by Ken Follett
"Emily can go to the--" He caught Augusta's look and stopped short. "Tell them I've been taken ill," he said.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I think I should be able to go where I like, Mother."
"You cannot offend high-ranking people!"
"I want to see the fights!"
"You may not go!"
At that moment Emily came in. She could not help but notice the charged atmosphere in the room, and she said immediately: "What's wrong?"
Edward said: "Go and fetch me that blasted bit of paper you're always asking me to sign!"
"What are you talking about?" Augusta said. "What bit of paper?"
"My agreement to the annulment," he said.
Augusta was horrified--and she realized with sudden rage that none of this was accidental. Emily had planned it exactly this way. Her aim had been to irritate Edward so much that he would sign anything just to be rid of her. Augusta had even helped her, inadvertently, by insisting that Edward fulfill his social obligations. She felt a fool: she had allowed herself to be manipulated. And now Emily's plan was on the brink of succeeding.
Augusta said: "Emily! Stay here!"
Emily smiled sweetly and went out.
Augusta turned on Edward. "You are not to consent to an annulment!"
Edward said: "I'm forty years old, Mother. I'm head of the family business and this is my own house. You ought not to tell me what to do."
He had a sulky, stubborn look on his face, and the dreadful thought occurred to Augusta that he might actually defy her for the first time in his life.
She began to feel scared.
"Come and sit here, Teddy," she said in a softer voice.
Reluctantly he sat beside her.
She reached out to stroke his cheek, but he flinched away.
"You can't take care of yourself," she said. "You've never been able to. That's why Micky and I have always looked after you, ever since you were at school."
He looked even more obstinate. "Perhaps it's time you stopped."
A feeling of panic began to creep over Augusta. It was almost as if she was losing her grip.
Before she could say any more, Emily came back with a legal-looking document. She put it on the Moorish writing table, where pens and ink were already laid out.
Augusta looked at her son's face. Could it be that he was more afraid of his wife than of his mother? Augusta thought wildly about snatching the document away, throwing the pens on the fire and spilling the ink. She got a grip on herself. Better perhaps to give in and pretend it was of no great consequence. But the pretense would be useless: she had made a stand and forbidden this annulment, and everyone would know she had been defeated.
She said to Edward: "You'll have to resign from the bank if you sign that document."
"I don't see why," he replied. "It's not like a divorce."
Emily said: "The church has no objection to an annulment if the grounds are genuine." It sounded like a quotation: she had obviously checked.
Edward sat at the table, selected a quill, and dipped its point into a silver inkwell.
Augusta fired her last shot. "Edward!" she said in a voice quivering with rage. "If you sign that I will never speak to you again!"
He hesitated, then put the pen to paper. Everyone was silent. His hand moved, and the scratch of the quill on the paper sounded like thunder.
Edward put down the pen.
"How could you treat your mother this way?" Augusta said, and the sob in her voice was genuine.
Emily sanded the signature and picked up the document.
Augusta moved between Emily and the door.
Both Edward and Micky looked on, bemused and motionless, as the two women faced each other.
Augusta said: "Give me that paper."
Emily stepped closer, hesitated in front of Augusta, and then, astonishingly, she slapped Augusta's face.
The blow stung. Augusta cried out with surprise and pain and staggered back.
Emily stepped past her quickly, opened the door, and left the room, still clutching the document.
Augusta sat down heavily in the nearest chair and began to cry.
She heard Edward and Micky leave the room.
She felt old, defeated and alone.
3
THE ISSUE OF TWO MILLION POUNDS' WORTH of Santamaria harbor bonds was a flop, much worse than Hugh had feared. By the deadline date Pilasters Bank had sold only four hundred thousand pounds' worth, and on the following day the price immediately fell. Hugh was deeply glad he had forced Edward to sell the bonds on commission rather than underwriting them.
On the following Monday morning Jonas Mulberry brought in the summary of the previous week's business that was handed to all the partners. Before the man had left the room Hugh noticed a discrepancy. "Just a minute, Mulberry," he said. "This can't be right." There was a huge fall in cash on deposit, well over a million pounds. "There hasn't been a big withdrawal, has there?"
