A Dangerous Fortune (37 page)

The smack sounded throughout the ballroom like a gunshot. It was not a polite ladylike slap, designed for drawing room use, but the kind of blow that would deter a drunken groper in a saloon-bar. The count staggered back—and bumped into the Prince of Wales.

There was a collective gasp from the people around. The prince stumbled and was caught by the duke of Tenbigh. In the horrified silence, Nora’s cockney accent rang out loud and clear: “Don’t you ever come near me again, you filthy old reprobate!”

For another second they formed a still tableau: the outraged woman, the humiliated count and the startled prince. Augusta was possessed by jubilation. It had worked—it had worked better than she could have imagined!

Then Hugh appeared at Nora’s side and took her arm; the count drew himself up to his full height and stalked out; and an anxious group clustered protectively around the prince, hiding him from view. Conversation broke out around the room like a roll of thunder.

Augusta looked triumphantly at Micky.

“Brilliant,” he murmured with real admiration. “You’re brilliant, Augusta.” He squeezed her arm and led her off the dance floor.

Her husband was waiting for her. “That wretched girl!” he expostulated. “To cause a scene like that under the nose of the prince—she’s brought disgrace on the whole family, and doubtless lost us a major contract too!”

It was just the reaction Augusta had hoped for.
“Now perhaps you’ll believe that Hugh can’t be made a partner,” she said triumphantly.

Joseph gave her an appraising stare. For one dreadful moment she feared she had overplayed her hand, and he had guessed that she had orchestrated the whole incident. But if the thought crossed his mind he must have dismissed it, for he said: “You’re right, my dear. You’ve been right all along.”

Hugh was steering Nora to the door. “We’re leaving, of course,” he said neutrally as they passed.

“We’ll all have to leave now,” Augusta said. However, she did not want them to go immediately. If no more was said tonight, there was a danger that tomorrow when people cooled off they might say the incident was not as bad as it had seemed. To guard against that, Augusta wanted more of a row now: hot tempers, angry words, accusations that could not easily be forgotten. She put a detaining hand on Nora’s arm. “I tried to warn you about Count de Tokoly,” she said accusingly.

Hugh said: “When such a man insults a lady on the dance floor, there isn’t much she can do other than cause a scene.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Augusta snapped. “Any well-bred young girl would have known exactly what to do. She should have said she felt unwell and sent for her carriage.”

Hugh knew this was true and he did not try to deny it. Once again Augusta worried that everyone might calm down and the incident would fizzle out. But Joseph was still angry, and he said to Hugh: “Heaven knows how much damage you’ve done to the family and the bank tonight.”

Hugh colored. “What precisely do you mean?” he said stiffly.

By challenging Joseph to back up the accusation Hugh was making things worse for himself, Augusta
thought with satisfaction. He was too young to know that he should shut up and go home at this point.

Joseph grew more angry. “We’ve certainly lost the Hungarian account, and we’ll never again be invited to a royal event.”

“I know that perfectly well,” Hugh said. “I meant to ask why you said the damage has been done by
me
.”

“Because you brought into the family a woman who doesn’t know how to behave!”

Better and better, Augusta thought with malicious glee.

Hugh was bright red now but he spoke with controlled fury. “Let me get this straight. A Pilaster wife must be willing to suffer insult and humiliation at dances rather than do anything to jeopardize a business deal, is that your philosophy?”

Joseph was mightily offended. “You insolent young pup,” he raged. “What I’m saying is that by marrying beneath yourself you have disqualified yourself from ever becoming a partner in the bank!”

He said it! Augusta thought jubilantly. He said it!

Hugh was jolted into silence. Unlike Augusta he had not thought ahead, had not worked out the implications of the row. Now the significance of what had happened was sinking in, and she watched his expression change from rage, through anxiety and comprehension, to despair.

She fought to conceal a victorious smile. She had what she wanted: she had won. Later Joseph might regret his pronouncement but it was most unlikely he would withdraw it—he was too proud.

“So that’s it,” Hugh said at last, and he was looking at Augusta rather than Joseph. To her surprise she saw that he was close to tears. “Very well, Augusta. You win. I don’t know how it was done but I’ve no doubt you provoked this incident somehow.” He turned to Joseph. “But you ought to reflect on it, Uncle Joseph. You should
think about who genuinely cares about the bank …” He looked again at Augusta and finished: “And who are its real enemies.”

