“He’s the one I’m frightened of.”
Maisie nodded. “I can understand why. He’s a hardhearted old curmudgeon, as I know from personal experience. But if you let me talk to him I think I can make him see sense.”
“Would you?” said Rebecca in a voice full of youthful optimism. “Would you do that?”
“Of course,” Maisie said. “But I won’t tell him where you are unless he promises to be kind.”
Rebecca looked down. Her baby’s eyes had closed and she had stopped sucking. “She’s asleep,” Rebecca said.
Maisie smiled. “Have you chosen a name for her yet?”
“Oh, yes,” Rebecca said. “I’m going to call her Maisie.”
Ben Greenbourne’s face was wet with tears as he came out of the ward. “I’ve left her with Kate for a while,” he said in a choked voice. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed ineffectually at his cheeks. Maisie had never seen her father-in-law lose his self-possession. He made a rather pathetic sight, but she felt it would do him a lot of good.
“Come to my room,” she said. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“Thank you.”
She led him to her room and told him to sit down. He was the second man to weep in that chair this evening, she thought.
“All those young women,” the old man said. “Are they all in the same position as Rebecca?”
“Not all,” Maisie said. “Some are widows. Some have been abandoned by their husbands. Quite a lot have run away from men who beat them. A woman will suffer a lot of pain, and stay with a husband even if he injures her; but when she gets pregnant she worries that his blows will damage the child, and that’s when she leaves. But most of our women are like Rebecca, girls who have simply made a stupid mistake.”
“I didn’t think life had much more to teach me,” he said. “Now I find I have been foolish and ignorant.”
Maisie handed him a cup of tea. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re very kind. I was never kind to you.”
“We all make mistakes,” she said briskly.
“What a good thing you are here,” he said to her. “Otherwise where would these poor girls go?”
“They would have their babies in ditches and alleyways,” Maisie said.
“To think that might have happened to Rebecca.”
“Unfortunately the hospital has to close,” Maisie said.
“Why is that?”
She looked him in the eye. “All our money was in Pilasters Bank,” she said. “Now we are penniless.”
“Is that so?” he said, and he looked very thoughtful.
Hugh undressed for bed but he felt far from sleepy, so he sat up in his dressing gown, staring into the fire, brooding. He went over and over the bank’s situation in his mind, but he could think of no way to ameliorate it. Yet he could not stop thinking.
At midnight he heard a loud, determined knocking at the front door. He went downstairs in his nightclothes to answer it. There was a carriage at the curb and a liveried footman on the doorstep. The man said: “I beg pardon for knocking so late, sir, but the message is urgent.” He handed over an envelope and left.
As Hugh closed the door his butler came down the stairs. “Is everything all right, sir?” he said worriedly.
“Just a message,” Hugh said. “You can go back to bed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Hugh opened the envelope and saw the neat, old-fashioned writing of a fussy elderly man. The words made his heart leap with joy.
He looked up from the letter and grinned at the empty hall. “Well, I’ll be blowed,” he said delightedly. “I wonder what made the old man change his mind?”
AUGUSTA SAT IN THE BACK ROOM of the best jeweler’s shop in Bond Street. Bright gaslights flared, making the jewelry glitter in the glass cases. The room was full of mirrors. An obsequious assistant padded across the room and placed in front of her a black velvet cloth bearing a diamond necklace.
The manager of the shop was standing beside her. “How much?” she asked him.
“Nine thousand pounds, Lady Whitehaven.” He breathed the price piously, like a prayer.
The necklace was simple and stark, just a plain row of identical large square-cut diamonds set in gold. It would look very striking against her black widow’s gowns, she thought. But she was not buying it to wear.
“It’s a wonderful piece, my lady; quite the loveliest thing we have in the shop.”
“Don’t rush me, I’m thinking,” she replied.
This was her last desperate attempt to raise money. She had tried going openly to the bank and demanding a hundred pounds in gold sovereigns: the clerk, an insolent dog called Mulberry, had refused her. She had tried to have the house transferred from Edward’s name into her own, but that had not worked either: the deeds were in the safe of old Bodwin, the bank’s lawyer, and he had been got at by Hugh. Now she was going to try to buy diamonds on credit and sell them for cash.
Edward had at first been her ally, but now even he refused to help her. “What Hugh is doing is for the best,” he had said stupidly. “If word gets around that family members are trying to grab what they can, the syndicate could fall apart. They’ve been persuaded to put up money to avert a financial crisis, not to keep the Pilaster family in luxury.” It was a long speech for Edward. A year ago it would have shaken her to the core to have her son go against her, but since his rebellion over the annulment he was no longer the sweet, biddable boy she loved. Clementine had turned against her too, supporting Hugh’s plans to turn them all into paupers. It made her shake with rage when she thought about it. But they would not get away with it.
She looked up at the shop manager. “I’ll take it,” she said decisively.
“A wise choice, I have no doubt, Lady Whitehaven,” he said.
“Send the bill to the bank.”
“Very good, my lady. We will deliver the necklace to Whitehaven House.”
“I’ll take it with me,” Augusta said. “I want to wear it tonight.”
The manager looked as if he were in pain. “You put me in an impossible position, my lady.”
“What on earth are you talking about? Wrap it up!”
“I fear I cannot release the jewelry until payment has been received.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you know who I am?”
“Yes — but the newspapers say the bank has closed its doors.”
“This is an insult.”
“I am very, very sorry.”
Augusta stood up and picked up the necklace. “I refuse to listen to this nonsense. I shall take it with me.”
Perspiring, the manager moved between her and the door. “I beg you not to,” he said.
She moved toward him but he stood his ground. “Get out of my way!” she blazed.
“I shall have to have the shop door locked and send for the police,” he said.
It dawned on Augusta that although the man was practically gibbering with terror he had not conceded one inch. He was afraid of her, but he was more frightened of losing nine thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds. She realized she was defeated. Enraged, she threw the necklace on the floor. The man scooped it up with no attempt at dignity. Augusta opened the door herself, stalked through the shop, and went out to where her carriage waited.
