Samuel ignored her. 'The schoolboys never believed it. David had been to the same school not many years earlier and he knew many of the older boys. Talking to them increased his suspicions.'
'The whole idea is absurd.'
'Middleton is a quarrelsome individual, like all lawyers,' Samuel said, heedless of her protests. 'He's not going to let this rest.'
'He doesn't frighten me in the least.'
'That's good, because I'm sure you'll be receiving a visit from him soon.' He went to the door. 'I won't stay for tea. Good afternoon, Augusta.'
Augusta sat down heavily on a sofa. She had not foreseen this--how could she? Her triumph over Samuel was blighted. That old business had come up again, seven years later, when it ought to have been completely forgotten! She was dreadfully frightened for Edward. She could not bear anything bad to happen to him. She held her head to stop it throbbing. What could she do?
Hastead, her butler, came in, followed by two parlormaids with trays of tea and cakes. 'With your permission, madam?' he said in his Welsh accent. Hastead's eyes seemed to look in different directions and people were never quite sure which one to concentrate on. At first this was disconcerting, but Augusta was used to him. She nodded. 'Thank you, madam,' he said, and they began to set out the china. Augusta could sometimes be soothed by Hastead's obsequious manner and the sight of servants doing her bidding; but today it did not work. She got up and went to the open French doors. The sunny garden did nothing for her either. How was she going to stop David Middleton?
She was still agonizing over the problem when Micky Miranda arrived.
She was glad to see him. He looked as fetching as always, in his black morning coat and striped trousers, a spotless white collar around his neck, a black satin tie knotted at his throat. He saw that she was distressed and he was instantly sympathetic. He came across the room with the grace and speed of a jungle cat, and his voice was like a caress: 'Mrs. Pilaster, what on earth has upset you?'
She was grateful that he was the first to come. She grabbed him by the arms. 'Something frightful has happened.'
His hands rested on her waist, as if they were dancing, and she felt a shiver of pleasure as his fingertips pressed her hips. 'Don't be distressed,' he said soothingly. 'Tell me about it.'
She began to feel calmer. At moments like these she was very fond of Micky. It reminded her of how she had felt about the young earl of Strang, when she was a girl. Micky reminded her powerfully of Strang: his graceful manners, his beautiful clothes, and most of all the way he moved, the suppleness of his limbs and the oiled machinery of his body. Strang had been fair and English, where Micky was dark and Latin, but they both had that ability to make her feel so feminine. She wanted to draw his body to hers and rest her cheek on his shoulder....
She saw the maids staring at her, and realized that it was mildly indecent for Micky to stand there with both hands on her hips. She detached herself from him, took his arm and led him through the French windows into the garden, where they would be out of earshot of the servants. The air was warm and balmy. They sat close together on a wooden bench in the shade, and Augusta turned sideways to look at him. She longed to hold his hand but that would have been improper.
He said: 'I saw Samuel leaving--has he got something to do with this?'
Augusta spoke quietly, and Micky leaned close to hear her, so close she could have kissed him almost without moving. 'He came to tell me he will not seek the position of Senior Partner.'
'Good news!'
'Yes. It means that the post will certainly go to my husband.'
'And Papa can have his rifles.'
'As soon as Seth retires.'
'It's maddening the way old Seth hangs on!' Micky exclaimed. 'Papa keeps asking me when it will happen.'
Augusta knew why Micky was so worried: he was afraid his father would send him back to Cordova. 'I can't imagine Seth will last much longer,' she said to comfort him.
He looked into her eyes. 'But that's not what has upset you.'
'No. It's that wretched boy who drowned at your school--Peter Middleton. Samuel told me that Peter's brother, a lawyer, has started asking questions.'
Micky's fine face darkened. 'After all these years?'
'Apparently he kept quiet for his parents' sake, but now they're dead.'
Micky frowned. 'How much of a problem is this?'
'You may know better than I.' Augusta hesitated. There was a question she had to ask, but she was afraid of the answer. She screwed up her nerve. 'Micky ... do you think it was Edward's fault the boy died?'
'Well....'
'Say yes or no!' she commanded.
Micky paused, then at last said: 'Yes.'
Augusta closed her eyes. Darling Teddy, she thought, why did you do it?
Micky said quietly: 'Peter was a poor swimmer. Edward didn't drown him, but he did exhaust him. Peter was alive when Edward left him to chase after Tonio. But I believe he was too weak to swim to the side, and he drowned while no one was watching.'
'Teddy didn't want to kill him.'
'Of course not.'
'It was just schoolboy horseplay.'
'Edward meant no real harm.'
'So it's not murder.'
'I'm afraid it is,' Micky said gravely, and Augusta's heart missed a beat. 'If a thief throws a man to the ground, intending only to rob him, but the man suffers a heart attack and dies, the thief is guilty of murder, even though he did not intend to kill.'
'How do you know this?'
'I checked with a lawyer, years ago.'
'Why?'
'I wanted to know Edward's position.'
Augusta buried her face in her hands. It was worse than she had imagined.
Micky prised her hands away from her face and kissed each hand in turn. The gesture was so tender that it made her want to cry. He continued to hold her hands as he said: 'No sensible person would persecute Edward over something that happened when he was a child.'
'But is David Middleton a sensible person?' Augusta cried.
'Perhaps not. He appears to have nursed his obsession through the years. God forbid that his persistence should lead him to the truth.'
Augusta shuddered as she imagined the consequences. There would be a scandal; the gutter press would say SHAMEFUL SECRET OF BANKING HEIR; the police would be brought in; poor dear Teddy might have to go on trial; and if he should be found guilty--
