A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [190]
“Of course.”
But it was too late. Before Micky reached the door Edward came in.
Augusta noticed that his skin rash was inflamed tonight. It covered his throat and the back of his neck and reached up to one ear. It troubled her, but he said the doctor insisted it was nothing to worry about.
Rubbing his hands in anticipation, he said: “I’m looking forward to this.”
Augusta said in her most authoritative voice: “Edward, you cannot go the prizefight.”
He looked like a child who has been told that Christmas is canceled. “Why not?” he said plaintively.
For a moment Augusta felt sorry for him and almost backed down. Then she hardened her heart and said: “You know perfectly well that we are engaged to dine with the marquis of Hocastle.”
“That’s not tonight, is it?”
“You know it is.”
“I shan’t go.”
“You must!”
“But I dined out with Emily last night!”
“Then tonight will make two civilized dinners in a row.”
“Why the deuce are we invited anyway?”
“Don’t swear in front of your mother! We’re invited because they are friends of Emily’s.”
“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