by Ken Follett
A few minutes later he stepped into Nellie's. The party was in full swing: every table was occupied, the air was thick with cigar smoke, and ribald banter and raucous laughter could be heard over the sound of a small orchestra playing loud dance tunes. All the women wore masks. Some were simple dominoes but most were more elaborate, and a few were entire headdresses covering everything but the eyes and mouth.
Micky pushed his way through the crowd, nodding at acquaintances and kissing some of the girls. Edward was in the card room, but he got up as soon as Micky walked in. "April's got a virgin for us," he said thickly. It was late, and he had drunk a lot.
Virginity had never been Micky's particular obsession, but there was always something stimulating about a girl who was frightened, and he was titillated. "How old?"
"Seventeen."
Which probably meant twenty-three, Micky thought, knowing how April estimated the ages of her girls. Still, he was intrigued. "Have you seen her?"
"Yes. She's masked, of course."
"Of course." Micky wondered what her story was. She might be a provincial girl who had run away from home and found herself destitute in London; she might have been abducted from a farm; she might just be a housemaid fed up with slaving sixteen hours a day for six shillings a week.
A woman in a little black domino touched his arm. The mask was no more than a token, and he recognized April. "A genuine virgin," April said.
No doubt she was charging Edward a small fortune for the privilege of taking the girl's maidenhead. "Have you put your own hand up her, to feel her hymen?" Micky said skeptically.
April shook her head. "I don't need to. I know when a girl is telling the truth."
"If I don't feel it pop you won't get paid," he said, even though they both knew Edward would be paying.
"Agreed."
"What's her story?"
"She's an orphan, brought up by an uncle. He was eager to get her off his hands as soon as possible, and arranged for her to marry an older man. When she refused he put her out on the street. I rescued her from a life of drudgery."
"You're an angel," Micky said sarcastically. He did not believe a word of it. Even though he could not read April's expression behind the mask he had the strongest feeling that she was up to something. He gave her a skeptical look. "Tell me the truth," he said.
"I have," April said. "If you don't want her, there are six other men here who'll pay just as much as you."
Edward said impatiently: "We want her. Stop arguing, Micky. Let's have a look at her."
"Room three," April said. "She's waiting for you."
Micky and Edward made their way up the stairs, which were littered with embracing couples, and went into room three.
The girl stood in the corner. She wore a simple muslin gown, and her entire head was covered with a hood, leaving only slits for the eyes and an opening for the mouth. Once again Micky was seized by suspicion. They could see nothing of her face and head: she might be hideously ugly, perhaps deformed. Was this some kind of prank?
He realized, as he stared at her, that she was trembling with fear, and he put his doubts aside as he felt a stirring of desire in his loins. To frighten her more he crossed the room quickly, pulled the neckline of her gown aside, and plunged his hand into her bosom. She flinched, and there was terror in her bright blue eyes, but she stood her ground. She had small, firm breasts.
Her fear made him want to be brutal. Normally he and Edward would toy with a woman for a while, but he decided to take this one suddenly. "Kneel on the bed," he told her.
She did as he said. He got behind her and pulled up her skirt. She gave a little cry of fright. She was wearing nothing underneath.
It was easier to penetrate her than he had expected: April must have given her some cream to lubricate herself. He felt the obstruction of her maidenhead. He grabbed her hips and pulled her roughly to him as he thrust deep inside her, and the membrane broke. She began to sob, and that excited him so much that he reached his climax immediately.
He withdrew to make way for Edward. There was blood on his prick. He felt dissatisfied, now that it was over, and he wished he had stayed at home and gone to bed with Rachel. Then he remembered that she had left him and he felt worse.
Edward turned the girl over onto her back. She almost rolled off the bed, and he grabbed her ankles and pulled her back into the middle. As he did so her hood came partly off.
Edward said: "Good God!"
"What's the matter?" Micky said without much interest.
