Lady of Fortune by Graham Masterton

looking to build motor-cars, or trying to invent a new-fangled way of shoeing horses. They’re just plain businessmen, with plain needs.’
    Thomas Watson closed his eyes. The truth was that although he did badly need a new manager in Stirling, and one in Aberdeen, he was quite keen on posting a member of his own family to London, to keep an eye on Mr Cockburn and the rest of his staff, and on the uncertain doings of the London Stock Exchange. It was a pity that the only member of his family he had to spare was Dougal; but then Dougal wasn’tas much of a skellum as he liked to make out. Thomas knew that; and Dougal probably knew that he knew. It was Thomas’s secret opinion that all of Dougal’s argumentative posturing over the Sunday luncheon table was nothing more than a way of expressing his frustration.
    He opened his eyes again. He said to Dougal, This is against my better judgement, but I’m going to let you go. I’m going to attach you to the trust department at first, and there you can learn about long-term investment, and about bonds, and securities, and funds. You have a way of getting along well with people, but that’s not enough, in a bank, because you won’t get along with people very well if they ask you to manage their money and you lose most of it on ill-judged investments. You will not, for the time being, be in charge of any lending whatsoever. You will manage; and you will not speculate. You will stay away from the Stock Exchange. It is a gambling-den. But you will pay attention to what goes on there; and you will learn everything you can about the flotation of common stocks and the promotion of holding companies. Some banks are squeamish about them. They consider that anything other than bonds and banking is lacking in prestige. But this is a modern world, and banks will have to learn to roll up their sleeves and get their hands dirty.’
    Robert said, ‘Father, if I might say something –’
    But Thomas Watson shook his head. ‘My mind’s made up, Robert. If Dougal can do well in the trust department in London, then he can do well anywhere. If he can’t – well, then, I think he’d better slink off with that bushy tail of his between his legs.’
    â€˜Father –’
    â€˜You’re weak, the two of you!’ shouted Thomas Watson. ‘Tied to your mother’s skirts! I’d send you both away if I could afford to! Just you understand one thing, my fine young men, I like neither of you. You’ve as much harigals in you as a pair of slaughtered sheep; and it’s high time you were kicked out on your curpins and left to fight for yourselves!’
    He stalked over to the far wall of the library, where the books were all enclosed in glass, and locked away. ‘You see those,’ he directed his sons, his voice shaking with fierceness. ‘Rare books, first editions, ten shelves of medieval Bibles. Books that J. Pierpoint Morgan would pay a fortune to get his hands on!’
    Then he went to the library table and began to pull out drawers. Each drawer was covered with a sheet of polishedplate-glass, and under the glass were arranged scores of drawings and manuscripts. ‘Original drawings by Blake,’ he said. ‘Original manuscripts by Robert Louis Stephenson, Sir Walter Scott, Swift and Dr Johnson and Napoleon!’
    Dougal said carefully, ‘We’re not asking you for any of it, sir. We’ll not take anything that we haven’t earned.’
    Thomas Watson stared rigidly at Dougal, as if Dougal had cursed at him, and then slowly turned away, towards the library fireplace, where the coal glowed dully behind a crisscross firescreen of woven brass. ‘You just don’t understand, do you?’ he said. ‘You’ll
have
to take it; along with everything else I own. Three hundred and fifty thousand pounds’ worth of rare books; seven houses; and eight hundred and ninety acres