A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [175]
“Yes.”
Maisie nodded. “I do know about it, yes.” It was no surprise that Emily had come to her for legal advice. There were no women lawyers, and a man would probably have gone straight to Edward and spilled the beans. Maisie was a campaigner for women’s rights and had studied the existing law on marriage and divorce. “You would have to go to the Probate, Divorce and Admiralty Division of the High Court,” she said. “And you would have to prove that Edward is impotent under all circumstances, not just with you.”
Emily’s face fell. “Oh, dear,” she said. “We know that’s not so.”
“Also, the fact that you’re not a virgin would be a major problem.”
“Then it’s hopeless,” Emily said miserably.
“The only way to do it would be to persuade Edward to cooperate. Do you think he would?”
Emily brightened. “He might.”
“If he would sign an affidavit saying that he was impotent, and agree not to contest the annulment, your evidence won’t be challenged.”
“Then I’ll find a way to make him sign.” Emily’s face took on a stubborn set and Maisie remembered how unexpectedly strong-willed the girl could be.
“Be discreet. It’s against the law for a husband and wife to conspire in this way, and there’s a man called the Queen’s Proctor who acts as a kind of divorce policeman.”
“Will I be able to marry Robert afterwards?”
“Yes. Nonconsummation is grounds for a full divorce under church law. It will take about a year for the case to come to court, and then there’s a waiting-period of six months before the divorce becomes final, but in the end you will be allowed to remarry.”
“Oh, I hope he’ll do it.”
“How does he feel about you?”
“He hates me.”
“Do you think he’d like to get rid of you?”
“I don’t think he cares, so long as I stay out of his way.”
“And if you didn’t stay out of his way?”
“You mean if I were to make a nuisance of myself?”
“That’s what I had in mind.”
“I suppose I could.”
Maisie was sure Emily could make an unbearable nuisance of herself once she put her mind to it.
“I’ll need a lawyer to write the letter for Edward to sign,” Emily said.
“I’ll ask Rachel’s father, he’s a lawyer.”
“Would you?”
“Certainly.” Maisie glanced at the clock. “I can’t see him today, it’s the first day of term at Windfield School and I have to take Bertie. But I’ll see him in the morning.”
Emily stood up. “Maisie, you’re the best friend a woman ever had.”
“I’ll tell you what, this is going to stir up the Pilaster family. Augusta will have a fit.”
“Augusta doesn’t scare me,” said Emily.
Maisie Greenbourne attracted a lot of attention at Windfield School. She always did. She was known to be the widow of the fabulously wealthy Solly Greenbourne, although she had very little money herself. She was also notorious as an “advanced” woman who believed in women’s rights and, it was said, encouraged parlormaids to have illegitimate babies. And then, when she brought Bertie to school, she was always accompanied by Hugh Pilaster, the handsome banker who paid her son’s fees: no doubt the more sophisticated among the other parents suspected that Hugh was Bertie’s real father. But the main reason, she thought, was that at thirty-five she was still pretty enough to turn men’s heads.
Today she was wearing a tomato-red outfit, a dress with a short jacket over it and a hat with a feather. She knew she looked pretty and carefree. In fact these visits to the school with Bertie and Hugh broke her heart.
It was seventeen years since she had spent a night with Hugh, and she loved him as much as ever. Most of the time she immersed herself in the troubles of the poor girls who came to her hospital, and forgot her own grief; but two or three times a year she had to see Hugh, and then the pain came back.
He had known for eleven years that he was Bertie’s real father. Ben Greenbourne had given him a hint, and he had confronted her with his suspicions. She told him the truth. Since then he had done everything he could for Bertie, short of acknowledging him as