A Stranger in Mayfair - Charles Finch [45]
The house on Hampden Lane was empty, and seemed twice as empty because it was twice as large now. Lenox sat in his study, reading Cranford again, struggling to focus after the evening’s intensity. Gradually the story absorbed him, however, and he relaxed.
When Household Words had published Cranford he would have been…what, twenty-three or twenty-four? He hadn’t read it as it was serialized, and in a way he was glad. He often envied people who hadn’t read his favorite books. They had such happiness before them.
The front door opened, and he went out into the hallway prepared to see Jane. In fact it was Graham, home late from Parliament.
He looked sheepish. “I scarcely like to take the liberty of using the front door, sir, but I hoped to visit you in your study.”
Lenox waved a dismissive hand. “You should use it as if it were your own.”
“No, sir, I continue to live in the same quarters, and I will continue to use the servants’ door.”
The detective frowned. “That hadn’t occurred to me. These secretaries have their own rooms, don’t they? What do you have—two rooms to yourself?” It was a fact that no matter how close Graham and Lenox had been as butler and master, there was some final estrangement; it would have been deeply embarrassing for Lenox to see Graham’s rooms.
“Yes, sir.”
“You should have your own rooms, I fear, in some building down Whitehall.”
“Oh, no, sir—”
“For that matter, we still need to settle your wages. What do these bold young secretaries make?”
Rather miserably, Graham said, “Rather less than an experienced butler, sir. Many of these gentleman are highborn, with private fortunes.”
The briefest look of fleeting pain crossed Graham’s face, and Lenox knew in an instant that he had failed to recognize his friend’s position; Graham was a former servant, forced to deal on equal terms with those he might have served in other circumstances. Had someone mentioned something?
Lenox couldn’t say any of this, or even inquire after Graham’s happiness in his new position, so he said, “Damn ’em all, you’re twice as useful. We’ll put you on an extra ten pounds a year. And,” he went on awkwardly, “you must come to our next party.”
“I couldn’t, sir—”
“You must. It will be wonderful. Did I tell you how delighted McConnell was about your rise in the world?” Lenox laughed. “He said you’d be Prime Minister one day, which really I wouldn’t put past you. Has anything gone on today?”
Grateful to fall back on work, Graham said, “Oh, a great—”
Lenox interrupted him. “But I’ve forgotten!”
“Sir?”
“Cholera!”
“I—”
“You look puzzled. I don’t have cholera, you needn’t worry about that. But the blue book on the subject, my God!”
Lenox spent the next five minutes telling Graham about the failings of the current sewage system, then recounted the conversation with Hilary.
“That was profoundly inadvisable, sir.”
“Why?”
“I’ve studied the other clerks and secretaries, and in general it seems the safest policy is to gather several backbenchers before approaching a frontbencher.”
“James Hilary and I are friends. I sponsored him for the SPQR club, as you know.”
“That’s precisely the problem, sir. He would have been confused as to whether you were approaching him as a friend or colleague. To cloud the issue in that way risks making you seem unserious.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“Percy Field is the person I’ve been watching most closely, sir, the Prime Minister’s secretary. If there’s an issue he supports, he links several Members who might be interested in it and schedules them an appointment. It gives him tremendous power, and it helps the Prime Minister to no end by giving him a sense of the feeling within the party.”
“You want to speak to other MPs, then?”
“No, sir! I mean that you must behave as he does, using Mr. Hilary or Mr. Brick as your Prime Minister. You must convoke a group who agree with you on the subject and approach someone with greater power as a forceful unit.”
Smiling,