Edward was kneeling between the girl's thighs with his prick in his hand, staring at her half-revealed face. Micky decided that the girl must be someone they knew. He watched, fascinated, as she tried to tug the hood down again. Edward prevented her, and pulled it right off.
Then Micky saw the big blue eyes and childlike face of Edward's wife, Emily.
"I never heard of such a thing!" he said, and he started to laugh.
Edward gave a roar of rage. "You filthy cow!" he yelled. "You did this to shame me!"
"No, Edward, no!" she cried. "To help you--to help us!"
"Now they all know!" he shouted, and he punched her face.
She screamed and struggled, and he hit her again.
Micky laughed all the more. It was the funniest thing he had ever seen: a man going into a whorehouse and meeting his own wife!
April came rushing in, in response to the screams. "Leave her alone!" she yelled, and she tried to pull Edward off.
He pushed her aside. "I'll chastise my own wife if I please!" he roared.
"You great big fool, she only wants to have a baby!"
"She'll have my fist instead!"
They struggled for a moment. Edward punched his wife again, then April punched him on the ear. He gave a cry of pain and surprise, making Micky collapse with hysterical laughter.
At last April managed to haul Edward off his wife.
Emily got off the bed. Astonishingly, she did not immediately rush out. Instead she spoke to her husband. "Please don't give up, Edward. I'll do anything you want, anything!"
He lunged at her again. April clung to his legs and tripped him up. He fell to his knees. April said: "Get out, Emily, before he kills you!"
Emily rushed out, weeping.
Edward was still raging. "I'll never come to this poxy whorehouse again!" he yelled, wagging his finger at April.
Micky fell on the sofa, holding his sides, laughing fit to bust.
Section 2
MAISIE GREENBOURNE'S MIDSUMMER BALL was one of the fixtures of the London season. She always had the best band, the most delicious food, outrageously extravagant decorations, and endless champagne. But the main reason everyone wanted to go was that the Prince of Wales always came.
This year Maisie decided to use the occasion to launch the new Nora Pilaster.
It was a high-risk strategy, for if it went wrong both Nora and Maisie would be humiliated. But if it went well no one would ever dare to snub Nora again.
Maisie gave a small dinner for twenty-four people earlier in the evening, before the ball. The prince could not come to the dinner. Hugh and Nora were there, and Nora looked quite bewitching in a gauzy sky-blue gown covered with little satin bows. The off-the-shoulder style made the most of her pink skin and voluptuous figure.
The other guests were surprised to see her at the table, but assumed Maisie knew what she was doing. She hoped they were right. She understood how the prince's mind worked, and she was fairly sure she could predict his reactions; but now and again he defied expectations and turned on his friends, particularly if he felt he was being used. If that happened Maisie would end up like Nora, cold-shouldered by London society. When she thought about it she was amazed that she had allowed herself to take that risk merely for the sake of Nora. But it was not for Nora, it was for Hugh.
Hugh was working out his notice at Pilasters Bank. It was now two months since he had resigned. Solly was impatient for Hugh to start at Greenbournes, but the
Pilasters partners had insisted he stay the full three months. No doubt they wanted to postpone as long as possible the moment when Hugh went to work for their rivals.
After dinner Maisie talked briefly to Nora as the ladies used the bathroom. "Stay as close to me as you can," she said. "When the moment comes for me to present you to the prince, I won't be able to go looking for you: you'll have to be right there."
"I'll stick to you like a Scotchman to a five-pound note," Nora said in her cockney accent, then she changed to an upper-class drawl and said: "Never fear! I shan't run off!"
The guests began to arrive at ten-thirty. Maisie did not normally invite Augusta Pilaster, but she had this year, wanting Augusta to see Nora's triumph, if triumph it should be. She had half expected Augusta to decline, but she was among the first to arrive. Maisie had also invited Hugh's New York mentor, Sidney Madler, a charming man of about sixty with a white beard. He turned up in a distinctly American version of evening dress, with a short jacket and a black tie.
