They went down the stairs and entered his bedroom. As soon as the door was closed Joseph took her in his arms and kissed her. She realized he wanted to make love.
That was unusual. They made love once or twice a week, but she was always the initiator: she would go to his room and get into his bed. She saw it as part of her wifely duty to keep him satisfied, but she liked to be in control, so she discouraged him from coming to her room. When they were first married he had been harder to restrain. He had insisted on taking her whenever he wanted, and for a while she had been obliged to let him have his way; but eventually he had come round to her way of thinking. Then, for a while, he had bothered her with unseemly suggestions, such as that they should make love with the light on, that she should lie on top of him, and even that she should do unspeakable things to him with her mouth. But she had firmly resisted and he had long ago ceased to express such ideas.
Now, however, he was breaking the pattern. She knew why. He had been inflamed by the sight of Maisie's naked body, those firm young breasts and that bush of sandy hair. The thought left a bad taste in her mouth, and she pushed him away.
He looked resentful. She wanted him angry with Hugh, not with her, so she touched his arm in a conciliatory gesture. "Later," she said. "I'll come to you later."
He accepted that. "There's bad blood in Hugh," he said. "He gets it from my brother."
"He can't continue to live here after this," Augusta said in a tone that did not invite discussion.
Joseph was not disposed to argue that point. "Indeed not."
"You must discharge him from the bank," she went on.
Joseph looked mulish. "I beg you not to make announcements about what should happen at the bank."
"Joseph, he has just insulted you by bringing into the house an unfortunate woman," she said, using the euphemism for prostitute.
Joseph went and sat at his writing table. "I know what he's done. I merely ask that you keep what happens in the house separate from what happens at the bank."
She decided to retreat for a moment. "Very well. I'm sure you know best."
It always deflated him when she gave in unexpectedly. "I suppose I had better discharge him," he said after a moment. "I imagine he will go back to his mother in Folkestone."
Augusta was not sure about that. She had not yet worked out her strategy: she was thinking on her feet. "What would he do for work?"
"I don't know."
