or married.
She’d married Thomas Stanton, a millionaire in his own right who didn’t need her money.
Except now he did.