London - Edward Rutherfurd [510]
“But why?” the bemused radical demanded. “Why should you want reform?”
The reason why Bocton, and a number of Tories like him, had suddenly swung round in favour of reform had nothing whatever to do with the merits of the case. It had to do with the Catholics in Ireland.
The previous year, in an unexpected by-election, a prominent Irish Catholic had been elected to the British Parliament. Under the existing rules, he could not take his seat. “But if we force the issue the Irish may revolt,” Wellington regretfully concluded. “The king’s government must be carried on.” To his pragmatic soldier’s mind it was a question of duty. And after considerable arm-twisting the Tory ministry had actually combined with the Whigs to pass a law giving Catholics the same rights as Dissenters. But it was a politically dangerous course.
By the spring of 1829, solid Tories in the shires found themselves agreeing with Wesleyan shopkeepers. “England’s Protestant,” they declared. “Why else did we throw out the Stuarts? The government and their placemen are selling us down the river. If they’ll give way over Catholics, what will they give way over next?”
“Indeed,” Bocton told Carpenter with disarming frankness, “some of us are even wondering if we’d be better off with men elected by sound fellows from the middle classes, than these placemen with no principles. I don’t much like reform, but perhaps sensible reform is better than chaos.”
The two men looked at each other. They had a mutual interest. They did a deal.
One thing puzzled Carpenter a little. Having come to an understanding with his former enemy, he ventured to ask: “So does this mean, my lord, that your father is pleased with you now?”
For a moment Bocton did not answer. Then he permitted himself to look pained. “I do not know,” he replied; and after another brief pause: “Tell me, Mr Carpenter, do you suppose my father would agree with you about Buckingham Palace?”
“I suppose so.”
“Yet he does not. He says the king should spend as much as he likes.” It was perfectly true. Because the monarch was his friend, the pleasure-loving earl didn’t give a damn how much he spent on the palace.
Carpenter hesitated. He was a little shocked, if not entirely surprised about Buckingham Palace. “He may not always be consistent,” he allowed.
“I hope that is all,” Lord Bocton said with filial sincerity. “The truth is, Mr Carpenter,” he admitted, “that his family are worried about him. They have long been concerned that he may not be, nowadays, quite –” he hesitated a last time “– quite sound of mind.” He gazed at Carpenter earnestly. “You observe him often. What do you think?”
“I think that he is well enough,” Carpenter replied with a frown. For a lord, he would like to have added.
“Good. Good. I am so glad to hear you say so. If ever you should have any doubts Mr Carpenter, it would be a kindness, in confidence of course, to let me know.”
Lucy would always remember the day they went to Lavender Hill.
It was pleasantly warm as they made their way down Tottenham Court Road. Lucy had a flask of water, and some food wrapped in a napkin and tied to a stick she carried over her shoulder. Every mile or so, they stopped for Horatio to rest and in this manner they slowly reached the Strand and crossed over Waterloo Bridge.
Years earlier, it would have been a more pleasant walk along the bank of the Thames, with timber yards along the riverside on their right and open market gardens on the left. But many of the timber yards were turning into little factories now, and the gardens disappearing under rows of houses for workmen and artisans. By the time they reached the old wall round the grounds of Lambeth Palace, the day was growing hot. From there they had another long stretch down to Vauxhall, where the old pleasure gardens were still open. A distillery and a vinegar factory on the riverbank in front of them, however, had destroyed the fashionable aspect of the palace.
As they came to Vauxhall, on the hot and dusty road, Lucy noticed that Horatio was beginning to limp.
The noonday bells had finished