Word of Honour

Sir Norman gestured and a pair of doormen appeared. One stood by the carriage, the other opened the heavy, brass portal of the Bank of Albion.

The main chamber of the bank was vast. Aubrey stood and gaped at the towering main dome and the three flanking domes. Marble, brass and dark wood, then more marble, brass and dark wood and – to top it all off – some extra marble, brass and dark wood had been used to emphasise the solidity of the bank. This was a place to do business, but it had the solemnity of a cathedral.

Pillars marked the entrance to the flanking domes – chambers for further mysterious banking business, Aubrey assumed. Loan disbursement. Fiscal calibrating. Inter-bank credit unfurling.

Under the main dome, long counters kept back a horde of clerks and tellers. The chamber was filled with a multitude of murmurs – requests, explanations, agreements – and they hovered over the hundreds of people like insubstantial moths.

Sir Norman broke the spell. 'This way, if you please.'

Sir Darius took off his hat and gloves. A uniformed doorman – of the interior variety, therefore older and more senior – materialised to take them. Aubrey hurriedly thrust his hat on him and the doorman disappeared into one of the shadowed recesses that abounded in the grand building.

'Mr Rokeby-Taylor?' Sir Darius asked.

'He's in the boardroom. I'll take you to him,' Sir Norman said. 'The other governors were to use the boardroom this morning, but they've opted to convene elsewhere.'

Clive Rokeby-Taylor had totally recovered from his brush with death. He was dressed in a dark green suit, with a jaunty sky-blue cravat. 'Darius!' he said, full of good cheer. 'Aubrey! Come in, come in. Have some tea – it's first rate!'

Rokeby-Taylor busied himself pouring tea into the bone-china cups without a trace of self-consciousness, keeping up a stream of observations about the boardroom, the tea service and the biscuits.

Eventually, he sat on the opposite side of the long boardroom table, sipped his tea and studied Sir Darius over the rim.

'What is it, Clive?' Sir Darius said. 'Why have you asked me here?'

Rokeby-Taylor glanced at Aubrey. 'Not wanting to be rude, but I think this is something between the two of us.'

'Private matters?'

'Financial matters.'

'Aubrey can stay. I trust his discretion.'

Rokeby-Taylor shrugged, then grinned. 'If you say so.'

Aubrey tried to appear as trustworthy and discreet as possible, to live up to his father's confidence. He sat up straight, laced his fingers and placed his hands on the table in front of him. As much as possible, he tried to keep his curiosity from showing on his face. Aubrey's grasp of high finance was not entirely complete, but he knew that if he was serious about politics, it was something he had to remedy.

No time like the present, he thought.

Rokeby-Taylor adjusted his cravat. 'I understand that a substantial shipbuilding contract is in the offing.'

'A bill is imminent, to be voted on in three weeks time,' Sir Darius said. 'A special allocation for six new battleships immediately, with six more to follow. This is no secret.'

'And the bill is sure to pass the Lower House? And the Lords?'

'I wouldn't have put it up if I hadn't thought it would be successful. The opposition is backing the bill. They see the situation on the Continent. I could say that there are votes in defence, but that would be cynical.'

'Quite, quite.' Rokeby-Taylor studied the ceiling for a moment. 'I don't suppose it's any secret that Rokeby-Taylor Shipbuilding is keen to get this contract.'

'The contract will be awarded by the Navy Board, after they examine all tenders. I'm sure your firm will be seriously considered.'

'And I'm sure that the Navy Board would listen to the Prime Minister.'

Aubrey had come to know his father's silences well. This was one of those where he was controlling his temper with some effort. Eventually, he touched his moustache. 'What are you suggesting, Clive?'

Rokeby-Taylor met Sir Darius's gaze and held it. 'It's been a long time, Darius. I wanted to see if you'd changed.'

'And have I?'

'Not in this respect, it seems.' Rokeby-Taylor picked up his cup and raised it to his lips.

'I'm glad,' Sir Darius said. 'If that's all, Clive, I think I should offer you some advice.'

Rokeby-Taylor set his cup down in the saucer with a clatter. 'No, actually, that's not all. I have a business proposition for you.'

'I see. Like the one you put to me a few moments ago?'

Rokeby-Taylor snorted. 'That was nothing. It never happened. And if it did it was just a joke.'

'A joke,' Sir Darius said, and Aubrey wanted to warn Rokeby-Taylor. When his father repeated someone's words like that, the ice was getting extremely thin underfoot.

But Aubrey was being discreet and trustworthy, and doing his best to appear invisible.

'A joke,' Rokeby-Taylor echoed, oblivious to the tension. 'Far more important is the chance for you to make a substantial fortune.'

'I already have a substantial fortune.'

'And so do I. But who can stop at one, eh?'

'Your proposal?'

'You become a major shareholder of Rokeby-Taylor Shipbuilding. We could use an injection of funds – a bit of a cash-flow problem at the moment, especially after that problem with the Electra – and you'd double your investment in six months. In the current climate. Say that you'll meet Ingles, my new financial manager. He's a wizard with things like this.'

Sir Darius stood. 'No.'

'Think carefully, Darius. This is risk-free. And it's patriotic. You'd be helping a project that will defend the nation.'

'Thank you for the tea, even though it wasn't yours.' Sir Darius smiled a chilly smile. 'But that always was your way, Clive, very free with things that didn't belong to you.'

'Wait. Before you go, I want to show you something.'

'Another opportunity?'

'Of course. No-one will ever say that Clive Rokeby- Taylor missed an opportunity. Follow me.'

He bounded out of the room. Sir Darius frowned. 'Well, Aubrey?'

'Sorry, sir, but he seems like a scoundrel.'

'No doubt about that. But is he a good-hearted scoundrel, or a black-hearted scoundrel?'

'I always thought that people generally fall somewhere in between.'

'And that is something that a politician – and especially a Prime Minister – should never forget. Shall we see what he's up to now?'

Aubrey couldn't help it. He found Rokeby-Taylor appealing, with his enthusiasms and his energy. He couldn't see how the man managed in the world of business, but his achievements were evidence that he succeeded, despite his erratic behaviour.

They found him in the main banking chamber. He stood right in the middle, under the cupola, while those more intent on their financial matters hurried past to the teller of their choice. 'Darius! Over here!' he called, unmindful of heads turning his way.