Strong Medicine (86 page)

Palace with her own dear Martin, who was now waiting in an anteroom, ready

to be escorted in when the ceremony began. Already Martin had gone through

a brief rehearsal, guided by the Comptroller of the Household, a colonel

in dress uniform.

Suddenly a pause, a stir. The band stopped, its music ceasing in midflow.

All other activity halted. In the gallery, the bandmaster, his baton

poised, stood waiting for a signal. It came. As liveried footmen swung

double doors open, the Queen appeared.

The uniformed were at attention. All guests had stood. The baton swooped.

The national anthem, sweet yet strong, swelled out.

The Queen, in a turquoise silk dress, was smiling. She moved to the

center of the ballroom. Dutifully following were the Lord Chamberlain and

the Home Secretary, each in morning dress. The presentation of honors

began. The band played a Strauss waltz softly. All was dignified,

fast-moving and efficient. No wasted time, but not an occasion that those

involved were likely to forget.

Yvonne was storing every detail in her memory.

Martin's turn came soon, immediately following a Knight Commander of St.

Michael and St. George who took precedence in rank. Following

instructions, Martin entered, advanced three paces, bowed . . . forward

to a kneeling box . . . right knee on the box, left foot to the floor .

. . As Martin knelt, the Queen accepted a sword from an equerry and with

it touched Martin lightly on both shoulders. He rose . . . a half pace

to the right, one pace forward . . . With Martin standing, his head bowed

slightly, the Queen placed around his neck a gold medallion on a

red-and-gold ribbon.

The Queen had spoken briefly with each person being honored. With Martin,

Yvonne thought, more time was spent. Then, with three backward paces and

a bow, Martin was gone.

He joined Yvonne quietly a few minutes later, slipping into a seat beside

her. She whispered, "What did the Queen say?"

Smiling, he whispered back, "The Queen is a well-informed lady."

Yvonne knew that later she would find out exactly what the Queen had

said.

Yvonne's only disappointment was that she hadn't seen or met the Prince

and Princess of Wales. She had been told in advance that it wasn't likely

they would even be in the palace, but had hoped. One day, though, it

might happen. Now that she was marTied to Martin, anything could happen.

The only thing she was having trouble getting used to since the

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announcement of Martin's knighthood was being addressed as "my lady" by

Harlow and Cambridge people, including the head porter at Lucy Cavendish.

She'd asked him not to, but he insisted. Well, in time she supposed she'd

adjust to that and other things. After all, Yvonne thought whimsically,

quite soon there would be farmers calling for Lady Peat-Smith, veterinary

surgeon, to take care of their pigs and cows.

Celia and Andrew's reception and party at the Dorchester Hotel in honor of

Sir Martin and Lady Peat-Smith was a great success. It began at teatime,

went on until early evening, and during that time nearly a hundred people

came, including most of the Harlow institute's senior staff. Rao Sastri was

there; be was escorting Lilian, and they seemed to be having fun. Twice,

however, Celia saw them with their heads together, apparently engaged in

serious talk. Rao, Celia knew, was unattached; according to Martin, he had

never married.

Yvonne was looking lovely and radiant. She had lost weight and confided to

Celia that Martin had at last allowed her to take Peptide 7. For Yvonne, as

for others, the drug's antiobesity factor worked.

During the party Celia told Martin quietly, "Andrew and I are leaving

tomorrow, early. When this is over, I'd like the four of us to have a few

minutes by ourselves."

At last the celebration ended. With happy leave-takings, the guests

dispersed.

It was already dark when Celia, Andrew, Martin and Yvonne walked the short

distance from the Dorchester to Fortyseven Park. The February day had been

cold, but clear and invigorating. The clearness was persisting into night.

Now they were relaxed in the pleasant living room of the Jordans'

apartment.

fu,;'Martin," Celia said, "I'll come to the point because it's been a day and

I think we're all a little tired. As you know, FeldingRoth is building a

genetic engineering facility. It will be in New Jersey, not far from what

will be our new Morristown headquarters, and we're taking care that the labs

will have everything in them to gladden a genetic scientist's heart."

"I'd heard some of that," Martin said. "The quality of what you're doing is

already being talked about."

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"What I'm leading up to," Celia continued, "is a question. Will you and

Yvonne come to live in the United States, and will you head our genetic

research as vice president and director of the new labs? I'd promise you

a free hand to follow whatever scientific direction you believe we

should."

There was a silence. Then Martin said, "It's a fine offer, Celia, and I'm

truly grateful. But the answer is no."

She urged, "You don't have to give an answer now. Why not take time to

think about it, and talk it over with Yvonne?"

"I'm afraid the answer's definite," Martin said. "It has to be because

I need to tell you something else. I wish I could have picked another

time, but here it is. I'm resigning from FeldingRoth."

