A Dangerous Fortune (50 page)

“I would, I would!”

“Then we’ll look for one tomorrow.”

“Hooray!”

They drove to Kensington Methodist Hall in closed carriages. It was pouring rain. The boys had never been to a funeral. Toby, who was a rather solemn child, said: “Are we expected to cry?”

Nora said: “Don’t be so stupid.”

Hugh wished she could be more affectionate with the boys. She had been a baby when her own mother died, and he guessed that was why she found it so difficult to mother her own children: she had never learned how. All the same she might try harder, he thought. He said to Toby: “But you can cry if you feel like it. It’s allowed at funerals.”

“I don’t think I shall. I didn’t love Uncle Joseph very much.”

Sam said: “I loved Bill the spider.”

Sol, the youngest, said: “I’m too big to cry.”

Kensington Methodist Hall expressed in stone the ambivalent feelings of prosperous Methodists, who believed
in religious simplicity but secretly longed to display their wealth. Although it was called a hall, it was as ornate as any Anglican or Catholic church. There was no altar, but there was a magnificent organ. Pictures and statues were banned, but the architecture was baroque, the moldings were extravagant and the decor was elaborate.

This morning the hall was packed to the galleries, with people standing in the aisles and at the back. The employees of the bank had been given the day off to attend, and representatives had come from every important financial institution in the City. Hugh nodded to the governor of the Bank of England, the First Lord of the Treasury, and Ben Greenbourne, more than seventy years old but still as straight-backed as a young guardsman.

The family were ushered to reserved seats in the front row. Hugh sat next to his uncle Samuel, who was as immaculate as ever in a black frock coat, a wing collar and a fashionably knotted silk tie. Like Greenbourne, Samuel was in his seventies, and he too was alert and fit.

Samuel was the obvious choice as Senior Partner, now that Joseph was dead. He was the oldest and most experienced of the partners. However, Augusta and Samuel hated each other, and she would oppose him fiercely. She would probably back Joseph’s brother Young William, now forty-two years old.

Among the other partners, two would not be considered because they did not bear the Pilaster name: Major Hartshorn and Sir Harry Tonks, husband of Joseph’s daughter Clementine. The remaining partners were Hugh and Edward.

Hugh wanted to be Senior Partner—he wanted it with all his heart. Although he was the youngest of the partners, he was the ablest banker of them all. He knew he could make the bank bigger and stronger than it had ever been and at the same time reduce its exposure to the risky kind of loans Joseph had relied on. However, Augusta
would oppose him even more bitterly than she would oppose Samuel. But he could not bear to wait until Augusta was old, or dead, before he took control. She was only fifty-eight: she could easily be around in another fifteen years, as vigorous and spiteful as ever.

The other partner was Edward. He was sitting next to Augusta in the front row. He was heavy and red-faced in middle age, and he had recently developed some kind of skin rash which was very unsightly. He was neither intelligent nor hardworking and in seventeen years he had managed to learn very little about banking. He arrived at work after ten and left for lunch around noon, and he quite often failed to return at all in the afternoon. He drank sherry for breakfast and was never quite sober all day, and he relied on his clerk, Simon Oliver, to keep him out of trouble. The idea of his being Senior Partner was unthinkable.

Edward’s wife was sitting next to him, which was a rare event. They led quite separate lives. He lived at Whitehaven House with his mother, and Emily spent all her time at their country house, coming to London only for ceremonial occasions such as funerals. Emily had once been very pretty, with big blue eyes and a childlike smile, but over the years her face had set in lines of disappointment. They had no children and it seemed to Hugh that they hated each other.

Next to Emily was Micky Miranda, fiendishly debonair in a gray coat with a black mink collar. Ever since finding out that Micky had murdered Peter Middleton, Hugh had been frightened of him. Edward and Micky were still as thick as thieves. Micky was involved in many of the South American investments the bank had backed over the last ten years.

The service was long and tedious, then the procession from the hall to the cemetery, in the relentless September rain, took more than an hour, because of the hundreds of carriages following the hearse.

