'What?'
'The family can't keep you. You must support yourself.'
Micky was appalled. Papa's meanness was as legendary as his violence, but still this was unexpected. The Mirandas were rich. Papa had thousands of head of cattle, monopolized all horse dealing over a huge territory, rented land to small farmers and owned most of the stores in Santamaria Province.
It was true that their money did not buy much in England. Back home a Cordovan silver dollar would get you a slap-up meal, a bottle of rum and a whore for the night; here it would hardly stretch to a cheap meal and a glass of weak beer. That had come as a blow to Micky when he went to Windfield School. He had managed to supplement his allowance by playing cards, but he had found it hard to make ends meet until he befriended Edward. Even now Edward paid for all the expensive entertainments they shared: the opera, visits to racecourses, hunting and whores. Still, Micky needed a basic income to pay his rent, tailor's bills, subscriptions to the gentlemen's clubs that were an essential element of London life, and tips to servants. How did Papa expect him to find that? Take a job? The idea was appalling. No member of the Miranda family worked for wages.
He was about to ask how he was expected to live on no money when Papa abruptly changed the subject and said: 'I will now tell you what the rifles are for. We are going to take over the desert.'
Micky did not understand. The Miranda property covered a big area of Santamaria Province. Bordering their land was a smaller property owned by the Delabarca family. To the north of both was land so arid that neither Papa nor his neighbor had ever bothered to claim it. 'What do we want the desert for?' Micky said.
'Beneath the dust there is a mineral called nitrate. It's used as a fertilizer, much better than dung. It can be shipped all over the world and sold for high prices. The reason I want you to stay in London is to take charge of selling it.'
'How do we know this stuff is there?'
'Delabarca has started mining it. It has made his family rich.'
Micky felt excited. This could transform the family's future. Not instantly, of course; not soon enough to solve the problem of how he would live with no allowance. But in the long term ...
'We have to act fast,' Papa said. 'Wealth is power, and the Delabarca family will soon be stronger than we are. Before that happens, we have to destroy them.'
Chapter TWO
JUNE
Section 1
Whitehaven House
Kensington Gore
London, S.W.
June 2nd, 1873
My dear Florence,
Where are you? I hoped to see you at Mrs Bridewell's ball, then at Richmond, then at the Muncasters' on Saturday ... but you weren't at any of them! Write me a line and say you're still alive.
Affectionately yours,
Hugh Pilaster.
*
23, Park Lane
London, W.
June 3rd, 1873
To Hugh Pilaster, Esq.
Sir:
You will oblige me by not communicating with my daughter under any circumstances whatsoever henceforth.
Stalworthy.
*
Whitehaven House
Kensington Gore
London, S.W.
June 6th, 1873
Dearest Florence,
At last I have found a confidential messenger to smuggle a note to you. Why have you been hidden away from me? Have I offended your parents? Or--which heaven forbid--you? Your cousin Jane will bring your reply to me. Write it quickly!
With fond regards,
Hugh.
*
Stalworthy Manor
Stalworthy
Buckinghamshire
June 7th, 1873
Dear Hugh,
I am forbidden to see you because you are a gambler like your father. I am truly sorry but I must believe that my parents know what is best for me.
Sorrowfully,
Florence.
*
Whitehaven House
Kensington Gore
London, S.W.
June 8th, 1873
Dear Mother,
A young lady has just rejected me because my father was a gambler. Is it true? Please answer right away. I must know!
Your loving son,
Hugh.
*
2, Wellington Villas
Folkestone
Kent
June 9th, 1873
My dear son,
I never knew your father to gamble. I cannot imagine who would say such a wicked thing about him. He lost his money in a business collapse, as you have always been told. There was no other cause.
I hope you are well and happy, my dear, and that your beloved will accept you. I continue much the same. Your sister Dorothy sends her best love, as does,
Your Mother.
*
