London - Edward Rutherfurd [533]
“I do not seek to raise taxes,” Meredith said quietly.
“Surely,” Esther reminded her brother-in-law, “the religion of the peoples of the empire is important? We sent out missionaries. . .” she trailed off, hopefully.
“Certainly Esther,” he replied firmly. “But in practice, I promise you, religion follows trade.”
It was too much. First Edward insulted Meredith, now he was being smug. Mary Anne was beginning to feel furious with all of them. They were so ignorant, yet so sure of themselves. “But what, Edward,” she asked with mock innocence, “if the Hindus and the other people of the empire do not want our religion? They may prefer to keep their own gods, Esther, don’t you think?” It was outrageous, of course. She meant it to be. Esther looked shocked. Penny was shaking his head sorrowfully. She heard Harriet murmur: “Mary Anne, you are incorrigible.” But if she wanted to annoy Edward, she seemed to have failed.
“It is a question of time.” He corrected her like a schoolchild. “As the less civilized peoples of the world come into increasing contact with us, they will see that our ways are better. They will accept our religion, very simply, because it is right. From the Ten Commandments to the Gospels. The moral and religious law.” Here he gave Meredith a steely blue stare. “I hope Mr Meredith will agree with me, Mary Anne, even if you do not.” He turned to the Guv’nor. “Am I right, Guv’nor?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” the Guv’nor replied. “Morals, Mr Meredith. That’s the key.”
Now the butler appeared with decanters of Madeira and port, which he placed in front of the Guv’nor. This was a signal for the ladies to retire to the drawing room at once, while the men, in true eighteenth-century fashion, sat alone over port. Accordingly, Mary Anne rose as a signal to the other women, and some of the gentlemen politely escorted them to the door. It was there, pausing and smiling for a second, that Mary Anne gave Meredith her hand, as though to say goodbye – a gesture of no special significance, except for one tiny thing which made him blush. She was entering the drawing room, however, before her sister Charlotte caught her arm and whispered to her.
“You squeezed his hand!”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw. Oh, Mary Anne! How could you?”
“You could not possibly see.”
“I could tell.”
“Really, Charlotte? You must be an expert, then. Whose hand have you been squeezing?”
Charlotte knew better than to argue with Mary Anne. You never won. So she contented herself with murmuring, rather fiercely: “Well, you’ll never see him again, make no mistake.”
The Guv’nor’s house was very large. Set well back with a handsome circular driveway, its more than a dozen windows stared out towards Blackheath with a dull reserve that told you clearly that the square, brown brick mansion to which they belonged could only be the property of a very rich man.
Uncertainly Lucy made her way to the door, her feet crunching on the gravel. Nervously she pulled the handle of the doorbell chain, and heard a bell sound somewhere within – wondering, just as she did so whether she should have gone round instead to the tradesmen’s entrance. There was a long pause and then at last the door opened to reveal, to her terror, a butler. Stumbling with her words, she asked if this was the Guv’nor’s house, learned that it was and then gave her name and asked if he would see her. After giving her a somewhat baffled and then a quizzical look, the butler himself seemed a little uncertain what to do. Was she expected, he enquired. Oh no, she told him. Did the Guv’nor know her? She believed so, was all that she could say. Deciding finally that he could not, on this basis, let her in, the butler, not unkindly, asked her to wait outside while he went to make enquiries.
To Lucy’s surprise, he returned some minutes later and conducted her into the hall, past closed doors, behind which she could hear conversation, and down the stairs into a bare little parlour in the basement. There he politely left her alone, closing the