A Stranger in Mayfair - Charles Finch [64]
“Some think that possibility remote, and if I may speak openly, I agree. Houses in the more affluent sections of London are well enough ventilated, and the new water system is well designed enough, that West London would likely be safe.”
“Then what about the poor souls on the other side of the city!”
Graham looked troubled but offered nothing except “I’m sorry to have failed, sir.”
Lenox moved over to the window and put his palm against its glass, cool from the rain. “It’s not your fault.” He turned. “Did nobody agree to approach the leadership with me?”
“Your brother, Mr. Lenox. And—well—” Graham looked doubtful. “Mr. Blanchett expressed some interest in the idea.”
“Just my brother, then.”
“Yes, sir.”
Blanchett was the House eccentric, a mining baron who thought England should be a strict monarchy and therefore refused to vote. He belonged to no party and supported only ideas that would prove the government’s past foolishness. It was a bad sign that he liked Lenox’s idea.
“I’m going to go down, then,” said Lenox. “I know a hundred men in this building. One or two of them must listen, mustn’t they?”
“Yes, sir,” said Graham loyally, though Lenox could see he didn’t believe it at all.
Downstairs Lenox didn’t speak to any of those hundred men; instead he found his brother, who was only there, rather than in the back rooms with the cabinet, preparing for the debate, because he wanted to see Charles on his first true day in Parliament.
“There you are,” said Sir Edmund. “Why do you look as if you swallowed a fly?”
“Graham says there’s no hope.”
“The water supply? No—no, I wouldn’t have thought so. You must wait, Charles. Wait a year or two, until you have more friends and allies here. Or, though I don’t like to say it, wait until there’s a bit of cholera about and people are walking through Hyde Park with handkerchiefs over their noses again.”
“You were right all along—I know that, now.”
“Come, let’s go into the chamber. The session will begin soon. You must start planning your first speech, at least.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lenox didn’t get home until past two in the morning, only about half an hour after the session had finished. To his surprise and pleasure, he found Lady Jane waiting up for him.
“My wife,” he said, and smiled at her with tired eyes.
She stood up and without speaking gave him a fierce hug, clutching him tightly to her, face buried in his chest. When she looked up at him it was with tears in her eyes. “Since we returned from our honeymoon everything has been…wrong.” Gesturing at the hallways she said, “Even our houses don’t feel right together yet.”
“I think perhaps it takes time, Jane. We’re not used to being married yet. On the Continent it was all somehow unreal—somehow child’s play. Now we’re back to real life.”
“It was bad timing, Toto and Thomas having their baby.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. She was still clutching him, her face just visible in the half-light of the hallway. The house was quiet.
“I don’t know what I mean,” she said. She started to cry again. “I’m so sorry, Charles.”
“I love you,” he murmured.
“I love you more than all the world.”
“Here—cheer up,” he said. “Come and sit with me. We’ll have a cup of hot chocolate.”
“We can’t get the servants up.”
“You forget that I had to fend for myself once upon a time. There was Graham, of course, but I warmed up the odd cup of tea. At Oxford I once even made sandwiches for a young woman I liked.”
With mock suspicion, Lady Jane said, “Who is she, the harlot?”
“She wasn’t a harlot, of course. It was you.”
She looked confused and then laughed with recognition. “That’s right, I did visit you. Those were delicious sandwiches. I remember thinking you must have had a good scout, with salmon and every nice thing to offer me. Well—hot chocolate is just what I’d like.”
Like disobedient children they crept down the stairs to the basement, which held the servants’ quarters and the oversized, still-warm double kitchen of both their houses. With just a candle