Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [44]
‘So we can leap eight thousand years without further comment,’ she concluded. ‘After that surely there must be something a little more detailed?’
‘The founding of St Patrick’s Cathedral in AD 119?’ he suggested. ‘Unless you want to know about the Vikings, in which case I would have to look it up myself. Anyway, they weren’t Irish, so they don’t count.’
‘Are you Irish, Mr Narraway?’ Charlotte asked suddenly. Perhaps it was an intrusive question, and when he was Pitt’s superior she would not have done it, but now the relationship was far more equal, and she might need to know. With his intensely dark looks he easily could be.
He winced slightly. ‘How formal you are. It makes you sound like your mother. No, I am not Irish, I am as English as you are, except for one great-grandmother. Why do you ask?’
‘Your precise knowledge of Irish history,’ she answered. That was not the real reason. She asked because she needed to know more about his loyalties, even his nature and, emotionally, the truth about what had happened in the O’Neil case twenty years ago.
‘It is my job to know,’ he said quietly. ‘As it was. Would you like to hear about the feud that made the King of Leinster ask Henry II of England to send over an army to assist him?’
‘Is it interesting?’
‘The army was led by Richard de Clare, known as Strongbow. He married the king’s daughter and became king himself in 1171, and the Anglo-Normans took control. In 1205 they began to build Dublin Castle. “Silken” Thomas led a revolt against Henry VIII in 1534, and lost. Do you begin to see a pattern?’
‘Of course I do. Do they burn the King of Leinster in effigy?’
He laughed, a brief, sharp sound. ‘I haven’t seen it done, but it sounds like a good idea. We are at the station. Let me get a porter. We will continue when we are seated on the train.’
The hansom pulled up as he spoke and he alighted easily. There was an air of command in him that attracted attention within seconds, and the luggage was unloaded into a wagon, the driver paid, and Charlotte walked across the pavement into the vast Paddington railway station for the Great Western rail to Holyhead.
It had great arches, as if it were some half-finished cathedral, and a roof so high it dwarfed the massed people all talking and clattering their way to the platform. There was a sense of excitement in the air, and a good deal of noise and steam and grit.
Narraway took her arm. For a moment his grasp felt strange and she was about to object, then she realised how foolish that would be. If they were parted in the crowd they might not find each other again until after the train had pulled out. He had the tickets, and he must know which platform they were seeking.
They passed groups of people, some greeting each other, some clearly stretching out a reluctant parting. Every so often the sound of belching steam and the clang of doors drowned out everything else. Then a whistle would blast shrilly, and one of the great engines would come to life, beginning the long pull away from the platform.
It was not until they had found their train and were comfortably seated that they resumed any kind of conversation. Charlotte found Narraway courteous, even considerate, but she could not help being aware of the inner tensions in him, the quick glances as if he memorised the faces of those around them, the concern, the way his hands were hardly ever completely still.
It would be a long journey to Holyhead, on the west coast. It was up to her to make it as agreeable as possible, and also to learn a good deal more about exactly what he wanted her to do.
Sitting on the rather uncomfortable seat, upright, with her hands folded in her lap, she must look very prim. It was not an image she liked, and yet now that they were embarked on this adventure together, each for his or her own reasons, she must be certain that she did not make any irretrievable mistakes, first of all in the