A Dangerous Fortune - Ken Follett [99]
Lady Morte hesitated a moment longer, then said: “You’re very kind.”
Mrs. Maple, the mother of Emily, returned from the bathroom, and Lady Morte took her turn. She went out with an expression of mild embarrassment frozen to her face. Augusta knew that she and Lord Morte would agree, in the carriage going home, that commercial people were impossibly vulgar and ill-mannered; but one day soon he would lose a thousand guineas on a horse, and on the same day her dressmaker would demand payment of a six-month-old bill for three hundred pounds, and the two of them would remember Augusta’s offer, and they would decide that vulgar commercial people did after all have their uses.
Augusta had cleared the third hurdle. If she had assessed the woman correctly, Lady Morte would be hopelessly in debt to Pilasters Bank within six months. Then she would find out what Augusta wanted from her.
The ladies reconvened in the drawing room on the first floor and took coffee. Lady Morte was still distant, but stopped short of being rude. The men joined them a few minutes later. Joseph took Deacon Maple upstairs to show him his collection of snuffboxes. Augusta was pleased: Joseph only did that when he liked someone. Emily played the piano. Mrs. Maple asked her to sing, but she said she had a cold, and stuck to her refusal with remarkable obstinacy despite her mother’s pleas, making Augusta think anxiously that she might not be as submissive as she looked.
She had done her work for the night: she wanted them all to go home now so that she could run over the evening in her mind and assess how much she had achieved. She did not actually like any of them except for Michael Fortescue. However, she forced herself to be polite and make conversation for another hour. Hobbes was hooked, she thought; Fortescue had made a bargain and would keep it; Lady Morte had been shown the slippery slope that led to perdition and it was only a matter of time before she started down it. Augusta was relieved and satisfied.
When at last they departed, Edward was ready to go to his club, but Augusta stopped him. “Sit down and listen for a moment,” she said. “I want to talk to you and your father.” Joseph, who was heading for bed, sat down again. She addressed him. “When are you going to make Edward a partner in the bank?”
Joseph immediately looked cross. “When he is older.”
“But I hear that Hugh may be made a partner, and he is three years younger than Edward.” Although Augusta had no idea how money was made she always knew what was happening at the bank in terms of the personal advancement or otherwise of family members. Men did not normally talk business in front of ladies, but Augusta got it all out of them at her teatime gatherings.
“Seniority is only one of the ways in which a man may qualify as a partner,” Joseph said irritably. “Another is the ability to bring in business, which Hugh has to a degree I have never seen in so young a man. Other qualifications would be a large capital investment in the bank, high social position, or political influence. I am afraid that as yet Edward has none of these.”
“But he is your son.”
“A bank is a business, not a dinner party!” Joseph said, getting angrier. He hated her to challenge him. “Position is not merely a question of rank or precedence. Ability to make money is the test.”
Augusta suffered a moment of doubt. Ought she to push for Edward’s advancement if he was not really able? But that was nonsense. He was perfectly all right. He might not be able to add up a column of figures as fast as Hugh, but breeding would tell in the end. She said: “Edward could have a large capital investment in the bank, if you so wished. You can settle money on him anytime you please.”
Joseph’s face took on the stubborn look that Augusta knew well, the look he wore when he refused to move house or forbade her to redecorate his bedroom. “Not before the boy marries!” he said, and with that he left the room.
Edward said: “You’ve made him angry.”
“It’s only