would?'
Emily brightened. 'He might.'
'If he would sign an affidavit saying that he was impotent, and agree not to contest the annulment, your evidence won't be challenged.'
'Then I'll find a way to make him sign.' Emily's face took on a stubborn set and Maisie remembered how unexpectedly strong-willed the girl could be.
'Be discreet. It's against the law for a husband and wife to conspire in this way, and there's a man called the Queen's Proctor who acts as a kind of divorce policeman.'
'Will I be able to marry Robert afterwards?'
'Yes. Nonconsummation is grounds for a full divorce under church law. It will take about a year for the case to come to court, and then there's a waiting-period of six months before the divorce becomes final, but in the end you will be allowed to remarry.'
'Oh, I hope he'll do it.'
'How does he feel about you?'
'He hates me.'
'Do you think he'd like to get rid of you?'
'I don't think he cares, so long as I stay out of his way.'
'And if you didn't stay out of his way?'
'You mean if I were to make a nuisance of myself?'
'That's what I had in mind.'
'I suppose I could.'
Maisie was sure Emily could make an unbearable nuisance of herself once she put her mind to it.
'I'll need a lawyer to write the letter for Edward to sign,' Emily said.
'I'll ask Rachel's father, he's a lawyer.'
'Would you?'
'Certainly.' Maisie glanced at the clock. 'I can't see him today, it's the first day of term at Windfield School and I have to take Bertie. But I'll see him in the morning.'
Emily stood up. 'Maisie, you're the best friend a woman ever had.'
'I'll tell you what, this is going to stir up the Pilaster family. Augusta will have a fit.'
'Augusta doesn't scare me,' said Emily.
Maisie Greenbourne attracted a lot of attention at Windfield School. She always did. She was known to be the widow of the fabulously wealthy Solly Greenbourne, although she had very little money herself. She was also notorious as an 'advanced' woman who believed in women's rights and, it was said, encouraged parlormaids to have illegitimate babies. And then, when she brought Bertie to school, she was always accompanied by Hugh Pilaster, the handsome banker who paid her son's fees: no doubt the more sophisticated among the other parents suspected that Hugh was Bertie's real father. But the main reason, she thought, was that at thirty-five she was still pretty enough to turn men's heads.
Today she was wearing a tomato-red outfit, a dress with a short jacket over it and a hat with a feather. She knew she looked pretty and carefree. In fact these visits to the school with Bertie and Hugh broke her heart.
It was seventeen years since she had spent a night with Hugh, and she loved him as much as ever. Most of the time she immersed herself in the troubles of the poor girls who came to her hospital, and forgot her own grief; but two or three times a year she had to see Hugh, and then the pain came back.
He had known for eleven years that he was Bertie's real father. Ben Greenbourne had given him a hint, and he had confronted her with his suspicions. She told him the truth. Since then he had done everything he could for Bertie, short of acknowledging him as his son. Bertie believed his father was the late, lovable Solomon Greenbourne, and to tell him the truth would just cause unnecessary pain.
His name was Hubert, and calling him Bertie had been a sly compliment to the Prince of Wales, who was also a Bertie. Maisie never saw the prince now. She was no longer a society hostess and the wife of a millionaire: she was just a widow living in a modest house in the south London suburbs, and such women did not feature in the prince's circle of friends.
She had chosen to call her son Hubert because the name sounded like Hugh, but she had quickly become embarrassed by the similarity, and that was another reason for calling the boy Bertie. She told her son that Hugh was his dead father's best friend. Luckily there was no obvious likeness between Bertie and Hugh. In fact Bertie was like Maisie's father, with soft dark hair and sad brown eyes. He was tall and strong, a good athlete and a hardworking student, and Maisie was so proud of him that she sometimes felt her heart would burst.
On these occasions Hugh was scrupulously polite to Maisie, playing the role of family friend, but she could tell that he felt the bittersweetness of the situation as painfully as she did.
Maisie knew, from Rachel's father, that Hugh was considered a prodigy in the City. When he talked about the bank his eyes sparkled and he was interesting and amusing. She could tell that his work was challenging and fulfilling. But if ever their conversation strayed into the domestic field he became sour and uncommunicatiye. He did not like to talk about his house, his social life, or--least of all--his wife. The only aspect of his family life he told her about was his three sons, whom he loved to distraction. But there was a streak of regret even when he spoke of them, and Maisie had gathered that Nora was not a loving mother. Over the years she had watched him resign himself to a cold, sexually frustrating marriage.
Today he had on a silver-gray tweed suit that matched his silver-streaked hair, and a bright blue tie the color of his eyes. He was heavier than he used to be but he still had a mischievous grin which appeared now and again. They made an attractive couple--but they were not a couple, and the fact that they looked and acted like one was what made her so sad. She took his arm as they walked into Windfield School, and she thought she would give her soul to be with him every day.
They helped Bertie unpack his trunk, then he made them tea in his study. Hugh had brought a cake which would probably feed the sixth form for a week. 'My boy Toby will be coming here next half,' Hugh said as they drank their tea. 'I wonder if you'd keep an eye on him for me?'
'I'll be glad to,' Bertie said. 'I'll make sure he doesn't go swimming in Bishop's Wood.' Maisie frowned at him, and he said: 'Sorry. Bad joke.'
'They still talk about that, do they?' Hugh said.
'Every year the head tells the story of how Peter Middleton drowned, to try and frighten chaps. But they still go swimming.'
After tea they said good-bye to Bertie, Maisie feeling tearful as always about leaving her little boy behind, even though he was now taller than she. They walked back into the town and took the train to London. They had a first-class compartment to themselves.
As they watched the scenery flash by, Hugh said: 'Edward is going to be Senior Partner at the bank.'
Maisie was startled. 'I didn't think he had the brains!'
'He hasn't. I shall resign at the end of the year.'
'Oh, Hugh!' Maisie knew how much he cared for that bank. All his hopes were tied up in it. 'What will you do?'
'I don't know. I'm staying on until the end of the financial year, so I've got time to think about it.'
