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By Root 786 0

His curious, wry and highly individual face was full of interest, not at the social scene, in which he took no concern at all, but at the interplay of character and political ambition. He had been a member of Parliament himself for several years, to begin with conforming with his party’s views, then as his passion for reform overcame his discretion, branching more and more into his own activities. Charlotte had first met him when his zeal had overridden his propriety to the extent of involving him in the events surrounding the murders in Resurrection Row some years earlier. She had liked him personally, and sympathized with his aims, even then. He had also become a fast friend, and in many instances a collaborator, with Great-Aunt Vespasia. It was Somerset Carlisle, with Aunt Vespasia, who had encouraged Jack to consider Parliament.

He reached the top of the staircase and Charlotte greeted him with delight.

“Anything I can do to help Jack,” he replied with a smile. “I need an ally in the House, heaven knows!”

“What do you think are his chances?” she said more seriously, lowering her voice so those around them could not overhear.

“Well, Fitzherbert is his main rival,” Carlisle replied. “I don’t think the others count. But Fitz is well known and well liked. He’s unmarried as yet, but he’s betrothed to a Miss Odelia Morden, who is very well connected.” He raised his eyes momentarily, and then met hers again. It was a very expressive gesture. “Her mother is third daughter of the earl of something, I forget what, and there is plenty of money.” His voice lifted cheerfully. “On the other hand, not more money than Emily, and Emily has hers now, whereas Odelia may not see a penny for years. Emily certainly has more intelligence and political savoir faire. And as we know, Emily is capable of learning and adapting to almost anything, if she has a mood to; and she can doubtless be as witty, as fashionable and as charming as anybody alive.”

“I don’t think Mr. Fitzherbert has arrived yet,” Charlotte said, trying to recall the names of everyone she had welcomed so far. “Is he very ambitious? What are his beliefs, the issues he cares about?”

Carlisle’s smile broadened. “I don’t think he has anything so specific as an issue, my dear. He is not a crusader, simply a very charming fellow who has decided that Parliament offers a more interesting career than any other presently open to him.” He lifted one shoulder a little. “He will fill it with all the intelligence and grace he possesses, which are considerable, but I doubt with passion, unless something occurs in his life to waken his sensibilities.” His smile remained but his eyes were serious. “Don’t underestimate him. That is precisely the kind of man many leaders desire—popular with the electorate, not disturbing to the prejudices or the intellect, and above all malleable.”

Charlotte’s spirits sank. Already she could see failure more sharply, which hurt not only for Emily’s and Jack’s sakes, but because she truly believed in the goals they would strive for. She had seen the fearful slums just as clearly as Jack, and cared every bit as much for their victims. She had wished as fiercely to begin some small legislative step towards crushing the profiteers who hid behind anonymous companies and ranks of rent collectors, managers and offices of lawyers with gray clothes, scratching pens and hard, blank faces.

“It also depends a great deal on individual patrons,” Carlisle went on, lowering his voice still further. “Whatever the actual politicians say, if you can get Lord Anstiss on your side, you are almost assured of selection. He has a great deal more power and influence than most people realize. And of course selection for the seat is tantamount to victory. The Tories haven’t won it in living memory!”

The arriving guests were beginning to crush closely behind Carlisle. She was holding up progress by indulging in overlong conversation with him. Already she had failed to perform her duty to the highest. She caught his eye and saw a quick understanding in it as he felt the pressure behind