"Not that I know of, Mr. Hugh," said Mulberry.
Hugh looked around the room. All the partners were there except Edward, who had not yet arrived. "Does anyone recall a big withdrawal last week?"
Nobody did.
Hugh stood up. "Let's check," he said to Mulberry.
They went up the stairs to the senior clerks' room. The item they were looking for was too big to have been a cash withdrawal. It had to be an interbank transaction. Hugh recalled from his days as a clerk that there was a journal of such transactions updated daily. He sat at a table and said to Mulberry: "Find me the interbank book, please."
Mulberry pulled a big ledger from a shelf and set it in front of him. Another clerk piped up: "Is there anything I can do to assist, Mr. Hugh? I keep that ledger." He had a worried look and Hugh realized he was afraid he might have made an error.
Hugh said: "You're Clemmow, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"What big withdrawals were there last week--a million pounds or more?"
"Only one," the clerk said immediately. "The Santamaria Harbor Company withdrew one million, eight hundred thousand--the amount of the bond issue, less commission."
Hugh shot to his feet. "But they didn't have that much--they only raised four hundred thousand!"
Clemmow turned pale. "The issue was two million pounds' of bonds--"
"But it wasn't underwritten, it was a commission sale!"
"I checked their balance--it was a million eight."
"Damnation!" Hugh shouted. All the clerks in the room stared at him. "Show me the ledger!"
Another clerk on the other side of the room pulled down a huge book, brought it over to Hugh and opened it at a page marked: "Santamaria Harbor Board."
There were only three entries: a credit of two million pounds, a debit of two hundred thousand pounds commission to the bank, and a transfer to another bank of the balance.
Hugh was livid. The money was gone. If it had simply been credited to the account in error, the mistake could have been rectified easily. But the money had been withdrawn from the bank the next day. That suggested a carefully planned fraud. "By God, someone is going to jail for this," he said wrathfully. "Who wrote these entries?"
"I did, sir," said the clerk who had brought him the book. He was shaking with fear.
"On what instructions?"
"The usual paperwork. It was all in order."
"Where did it come from?"
"From Mr. Oliver."
Simon Oliver was a Cordovan and the cousin of Micky Miranda. Hugh instantly suspected he was behind the fraud.
Hugh did not want to continue this inquiry in front of twenty clerks. He was already regretting that he had let them all know about the problem. But when he started he had not known he was going to uncover a massive embezzlement.
Oliver was Edward's clerk, and worked on the partners' floor alongside Mulberry. "Find Mr. Oliver right away and bring him to the Partners' Room," Hugh said to Mulberry. He would continue the investigation there, with
the other partners.
"Right away, Mr. Hugh," said Mulberry. "All of you get back to your work, now," he said to the rest of them. They returned to their desks and picked up their pens, but before Hugh was out of the room a buzz of excited conversation broke out.
Hugh returned to the Partners' Room. "There's been a major fraud," he said grimly. "The Santamaria Harbor Company has been paid the full amount of the bond issue even though we only sold four hundred thousand."
They were all horrified. "How the devil did it happen?" said William.
"The amount was credited to their account and then immediately transferred to another bank."
"Who's responsible?"
"I think it was done by Simon Oliver, Edward's clerk. I've sent for him, but my guess is the swine is already on a ship headed for Cordova."
Sir Harry said: "Can we get the money back?"
"I don't know. They may have moved it out of the country by now."
"They can't build a harbor with stolen money!"
"Perhaps they don't want to build a harbor. The whole thing could have been a damned swindle."
"Good God."
Mulberry came in--and, to Hugh's surprise, he was accompanied by Simon Oliver. That suggested that Oliver had not stolen the money. He had a thick contract in his hand. He looked scared: no doubt Hugh's remark about someone going to jail had been repeated to him.
Without preamble Oliver said: "The Santamaria issue was underwritten--the contract says so." He held the document out to Hugh with a trembling hand.
Hugh said: "The partners agreed that these bonds were to be sold on a commission basis."