Hugh studied Augusta as her husband’s coffin was lowered into the ground. She stood under a big umbrella held by Edward. Her hair was all silver, and she looked magnificent in a huge black hat. Surely now, when she had lost the companion of a lifetime, she would seem human and pitiable? But her proud face was carved in stern lines, like a marble sculpture of a Roman senator, and she showed no grief.

After the burial there was a lunch at Whitehaven House for the whole Pilaster extended family, including all the partners with their wives and children, plus close business associates and long-time hangers-on such as Micky Miranda. So that they could all eat together Augusta had put two dining tables end-to-end in the long drawing room.

Hugh had not been inside the house for a year or two, and since his last visit it had been redecorated yet again, this time in the newly fashionable Arab style. Moorish arches had been inserted in the doorways, all the furniture featured carved fretwork, the upholstery was in colorful abstract Islamic designs, and here in the drawing room were a Cairo screen and a Koran stand.

Augusta sat Edward in his father’s chair. Hugh thought that was a bit tactless. Putting him at the head of the table cruelly emphasized how incapable he was of filling his father’s shoes. Joseph had been an erratic leader but he had not been a fool.

However, Augusta had a purpose as always. Toward the end of the meal she said, with her customary abruptness: “There must be a new Senior Partner as soon as possible, and obviously it will be Edward.”

Hugh was horrified. Augusta had always had a blind spot about her son, but all the same this was totally unexpected. He felt sure she could not possibly get her way, but it was unnerving that she should even make the suggestion.

There was a silence, and he realized that everyone
was waiting for him to speak. He was regarded by the family as the opposition to Augusta.

He hesitated while he considered how best to handle it. He decided to try for a standoff. “I think the partners should discuss the question tomorrow,” he said.

Augusta was not going to let him off that easily. She said: “I’ll thank you not to tell me what I may and may not discuss in my own house, young Hugh.”

“If you insist.” He collected his thoughts rapidly. “There’s nothing obvious about the decision, although you, dear Aunt, clearly don’t understand the subtleties of the question, perhaps because you have never worked at the bank, or indeed worked at all—”

“How dare you—”

He raised his voice and overrode her. “The oldest surviving partner is Uncle Samuel,” he said. He realized he was sounding too aggressive and he softened his voice again. “I’m sure we would all agree that he would be a wise choice, mature and experienced and highly acceptable to the financial community.”

Uncle Samuel inclined his head in acknowledgment of the compliment but did not say anything.

Nobody contradicted Hugh—but nobody supported him either. He supposed they did not want to antagonize Augusta: the cowards preferred that he do it on their behalf, he thought cynically.

So be it. He went on: “However, Uncle Samuel has declined the honor once before. If he should do so again, the eldest Pilaster would be Young William, who is also widely respected in the City.”

Augusta said impatiently: “It is not the City that has to make the choice—it is the Pilaster family.”

“The Pilaster partners, to be exact,” Hugh corrected her. “But just as the partners need the confidence of the rest of the family, so the bank needs to be trusted by the wider financial community. If we lose that trust we are finished.”

Augusta seemed to be getting angry. “We have the right to choose whom we like!”

Hugh shook his head vigorously. Nothing annoyed him more than this kind of irresponsible talk. “We have no rights, only duties,” he said emphatically. “We’re entrusted with millions of pounds of other people’s money. We can’t do what we like: we have to do what we must.”

Augusta tried another tack. “Edward is the son and heir.”

“It’s not a hereditary title!” Hugh said indignantly. “It goes to the most able.”

It was Augusta’s turn to be indignant. “Edward is as good as anyone!”

Hugh looked around the table, dramatically holding the gaze of each man for a moment before moving on. “Is there anyone here who will put his hand on his heart and say that Edward is the most able banker among us?”

No one spoke for a long minute.

Augusta said: “Edward’s South American bonds have made a fortune for the bank.”