Maisie and Solly stood shaking hands for an hour, then the prince arrived. They escorted him into the ballroom and presented Solly's father. Ben Greenbourne bowed stiffly from the waist, as straight-backed as a Prussian guardsman. Then Maisie danced with the prince.
"I've a splendid titbit of gossip for you, sir," she said as they waltzed. "Although I hope it won't make you cross."
He held her closer and spoke in her ear. "How intriguing, Mrs. Greenbourne--do go on."
"It's about the incident at the duchess of Tenbigh's ball."
She felt him go stiff. "Ah, yes. Faintly embarrassing, I do confess." He lowered his voice. "When that girl called de Tokoly a filthy old reprobate I thought for a minute she was talking to me!"
Maisie laughed gaily, as if the idea were absurd, although she knew that quite a lot of people had made the same assumption.
"But do go on," said the prince. "Was there more to it than met the eye?"
"It seems so. De Tokoly had been told, quite falsely, that the young woman was, how shall I put it, open to invitation."
"Open to invitation!" He chuckled fruitily. "I must remember that one."
"And she, for her part, had been warned to slap him instantly if he tried to take liberties."
"So there was almost certain to be a scene. Cunning. Who was behind it all?"
Maisie hesitated momentarily. She had never before used her friendship with the prince to do someone down. But Augusta was wicked enough to deserve it. "Do you know who I mean by Augusta Pilaster?"
"Indeed. Matriarch of the other banking family."
"It was she. The girl, Nora, is married to Augusta's nephew, Hugh. Augusta did it to spite Hugh, whom she hates."
"What a snake she must be! But she ought not to cause such scenes when I am present. I rather feel like punishing her."
This was the moment Maisie had been leading up to.
"All you would have to do is notice Nora, to show that she is forgiven," she said; and she held her breath for his reply.
"And ignore Augusta, perhaps. Yes, I think I might do that."
The dance ended. Maisie said: "Shall I present Nora to you? She's here tonight."
He looked at her shrewdly. "Did you plan all this, you little minx?"
She had been afraid of this. He was not stupid and he could guess that she had been scheming. It would be better not to deny it. She looked bashful and did her best to blush. "You have found me out. How foolish of me to think I might pull the wool over your eagle eyes." She changed her expression and favored him with a direct, candid gaze. "What shall I do for a penance?"
A lascivious smile passed over his face. "Don't tempt me. Come, I forgive you."
Maisie breathed easier: she had got away with it. Now it was up to Nora to charm him.
"Where is this Nora?" he said.
She was hovering close by, as instructed. Maisie caught her eye and she approached instantly. Maisie said: "Your Royal Highness, may I present Mrs. Hugh Pilaster."
Nora curtsied and batted her eyelashes.
The prince eyed her bare shoulders and plump, rosy bosom. "Charming," he said enthusiastically. "Quite charming."
Hugh watched in astonishment and delight as Nora chatted happily with the Prince of Wales.
Yesterday she had been a social outcast, living proof that you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. She had lost the bank a big contract and run Hugh's career into a brick wall. Now she was the envy of every woman in the room: her clothes were perfect, her manners were charming and she was flirting with the heir to the throne. And the transformation had been brought about by Maisie.
Hugh glanced at his aunt Augusta, standing near him, with Uncle Joseph by her side. She was staring at Nora and the prince. Augusta was trying to look unconcerned, but Hugh could see she was horrified. How it must gall her, Hugh thought, to know that Maisie, the working-class girl she derided six years ago, is now so much more influential than she is.
With perfect timing, Sidney Madler came over. Looking incredulous, he said to Joseph: "Is that the woman you say is hopelessly unsuitable to be a banker's wife?"
Before Joseph could reply, Augusta spoke. In a deceptively mild voice she said: "She did lose the bank a major contract."
Hugh said: "As a matter of fact, she didn't. That loan is going through."
Augusta turned on Joseph. "Count de Tokoly didn't interfere?"
"He seems to have got over his fit of pique rather quickly," Joseph said.
