Section 3
ON THE MORNING AFTER THE BALL Hugh woke up feeling jubilant. His wife had been accepted into high society and he was going to be made a partner in Pilasters Bank. The partnership gave him the chance to make not just thousands of pounds but, over the years, hundreds of thousands. One day he would be rich.
Solly would be disappointed that Hugh would not be working for him after all. But Solly was nothing if not easygoing: he would understand.
He put on his robe. From his bedside drawer he took a gift-wrapped jeweler's box and slipped it into his pocket. Then he went into his wife's bedroom.
Nora's room was large but it always felt cramped. The windows, the mirrors and the bed were all draped with patterned silk; the floor was covered with rugs two and three deep; the chairs were piled with embroidered cushions; and every shelf and tabletop was crowded with framed pictures, china dolls, miniature porcelain boxes and other knickknacks. The predominant colors were her favorite pink and blue, but just about every other color was represented somewhere, in the wallpapers, bedclothes, curtains or upholstery.
Nora was sitting up in bed, surrounded by lace pillows, sipping tea. Hugh perched on the edge of the bed and said: 'You were wonderful last night.'
'I showed them all,' she said, looking pleased with herself. 'I danced with the Prince of Wales.'
'He couldn't stop looking at your bosom,' Hugh said. He reached over and caressed her breasts through the silk of her high-buttoned nightdress.
She pushed his hand aside irritably. 'Hugh! Not now.'
He felt hurt. 'Why not now?'
'It's the second time this week.'
'When we were first married we used to do it constantly.'
'Exactly--when we were first married. A girl doesn't expect to have to do it every day forever.'
Hugh frowned. He would have been perfectly happy to do it every day forever--wasn't that what marriage was all about? But he did not know what was normal. Perhaps he was overactive. 'How often do you think we should do it, then?' he said uncertainly.
She looked pleased to have been asked, as if she had been waiting for an opportunity to clear this up. 'Not more than once a week,' she said firmly.
'Really?' His feeling of exultation went away and he suddenly felt very cast down. A week seemed an awfully long time. He stroked her thigh through the sheets. 'Perhaps a little more than that.'
'No!' she said, moving her leg.
Hugh was upset. Once upon a time she had seemed enthusiastic about lovemaking. It had been something they enjoyed together. How had it become a chore she performed for his benefit? Had she never really liked it, but just pretended? There was something dreadfully depressing about that idea.
He no longer felt like giving her his gift, but he had bought it and he did not want to take it back to the shop. 'Well, anyway, I got you this, to commemorate your triumph at Maisie Greenbourne's ball,' he said rather dolefully, and he gave her the box.
Her manner changed instantly. 'Oh, Hugh, you know how I love presents!' she said. She tore off the ribbon and opened the box. It contained a pendant in the shape of a spray of flowers, made of rubies and sapphires on gold stems. The pendant hung from a fine gold chain. 'It's beautiful,' she said.
'Put it on, then.'
She put it over her head.
The pendant did not show to best advantage against the front of her nightdress. 'It will look better with a low-cut evening gown,' Hugh said.
Nora gave him a coquettish look and began to unbutton her nightdress. Hugh watched hungrily as she exposed more and more of her chest. The pendant hung in the swelling of her cleavage like a drop of rain on a rosebud. She smiled at Hugh and carried on undoing buttons, then she pulled the nightdress open, showing him her bare breasts. 'Do you want to kiss them?' she said.
Now he did not know what to think. Was she toying with him or did she want to make love? He leaned over and kissed her breasts with the jewelry nestling between them. He took her nipple into his mouth and sucked it gently.
'Come to bed,' she said.
'I thought you said--'
'Well ... a girl has to show she's grateful, doesn't she?' She drew back the covers.
Hugh felt sick. It was the jewelry that had changed her mind. All the same he could not resist the invitation. He shrugged out of his dressing gown, hating himself for being so weak, and climbed in beside her.
When he came, he felt like crying.
With his morning mail there was a letter from Tonio Silva.
Tonio had vanished shortly after Hugh met him in the coffeehouse. No article had appeared in The Times. Hugh had looked rather foolish, having made such a fuss about the danger to the bank. Edward had taken every opportunity to remind the partners of Hugh's false alarm. However, the incident had been eclipsed by the drama of Hugh's threatened move to Greenbournes.
Hugh had written to the Hotel Russe but got no reply. He had been worried about his friend, but there was no more he could do.
He opened the letter anxiously. It came from a hospital, asking Hugh to visit. The letter finished: 'Whatever you do, tell no one where I am.'
What had happened? Tonio had been in perfect health two months ago. And why was he in a public hospital? Hugh was dismayed. Only the poor went to hospitals, which were grim, unsanitary places: anyone who could afford it had doctors and nurses come to the house, even for operations.
Mystified and concerned, Hugh went straight to the hospital. He found Tonio in a dark, bare ward of thirty close-packed beds. His ginger hair had been shaved and his face and head were scarred. 'Dear God!' Hugh said. 'Have you been run over?'
'Beaten up,' said Tonio.
'What happened?'
'I was attacked in the street outside the Hotel Russe a couple of months ago.'
'You were robbed, I suppose.'
'Yes.'
'You're a mess!'
'It's not quite as bad as it looks. I had a broken finger and a cracked ankle, but otherwise it was only cuts and bruises--although rather a lot of them. However, I'm almost better now.'
'You should have contacted me before. We must get you out of here. I'll send my doctor to you, and arrange a nurse--'
'No, thanks, old boy. I appreciate your generosity. But money isn't the only reason I stayed here. It's also safer. Other than you, only one person knows where I am: a trusted colleague who brings me beefsteak pies and brandy and messages from Cordova. I hope you didn't tell anyone you were coming.'
