A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [74]
“Did you send her away?” he demanded.
Augusta was inclined to tell him not to speak to her in that tone of voice, but she decided there was nothing to be gained by angering him: her victory over him was already total, though he did not know it. She said in a conciliatory tone: “If I had thrown her out, do you not think she would have been waiting in the street to tell you so? No, she left of her own accord, and she said she would write to you tomorrow.”
“But she said she would still be here when I got back with the doctor.”
“Then she changed her mind. Have you never known a girl of her age to do that?”
Hugh looked bewildered, but he did not know what to say next.
Augusta added: “No doubt she wished to extricate herself as quickly as possible from the embarrassing position in which you had put her.”
That seemed to make sense to him. “I suppose you made her feel so uncomfortable that she couldn’t bear to remain in the house.”
“That will do,” she said severely. “I don’t wish to hear your opinions. Your uncle Joseph will see you first thing in the morning, before you leave for the bank. Now good night.”
For a moment it seemed as if he would argue. However, there was really nothing for him to say. “Very well,” he muttered at last. He turned into his room.
Augusta went back into Edward’s room. The doctor was closing his bag. “No real damage,” he said. “His nose will feel tender for a few days, and he may have a black eye tomorrow; but he’s young, and he’ll soon heal.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Hastead will see you out.”
“Good night.”
Augusta bent over the bed and kissed Edward. “Good night, dear Teddy. Go to sleep, now.”
“Very well, Mother dear. Good night.”
She had one more task to perform.
She went down the stairs and entered Joseph’s room. She was hoping he would have gone to sleep waiting for her, but he was sitting up in bed, reading the Pall Mall Gazette. He put it aside immediately and lifted the covers to let her in.
He embraced her immediately. It was quite light in the room: dawn had broken without her noticing it. She closed her eyes.
He entered her quickly. She put her arms around him and responded to his movements. She thought of herself when she was sixteen, lying on a riverbank in a raspberry-pink dress and a straw hat, being kissed by the young earl of Strang; only in her mind he did not stop at kissing her, but lifted her skirts and made love to her in the hot sunshine, with the river lapping at their feet….
When it was over she lay beside Joseph for a while, reflecting on her victory.
“Extraordinary night,” he murmured sleepily.
“Yes,” she said. “That awful girl.”
“Mmm,” he grunted. “Very striking-looking … arrogant and willful … thinks she’s as good as anyone … lovely figure … just like you at that age.”
Augusta was mortally offended. “Joseph!” she said. “How could you say such an awful thing?”
He made no reply, and she saw that he was asleep.
Enraged, she threw back the covers, got out of bed and stamped out of the room.
She did not go back to sleep that night.
6
MICKY MIRANDA’S LODGINGS IN CAMBERWELL consisted of two rooms in the house of a widow with a grown son. None of his high-class friends had ever visited him there, not even Edward Pilaster. Micky played the role of a young man-about-town on a very tight budget, and elegant accommodation was one of the things he could manage without.
At nine o’clock each morning the landlady brought coffee and hot rolls for him and Papa. Over breakfast, Micky explained how he had caused Tonio Silva to lose a hundred pounds he did not have. He did not expect his father to sing his praises, but he did hope for a grudging acknowledgment of his ingenuity. However, Papa was not impressed. He blew on his coffee and slurped it noisily. “So, has he gone back to Cordova?”
“Not yet, but he will.”
“You hope. So much trouble, and still you only hope he will go.”
Micky felt wounded. “I’ll seal his fate today,” he protested.
“When I was your age …”
“You would have slit his throat, I know. But this is London,