Page 60 of The Armor of Light
‘But most men would have told me what I ought to do.’
‘I have no idea what you ought to do.’
‘Something few men are willing to admit.’
It was true, and Spade laughed.
Arabella walked to the door. Spade put his hand on the doorknob but, before he could open it for her, she kissed him.
It was clumsy. She lunged, and planted her lips inaccurately on his chin.
She hasn’t had much practice at this, he thought.
But she quickly adjusted and kissed his mouth. She then drew back, but he sensed that she was not finished, and after a moment she kissed him again. This time she put her lips to his and let them linger. She really means it, he thought. He put his hands on her shoulders and returned the kiss, moving his mouth against hers. She clung to him, pressing her body against him.
Someone might come in, he thought. He was not sure what Kingsbridge would do to a man who kissed the bishop’s wife. But he was too deeply sunk in pleasure to stop. She took his hands from her shoulders and moved them down, and he felt her soft breasts.They filled his hands. When he gently pressed them she made a quiet sound deep in her throat.
She came to her senses suddenly. She pulled away, looking intensely into his eyes. ‘God save me,’ she said quietly. Then she turned away, opened the door, and hurried out.
Spade stood still, thinking: What was that?
*
Alderman Joseph Hornbeam liked to see a good display at breakfast: bacon and kidneys and sausages, eggs, toast and butter, tea and coffee and milk and cream. He did not eat much of it – coffee with cream and some toast – but it pleased him to know that he could feast like a king if he wanted to.
His daughter, Deborah, was like him, but his wife, Linnie, and their son, Howard, tucked in, and both were plump. So were the servants, who consumed the leftovers.
Hornbeam was readingThe Times. ‘Spain has made peace with France,’ he said. He sipped his creamy coffee.
Deborah said: ‘The war’s not over, though, is it?’ She was quick. She took after him.
He said: ‘Not over for England, no. We haven’t made peace with those murderous French revolutionaries, and I hope we never will.’
He looked appraisingly at Deborah. She was not very attractive-looking, he thought, though it was hard to judge your own children that way. She had abundant dark wavy hair and nice brown eyes, but her chin was too big for beauty. At eighteen she was old enough to be married. Perhaps she could be steered towards a spouse who might do some good to the family business. He said: ‘I saw you talking to Will Riddick at the theatre.’
She gave him a level look. She was not scared of him. Her brother was, and so was her mother. Deborah was respectful but not submissive. ‘Did you?’ she said neutrally.
Trying to sound casual, Hornbeam said: ‘Do you like Riddick?’
She paused thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I do. He’s the type of man who gets what he wants. Why do you ask?’
‘He and I do good business together.’
‘Army contracts.’
She did not miss much. ‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘I’ve invited him here for dinner tonight. I’m glad you like him – that should make for a pleasant evening.’
The footman Simpson stepped into the room and said: ‘Alderman Hornbeam, sir, the milkman would like a word with you, if it should be convenient.’
‘The milkman?’ Hornbeam was puzzled. ‘What the devil does he mean by it?’ Hornbeam rarely spoke to the tradesmen who supplied the house. Then he remembered that he had lent money to this man: Alfred Nash was his name. He stood up, dropped his napkin on his chair, and went out.
Nash was standing in the back entrance hall, known as the boot lobby. Rain dripped from his coat and hat. Hornbeam caught a whiff of the dairy.
‘Why have you come to see me, Nash?’ he said abruptly. He hoped the man was not going to ask for more money.
‘To give you some information, Alderman.’
That was different. ‘Go on.’