3

THE NEWS OF HUGH’S FALL
spread around the City in hours. By the following afternoon, people who had clamored to see him with money-making schemes for railways, steel mills, shipyards and suburban housing were canceling their appointments. In the bank, clerks who had venerated him now regarded him as just another manager. He found he could go into a coffeehouse in the streets around the Bank of England without immediately attracting a cluster of people eager to know his views on the Grand Trunk Railroad, the price of Louisiana bonds and the American national debt.

Within the Partners’ Room there was a row. Uncle Samuel had been indignant when Joseph announced that Hugh could not be made a partner. However, Young William had sided with his brother Joseph, and Major Hartshorn did the same, so Samuel was outvoted.

It was Jonas Mulberry, the bald, lugubrious Principal Clerk, who told Hugh what had happened between the partners. “I must say I regret the decision, Mr. Hugh,” he said with evident sincerity. “When you worked under me as a youngster you never tried to blame your mistakes on me—unlike certain other family members I have dealt with in the past.”

“I wouldn’t have dared, Mr. Mulberry,” said Hugh with a smile.

Nora cried for a week. Hugh refused to blame her for what had happened. No one had forced him to marry her: he had to take responsibility for his own decisions. If his family had any decency they would stand by him in
such a crisis, but he had never been able to count on them for that kind of support.

When Nora got over her upset she became rather unsympathetic, revealing a hard-hearted side that surprised Hugh. She could not understand the significance of the partnership to him. He realized, with a sense of disappointment, that she was not very good at imagining other people’s feelings. He thought it must be because she had grown up poor and motherless, and had been forced to put her own interests first all her life. Although he was a little shaken by her attitude, he forgot about it every night when they climbed into the big soft bed together in their nightwear and made love.

Hugh’s resentment grew inside him like an ulcer, but he now had a wife, a big new house and six servants to support, so he had to stay on at the bank. He had been given his own room, on the floor above the Partners’ Room, and he put a big map of North America on the wall. Every Monday morning he wrote a summary of the previous week’s North American business and cabled it to Sidney Madler in New York. On the second Monday after the duchess of Tenbigh’s ball, in the telegraph office on the ground floor, he met a stranger, a dark-haired man of about twenty-one. Hugh smiled and said: “Hullo, who are you?”

“Simon Oliver,” the man said in an accent that sounded vaguely Spanish.

“You must be new here,” Hugh said, and stuck out his hand. “I’m Hugh Pilaster.”

“How do you do,” Oliver said. He seemed rather sulky.

“I work on North American loans,” Hugh said. “What about you?”

“I’m clerk to Mr. Edwatd.”

Hugh made a connection. “Are you from South America?”

“Yes, Cordova.”

That made sense. As Edward’s specialty was South America in general and Cordova in particular, it could be useful to have a native of that country to work with him, especially as Edward did not speak Spanish. “I was at school with the Cordovan Minister, Micky Miranda,” Hugh said. “You must know him.”

“He is my cousin.”

“Ah.” There was no family resemblance, but Oliver was immaculately groomed, his well-tailored clothes pressed and brushed, his hair oiled and combed, his shoes shiny: no doubt he modeled himself on his successful older cousin. “Well, I hope you enjoy working with us.”

“Thank you.”

Hugh was thoughtful as he returned to his own office on the next floor up. Edward needed all the help he could get, but Hugh was a little bothered at having a cousin of Micky’s in such a potentially influential position at the bank.

His unease was vindicated a few days later.

Once again it was Jonas Mulberry who told him what was going on in the Partners’ Room. Mulberry came into Hugh’s room with a schedule of payments the bank had to make in London on behalf of the U.S. government, but his real reason was to talk. His spaniel face was longer than ever as he said: “I don’t like it, Mr. Hugh. South American bonds have never been good.”

“We’re not launching a South American bond, are we?”

Mulberry nodded. “Mr. Edward proposed it and the partners have agreed.”

“What’s it for?”

