A Dangerous Fortune(97)
It had rained earlier but by midmorning the sun was out, and steam rose from the horse manure that carpeted the streets of London. The architecture of the City was a mixture of grand classical buildings and tumbledown old houses: the Pilaster building was the grand type, Greenbournes the other. You would not have guessed that Greenbournes Bank was bigger and more important than Pilasters from the appearance of the head office. The business had started, three generations ago, lending to fur importers out of two rooms of an old house in Thames Street. Whenever more space was needed they simply took over another house in the row, and now the bank occupied four adjacent buildings and three others nearby. But more business was done in these ramshackle houses than in the ostentatious splendor of the Pilaster building.
Inside there was none of the devotional hush of Pilasters’ banking hall. Hugh had to fight his way through a crowd of people in the lobby, like petitioners waiting to see a medieval king, every one of them convinced that if only he could get a word with Ben Greenbourne, present his case or pitch his proposal, he could make a fortune. The zigzag corridors and narrow staircases of the interior were obstructed by tin boxes of old files, cartons of stationery and demijohns of ink, and every spare cubbyhole had been made into an office for a clerk. Hugh found Solly in a large room with an uneven floor and a wonky window looking out over the river. Solly’s bulk was half hidden behind a desk piled with papers. “I live in a palace and work in a hovel,” Solly said ruefully. “I keep trying to persuade Father to commission a purpose-built office like yours, but he says there’s no profit in property.”
Hugh sat on a lumpy sofa and accepted a large glass of expensive sherry. He was uncomfortable, because in the back of his mind he was thinking about Maisie. He had seduced her before she became Solly’s wife and he would have done it again afterwards if she had let him. But all that was over now, he told himself. Maisie had locked the door at Kingsbridge Manor, and he had married Nora. He did not intend to be an unfaithful husband.
Still he felt awkward.
“I came to see you here because I want to talk business,” he said.
Solly made an openhanded gesture. “You have the floor.”
“My area of expertise is North America, as you know.”
“Don’t I just! You’ve got it so well wrapped up that we can’t get a look in.”
“Exactly. And you’re missing out on a good deal of profitable business as a result.”
“No need to rub it in. Father asks me constantly why I’m not more like you.”
“What you need is someone with North American experience to come in, set up a New York office for you, and go after the business.”
“That and a fairy godmother.”
“I’m serious, Greenbourne. I’m your man.”
“You!”
“I want to work for you.”
Solly was staggered. He peered over his glasses as if checking that it really was Hugh who had said that. After a moment he said: “It’s because of that incident at the duchess of Tenbigh’s ball, I suppose.”
“They’ve said they won’t make me a partner because of my wife.” Solly would sympathize, Hugh thought, because he too had married a lower-class girl.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Solly said.
Hugh said: “But I’m not asking for kindness. I know what I’m worth and you’ll have to pay my price if you want me. I’m earning a thousand a year now and I expect it to go up every year as long as I continue to make more and more money for the bank.”
“That’s no problem.” Solly thought for a moment. “This could be a great coup for me, you know. I’m grateful for the offer. You’re a good friend and a formidable businessman.” Hugh, thinking of Maisie again, felt a guilty pang at the words “good friend.” Solly continued: “There’s nothing I’d like better than to have you working alongside me.”
“I detect an unspoken ‘but,’” Hugh said with trepidation in his heart.
Solly shook his owlish head. “No buts, as far as I’m concerned. Of course I can’t hire you the way I’d hire a ledger clerk. I’ll have to clear it with my father. But you know how it is in the world of banking: profit is an argument that outweighs all others. I don’t see Father turning down the prospect of a chunk of the North American market.”
Hugh did not want to seem too eager, but he could not help saying: “When will you speak to him?”
“Why not now?” Solly said. He stood up. “I shan’t be a minute. Have another glass of sherry.” He went out.
Hugh sipped his sherry but he found it hard to swallow, he was so tense. He had never applied for a job before. It was unnerving that his future depended on the whim of old Ben Greenbourne. For the first time he understood the feelings of the scrubbed young men in starched collars whom he had occasionally interviewed for jobs as clerks. Restlessly he got up and went to the window. On the far side of the river a barge was unloading bales of tobacco into a warehouse: if it was Virginia tobacco, he had probably financed the transaction.
He had a doomy feeling, a bit like the sensation he had had when he boarded ship for Boston six years ago: a sense that nothing would ever be the same again.
Solly came back in with his father. Ben Greenbourne had the upright carriage and bullet-shaped head of a Prussian general. Hugh stood up to shake hands and looked anxiously at his face. It was solemn. Did that mean no?