Augusta had to pretend to be pleased. "How fortunate," she said, but her insincerity was transparent.
Madler said: "Financial need generally outweighs social prejudice in the end."
"Yes," said Joseph. "So it does. I think I may have been too hasty in denying Hugh a partnership."
Augusta interrupted in a voice of deadly sweetness. "Joseph, what are you saying?"
"This is business, my dear--men's talk," he said firmly. "You need not concern yourself with it." He turned to Hugh. "We certainly don't want you working for Greenbournes."
Hugh did not know what to say. He knew that Sidney Madler had made a fuss, and that Uncle Samuel had backed him--but it was almost unknown for Uncle Joseph to admit a mistake. And yet, he thought with mounting excitement, why else was Joseph raising the subject? "You know why I'm going to Greenbournes, Uncle," he said.
"They'll never make you a partner, you know," Joseph said. "You have to be Jewish for that."
"I'm well aware of it."
"Given that, wouldn't you rather work for the family?"
Hugh felt let down: after all, Joseph was only trying to talk him into staying on as an employee. "No, I wouldn't rather work for the family," he said indignantly. He saw that his uncle was taken aback by his strength of feeling. He went on: "To be quite honest, I'd prefer to work for the Greenbournes, where I would be free from family intrigues"--he darted a defiant glance at Augusta--"and where my responsibilities and rewards would depend on nothing but my ability as a banker."
Augusta said in a scandalized tone: "You prefer Jews to your own family?"
"Keep out of this," Joseph told her brusquely. "You know why I'm saying all this, Hugh. Mr. Madler feels that we have let him down, and all the partners are worried about your taking our North American business with you when you go."
Hugh tried to steady his nerves. It was time to drive a hard bargain. "I wouldn't come back if you doubled my salary," he said, burning his boats. "There's only one thing you can offer me that would make me change my mind, and that's a partnership."
Joseph sighed. "You're the very devil to negotiate with."
Madler put in: "As every good banker should be."
"Very well," Joseph said at last. "I'm offering you a partnership."
Hugh felt weak. They've backed down, he thought. They've given in. I've won. He could hardly believe it had really happened.
He glanced at Augusta. Her face was a rigid mask of self-control, but she said nothing: she knew she had lost.
/> "In that case," he said, and he hesitated, savoring the moment. He took a deep breath. "In that case, I accept."
Augusta finally lost her composure. She turned red and her eyes seemed to bulge. "You're going to regret this for the rest of your lives!" she spat. Then she stalked off.
She cut a swath through the crowd in the ballroom as she headed for the door. People stared at her and looked nervous. She realized her rage was showing on her face, and she wished she could hide her feelings, but she was too distraught. All the people she loathed and despised had triumphed. The guttersnipe Maisie, the underbred Hugh and the appalling Nora had thwarted her and got what they wanted. Her stomach was twisted in knots of frustration and she felt nauseated.
At last she reached the door and passed out onto the second-floor landing, where the crowd was thinner. She buttonholed a passing footman. "Call Mrs. Pilaster's carriage instantly!" she commanded. He went off at a run. At least she could still intimidate footmen.
She left the party without speaking to anyone else. Her husband could go home in a hansom. She fumed all the way to Kensington.
When she got to the house her butler Hastead was waiting in the hall. "Mr. Hobbes is in the drawing room, ma'am," he said sleepily. "I told him you might not be back until dawn, but he insisted on waiting."
"What the dickens does he want?"
"He didn't say."
Augusta was in no mood to see the editor of The Forum. What was he doing here in the early hours of the morning? She was tempted to ignore him and go straight to her room, but then she thought of the peerage and decided she had better talk to him.
She went into the drawing room. Hobbes was asleep by the dying fire. "Good morning!" Augusta said loudly.
He started and sprang to his feet, peering at her through his smeared spectacles. "Mrs. Pilaster! Good--ah, yes, morning."
"What brings you here so late?"
