Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [145]
This was very little to do with Victoria herself, and most certainly nothing to do with the Prince of Wales. The murder at Buckingham Palace was very recent in Pitt’s mind. The selfishness of the Prince, his unthinking arrogance, and the look of hatred he had directed at Pitt, could not be forgotten. They should not. Soon the Prince would be King Edward VII, and Pitt’s career as a servant of the Crown would rest at least to some degree in his hands. Pitt would have wished him a better man, but his own loyalty to the Throne was something apart from any personal disillusionment.
All his concentration now was bent on controlling Austwick. Whom dare he trust? He could not do this alone, and he must force himself not to think of Charlotte or Vespasia, or even of Narraway, except insofar as they were allies. Their danger he must force from all his conscious thoughts. One of the burdens at the core of leadership was that you must set aside personal loyalties and act in the good of all. He made himself think of how he would feel if others in command were to save their own families at the cost of his, if Charlotte were sacrificed because another leader put his wife’s safety ahead of his duty. Only then could he dismiss all questions from his mind.
As he passed along the familiar corridors he had to remind himself again not to go to his old office, which was now occupied by someone else, but back to the one that used to be Narraway’s, and would be again as soon as this crisis was past. As he closed the door and sat at the desk, he was profoundly glad that he had retrieved Narraway’s belongings, and never for a moment behaved as if he believed this was permanent. The drawings of trees were back on the walls, and the tower by the sea, even the photograph of Narraway’s mother, dark and slender as he was, but more delicate, the intelligence blazing out of her eyes.
Pitt smiled for a moment, then turned his attention to the new reports on his desk. There were very few of them, just pedestrian comments on things that for the most part he already knew. There was no information that changed the circumstances.
He stood up and went to find Stoker rather than sending for him, because that would draw everyone’s attention to the fact that he was singling him out. It was necessary he trust someone or failure was certain. Even with Stoker’s help, success would be desperately difficult.
‘Yes, sir?’ Stoker said as soon Pitt had closed the door and was in front of him. He stared at Pitt’s face, as if trying to read in it what he was thinking.
Pitt hoped that he was a little less transparent than that. He remembered how he had tried to read Narraway, and failed, at least most of the time.
‘We know what it is,’ he said quietly. There was no point in concealing anything, and yet even now he felt as if he were standing on a cliff edge, about to plunge into the unknown.
‘Yes, sir . . .’ Stoker froze, his face pale. On the desk, still holding the paper he had been reading, his hands were stiff.
Pitt took a breath. ‘Mr Narraway is back from Ireland.’ He saw the relief in Stoker’s eyes, too sharp to hide, and went on more easily, a darkness sliding away from him also. ‘It seems we are right in thinking that there is a very large and very violent plan already begun. There is reason to believe that the people we have seen together, such as Willie Portman, Fenner, Guzman and so on, intend to attack Her Majesty at Osborne House . . .’
‘God Almighty!’ Stoker gasped. ‘Regicide?’
Pitt grimaced. ‘Not intentionally. We think they mean to hold her to ransom in return for a bill to abolish the hereditary power of the House of Lords – a bill that, of course,