I thought, perhaps, this had gone over his pointy head, but he understood, and this apparently gave him another thought about how to break up this engagement. He said, “I’m sure you understand that Susan has had a number of suitors over the years.”

This was an upper-class, older-generational way of telling me that Susan screwed a bunch of guys. I mean, really, William. Are you going to now make your daughter out to be a slut who I wouldn’t want to marry?

Well, yes. He said, “I’m not sure you would accept the fact that Susan has been with a number of men. That would rear its ugly head – it might come up in conversation, or she might get a letter or a phone call from a previous gentleman friend – and that would likely lead to arguments, and eventually… well, more unhappiness. For both of you.”

I was fairly certain that most fathers didn’t advise their prospective son-in-law to reconsider the marriage because their daughter had a sexual history that would fill a small library. But William saw this as a quick and sure way to dampen my ardor for his daughter. Then we could get back to money.

I said to him, “I appreciate your concern and your candor. But you need to understand that Susan and I know that neither of us has been a saint for the last ten years. In fact, William, I did have a woman in every port, and even a few inland. Not to mention on board. But my past and her past are totally irrelevant to our future.” Unless one of those assholes in Hilton Head called her. “So, we don’t need to pursue that.” I did add, “I’m frankly surprised that you would raise the subject of your daughter’s sex life with me.”

That made his face flush, and his eye twitched. He cleared his throat yet again – strep? – and said, “Well, I’m just trying to get you to take off your rose-colored glasses.”

William’s clichés were old when he was a kid. I replied, “I always look before I leap.”

“I hope you do. But, I sense that you are planning to go ahead with this marriage, despite my and Charlotte’s objections.”

I got silly and said, “It is my intention, Mr. Stanhope, to ask you for your daughter’s hand in marriage, and also to ask you and Mrs. Stanhope for your blessing.”

He may have remembered this from last time around, and sentimental old fool that he was, he was going to get teary-eyed and say, “I am proud and honored to call you my future son-in-law.”

Actually, he snorted.

“Sir?”

“Blessing?” He snorted again, and said, “We do not and never will bless this marriage.”

“Then, I suppose, a generous dowry is out of the question.”

“Dowry? Surely you jest.”

“Well… yeah.”

While we were on the subject of blessings and the sacrament of Holy Matrimony, I said to him, “I am a little annoyed with you, William, for discussing this with Father Hunnings.”

He didn’t seem surprised that I knew about that – it’s usually part of the deal that when you go to a priest with your problem about a fellow parishioner, the priest then goes to that parishioner. That’s the point.

I don’t think I’d want to be a priest – all sorts of people unburden themselves to you, and ask for advice, or guidance, or as with William, they’re trying to recruit God through you, to do some heavy lifting for them.

In any case, William had given some consideration to my statement, and said, “My going to Father Hunnings should not annoy you, John. You should welcome the offer of pastoral counseling.”

I replied, “You don’t want Susan and me to marry – so what type of pastoral counseling are we actually talking about?”

He explained, “The type that would make you understand that what is best for you is not necessarily best for your bride-to-be.”

“I see. Well, I think I’ve already gotten that opinion from you. So why are you involving Father Hunnings in this?”

“I hope I don’t need to explain to you that in our religion, prenuptial counseling is a condition of marriage in the church.”

“Well, there is counseling, and then there is counseling. Why do I feel that you’ve already put the fix in?”

“Are you suggesting that I’ve… influenced Father Hunnings-?”

“I think prejudiced him is a better word. And perhaps offered him an incentive to counsel Susan against this marriage.”

“That is an outrageous statement.”

“Nevertheless, I stand by it.”

“Then I will need to repeat your accusation to Father Hunnings.”

“You will if it’s not true, but you won’t if it is.”

He seemed to get his outrage under control and said, “This may be a moot point if we can come to an understanding about this marriage.” He reminded me, “I’ve made you an offer.”

“Which I reject.”

“All right…” William, of course, was not going to fold and leave. He had a few aces up his sleeve – to use a cliché – and he hadn’t even played one of them yet. Instead, he reshuffled the cards and redealt. He said, “I’m prepared to increase my offer to you. Two hundred thousand dollars now, and then ten annual payments of one hundred thousand.”

Well, front-loading a deal is very good, and usually gets the desired response. Money talks. But I love to negotiate, so I said, “It is my understanding that Susan’s annual allowance exceeds even your down payment. So what is my incentive to go back to London with just a percentage of what I would share with Susan if I stayed here?”

Well, now he had to play one ace and explain to me some facts of life in answer to my question. He leaned forward and made eye contact with me, then said slowly, so I’d understand, “John, if you and Susan marry, I can assure you that her allowance will be terminated.”

No shit? Wow. I asked him, “You would put your daughter in financial distress?”

He smiled – an evil smile – then inquired, “Are you suggesting, John, that a marriage to you is the same as being in financial distress?”

Good one, William. But I saw that coming and replied, “Well, I’d thought after our marriage, I could fulfill an old dream of becoming a professional surfer… but… well…”

Quite possibly he thought I was making fun of his son, so maybe I should have said, “Professional golfer.” Why did I say surfer? Freudian slip? Or did I mean to shove that up his ass?

He looked really annoyed, but did not rise to the bait, as they say, and informed me, “I think you would have to work.”

I had some information for him and said, “I have always worked, except for my sabbatical at sea. And I made quite a good living, William, here and in London. Unfortunately, my professional standing here was compromised as a result of what happened ten years ago. I take full responsibility for my actions, but I do need to remind you that your daughter was complicit in the events that led to my leaving my family firm. I have forgiven her, unconditionally, and forgiven myself while I was at it, but it will take me some time to regain my professional standing here in New York and to achieve an income that will provide your daughter with a lifestyle to which she has become accustomed.” I added, “And let me remind you, William, that it was you and Charlotte who always insisted that Susan not work, and you induced her not to work by giving her an allowance, and I’m sorry I acquiesced to that. And as a result of her being kept by you all her life, she is not presently employable in any financially rewarding job – and you are partly to blame for that, so you need to take some responsibility.”

William apparently didn’t want to be confused or influenced by inconvenient facts, so he replied simply, “I say again, if she marries you, her allowance is terminated.”

“Fine. Susan and I discussed this possibility, and it does not affect our decision to marry.”

This time he smirked, and said, “Susan may want to rethink that.”

Fuck you. I said, “You may want to rethink being so petty, manipulative, and spiteful.”