Mightier Than the Sword by Jeffrey Archer Read Free Book Online Page B

Stuart’s favorite shoe shop,” he said as Emma handed over the box. “I know he’ll appreciate your kindness.”
    Emma stood there, still helplessly trying to recall his name.
    “I do hope, Mrs. Clifton, that the return voyage to Avonmouth will be equally successful.”
    Once again he bowed and closed the door quietly behind him.
    “Thank you, Parker,” she said.

 
    5
    O NCE B OB B INGHAM had finished dressing, he checked himself in the long mirror inside the wardrobe door. His double-breasted, wide-lapelled dinner jacket was unlikely to come back into fashion in the near future, as his wife regularly reminded him. He’d pointed out to her that the suit had been good enough for his father when he was chairman of Bingham’s Fish Paste, and therefore should be good enough for him.
    Priscilla didn’t agree, but then they hadn’t agreed on much lately. Bob still blamed her close friend, Lady Virginia Fenwick, for Jessica Clifton’s untimely death, and the fact that their son Clive—who had been engaged to Jessica at the time—hadn’t been back to Mablethorpe Hall since that fateful day. His wife was naïve and overawed when it came to Virginia, but he still lived in the hope that Priscilla would finally come to her senses and see the damned woman for what she was, which would allow them to once again come together as a family. But that, he feared, would not be for some time, and in any case Bob had more immediate problems on his mind. Tonight, they would be on public display, as guests at the chairman’s table. He wasn’t at all confident that Priscilla would be able to remain on her best behavior for more than a few minutes. He just hoped they’d get back to their cabin unscathed.
    Bob admired Emma Clifton, “the Boadicea of Bristol” as she was known by friend and foe alike. He suspected that if she had been aware of the nickname, she would have worn it as a badge of honor.
    Emma had slipped a pour mémoire under their cabin door earlier that day, suggesting they meet in the Queen’s Lounge around 7:30 p.m., before going into dinner. Bob checked his watch. It was already ten to eight, and there was still no sign of his wife, although he could hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. He began to pace around the cabin, barely able to hide his irritation.
    Bob was well aware that Lady Virginia had brought a libel suit against the chairman, not something he was likely to forget as he was sitting just behind her when the exchange took place. During question time at this year’s AGM, Lady Virginia had asked from the floor if it was true that one of the directors of Barrington’s had sold all his shares with the intention of bringing down the company. She was of course referring to Cedric Hardcastle’s little ploy to save the company from a hostile takeover by Don Pedro Martinez.
    Emma had responded robustly, reminding Lady Virginia that it was Major Fisher, her representative on the board, who had sold her shares and then bought them back a fortnight later in order to damage the company’s reputation, while making a handsome profit for his client.
    “You’ll be hearing from my solicitor” was all Virginia had to say on the subject, and a week later Emma did. Bob wasn’t in any doubt which camp his wife would be supporting if the action ever came to court. Were Priscilla to pick up any useful ammunition during dinner that might assist her friend’s cause, he was sure it would be passed on to Virginia’s legal team within moments of them stepping ashore in Avonmouth. And both sides were well aware that if Emma were to lose the case, it wouldn’t be simply her reputation that would be in tatters, but she would also undoubtedly have to resign as chairman of Barrington’s.
    He hadn’t told Priscilla anything about the IRA or what had been discussed during the emergency board meeting on that first morning of the voyage, other than to repeat the story about the Home Fleet, and although