A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [176]
His name was Hubert, and calling him Bertie had been a sly compliment to the Prince of Wales, who was also a Bertie. Maisie never saw the prince now. She was no longer a society hostess and the wife of a millionaire: she was just a widow living in a modest house in the south London suburbs, and such women did not feature in the prince’s circle of friends.
She had chosen to call her son Hubert because the name sounded like Hugh, but she had quickly become embarrassed by the similarity, and that was another reason for calling the boy Bertie. She told her son that Hugh was his dead father’s best friend. Luckily there was no obvious likeness between Bertie and Hugh. In fact Bertie was like Maisie’s father, with soft dark hair and sad brown eyes. He was tall and strong, a good athlete and a hardworking student, and Maisie was so proud of him that she sometimes felt her heart would burst.
On these occasions Hugh was scrupulously polite to Maisie, playing the role of family friend, but she could tell that he felt the bittersweetness of the situation as painfully as she did.
Maisie knew, from Rachel’s father, that Hugh was considered a prodigy in the City. When he talked about the bank his eyes sparkled and he was interesting and amusing. She could tell that his work was challenging and fulfilling. But if ever their conversation strayed into the domestic field he became sour and uncommunicatiye. He did not like to talk about his house, his social life, or—least of all—his wife. The only aspect of his family life he told her about was his three sons, whom he loved to distraction. But there was a streak of regret even when he spoke of them, and Maisie had gathered that Nora was not a loving mother. Over the years she had watched him resign himself to a cold, sexually frustrating marriage.
Today he had on a silver-gray tweed suit that matched his silver-streaked hair, and a bright blue tie the color of his eyes. He was heavier than he used to be but he still had a mischievous grin which appeared now and again. They made an attractive couple—but they were not a couple, and the fact that they looked and acted like one was what made her so sad. She took his arm as they walked into Windfield School, and she thought she would give her soul to be with him every day.
They helped Bertie unpack his trunk, then he made them tea in his study. Hugh had brought a cake which would probably feed the sixth form for a week. “My boy Toby will be coming here next half,” Hugh said as they drank their tea. “I wonder if you’d keep an eye on him for me?”
“I’ll be glad to,” Bertie said. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t go swimming in Bishop’s Wood.” Maisie frowned at him, and he said: “Sorry. Bad joke.”
“They still talk about that, do they?” Hugh said.
“Every year the head tells the story of how Peter Middleton drowned, to try and frighten chaps. But they still go swimming.”
After tea they said good-bye to Bertie, Maisie feeling tearful as always about leaving her little boy behind, even though he was now taller than she. They walked back into the town and took the train to London. They had a first-class compartment to themselves.
As they watched the scenery flash by, Hugh said: “Edward is going to be Senior Partner at the bank.”
Maisie was startled. “I didn’t think he had the brains!”
“He hasn’t. I shall resign at the end of the year.”
“Oh, Hugh!” Maisie knew how much he cared for that bank. All his hopes were tied up in it. “What will you do?”
“I don’t know. I’m staying on until the end of the financial year, so I’ve got time to think about it.”
“Won’t the bank go to ruin under Edward?”
“I’m afraid it may.”
Maisie felt very sad for Hugh. He had had more bad luck than he deserved, while Edward had far too much good. “Edward is Lord Whitehaven, too. Do you realize that if the title had gone to Ben Greenbourne, as it should have, Bertie would be in line to inherit it now?”
“Yes.”
“But Augusta put a stop to