Hugh nodded. “It’s true that we have sold many millions of pounds’ worth of South American bonds in the last ten years, and Edward has handled all that business. But it’s dangerous money. People bought the bonds because they trust Pilasters. If one of those governments should default on interest payments, the price of all South American bonds will go through the floor—and Pilasters will be blamed. Because of Edward’s success in selling South American bonds our reputation, which is our most precious asset, is now in the hands of a set of brutish despots and generals who can’t read.” Hugh found himself becoming emotional as he said this. He had helped to build up the reputation of the bank by his own brains and hard work, and it made him angry that Augusta was willing to jeopardize it.

“You sell North American bonds,” Augusta said.
“There’s always a risk. That’s what banking is about.” She spoke triumphantly, as if she had caught him out.

“The United States of America has a modern democratic government, vast natural wealth and no enemies. Now that they’ve abolished slavery, there’s no reason why the country shouldn’t be stable for a hundred years. By contrast, South America is a collection of warring dictatorships that may not be the same for the next ten days. There is a risk in both cases, but in the north it’s much smaller. Banking is about
calculating
risk.”

“You’re just envious of Edward—you always were,” she said.

Hugh wondered why the other partners were so silent. As soon as he asked himself the question, he realized that Augusta must have spoken to them beforehand. But surely she could not have persuaded them to accept Edward as Senior Partner? He began to feel seriously worried.

“What has she said to you?” he said abruptly. He looked at each of them in turn. “William? George? Harry? Come on, out with it. You’ve discussed this earlier and Augusta has nobbled you.”

They all looked a little foolish. Finally William said; “Nobody has been nobbled, Hugh. But Augusta and Edward have made it clear that unless Edward becomes Senior Partner, they …” He seemed embarrassed.

“Out with it,” Hugh said.

“They will withdraw their capital from the business.”

“
What
?” Hugh was stunned. Withdrawing your capital was a cardinal sin in this family: his own father had done it and had never been forgiven. That Augusta should be willing even to threaten such a step was astonishing—and showed that she was deadly serious.

Between them, she and Edward controlled about forty percent of the bank’s capital, over two million pounds. If they withdrew the money at the end of the
financial year, as they were legally entitled to do, the bank would be crippled.

It was startling that Augusta should make such a threat—and even worse that the partners were ready to give in to her. “You’re surrendering all authority to her!” he said. “If you let her get away with it this time she’ll do it again. Anytime she wants something she can just threaten to withdraw her capital and you’ll cave in. You might as well make
her
Senior Partner.”

Edward blustered: “Don’t you dare speak of my mother like that—mind your manners!”

“Manners be damned,” Hugh said rudely. He knew he was doing his cause no good by losing his temper, but he was too angry to stop. “You’re about to ruin a great bank. Augusta’s blind, Edward is stupid and the rest of you are too cowardly to stop them.” He pushed back his chair and stood up, throwing his napkin down on the table like a challenge. “Well, here’s one person who won’t be bullied.”

He stopped and took a breath, realizing he was about to say something that would change the course of the rest of his life. Around the table they all stared at him. He had no alternative. “I resign,” he said.

As he turned from the table he caught Augusta’s eye, and saw on her face a victorious smile.

Uncle Samuel came to see him that evening.

Samuel was an old man now, but no less vain than he had been twenty years ago. He still lived with Stephen Caine, his “secretary.” Hugh was the only Pilaster who ever went to their home, which was a house in raffish Chelsea, decorated in the fashionable aesthetic style and full of cats. Once, when they were halfway down a bottle of port, Stephen had said he was the only Pilaster wife who was not a harridan.

When Samuel called, Hugh was in his library, where he generally retired after dinner. He had a book on his
knee but had not been reading it. Instead he had been staring into the fire, thinking about the future. He had plenty of money, enough to live comfortably for the rest of his life without working, but he would never be Senior Partner now.

Uncle Samuel looked weary and sad. “I was at odds with my cousin Joseph for most of his life,” he said. “I wish it had been otherwise.”

Hugh offered him a drink and he asked for port. Hugh called his butler and ordered a bottle decanted.

“How do you feel about it all?” Samuel asked.

“I was angry before, but now I’m just despondent,” Hugh replied. “Edward is so hopelessly unsuited to be Senior Partner, but there’s nothing to be done. How about you?”