Hugh undressed for bed but he felt far from sleepy, so he sat up in his dressing gown, staring into the fire, brooding. He went over and over the bank’s situation in his mind, but he could think of no way to ameliorate it. Yet he could not stop thinking.
At midnight he heard a loud, determined knocking at the front door. He went downstairs in his nightclothes to answer it. There was a carriage at the curb and a liveried footman on the doorstep. The man said: “I beg pardon for knocking so late, sir, but the message is urgent.” He handed over an envelope and left.
As Hugh closed the door his butler came down the stairs. “Is everything all right, sir?” he said worriedly.
“Just a message,” Hugh said. “You can go back to bed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Hugh opened the envelope and saw the neat, old-fashioned writing of a fussy elderly man. The words made his heart leap with joy.
12, Piccadilly
London, S.W.
November 23rd, 1890
Dear Pilaster,
On further reflection I have decided to consent to your proposal. Yours, etc.B. Greenbourne.
He looked up from the letter and grinned at the empty hall. “Well, I’ll be blowed,” he said delightedly. “I wonder what made the old man change his mind?”
AUGUSTA SAT IN THE BACK ROOM of the best jeweler’s shop in Bond Street. Bright gaslights flared, making the jewelry glitter in the glass cases. The room was full of mirrors. An obsequious assistant padded across the room and placed in front of her a black velvet cloth bearing a diamond necklace.
The manager of the shop was standing beside her. “How much?” she asked him.
“Nine thousand pounds, Lady Whitehaven.” He breathed the price piously, like a prayer.
The necklace was simple and stark, just a plain row of identical large square-cut diamonds set in gold. It would look very striking against her black widow’s gowns, she thought. But she was not buying it to wear.
“It’s a wonderful piece, my lady; quite the loveliest thing we have in the shop.”
“Don’t rush me, I’m thinking,” she replied.
This was her last desperate attempt to raise money. She had tried going openly to the bank and demanding a hundred pounds in gold sovereigns: the clerk, an insolent dog called Mulberry, had refused her. She had tried to have the house transferred from Edward’s name into her own, but that had not worked either: the deeds were in the safe of old Bodwin, the bank’s lawyer, and he had been got at by Hugh. Now she was going to try to buy diamonds on credit and sell them for cash.
Edward had at first been her ally, but now even he refused to help her. “What Hugh is doing is for the best,” he had said stupidly. “If word gets around that family members are trying to grab what they can, the syndicate could fall apart. They’ve been persuaded to put up money to avert a financial crisis, not to keep the Pilaster family in luxury.” It was a long speech for Edward. A year ago it would have shaken her to the core to have her son go against her, but since his rebellion over the annulment he was no longer the sweet, biddable boy she loved. Clementine had turned against her too, supporting Hugh’s plans to turn them all into paupers. It made her shake with rage when she thought about it. But they would not get away with it.
She looked up at the shop manager. “I’ll take it,” she said decisively.
“A wise choice, I have no doubt, Lady Whitehaven,” he said.
“Send the bill to the bank.”
“Very good, my lady. We will deliver the necklace to Whitehaven House.”
“I’ll take it with me,” Augusta said. “I want to wear it tonight.”
The manager looked as if he were in pain. “You put me in an impossible position, my lady.”
“What on earth are you talking about? Wrap it up!”
“I fear I cannot release the jewelry until payment has been received.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you know who I am?”
“Yes — but the newspapers say the bank has closed its doors.”
“This is an insult.”
“I am very, very sorry.”
Augusta stood up and picked up the necklace. “I refuse to listen to this nonsense. I shall take it with me.”
Perspiring, the manager moved between her and the door. “I beg you not to,” he said.
She moved toward him but he stood his ground. “Get out of my way!” she blazed.
“I shall have to have the shop door locked and send for the police,” he said.
It dawned on Augusta that although the man was practically gibbering with terror he had not conceded one inch. He was afraid of her, but he was more frightened of losing nine thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds. She realized she was defeated. Enraged, she threw the necklace on the floor. The man scooped it up with no attempt at dignity. Augusta opened the door herself, stalked through the shop, and went out to where her carriage waited.
She held her head high but she was mortified. The man had practically accused her of stealing. A small voice in the back of her mind said that stealing was exactly what she had been trying to do, but she stifled it. She rode home in a rage.
As she entered the house Hastead tried to detain her, but she had no patience for domestic trivia at this moment, and she silenced him, saying: “Bring me a glass of warm milk.” She had a pain in her stomach.
She went to her room. She sat at her dressing table and opened her jewelry box. There was very little in it. What she had was worth only a few hundred pounds. She pulled out the bottom tray, took out a piece of folded silk and unwrapped it to reveal the serpent-shaped gold ring that Strang had given her. As always, she slipped it on her finger and brushed the jeweled head against her lips. She would never sell this. How different everything would have been if she had been allowed to marry Strang. For a moment she felt like crying.
Then she heard strange voices outside her bedroom door. A man … two men, perhaps … and a woman. They did not sound like servants and anyway her staff would not have the temerity to stand around conversing on the landing. She stepped outside.
The door to her late husband’s room was open and the voices came from in there. When she went in Augusta saw a young man, obviously a clerk, and an older, well-dressed couple of her own class. She had never set eyes on any of them before. She said: “In heaven’s name who are you?”
The clerk said deferentially: “Stoddart, from the agents, my lady. Mr. and Mrs. de Graaf are very interested in buying your beautiful house—”
“Get out!” she said.
The clerk’s voice rose to a squeak. “We have received instructions to put the house on the market—”
“Get out this minute! My house is not for sale!”
“But I personally spoke—”
Mr. de Graaf touched Stoddart’s arm and silenced him. “An embarrassing mistake, quite obviously, Mr. Stoddart,” he said mildly. He turned to his wife. “Shall we leave, my dear?” The two of them walked out with a quiet dignity that made Augusta seethe, and Stoddart scurried after them, spilling apologies everywhere.
Hugh was responsible. Augusta did not have to make inquiries to establish that. The house was the property of the syndicate that had rescued the bank, he said, and they naturally wished to sell it. He had told Augusta to move out, but she had refused. His response was to send prospective buyers to view the place anyway.