A Fall from Grace, Maggie Ford [best english novels to read txt] 📗

fire, leaving her to fume at his refusal ever to rise to argument.

Despite his objections, she’d thrown her parties, enjoying the praise she received, praise that had continued for several months into 1922.

‘He’s beginning to look old,’ she told Anthony. ‘And he’s starting to frown at the money I spend on my social events, even though he tops up my allowance without question. But then, he never seems short of money. It’s amazing how it just rolls in.’

They were lounging on the settee, his arm around her. He’d wound up the gramophone, the record he’d chosen now softly playing Wyoming Lullaby in the background. Soon they would be upstairs, the curtains closed against the slanting afternoon sun, with Anthony tenderly kissing her naked body, his kisses growing more urgent until she wanted to scream, for him to take her.

‘His business should be doing well,’ he said. ‘The market’s pretty buoyant at the moment. Anyone who’s got it needn’t worry overmuch about their investments letting them down. Gambling on the stock exchange keeps him a rich man.’ He sat up suddenly. ‘That’s something you could do, darling, if he’s being awkward about your allowance.’

She sat up too, slowly. ‘What do you mean?’

He smiled. ‘Dabble in stocks and shares.’

‘Me?’

‘Not heavily of course, but it would help bolster your allowance. You wouldn’t be so dependent on him.’

‘I wouldn’t know how.’

‘I’m certain he’d love to advise you. He wouldn’t take you as a client himself, of course, but there are plenty of brokers who will with him behind you.’

It sounded a wonderful idea. As she left after she and Anthony had fulfilled their need of each other, her mind was running ahead of her. James would teach her, advise her. With him behind her she couldn’t go wrong. Not only that but with her own money, in a few months maybe she could hire someone herself to trace her baby and not have to rely on him. She could hardly wait.

Over breakfast, James was regarding her as if she were a child. ‘My dear, how could you have spent this month’s allowance so soon?’

She felt angry, finding herself being looked upon as incapable of controlling the money he gave her. She’d had to look after her money prior to marrying him, yet he gave her no credit for that; the husband forced to guide his wife, responsible for her every action as if they were back in Victorian times. She fought to remain cool.

‘We’ve attended so many functions this month,’ she said. They were always being invited somewhere, his profession demanding it. ‘You know I needed another couple of new gowns. I can’t be seen in the same ones over and over again. People will notice.’

‘But those you already have you seldom wear more than twice,’ he began gently, but it sounded more like an accusation to her.

Leaping up from the table she cried out, ‘I refuse to be questioned every time I ask for a couple of pounds or so. If I had my own money I wouldn’t need to…’

She broke off, seeing that patient look steal into his blue eyes which, she had lately come to realize, meant something other than patience; an icy gaze more alarming than any outburst of anger or raised voice – a warning stare she imagined he’d give a business opponent.

It wasn’t as if she had ever been frightened of him. She could never be that, but the look did unsettle her, hurt her. Instantly she changed her tone.

‘If I had my own money, I wouldn’t need to bother you so much,’ she repeated. ‘I’ve been wondering – if you showed me how one invests in stocks and shares, I might feel less… troubled about… about troubling you so often.’

She was making a mess of the explanation but the icy expression had vanished and he was smiling indulgently, for a moment making her feel once more like a child being taught its ABC.

‘And you could spend it as you wish?’ Spoken slowly, it was more a statement than a question. ‘And when you’ve exhausted it all, what then?’

He paused, gazing at her from the other end of the breakfast table, the query in his voice still lingering.

She thought quickly. ‘Investing – rather like having to earn it – I will know how to look after it. I had to look after what money I had before I met you. I know I can do that again.’

She waited for his answer while he seemed to be considering his reply. Finally he laid down the knife and fork he’d been using and indicated for her to approach his end of the table, which she did after a moment’s hesitation.

‘Now listen, my dear,’ he said indulgently, ‘if this is what you really want to do, then I will help you. But you must be guided by me so that you come to no harm. Speculating on the Stock Exchange is no light matter. One can lose everything in the blink of an eye.’

‘But one can also gain,’ she reminded him.

‘Quite so, but you should realize, if you are going to embark on such a venture, you will have to apply your mind to studying the market at all times. At all times, do you understand? It cannot be done frivolously.’

‘I had to watch carefully enough after I left home,’ she reminded him. ‘I had no resources. I had to keep my mind on what went out and what I had left to see me through a week. I had no one to help me then.’

As her eyes misted at the memory, he took her hand, patted it gently. ‘I know, my dear.’ He grew thoughtful for a moment then, letting go of her hand, he stood up and went towards door.

‘Where are you going?’ she called after him, mystified.

‘To fetch yesterday’s Financial Times from the library. I shall be back in two ticks, my dear.’

His sudden enthusiasm had taken her by surprise and moments later he reappeared with the