A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [158]
“Tomorrow.”
“Good!” Micky would be relieved when the deal was finally sewn up. It had dragged on for half a year, and Papa was now sending angry cables twice a week asking irascibly if he would ever get the money.
That evening Edward and Micky dined at the Cowes Club. Throughout the meal Edward was interrupted every few minutes by people congratulating him. One day he would inherit the title, of course. Micky was pleased. His association with Edward and the Pilasters had been a key factor in everything he had achieved, and greater prestige for the Pilasters would mean more power for Micky.
After dinner they moved to the smoking room. They were among the earliest diners and for a while they had the room to themselves. “I have come to the conclusion that Englishmen are terrified of their wives,” said Micky as they lit their cigars. “It is the only possible explanation for the phenomenon of the London club.”
“What the devil are you talking about?” said Edward.
“Look around you,” Micky said. “This place is exactly like your home, or mine. Expensive furniture, servants everywhere, boring food and unlimited drink. We can eat all our meals here, get our mail, read the newspapers, take a nap, and if we get too drunk to fall into a cab we can even get a bed for the night. The only difference between an Englishman’s club and his home is that there are no women in his club.”
“Don’t you have clubs in Cordova, then?”
“Certainly not. No one would join. If a Cordovan man wants to get drunk, play cards, hear political gossip, talk about his whores, smoke and belch and fart in comfort he does it in his own home; and if his wife is foolish enough to object he slaps her until she sees reason. But an English gentleman is so frightened of his wife that he has to leave the house to enjoy himself. That’s why there are clubs.”
“You don’t seem to be frightened of Rachel. You’ve got rid of her, haven’t you?”
“Sent her back to her mother,” Micky said airily. It had not happened quite that way but he was not going to tell Edward the truth.
“People must notice that she doesn’t appear at ministry functions anymore. Don’t they comment?”
“I tell them she’s in poor health.”
“But everyone knows she’s trying to start a hospital for unmarried women to have babies. It’s a public scandal.”
“It doesn’t matter. People sympathize with me for having a difficult wife.”
“Will you divorce her?”
“No. That would be a real scandal. A diplomat can’t be divorced. I’m stuck with her as long as I’m the Cordovan Minister, I’m afraid. Thank God she didn’t get pregnant before she left.” It was a miracle she hadn’t, he thought. Perhaps she was infertile. He waved at a waiter and ordered brandy. “Speaking of wives,” he said tentatively, “what about Emily?”
Edward looked embarrassed. “I see as little of her as you see of Rachel,” he said. “You know I bought a country house in Leicestershire a while ago—she spends all her time there.”
“So, we’re both bachelors again.”
Edward grinned. “We were never anything else, really, were we?”
Micky glanced across the empty room and saw the bulky form of Solly Greenbourne in the doorway. For some reason the sight of him made Micky feel nervous—which was odd, because Solly was the most harmless man in London. “Here comes another friend to congratulate you,” Micky said to Edward as Solly approached.
When Solly was closer Micky realized he was not wearing his usual amiable smile. In fact he looked positively angry. That was rare. Micky felt intuitively that there was some problem with the Santamaria railroad deal. He told himself that he was worrying like an old woman. But Solly was never angry….
Anxiety made Micky fatuously amicable. “Hello, Solly, old boy—how’s the genius of the Square Mile?”
Solly was not interested in Micky, however. Without even acknowledging the greeting, he rudely turned his vast back on Micky and faced Edward. “Pilaster, you’re a damned cad,” he said.
Micky was astonished and horrified. Solly and Edward were on the point of signing the deal. This was