Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [51]
“I agree. It seems inescapable.” Vespasia nodded. “The more urgently we need to find Voisey’s weakness. There must be something he cares about that can be gained or lost, some passion or need. Thomas may feel himself bound by his own code of honor—”
“He does.”
“Of course. And we both love him the more for it,” Vespasia said unhesitatingly. “But whether we are required to use it or not, we must find a means of protecting him. What does Voisey wish to gain from this, do you suppose? Is it as simple as vengeance upon Wetron?”
Charlotte was about to say that it was, then she thought a little more deeply. “I don’t know. Perhaps he intends somehow to use Thomas to destroy Wetron, and then replace him? We need a weapon, don’t we! The trouble is, if I have a weapon, I am afraid I might use it.” She stared intently at Vespasia, searching her eyes, trying desperately to see in them some comforting answer that would ease away the fear inside her.
“Of course you would,” Vespasia replied unhesitatingly. “Any woman would if those she loves are in danger. Threaten a woman’s husband or her child, and she will fight to the death, and only think of the cost afterwards, when it is all too late to undo. But even then, I doubt she will regret it. But we still need a weapon, for all that. Sometimes the knowledge of it is sufficient.”
“Is it?” Charlotte said doubtfully. “Or would he call my bluff?”
“Bluff?” Vespasia said gently.
Charlotte chose to change the subject. “I am sorry for interrupting your afternoon. I hope I have not inconvenienced you a great deal, but I am so grateful you gave me the time. There is absolutely no one else I could have told.”
Vespasia smiled. There was pleasure in her eyes. “I had no errands of importance,” she dismissed the subject. “Please consider what you do regarding Voisey. Since he and Jack are in agreement about Tanqueray’s bill, you have every excuse to take an interest in him. But do not for an instant imagine that he is foolish, or assume that he will necessarily underestimate you.” Vespasia rose to her feet. “I am going to look much more deeply into the whole subject of anarchy, and why on earth a young man like Magnus Landsborough should be prepared to give up a very agreeable life in order to pursue it.”
Charlotte rose also. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I really am very grateful.”
“For heaven’s sake, don’t say anything,” Emily urged late in the afternoon as she and Charlotte took their seats in the Strangers’ Gallery in the House of Commons. The debate was about to begin in which Tanqueray’s bill would be discussed. Around them was the rustle of silks and repositioning by ladies to either side of them—wishing to see over the rail, all dressed in the extravagant height of fashion. Emily leaned forward. “There he is,” she whispered eagerly.
Charlotte followed her gaze, but could not see Jack, whose handsome head would have been easily distinguishable. “Where?” she asked.
“Halfway along, just behind the front bench,” Emily replied. “Sort of reddish-brown, like a rather faded fox.”
“What?”
“Voisey, Charlotte! Not Jack,” she hissed.
“Oh, yes. Which is Tanqueray?”
“I don’t know. He’s about forty-five, apparently, but I know nothing of his appearance.”
They were only just in time. The Speaker in his wig and robes called for order. The Home Secretary mentioned the subject of anarchists and general violence in the East End, and that the government had given it careful consideration and would formulate its plans accordingly.
There were boos and hisses of contempt from Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition. A few moments of general insults and applause ensued, then a man with a soft, blunt face rose to his feet. The lights shone in his thick hair, which was winged with white at the temples. The Speaker recognized him as the honorable member for Newcastle-under-Lyme.
“That’s Tanqueray,” Emily whispered to Charlotte. “I recognize his constituency.”
Tanqueray began by expressing