'At last,' Micky said with relief.
'He's having a drink but he says he doesn't want to play cards. He'll be with you in a few minutes, I'd guess.'
Micky's tension mounted. He was guilty of a betrayal about as bad as could be imagined. He had allowed Edward to suffer for a quarter of a century under the illusion that he had killed Peter Middleton when in fact Micky had been the guilty one all along. It was a lot to ask Edward to forgive.
But Micky had a plan.
He posed Henrietta on the sofa. He made her sit with the hat over her eyes and her legs crossed, smoking a cigarette. He turned the gaslights down low then went and sat on the bed, behind the door.
A few moments later Edward came in. In the dim light he did not notice Micky sitting on the bed. He stopped in the doorway, looking at Henrietta, and said: 'Hullo--who are you?'
She looked up and said: 'Hello, Edward.'
'Oh, it's you,' he said. He shut the door and came inside. 'Well, what's the 'something special' April has been talking about? I've seen you in a tailcoat before.'
'It's me,' Micky said, and stood up.
Edward frowned. 'I don't wish to see you,' he said, and turned toward the door.
Micky stood in his way. 'At least tell me why. We've been friends too long.'
'I've found out the truth about Peter Middleton.'
Micky nodded. 'Will you give me a chance to explain?'
'What is there to explain?'
'How I came to make such an awful mistake, and why I never had the courage to admit it.'
Edward looked mulish.
Micky said: 'Sit down, just for a minute, by Henrietta, and let me speak.'
Edward hesitated.
Micky said: 'Please?'
Edward sat on the sofa.
Micky went to the sideboard and poured him a brandy. Edward took it with a nod. Henrietta moved close to him on the sofa and took his arm. Edward sipped his drink, looked around, and said: 'I hate these paintings.'
'Me too,' said Henrietta. 'They give me the shivers.'
'Shut up, Henrietta,' said Micky.
'Sorry I spoke, I'm sure,' she said indignantly.
Micky sat on the opposite sofa and addressed Edward. 'I was wrong, and I betrayed you,' he began. 'But I was sixteen years old, and we've been best friends for most of our lives. Are you really going to throw that away for a schoolboy peccadillo?'
'But you could have told me the truth at any time in the last twenty-five years!' Edward said indignantly.
Micky made his face sad. 'I could have, and I should have, but once a lie like that is told, it's hard to take it back. It would have ruined our friendship.'
'Not necessarily,' Edward said.
'Well, it has now ... hasn't it?'
'Yes,' Edward said, but there was a tremor of uncertainty in his voice.
Micky realized the time had come to go all out.
He stood up and slipped off his robe.
He knew he looked good: his body was still lean, and his skin was smooth except for the curly hair at his chest and groin.
Henrietta immediately got up from the sofa and knelt in front of him. Micky watched Edward. Desire flickered in his eyes, but then he glowered obstinately and looked away.
In desperation Micky played his last card.
'Leave us, Henrietta,' he said.
She looked startled, but she got up and went out.
Edward stared at Micky. 'Why did you do that?' he said.
'What do we need her for?' Micky replied. He stepped closer to the sofa, so that his groin was just inches from Edward's face. He put out a tentative hand, touched Edward's head, and gently stroked his hair. Edward did not move.
Micky said: 'We're better off without her ... aren't we?'
Edward swallowed hard and said nothing.
'Aren't we?' Micky persisted.
At last Edward replied. 'Yes,' he whispered. 'Yes.'
The following week, Micky entered for the first time the hushed dignity of the Partners' Room at Pilasters Bank.
He had been bringing them business for seventeen years, but whenever he came to the bank he was shown to one of the other rooms, and a walker would fetch Edward from the Partners' Room. He suspected that an Englishman would have been admitted to the inner sanctum a lot faster. He loved London but he knew he would always be an outsider here.
Feeling nervous, he spread out the plan for Santamaria harbor on the big table in the middle of the room. The drawing showed an entirely new port on the Atlantic coast of Cordova, with ship repair facilities and a rail link.
None of it would ever be built, of course. The two million pounds would go straight into the Miranda war chest. But the survey was genuine and the plans were professionally drawn, and if it had been an honest proposal it might even have made money.
Being a dishonest proposal it probably ranked as the most ambitious fraud in history.
While Micky explained it to them, talking of building materials, labor costs, customs duties and income projections, he struggled to maintain an appearance of calm. His entire career, the future of his family and the destiny of his country depended on the decision made in this room today.
The partners were also tense. All six were there: the two in-laws, Major Hartshorn and Sir Harry Tonks; Samuel, the old queen; Young William; and Edward and Hugh.
There would be a battle, but the odds were on Edward's side. He was Senior Partner. Major Hartshorn and Sir Harry always did what their Pilaster wives told them, and the wives got their orders from Augusta, so they would back Edward. Samuel would probably back Hugh. Young William was the only unpredictable one.
Edward was enthusiastic, as expected. He had forgiven Micky, they were the best of friends again, and this was his first major project as Senior Partner. He was pleased to have brought in such a big piece of business to launch his term of office.
Sir Harry spoke next. 'The proposal is carefully thought out, and we've been doing well with Cordova bonds for a decade. It looks an attractive proposition to me.'
As anticipated, the opposition came from Hugh. It was Hugh who had told Edward the truth about Peter Middleton, and his motive had surely been to prevent this loan issue. 'I've been looking at what
