The Lorimer Line (15 page)

‘Well, I have another question to which I hope you can give me a happier answer,' said David. ‘Is your father ready, do you think, to appoint a day for our marriage?'

As he had hoped, Margaret's face brightened at once.

‘On July 13th the Prince of Wales is to come to Bristol,' she said. ‘There will be a grand ball on the previous evening, and my parents will be giving one of the dinner parties before it. You are to be invited, and our engagement will be officially announced then.'

July seemed a long time to wait, and the wedding itself would not presumably be until several weeks later than that. But the choice of occasion suggested that the Lorimer family intended to put a good face on the situation instead of avoiding publicity for an unworthy alliance.

It was odd, David thought to himself when he was alone again in his lodgings that night, it was very odd how difficult he found it to take John Junius's actions at their face value. From the moment when Margaret had first mentioned her attachment, everything that the old man had said and done indicated that he accepted the situation
not merely in a neutral way but with positive generosity. It was presumably only his reputation as a hard man of business which tempted David to examine every gift as though beneath the sugar coating might be concealed a dose of poison.

Such suspicions could not be allowed to continue. Now was the moment when once and for all David must decide whether John Junius Lorimer, both as chairman of the bank and as a future father-in-law, deserved to have his gifts taken at face value. David would have had no doubts as far as domestic generosities were concerned if he had not become so perturbed by the state of affairs at the bank. Had he been appointed manager as a mark of favour on being admitted to a family relationship? Or had the relationship been allowed to develop in order that the bank might have an excuse for appointing a manager who could be relied on to be complaisant, not asking too many questions? And now that the questions had been asked, could the answers be believed? He must make up his mind on this point, so that it need never trouble him again. It was all a matter of trust. The whole business of banking was a matter of trust. If David was to rise in the profession he must learn when to doubt and when to be convinced.

It all depended, as he realized after anxious consideration that evening, on whether the chairman's arguments could be believed. John Junius Lorimer was by far the largest shareholder in the bank. If it were to crash, he would find himself personally responsible for a high proportion of its debts. Lorimer's had been founded long before the limited liability acts had been passed by Parliament to protect shareholders, and had not changed its structure to take advantage of them. Rich though he was, a demand for three million pounds would certainly bankrupt him, and would leave his daughter destitute.

So it was true that the chairman was speaking out of self-interest, but his interests ran with those of all the other
shareholders. If he succeeded in maintaining the necessary confidence in the bank's affairs until the end of the year, everyone else concerned would benefit as much as himself; he was not trying to preserve his own fortune at the expense of others. Indeed, the affair could be considered from an opposite aspect. As the man who knew most about the bank's dangerous situation, John Junius could quietly both have withdrawn his deposits and reduced his shareholding. David decided to stake his trust on that one point.

As soon as he arrived at his office the next morning he sent for a considerable number of ledgers, in order that no one should suspect whose account he wished to check, nor at what date. The chairman's deposit account showed a normal pattern of payments and receipts, except for one much larger withdrawal. David followed the transaction through and found that it represented the purchase of Lower Croft from the Gentlewomen's Aid Fund.

He considered the entry, but not for very long. A twenty-first birthday present for a daughter could be thought of as normal expenditure, although non-recurring. There was nothing else to suggest that cash was being removed and stored elsewhere.

The same situation showed itself as far as the chairman's large shareholding was concerned. Over a year before, he had sold a small block of shares to his family doctor, Dr Scott. But David remembered this transaction, and knew that it had been arranged as a favour to the doctor, at a time when an interest in the bank was much sought-after and difficult to procure. There had been no change since that date.

The situation was clear enough. The chairman of the bank, although recognizing the dangers of the situation, was prepared to back with his own fortune his confidence that they could be averted. There was a risk involved, but David no longer felt justified in regarding it as a crime. He wondered briefly whether he had allowed his judgement to
be clouded by the memory of Margaret's face as she greeted him on his return from London, or as she showed him the home which they would share together. But he was able to assure himself that the figures spoke for themselves. For a second time he sought an interview with the chairman.

Inside the large office, he apologized for the sentiments he had expressed at their previous meeting - apologized more fulsomely than was strictly necessary, for he intended to use the occasion to take one small step in the direction of greater solvency.

‘So I would like to assure you of my complete confidence in your handling of the situation,' he concluded. John Junius gave the brief nod that he had come to know well.

‘I am very glad to hear it. My daughter will also be glad that your stay here is not to come to an untimely end.'

‘There is, however, one point which I would like to press.'

‘Yes?'

‘I hope you will not think me impertinent if I refer to the case of your son, Mr William Lorimer. He owns a considerable personal shareholding in the bank, from which he receives a substantial income. Yet the Lorimer Line has paid no interest on its loan for the past four years. You spoke of a resumption of payments in the new year, but there is no provision for the arrears to be paid off. At the moment we are relying almost wholly on new deposits to preserve our liquidity. I would like to suggest …'

When it came to the point, he was not sure what he dared to suggest. But John Junius reacted with none of the coldness which he had expected.

‘It would do my son no harm to be reminded of the principles on which a profitable business should be conducted. You have my permission to approach him directly with any proposals which you would suggest if he were not related to me. Subject to the proviso that he should not be pressed to take any steps damaging to the long-term interest
of the Lorimer Line. In the interests of family harmony, I would prefer you not to tell me what you suggest. I have no doubt I shall hear soon enough from him if your behaviour is thought to be intolerable.'

‘Thank you, sir.'

‘And that is all, Mr Gregson? Then I will express my hope that our association may be a long and successful one.'

To David's amazement, he found that he was being invited to shake hands. It was typical of the old man, that he should behave in almost every respect like a tyrant and yet be able by a brief relaxation of his intransigence to evoke something very near to affection. David could not have claimed that he understood Margaret's father, but he was beginning to like him.

