Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [57]
“Elsa?” Forbes was surprised. “Nothing much. A woman with the possibility of beauty, but not the fire. In the end she is essentially boring.”
“Is he bored with her?”
“Undoubtedly. But she has certain attributes that make her an excellent wife for him.”
Narraway winced.
“His daughter is a completely different matter,” Forbes continued, the slightest smile moving his lips. “She is passionate, handsome, and dangerous. I cannot think why she married Julius Sorokine, who is emotionally also a bore. He is very gifted in diplomacy, has great charm when he wishes to use it, but he is lazy. He could be immeasurably better than he is, and that is his tragedy.”
“And his half-brother, Simnel Marquand?”
“Oh, Simnel. He is probably at the crown of his achievements. His financial abilities are superb. He understands money better than any other man I know.”
“Is that all?” Narraway asked, remembering that Vespasia had said he envied his brother. Surely not for an ability he was too lazy to use?
“Quite possibly. But then that is all they will need from him for the railway.” There was still a shred of humor in Forbes’s face, but other emotions also: anger, regret, and also an immense power.
“And Hamilton Quase?” Narraway asked, dropping his voice without having meant to. He knew the relationship between the two men.
“My son-in-law?” Forbes’s dark brows rose. “I am hardly impartial.”
“I will set it against other people’s opinions.”
Forbes measured his words carefully this time. “He is a brilliant engineer, imaginative, technically highly skilled. Anyone proposing to build across an entire continent could do no better than to employ Hamilton.”
“You are telling me of his professional skills. What of his character?”
“Loyal,” Forbes said immediately. “Essentially fair, I believe. He will pay for what he wants. A hard man to read, very much out of the ordinary in his tastes, and perhaps in his dreams. He drinks too much. I am not betraying him in saying so. Anyone else will tell you the same.”
Narraway remembered what Vespasia had said of Quase, and of his courage and discretion over Eden Forbes’s death because he was in love with Liliane. And Liliane had wanted Julius Sorokine. It sounded as if her father’s bargain with Quase had earned her the better man. Narraway hoped with considerable depth that she had acquired the wisdom to appreciate that also.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.
“Is it of any assistance to you?” Forbes inquired.
“I have no idea,” Narraway confessed. “Do you believe they will succeed in building the railway, with the right backing?”
Forbes hesitated, his eyes flaring with sudden, intense feeling, masked again almost immediately. “The Queen will approve it,” he said softly. “The risk will be high, in the short term, but in the medium term—say for the next four or five decades—it will be the making of men, perhaps of nations.”
Narraway watched him carefully, noting the minutest shadows of his face. “And the long term?” he asked. “After the next half-century, as you judge it?”
“The future of Africa and its people?” He dropped his guard. “That will be in our hands. There will be good men who will want to teach Africa, bring it out of darkness—as they see it. God only knows if they will see it clearly.” His mouth twisted a little. “And on the heels of the good men will come the traders and the opportunists, the builders, miners, explorers. Then the farmers and settlers, scores, hundreds of white men trying to turn Africa into the English suburbs, but with more sun. Some will be teachers and doctors. Most will not.”
Narraway waited, knowing Forbes would add more.
“Good and bad,” Forbes said, tightening his lips. “But our way, not the Africans’ way.”
Narraway was disturbed by the thought. “Is it not inevitable? We cannot undiscover Africa,” he pointed out, but it was as if he were speaking of something