A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [96]
She felt nervous and jittery. She stood outside the drawing room door for a moment, saying to herself Relax, Mrs. Pilaster, you’re good at this. After a moment she felt calmer, and she went in.
He stood up eagerly to greet her. He was a nervous, quick-witted man, birdlike in his movements. His dress suit was at least ten years old, Augusta thought. She led him to the window seat, to give their conversation a feeling of intimacy even though they were not old friends. “Tell me what mischief you have been at today,” she said playfully. “Trouncing Mr. Gladstone? Undermining our India policy? Persecuting Catholics?”
He peered at her through smeared spectacles. “I’ve been writing about the City of Glasgow Bank,” he said.
Augusta frowned. “This is the bank that failed a little while ago.”
“Exactly. Many of the Scottish trade unions have been ruined, you know.”
“I seem to remember hearing talk of it,” she said. “My husband said the City of Glasgow had been known for years to be unsound.”
“I don’t understand this,” he said excitedly. “People know a bank is no good, yet it is allowed to continue in business until it crashes, and thousands of people lose their life savings!”
Augusta did not understand it either. She knew next to nothing about business. But she now saw a chance to lead the conversation in the direction she wanted. “Perhaps the worlds of commerce and government are too widely separated,” she said.
“It must be so. Better communication between businessmen and statesmen might prevent such catastrophes.”
“I wonder….” Augusta hesitated as if considering an idea that had just struck her. “I wonder whether someone such as yourself would consider becoming a director of one or two companies.”
He was surprised. “Indeed, I might.”
“You see … some firsthand experience of participating in the direction of a business enterprise might help you when you comment, in your journal, on the world of commerce.”
“I’ve no doubt it would.”
“The rewards are not great—a hundred or two a year, at best.” She saw his eyes light up: that was a lot of money to him. “But the obligations are small.”
“A most interesting thought,” he said. He was working hard to conceal his excitement, she could tell.
“My husband could arrange it, if you were interested. He has constantly to recommend directors for the boards of enterprises in which he has some interest. Do think it over and tell me if you would like me to mention it.”
“Very well, I shall.”
So far, so good, Augusta thought. But showing him the bait was the easy part. Now she had to get him on the hook. She said thoughtfully: “And the world of commerce should reciprocate, of course. More businessmen should serve their country in the House of Lords, I feel.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, and she guessed that his quick mind was beginning to understand the bargain he was being offered. “No doubt,” he said noncommittally.
Augusta developed her theme. “Both Houses of Parliament would benefit from the knowledge and wisdom of senior businessmen, especially when debating the nation’s finances. Yet there is a curious prejudice against a businessman’s being elevated to the peerage.”
“There is, and it is quite irrational,” Hobbes admitted. “Our merchants, manufacturers and bankers are responsible for the nation’s prosperity, much more so than landowners and clergymen; yet it is the latter who are ennobled for their services to the nation, while the men who really make and do things are overlooked.”
“You should write an article about the question. It is the kind of cause for which your journal has campaigned in the past—the modernization of our ancient institutions.” She gave him her warmest smile. Her cards were on the table now. He could hardly fail to see that this campaign was the price he had to pay for the company directorships she was offering. Would he stiffen, look offended, and beg to differ? Would he walk out in a huff? Would he smile and turn her down gracefully? If he did any of those things she would have to start all over again with someone else.
There was a long pause,