"Mr. Edward told me to draw up an underwriting contract."
"Can you prove it?"
"Yes!" He gave Hugh another sheet of paper. This was a contract brief, a short note of the terms of an agreement, given by a partner to the clerk who was to draw up the full contract. It was in Edward's handwriting and it quite clearly said that the loan was to be underwritten.
That settled it. Edward was responsible. There had been no fraud, and there was no way the money could be got back. The whole transaction was perfectly legitimate. Hugh was dismayed and enraged.
"All right, Oliver, you can go," he said.
Oliver stood his ground. "I hope I may take it that no suspicion attaches to me, Mr. Hugh."
Hugh was not convinced that Oliver was totally innocent, but he was obliged to say: "You are not to be blamed for anything you did under Mr. Edward's orders."
"Thank you, sir." Oliver went out.
Hugh looked at his partners. "Edward went against our collective decision," he said bitterly. "He changed the terms of the issue behind our backs. And it has cost us one million, four hundred thousand pounds."
Samuel sat down heavily. "How dreadful," he said.
Sir Harry and Major Hartshorn just looked bewildered.
William said: "Are we bankrupt?"
Hugh realized the question was addressed to him. Well, were they bankrupt? It was unthinkable. He reflected for a moment. "Technically, no," he said. "Although our cash reserve has gone down by one million four hundred thousand pounds, the bonds appear on the other side of our balance sheet, valued at nearly their purchase price. So our assets match our liabilities, and we're solvent."
Samuel added: "As long as the price doesn't collapse."
"Indeed. If something happened to cause a fall in South American bonds we would be in deep trouble." To think that the mighty Pilasters Bank was so weak made him feel sick with rage at Edward.
Sir Harry said: "Can we keep this quiet?"
"I doubt it," Hugh replied. "I'm afraid I made no attempt to hide it up in the senior clerks' room. It's gone around the building by now and it will be all over the City by the end of the lunch hour."
Jonas Mulberry interjected a practical question. "What about our liquidity, Mr. Hugh? We'll need a large deposit before the end of the week to meet routine withdrawals. We can't sell the harbor bonds--it would depress the price."
That was a thought. Hugh worried at the problem for a moment then said: "I'll borrow a million from the Colonial Bank. Old Cunliffe will keep it quiet. That should tide us over." He looked around at the others. "That takes care of the immediate emergency. However, the bank is dangerously weak. In the medium term we have to correct the position just as fast as we can."
William said: "What about Edward?"
Hugh knew what Edward had to do: resign. But he wanted someone else to say it, so he remained silent.
Eventually Samuel said: "Edward must resign from the bank. None of us could ever trust him again."
William said: "He may withdraw his capital."
"He can't," Hugh said. "We haven't got the cash. That threat has lost its power."
"Of course," William said. "I hadn't thought of that."
Sir Harry said: "Then who will be Senior Partner?"
There was a moment of silence. Samuel broke it by saying: "Oh, for goodness' sake, can there be any question? Who uncovered Edward's deceit? Who took charge in the crisis? Who have you all looked to for guidance? During the last hour all the decisions have been made by one person. The rest of you have just asked questions and looked helpless. You know who the new Senior Partner must be."
Hugh was taken by surprise. His mind had been on the problems facing the bank, and he had not given a thought to his own position. Now he saw that Samuel was right. The others had all been more or less inert. Ever since he noticed the discrepancy in the weekly summary he had been acting as if he were the Senior Partner. And he knew he was the only one capable of steering the bank through the crisis.
Slowly it dawned on him that he was about to achieve his life's ambition: he was going to be Senior Partner of Pilasters Bank. He looked at William, Harry and George. They all had a shamefaced air. They had brought about this disaster by allowing Edward to become Senior Partner. Now they knew Hugh had been right all along. They were wishing they had listened to him before, and they wanted to make up for their error. He could see in their faces that they wanted him to take over.
But they had to say it.
He looked at William, who was the most senior Pilaster after Samuel. "What do you think?"
