To Die but Once (Maisie Dobbs #14)(39)
“Oh good—another young person about the house is always welcome. And Lord Julian enjoys his company too—the boy seems to hang on stories of Lord Julian’s years in the navy, which of course His Lordship loves to tell.”
“Speaking of whom—is he here, Simmonds? I’d like to see him, if possible.”
“Right you are—I believe he’s in the library, but if you would oblige me by waiting just a moment, I’ll have a look. He hates to be caught with his eyes closed.”
“Good idea. And I’ll nip into the kitchen to see Cook—she promised some more leftover chicken to make broth for Anna.”
Without doubt, Lord Julian had aged since the death of his son, though his upright bearing never seemed to change. Indeed, at the memorial service for James—held in the City at Temple Church—both Lord Julian and Lady Rowan seemed a head taller, with shoulders drawn back, as if to represent the very strength and standing of their son. Maisie remembered trying to concentrate on James alive, James laughing, James running along a beach with a kite, and not the desperate yearning for her husband and their unborn child she had lost on a fine day in rural Ontario. Grief had been an oppressive weight that seemed to bear down upon her—until she regained some crucial part of her character while volunteering for nursing work in Spain. It was as if she had come home to herself, and was given leave to open her arms to all that might be possible in the future.
“Maisie, lovely to see you, my dear,” said Lord Julian, coming to his feet. He had been sitting in a leather chair alongside the window. A book was open on a side table, its place kept by a weighted marker laid across the pages. He held out both hands, which she took in hers, and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “And how is our young horsewoman?” he inquired.
“It’s lovely to see you too, Julian. Anna is recovering well, and anxious to be out on Lady again. I think we might have to tie her to the bed.”
“As soon as she finds her legs again, she should be out there—fresh air, the responsibility for a pony, nothing better for a child.” He extended his hand toward another leather chair close to his own. “Now then, sit down and tell me how I can be of assistance to you—I’m sure you didn’t come to tell me about Anna’s recovery, though I’m glad to hear it.”
Maisie smoothed the back of her linen skirt and sat down, leaning toward Lord Julian as he too was seated. “I’m curious about how the Bank of England goes about its business—not here in London, but now it’s located in Hampshire for the duration. Have they moved their printing?”
Lord Julian sighed. “As you are aware, I am on the boards of various banks, so much of what I know is highly confidential. In a time of war the supply and movement of money becomes even more crucial than ever. Money is a powerful tool, and wars are about powerful men and how they use the tools at their disposal. The military is involved, in a number of ways.”
Maisie raised her eyebrows. “How? I never thought the generals would have communication with the bankers.”
“The prime minister—and thank goodness, we now have a man who is up to the job of war—is the linchpin. He is the man in the middle, drawing to him everything he needs to secure the country to the best of the country’s ability to protect itself and its people.”
“And what might the generals want from the bankers, and how is the PM a conduit between the two?”
Lord Julian looked at his hands, closed his eyes for a second and then returned his attention to Maisie.
“The Bank of England has to consider many factors in a time of war, not least the fact that the risk of forgery increases dramatically—not necessarily from local sources, but the threat of the Germans flooding the country with counterfeit money and bringing chaos to the economy is not to be underestimated. Interestingly enough, at the same time, money does not circulate in the same way—rather it is like blood around a body, and if the pressure on the system is high, blood moves a lot faster. We tend to see an increase in circulation, which means that—quite literally—paper money wears out faster, so you have to have more in hand to replace notes that have reached the end of their useful life. Of course, there are people who slow down in terms of spending, and they save their money—not always in the bank either. A tin box under the bed is often thought safer—if you have to run, you can run with your money. But on the other side of the coin there can be a tendency toward profligacy—if we’re all going to die, we can’t take it with us when we go.”
“I confess, I had never considered any of this.”
“No reason why you should, my dear. For most people, money is for saving, spending or worrying about—too much, too little, never enough—money as the devil’s tool.” He reached for a silver letter opener, and began tapping it against his palm. “But with the threat of invasion—and it has never been more likely—the banks have quite literally been destroying money, though at the same time notes in different denominations have been deposited with clearing banks around the country.”
“So that’s why, as you said, the printing, supply and movement of money is even more crucial now than in peacetime.”
“Yes, that’s the extent of it.” He put down the letter opener. “And the Bank of England has moved some staff down to a location in Hampshire, given the risk of bombing across London. I can only tell you that money transported between Hampshire and London is an operation executed under a blanket of extreme security.”