The news shocked Celia. "Oh, no! That can't be true." Then she looked at

him sharply. "Are you going to another pharmaceutical company? Has

someone made a better offer? Because, if so-"

He shook his head. "I wouldn't do that to you. At least, not without

discussing it first. What I'm doing is returning to an old love."

"He means Cambridge, not another woman," Yvonne said. "We're going to

live there. The university is where his heart is."

And where I plucked him from before you knew him, Celia thought.

She had been unprepared for the news, but instinct told her there would

be no dissuading Martin, so she wouldn't try. Cambridge had called; he

had responded like a homing pigeon. Well, on a sunlit Sunday thirteen

years earlier, she had won a victory against the university. It had

proved a worthwhile victory all around. But time's wheel had spun; now

it was Cambridge's turn, and Celia and Felding-Roth had lost.

Andrew spoke, addressing Martin. "I always thought that academia might

call you back one day. Will you be master of a college? I read somewhere

that there are vacancies."

"There are," Martin answered, "but not for me. At forty-six I'm still

young for a mastership. Maybe when I'm older, grayer, more illustrious

. . ."

"Goodness!" Celia exclaimed. "How illustrious do you have to be? You've

had a major scientific breakthrough, accolades worldwide, a knighthood."

Martin smiled. "Cambridge has seen all those things many times.

440

The university is not easily impressed. No, I'm going in under something

called the 'New Blood Scheme.'"

It was a government-sponsored program, he explained, through which he

would become an assistant director of research in one of several new,

frontier areas of science. The salary in the new post, as was so often

the case in academia, would not be large-to begin, less than ten thousand

pounds a year. However, the Peat-Smiths would be comfortable because of

Martin's substantial Peptide 7 income, and he would undoubtedly use some

of it, he said, to supplement his department's research funds.

Several months earlier a settlement for Martin had been worked out by

Felding-Roth's financial officers and lawyers in New Jersey. The

arrangement had received Celia's approval and, later, the board's.

Under British law-the Patents Act of 1977-Martin could have applied for

a court award of compensation for his Peptide 7 discovery. But he hadn't

wanted to go to court, even amicably, nor had Felding-Roth. Therefore,

by agreement, an offshore trust fund of two million pounds had been set

up in the Bahamas from where money would flow to Martin regularly. The

fund was hedged around with legal moats and barriers so that Britain's

confiscatory taxation system would not, as Celia expressed it, "rob

Martin of his just reward."

That just reward, she now thought ruefully, had helped open the way back

to Cambridge. She suspected, though, that Martin would have made the same

decision whether the Peptide 7 money were available or not.

Before Martin and Yvonne left to drive home, Celia said, "Felding-Roth

will miss you both, but I hope the four of us will always stay close

friends."

They agreed they would.

Prior to Celia and Andrew's departure from Britain, one final matter was

arranged.

Several hours after Martin and Yvonne had gone, and close to the Jordans'

bedtime, there was a knock at the apartment door. It was Lilian

Hawthorne. Sensing that Lilian wanted to be alone with Celia, Andrew

discreetly disappeared.

"I'm glad you talked me into coming to England," Lilian said. "You may

have noticed that I've had a good time."

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"Yes, I have," Celia said. She smiled. "I was pleased to see Rao enjoy

himself too."

"Rao and I have discovered that we like each other-and it may be even more

than that." The older woman hesitated. "I suppose you'll think, because all

of it has happened so quickly, and at my age, I'm being foolish . . ."

"I think nothing of the sort. What I do think is that it's time you had fun

again, Lilian, that you should enjoy life any way you want, and if that

includes Rao Sastri-fine!"

"I'm pleased you feel that way because it's about that I came to see you.

I want to ask a favor."

"If I can do it," Celia said, "I will."

"Well, Rao would like to come to America. He says he's wanted to for a long

time. I'd like it too, and if it were possible for him to work at

Felding-Roth . . ."

The sentence was left unfinished- Celia completed it. "It would be

convenient for you both."

Lilian smiled. "Something like that."

"I'm certain," Celia said, "that a place can be found in the new genetic

labs. In fact you can tell Rao I guarantee it."

Lilian's face lit up. "Thank you, Celia. He'll be delighted. He was hoping

for that. He knows he doesn't have the leadership qualities of someone like

Martin; he told me so. But he's a good support scientist-"

"I'm aware of that, which makes it easier," Celia said. "But even if he'd

been less than he is, I'd still have done it. You did me a big favor many

years ago, Lilian, my dear. This is a small one in return,"

The older woman laughed. "You're talking about that first moming we met?

When you came to the house-so young, so brashhoping I'd help you become a

detail woman, by influencing Sam?"

Then she stopped, a catch in her voice as, for both of them, so many

memories flooded back.

Early the following morning a chauffeured limousine conveyed Andrew and