Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [52]
“Gentlemen, we must address this threat now!” he said fervently. All in the House waited with bated breath. Tanqueray outlined the measures he had in mind to make guns available to every police station. He further proposed that the law itself be changed to give police on patrol the right to stop whoever they wished and to search their persons or their homes or premises of business.
The floor of the House erupted in cries of approval, a ripple of applause and shouts of “Hear, hear!” Even the Opposition voiced no serious argument.
Charlotte stiffened, waiting for the added measure about questioning servants. She glanced momentarily at Emily beside her and Emily gave her a tiny, bleak smile.
In front of them a large woman in bombazine clutched the hand of the younger woman next to her. “There you are, my dear,” she whispered fiercely. “I knew we should be protected.”
Tanqueray detailed his plan, with many stories of the hardship suffered by ordinary people because of robbery, arson, and the threats of violence. Each one was greeted with murmurs of sympathy and outrage. “We must do all we can!” he finished. “It is our duty to the country to exercise every power and discretion we have. And I pledge that I will never rest until we have given our police every assistance possible, and every protection in the fulfillment of their task to keep us safe.”
The moment he resumed his seat amid a tumult of applause, Jack Radley demanded to be heard, and was backed vigorously by his own leader.
Emily smiled, but she drew in her breath. Charlotte saw her hands clench, pulling the fabric of her gloves tight across her knuckles.
“My honorable friend refers to the hardships of ordinary people,” Jack began. “He quite rightly says that they must be protected in the pursuit of their business and their lives. Their homes and families must be safe. That is the prime duty of the police.”
There were murmurs of approval. Tanqueray looked pleased with himself.
Voisey’s face darkened.
“I believe this will not be served by refusing to give them the same rights of dignity and privacy that we ourselves wish to enjoy,” Jack continued.
There was a stunned silence. People turned to each other in puzzlement. What did he mean?
“Is there any man here who is happy to have policemen searching his home?” Jack asked, gazing around at the members. “Reading his letters, looking through his belongings? Perhaps his personal clothes and effects, his bedroom, his study? Even his wife’s gowns and petticoats and gloves, because that policeman might think you have hidden something among them that might be contrary to the law?”
There were murmurings of alarm rising to anger. Members turned to each other, looking for support, and to assess if there could possibly be agreement for such deeply offensive ideas.
Emily closed her eyes and gave a groan. Her shoulders were locked, hunched forward. Her hands gripped each other in her lap.
Charlotte could see that she was afraid. She knew how much of both social and political success were dependent upon patronage. Jack was on the brink of the promotion he had worked so hard to achieve, and here he was as if bound and determined to make enemies.
“If they can do this,” Jack continued with dreadful clarity, as if determined now to seal his own fate, “what else may they do purely in the pursuit of curiosity? Might they read your wine merchant’s bill? The letter from your tailor, your banker, your father-in-law…heaven forgive us, your mistress?”
There was a splutter of laughter, but it was a slightly hysterical sound, utterly without joy.
“And what will the servants make of it?” Jack asked, shrugging his shoulders deliberately.
Emily sat rigid, craning as far forward as she could.
“Police in the house, searching everyone’s things will offer the cook the chance she has always