4
“AND HOW IS dear Rachel?” Augusta asked Micky as she poured tea.
“She’s fine,” Micky said. “She may come along later.”
In fact he did not quite understand his wife. She had been a virgin when they married, but she acted like a whore. She submitted to him at any time, anywhere, and always with enthusiasm. One of the first things he had tried was tying her to the bedhead, to re-create the vision he had enjoyed when he first became attracted to her; and somewhat to his disappointment she had complied willingly. So far nothing he was able to do had succeeded in making her resist him. He had even taken her in the drawing room, where there was a constant risk that the servants would see; and she had seemed to enjoy it more than ever.
On the other hand, she was the opposite of submissive in every other area of life. She argued with him about the house, the servants, money, politics and religion. When he got fed up with contradicting her he tried ignoring her, then insulting her, but nothing made any difference. She suffered from the delusion that she had as much right to her point of view as a man.
“I hope she’s a help to you in your work,” Augusta said.
Micky nodded. “She’s a good hostess at ministry functions,” he said. “Attentive and gracious.”
“I thought she did very well at the party you gave for Ambassador Portillo,” Augusta said. Portillo was the Portuguese envoy and Augusta and Joseph had attended the dinner.
“She has a stupid plan to open a maternity hospital for women without husbands,” Micky said, allowing his irritation to show.
Augusta shook her head in disapproval. “It’s impossible for a woman in her position in society. Besides, there are already one or two such hospitals.”
“She says they’re all religious institutions that tell women how wicked they are. Her place will help without preaching.”
“Worse and worse,” Augusta said. “Think what the press would say about that!”
“Exactly. I’ve been very firm with her about it.”
“She’s a lucky girl,” Augusta said, and favored Micky with an intimate smile.
He realized that she was flirting and he was failing to respond. The truth was that he was too involved with Rachel. He certainly did not love her, but he was deeply engrossed by his relationship with her and she absorbed all his sexual energy. To compensate for his distraction he held Augusta’s hand for a moment as she passed him a cup of tea. “You’re flattering me,” he said softly.
“No doubt I am. But something is worrying you, I can tell.”
“Dear Mrs. Pilaster, as perceptive as always. Why do I ever imagine I can hide anything from you?” He released her hand and took his tea. “Yes, I’m a little tense about the Santamaria railroad.”
“I thought the partners had agreed to that.”
“They have, but these things take so long to organize.”
“The financial world moves slowly.”
“I understand that, but my family doesn’t. Papa sends me cables weekly. I curse the day the telegraph reached Santamaria.”
Edward came in bursting with news. “Antonio Silva’s back!” he said before he had closed the door behind him.
Augusta paled. “How do you know?”
“Hugh saw him.”
“That’s a blow,” she said, and Micky was surprised to see that her hand was shaking as she put down her cup and saucer.
“And David Middleton is still asking questions,” said Micky, recalling Middleton’s conversation with Hugh at the duchess of Tenbigh’s ball. Micky was pretending to be worried, but in truth he was not altogether displeased. He liked to have Edward and Augusta reminded, from time to time, of the guilty secret they all shared.
“It’s not just that,” Edward said. “Antonio’s trying to sabotage the Santamaria railroad bond issue.”
Micky frowned. Tonio’s family had opposed the railway scheme back home in Cordova, but they had been overruled by President Garcia. What could Tonio possibly do here in London?
The same question occurred to Augusta. “How can he do anything?”
Edward handed his mother a sheaf of papers. “Read that.”
Micky said: “What is it?”
“An article Tonio plans to publish in The Times about your family’s nitrate mines.”
Augusta skimmed the pages rapidly. “He claims that life as a nitrate miner is unpleasant and dangerous,” she said derisively. “Who ever supposed it was a garden party?”
Edward said: “He also reports that women are flogged and children shot for disobedience.”
She said: “But what has this to do with your bond issue?”
“The railway is to carry nitrate to the capital. Investors don’t like anything controversial. Many of them will already be wary of a South American bond. Something like this could scare them off completely.”
Micky was shaken. This sounded like very bad news. He asked Edward: “What does your father say about all this?”
“We’re trying to get another bank to come in with us on the deal, but basically we’re going to let Tonio publish and see what happens. If the publicity causes a crash in South American stocks we’ll have to abandon the Santamaria railroad.”
Damn Tonio to hell. He was clever—and Papa was a fool, to run his mines like slave camps and then expect to raise money in the civilized world.
But what was to be done? Micky racked his brains. Tonio had to be silenced, but he would not be persuaded or bribed. A chill descended over Micky’s heart as he realized he would have to use cruder, riskier methods.
He pretended to be calm. “May I see the article, please?”
Augusta handed it to him.
The first thing he noticed was the hotel address at the top of the paper. Putting on an air of insouciance that he did not feel, he said: “Why, this is no problem at all.”
Edward protested: “But you haven’t read it yet!”
“I don’t need to. I’ve seen the address.”
“So what?”
“Now that we know where to find him, we can deal with him,” Micky said. “Leave it to me.”