A Dangerous Fortune(98)

Ben said: “Solly tells me your family has decided not to offer you a partnership.” His speech was coldly precise, the accent clipped. He was so different from his son, Hugh thought.

“To be exact, they offered it then withdrew the offer,” Hugh said.

Ben nodded. He was a man who appreciated exactness. “It’s not for me to criticize their judgment. However, if your North American expertise is for sale, as it were, then I’m certainly a buyer.”

Hugh’s heart leaped. That sounded like a job offer. “Thank you!” he said.

“But I shouldn’t wish to take you on under false pretenses, so there’s something I must make clear. It is not at all likely that you will ever become a partner here.”

Hugh had not actually thought that far ahead, but all the same it was a blow. “I see,” he said.

“I say this now so that you will never think it a reflection on your work. Many Christians are valued colleagues and dear friends, but the partners have always been Jews, and it will ever be so.”

“I appreciate your frankness,” Hugh said. He was thinking: By God, you’re a coldhearted old man.

“Do you still want the job?”

“Yes, I do.”

Ben Greenbourne shook his hand again. “Then I look forward to working with you,” he said, and he left the room.

Solly smiled broadly. “Welcome to the firm!”

Hugh sat down. “Thank you,” he said. His relief and pleasure were somewhat blighted by the thought that he would never be a partner, but he made an effort to put a good face on it. He would make a good salary, and live comfortably; it was just that he would never be a millionaire—to make that sort of money you had to be a partner.

“When can you start?” Solly said eagerly.

Hugh had not thought of that. “I probably should give ninety days notice.”

“Make it less if you can.”

“Of course. Solly, this is great. I can’t tell you how pleased I am.”

“Me too.”

Hugh could not think what to say next, so he stood up to go, but Solly said: “Can I make another suggestion?”

“By all means.” He sat down again.

“It’s about Nora. I hope you won’t take offense.”

Hugh hesitated. They were old friends, but he really did not want to talk to Solly about his wife. His own feelings were too ambivalent. He was embarrassed about the scene she had made, yet he also felt she had been justified. He felt defensive about her accent, her manners and her low-class background, but he was also proud of her for being so pretty and charming.

However, he could hardly be touchy with the man who had just rescued his career, so he said: “Go ahead.”

“As you know, I too married a girl who was … not used to high society.”

Hugh nodded. He knew it perfectly well, but he did not know how Maisie and Solly had coped with the situation, for he had been abroad when they married. They must have handled it well, for Maisie had become one of London’s leading society hostesses and if anyone remembered her humble origins they never spoke of it. This was unusual, but not unique: Hugh had heard of two or three celebrated working-class beauties who had been accepted by high society in the past.

Solly went on: “Maisie knows what Nora’s going through. She could help her a lot: tell her what to do and say, what mistakes to avoid, where to get gowns and hats, how to manage the butler and the housekeeper, all that. Maisie’s always been fond of you, Hugh, so I feel sure she’d be glad to help. And there’s no reason Nora shouldn’t pull off the trick Maisie did and end up as a pillar of society.”

Hugh found himself moved almost to tears. This gesture of support from an old friend touched his heart. “I’ll suggest it,” he said, speaking rather curtly to hide his feelings. He stood up to go.

“I hope I haven’t overstepped the mark,” Solly said anxiously as they shook hands.

Hugh went to the door. “On the contrary. Damn it, Greenbourne, you’re a better friend than I deserve.”

When Hugh got back to Pilasters Bank there was a note waiting for him. It read:

10.30 a.m.

My dear Pilaster:

I must see you right away. You will find me in Plage’s Coffee House around the corner. I will wait for you. Your old friend—Antonio Silva.

So Tonio was back! His career had been ruined when he lost more than he could pay in a card game with Edward and Micky. He had left the country in disgrace at about the same time as Hugh. What had happened to him since? Full of curiosity, Hugh went straight to the coffeehouse.

He found an older, shabbier, more subdued Tonio, sitting in a corner reading The Times. He still had a shock of carrot-colored hair, but otherwise there was nothing left of the mischievous schoolboy or the profligate young man. Although he was only Hugh’s age, twenty-six, there were already tiny lines of worry around his eyes.

“I made a big success of Boston,” Hugh said in answer to Tonio’s first question. “I came back in January. But now I’m having trouble with my damned family all over again. How about you?”

“There have been a lot of changes in my country. My family is not as influential as it once was. We still control Milpita, the provincial city we come from, but in the capital others have come between us and President Garcia.”