He hesitated only for a second. "I think you should be Senior Partner, Hugh," he said.
"Major Hartshorn?"
"I agree."
"Sir Harry?"
"Certainly--and I hope you'll accept."
It was done. Hugh could hardly believe it.
He took a deep breath. "Thank you for your confidence. I will accept. I hope I can bring us all through this calamity with our reputation and our fortunes intact."
At that moment Edward came in.
There was a dismayed silence. They had been discussing him almost as if he were dead, and it was a shock to see him in the room.
At first he did not notice the atmosphere. "This whole place is in turmoil," he said. "Juniors running around, senior clerks whispering in the corridors, hardly anyone doing any work--what the devil is going on?"
Nobody spoke.
Consternation spread over his face, then a look of guilt. "What's wrong?" he said, but his expression told Hugh that he could guess. "You'd better tell me why you're all staring at me," he persisted. "After ail, I am the Senior Partner."
"No, you're not," said Hugh. "I am."
CHAPTER THREE
NOVEMBER
1
MISS DOROTHY PILASTER married Viscount Nicholas Ipswich at Kensington Methodist Hall on a cold, bright morning in November. The service was simple though the sermon was long. Afterwards a lunch of hot consomme, Dover sole, roast grouse and peach sherbet was served to three hundred guests in a vast heated tent in the garden of Hugh's house.
Hugh was very happy. His sister was radiantly beautiful and her new husband was charming to everyone. But the happiest person there was Hugh's mother. Smiling beatifically, she sat beside the groom's father, the duke of Norwich. For the first time in twenty-four ye
ars she was not wearing black: she had on a blue-gray cashmere outfit that set off her thick silver hair and calm gray eyes. Her life had been blighted by his father's suicide, and she had suffered years of scrimping poverty, but now in her sixties she had everything she wanted. Her beautiful daughter was Viscountess Ipswich and would one day be the duchess of Norwich, and her son was rich and successful and the Senior Partner of Pilasters Bank. "I used to think I had been unlucky," she murmured to Hugh in between courses. "I was wrong." She put her hand on his arm in a gesture like a blessing. "I'm very fortunate." It made Hugh want to cry.
Because none of the women wanted to wear white (for fear of competing with the bride) or black (because it was for funerals) the guests made a colorful splash. They seemed to have chosen hot colors to ward off the autumn chill: bright orange, deep yellow, raspberry-red and fuchsia-pink. The men were wearing black, white and gray, as always. Hugh had on a frock coat with velvet lapels and cuffs: it was black, but as usual he defied convention by wearing a bright blue silk tie, his only eccentricity. He was so respectable nowadays that he sometimes felt nostalgic for the time when he had been the black sheep of the family.
He took a sip of Chateau Margaux, his favorite red wine. It was a lavish wedding breakfast for a special couple, and Hugh was glad he could afford it. But he also felt a twinge of guilt about spending all that money when Pilasters Bank was so weak. They still had one million four hundred thousand pounds' worth of Santamaria harbor bonds, plus other Cordova bonds valued at almost a million pounds; and they could not sell them without causing a drop in the price, which was the very thing Hugh feared. It was going to take him at least a year to strengthen the balance sheet. However, he had steered the bank through the immediate crisis, and they now had enough cash to meet normal withdrawals for the foreseeable future. Edward no longer came to the bank at all, although technically he would remain a partner until the end of the financial year. They were safe from everything except some unexpected catastrophe such as war, earthquake or plague. On balance he felt he was entitled to give his only sister an expensive wedding.
And it was good for Pilasters Bank. Everyone in the financial community knew that the bank was down more than a million on Santamaria harbor. This big party boosted confidence by assuring people that the Pilasters were still unimaginably rich. A cheap wedding would have aroused suspicion.
Dotty's dowry of a hundred thousand pounds had been made over to her husband, but it remained invested in the bank, earning five percent. Nick could withdraw it, but he did not need it all at once. He would draw money gradually as he paid off his father's mortgages and reorganized the estate. Hugh was glad he did not want all the cash right away, for large withdrawals put a strain on the bank at present.