A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [168]
Dotty gasped, and Mama burst into tears. Nick, who had known the figure in advance, said: “It is remarkably generous of you.” Dotty threw her arms around her fiance and kissed him, then came around the table and kissed Hugh. Hugh felt a little awkward, but all the same he was glad to be able to make them so happy. And he was confident that Nick would use the money well and provide a secure home for Dotty.
Nora came down dressed for the funeral in purple-and-black bombazine. She had taken breakfast in her room, as always. “Where are those boys?” she said irritably, looking at the clock. “I told that wretched governess to have them ready—”
She was interrupted by the arrival of the governess and the children: eleven-year-old Toby; Sam, who was six; and Sol, four. They were all in black morning coats and black ties and carried miniature top hats. Hugh felt a glow of pride. “My little soldiers,” he said. “What was the Bank of England’s discount rate last night, Toby?”
“Unchanged at two and a half percent, sir,” said Tobias, who had to look it up in The Times every morning.
Sam, the middle one, was bursting with news. “Mamma, I’ve got a pet,” he said excitedly.
The governess looked anxious. “You didn’t tell me….”
Sam took a matchbox from his pocket, held it out to his mother, and opened it. “Bill the spider!” he said proudly.
Nora screamed, knocked the box from his hand, and jumped away. “Horrible boy!” she yelled.
Sam scrabbled on the floor for the box. “Bill’s gone!” he cried, and burst into tears.
Nora turned on the governess. “How could you let him do such a thing!” she yelled.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”
Hugh intervened. “There’s no harm done,” he said, trying to cool the temperature. He put an arm around Nora’s shoulders. “You were taken by surprise, that’s all.” He ushered her out into the hall. “Come on, everyone, it’s time to leave.”
As they left the house he put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Now, Sam, I hope you’ve learned that you must always take care not to frighten ladies.”
“I lost my pet,” Sam said miserably.
“Spiders don’t really like living in matchboxes anyway. Perhaps you should have a different kind of pet. What about a canary?”
He brightened immediately. “Could I?”
“You’d have to make sure it was fed and watered regularly, or it would die.”
“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.