“A new railroad from the capital city, Palma, to Santamaria Province.”

“Where the provincial governor is Papa Miranda….”

“The father of Mr. Edward’s friend Señor Miranda.”

“And the uncle of Edward’s clerk Simon Oliver.”

Mulberry shook his head disapprovingly. “I was a clerk here when the Venezuelan government defaulted on its bonds fifteen years ago. My father, God rest his soul, could remember the Argentine default of 1828. And look at Mexican bonds—they pay dividends now and again. Whoever heard of bonds that paid out now and again?”

Hugh nodded. “Anyway, investors who like railroads can get five and six percent on their money in the United States—why go to Cordova?”

“Exactly.”

Hugh scratched his head. “Well, I’ll try to find out what they’re thinking about.”

Mulberry flourished a bundle of papers. “Mr. Samuel asked for a summary of liabilities on Far East acceptances. You could take the figures to him.”

Hugh grinned. “You think of everything.” He took the papers and went down to the Partners’ Room.

Only Samuel and Joseph were there. Joseph was dictating letters to a shorthand writer and Samuel was poring over a map of China. Hugh put the report on Samuel’s table and said: “Mulberry asked me to give you this.”

“Thank you.” Samuel looked up and smiled. “Something else on your mind?”

“Yes. I’m wondering why we’re backing the Santamaria railroad.”

Hugh heard Joseph pause in his dictation, then resume.

Samuel said: “It’s not the most attractive investment we’ve ever launched, I grant you, but with the backing of the Pilaster name it should go off all right.”

“You could say that of just about any issue that is proposed to us,” Hugh objected. “The reason we have such a high reputation is that we never do offer the investors a bond that is only ‘all right.’”

“Your uncle Joseph feels that South America may be ready for a revival.”

Hearing his name, Joseph joined in. “This is a toe dipped into the water to feel the temperature.”

“It’s risky, then.”

“If my great-grandfather had never taken a risk he would not have put all his money into one slave ship and there would be no such thing as Pilasters Bank today.”

Hugh said: “But since then, Pilasters has always left it to smaller, more speculative houses to dip their toes into unknown waters.”

Uncle Joseph did not like to be argued with and he replied in an irritated tone: “One exception will not harm us.”

“But the willingness to make exceptions may harm us deeply.”

“That’s not for you to judge.”

Hugh frowned. His instinct had been right: the investment did not make commercial sense, and Joseph could not justify it. So why had they done it? As soon as he put the question to himself that way he saw the answer. “You’ve done this because it’s Edward, haven’t you? You want to encourage him, and this is the first deal he has come up with since you made him a partner, so you’re letting him do it, even though it’s a poor prospect.”

“It’s not your place to question my motives!”

“It’s not your place to risk other people’s money as a favor to your son. Small investors in Brighton and Harrogate will put up the money for this railroad, and they will lose everything if it fails.”

“You’re not a partner, so your opinion oil these matters is not sought.”

Hugh hated people to shift their ground during a discussion and he responded waspishly. “I’m a Pilaster, though, and when you damage the good name of the bank you injure me.”

Samuel cut in: “I think you’ve probably said enough, Hugh—”

Hugh knew he should shut up but he could not restrain himself. “I’m afraid I haven’t said enough.” He heard himself shouting and tried to lower his voice. “You’re dissipating the bank’s reputation by doing this. Our good name is our greatest asset. To use it up in this way is like spending your capital.”

Uncle Joseph was now beyond civility. “Don’t you dare stand here in my bank and lecture me on the principles of investment, you insolent young whippersnapper. Get out of this room.”

Hugh stared at his uncle for a long moment. He was furious and depressed. Foolish, weak Edward was a partner, and leading the bank into bad business deals with the help of his injudicious father, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Boiling with frustration, Hugh turned and left the room, slamming the door.

Ten minutes later he went to ask Solly Greenbourne for a job.

He was not certain Greenbournes would take him on. He was an asset that any bank would covet, because of his contacts in the United States and Canada, but bankers felt it was not quite gentlemanly to pirate top managers from their rivals. In addition, the Greenbournes might fear that Hugh would tell secrets to his family at the dinner table, and the fact that he was not Jewish could only increase that fear.