Anti-climax is an inevitable ingredient of any supreme occasion. The eye of a great personage will rest for only a fraction of a second on some effect to which hours of preparation have been devoted. But once the prospect of a royal procession has set its own hysteria in motion, only the most cynical citizen is capable of announcing that he will treat the day as though it were as drab as any other. As the date approached on which the Prince of Wales was to visit Bristol, the city was transformed by pennons and streamers. Triumphal arches were erected over all the principal streets, some in Tudor style and some in Gothic. Venetian masts and flags sprang up in a forest of festivity and every tradesman competed with his neighbours in adorning his premises with flowers and flags.

Long before these decorations appeared, to the excitement of the general mass of the citizens, the fashionable
society of Bristol was plunged into a whirl of activity. By the middle of June there was hardly a yard of silk or an inch of lace still to be found in the city. Glovemakers and bootmakers were forced to turn away the business of all but their most valued customers if their orders were to be completed in time, and dressmakers scoured the streets for young girls with fingers quick and clean enough to sew beads on to satins. Bosom friendships ended in tears when it was discovered that a dinner invitation had been refused in the hope that some grander offer might arrive, or that a cook had been enticed from one kitchen to another.

The Lorimers were not immune from the general flurry. John Junius himself was required to approve the list of guests for the dinner to be held at Brinsley House before the ball and to discuss the protocol of their seating. Georgiana, in her boudoir, received a stream of visitors. The cook came several times to discuss the menu and even the head gardener was summoned inside the house to confirm that he could provide all the flowers needed for the elaborate arrangements which his mistress had in mind. The corset-maker was received in private session, and as soon as her work was done it was followed by a series of fittings for a new gown.

Margaret was also required to be available for fittings, although not until a dispute between her mother and herself had been resolved. Georgiana considered that a young woman announcing her engagement should wear white. Margaret knew that the colour did not suit her freckled skin and argued that no convention existed to require it. Her determination won the day. She was allowed to choose a silk of emerald green shot with turquoise. The dress left her shoulders bare, with only a short cuffed sleeve at the top of her arm, and the embroidered neckline was cut straight and low. On the evening of the ball Betty dressed her long hair in a way which she had already practised under the guidance of Marie-Claire. Part of it
was swept up to the top of Margaret's head and fastened in place by a pair of emerald-tipped pins lent by her mother: the rest was brushed to fall in a long wavy tail down the back of her neck. For the first time in her life, it seemed to Margaret as Betty held up the glass for her to see, she looked almost pretty. But perhaps it was only the happiness in her eyes which deceived her into thinking so.

Georgiana had not discussed her own gown with anyone. To set off the jewels which her husband had given her, she had chosen a creamy white fabric, decorated at the neck and all over the skirt with tiers of black silk tasselling. For a good many years she had been too plump to be beautiful, but her skin was good, and on the night of the ball she revealed it generously. Pale and smooth, it formed a perfect background for a necklace which caused even Margaret, who had seen the original stones, to gasp with wonder at its magnificence.

The craftsman had done his work with all the skill expected of Parker's of Bristol, jewellers to generations of merchant venturers. The centrepiece was a pendant in the form of a rose. A single large ruby was surrounded by others cut to the shape of petals, each set in silver and surrounded by tiny diamonds. Other rubies, similarly set, were joined to form the rest of the necklace; and the rose motif, on a smaller scale, was repeated in the rich drop ear-rings. Georgiana's hair was dressed high behind a matching tiara, and there in the centre glittered another rose fashioned from the deep red rubies. This rose was surrounded by leaves outlined in tiny diamonds and mounted on springs to form tremblers.

For her dinner party - although at this hour of a summer evening it was still light - Georgiana had ordered the lighting of hundreds of candles in the Venetian chandeliers used in the great dining room before John Junius had installed gas lighting in Brinsley House. Their flickering lights danced in Georgiana's hair and round her neck. As
they waited for their guests to arrive, Margaret kissed her mother in impulsive admiration and John Junius nodded his approval.

David came early, as he had been instructed. So did Sophie and William - both in a bad mood. William's bow to his future brother-in-law was abrupt and hardly civil.

‘Take no notice of William's brusqueness,' whispered Margaret, drawing David a little to one side in the pause before the guests from outside the family arrived. ‘He is worried because Sophie is unwell.' It would be indelicate, she felt, to go into more detail about her sister-in-law's condition. But all the family knew that Sophie had not wished to find herself pregnant again so soon after Beatrice's arrival, and particularly not on an occasion like this. She would have preferred to wear a more elegant gown and be able to dance until morning.

David shook his head.

‘I fear I am responsible for your brother's black looks,' he said. ‘He is not best pleased with me for my way of conducting the bank's business.'

‘Why, what have you done?'

‘I made a suggestion to him a few weeks ago. Instead of adopting it, he chose to dispose of his shareholding in the bank. I suspect that he acted in a fit of bad temper caused by what he saw as my impertinence, and now perhaps he regrets his action. I trust he will not allow his annoyance to spoil the evening.'

‘William and I have never been close,' Margaret reassured him. ‘If there is to be any dispute between my brother and my husband, you need not doubt where my support will lie.'

She squeezed his arm, but their conversation was interrupted by the approach of another carriage. Ransome moved across the hall to the front door and David stepped a little to one side, as befitted someone whose presence had
yet to be explained. Margaret stood beside her parents to receive their guests.

John Junius had invited the most substantial of his friends to make up his table before the ball. They were all rich, and tonight their riches were on display. Not for many years had even the great dining room at Brinsley House sparkled so extravagantly with so many dazzling bodice and hair ornaments, so many pearl studs and diamond pins.