Morgan, the Rothschilds, Ben Greenbourne — he held the prosperity of nations in his hands. He was flattered by heads of state, consulted by prime ministers, and courted by diplomats; and his wife was fawned upon by them all.
Joseph wanted the job, but he had no subtlety. Augusta was terrified that he would let the opportunity slip through his fingers. Left to himself he might say bluntly that he would like to be considered then simply allow the family to decide. It might not occur to him that there were other things he should do to make sure he won the contest. For instance, he would never do anything to discredit his rival.
Augusta would have to find ways to do that for him.
She had no trouble identifying Samuel’s weakness. At the age of fifty-three he was a bachelor, and lived with a young man who was blithely referred to as his “secretary.” Until now the family had paid no attention to Samuel’s domestic arrangements, but Augusta was wondering if she could change all that.
Samuel had to be handled carefully. He was a fussy, finicky man, the kind who would change his entire outfit of clothes because a drop of wine had fallen on the knee of his trousers; but he was not weak, and could not be intimidated. A frontal assault was not the way to attack him.
She would have no regrets about injuring him. She had never liked him. He sometimes acted as if he found her amusing, and he had a way of refusing to take her at face value that she found deeply annoying.
As she moved among her guests, she put out of her mind the irritating reluctance of her nephew Hugh to pay court to a perfectly suitable young girl. That branch of the family had always been troublesome and she was not going to let it distract her from the more important problem that Micky had alerted her to, the threat of Samuel.
She spotted her sister-in-law, Madeleine Hartshorn, in the hall. Poor Madeleine, you could tell she was Joseph’s sister, for she had the Pilaster nose. On some of the men it looked distinguished, but no woman could look anything but plain with a great beak like that.
Madeleine and Augusta had once been rivals. Years ago, when Augusta first married Joseph, Madeleine had resented the way the family began to center around Augusta — even though Madeleine never had the magnetism or the energy to do what Augusta did, arranging weddings and funerals, matchmaking, patching up quarrels, and organizing support for the sick, the pregnant and the bereaved. Madeleine’s attitude had come close to causing a rift within the family. Then she had delivered a weapon into Augusta’s hands. One afternoon Augusta had stepped into an exclusive Bond Street silverware shop just in time to see Madeleine slipping into the back of the store. Augusta had lingered for a while, pretending to hesitate over a toast rack, until she saw a handsome young man follow the same route. She had heard that the rooms above such stores were sometimes used for romantic rendezvous, and she was now almost certain that Madeleine was having a love affair. A five-pound note had persuaded the proprietress of the shop, a Mrs. Baxter, to divulge the name of the young man, Viscount Tremain.
Augusta had been genuinely shocked, but her first thought had been that if Madeleine could do it with Viscount Tremain, Augusta could do the same with Micky Miranda. But that was out of the question, of course. Besides, if Madeleine could be found out the same could happen to Augusta.
It could have ruined Madeleine socially. A man who had a love affair was considered wicked but romantic; a woman who did the same was a whore. If her secret got out she would be shunned by society and her family would be ashamed of her. Augusta considered using the secret to control Madeleine, holding over her head the threat of exposure. But that would make Madeleine forever hostile. It was foolish to multiply enemies unnecessarily. There had to be a way she could disarm Madeleine and at the same time make an ally of her. After much thought she had evolved a strategy. Instead of intimidating Madeleine with the information, she pretended to be on her side. “A word to the wise, dear Madeleine,” she had whispered. “Mrs. Baxter cannot be trusted. Tell your viscount to find a more discreet rendezvous.” Madeleine had begged her to keep the secret and had been pathetically grateful when Augusta willingly promised eternal silence. Since then there had been no rivalry between them.
Now Augusta took Madeleine’s arm, saying: “Come and see my room — I think you’ll like it.”
On the second floor of the house were her bedroom and dressing room, Joseph’s bedroom and dressing room, and a study. She led Madeleine into her bedroom, closed the door, and waited for her reaction.
She had furnished the room in the latest Japanese style, with fretwork chairs, peacock-feather wallpaper and a display of porcelain over the mantelpiece. There was an immense wardrobe painted with Japanese motifs, and the window seat in the bay was partly concealed by dragonfly curtains.
“Augusta, how daring!” said Madeleine.
“Thank you.” Augusta was almost completely happy with the effect. “There was a better curtain material I wanted but Liberty’s had sold out of it. Come and see Joseph’s room.”
She took Madeleine through the communicating door. Joseph’s bedroom was furnished in a more moderate version of the same style with dark leather-paper on the walls and brocade curtains. Augusta was especially proud of a lacquered display cabinet that held his collection of jeweled snuffboxes.
“Joseph is so eccentric,” said Madeleine, looking at the snuffboxes.
Augusta smiled. Her husband was not in the least eccentric, generally speaking, but it was odd for a hardheaded Methodist businessman to collect something so frivolous and exquisite, and the whole family found it amusing. “He says they’re an investment,” she said. A diamond necklace for her would have been an equally good investment, but he never bought her such things, for Methodists considered jewelry to be a needless extravagance.
“A man should have a hobby,” Madeleine said. “It keeps him out of trouble.”
Out of whorehouses was what she meant. The implied reference to men’s peccadilloes reminded Augusta of her purpose. Softly, softly, she said to herself. “Madeleine, dear, what
Madeleine looked puzzled. “Ought we to do something?”
“If Samuel is to become Senior Partner, we must.”
“Why?”
“My dear, the Senior Partner of Pilasters has to meet ambassadors, heads of state, even royalty — he must be quite,
Comprehension dawned, and Madeleine flushed. “Surely you’re not suggesting that Samuel is in some way … depraved?”
That was exactly what Augusta was suggesting, but she did not want to say it outright, for fear of provoking Madeleine to defend her cousin. “I trust that I shall never know,” she said evasively. “The important thing is what people think.”
Madeleine was unconvinced. “Do you really suppose people think … that?”
Augusta forced herself to have patience with Madeleine’s delicacy. “My dear, we are both married women, and we know what men are like. They have animal appetites. The world assumes that a single man of fifty-three living with a pretty boy is vicious and, heaven knows, in most cases the world is probably right.”
Madeleine frowned, looking worried. Before she could say anything else there was a knock at the door and Edward came in. “What is it, Mother?” he asked.
Augusta was annoyed by the interruption and she had no idea what the boy was talking about. “What do you mean?”
“You sent for me.”
“I most certainly did not. I told you to show Lady Florence around the garden.”
Edward looked hurt. “Hugh said you wanted to see me!”
Augusta understood. “Did he? And I suppose he is showing Lady Florence the garden now?”
Edward saw what she was getting at. “I do believe he is,” he said, looking wounded. “Don’t be cross with me, Mother, please.”
Augusta melted instantly. “Don’t worry, Teddy dear,” she said. “Hugh is such a sly boy.” But if he thought he could outwit his aunt Augusta he was also foolish.
This distraction had irritated her, but on reflection she thought she had said enough to Madeleine about cousin Samuel. At this stage all she wanted was to plant the seed of doubt: anything more might be too heavy- handed. She decided to leave well enough alone. She ushered her sister-in-law and her son out of the room, saying: “Now I must return to my guests.”
They went downstairs. The party was going well, to judge by the cacophony of talk, laughter, and a hundred
