No Graves as Yet_ A Novel - Anne Perry [93]
Matthew was deliberately patient. “You mean you are going to tell me this about Sebastian and leave it for me to investigate? I’m not in Cambridge, and anyway, I don’t know those people.”
“No, of course I don’t mean that!” Joseph retorted. “I’m just as capable as you are of asking intelligent and discreet questions, and deducing a rational answer without annoying everybody and arousing their suspicions.”
“And you’re going to do it?” That seemed to be a question.
“Of course I am! As you pointed out, you are not in a position to. And since Perth knows nothing about it, he won’t. What else do you suggest?”
“Just be careful,” Matthew warned, his voice edgy. “You’re just like Father. You go around assuming that everyone else is as open and honest as you are. You think it’s highly moral and charitable to think the best of people. So it is. It’s also damn stupid!” His face was angry and tender at the same time. Joseph was so like his father. He had the same long, slightly aquiline face, the dark hair, the kind of immensely reasonable innocence that left him totally unprepared for the deviousness and cruelty of life. Matthew had never been able to protect him and probably never would. Joseph would go on being logical and naive. And the most infuriating thing about it was that Matthew would not really have wished his brother to be different, not if he was honest.
“And I can’t afford for you to get yourself killed,” he went on. “So you’d better just get on with teaching people and leave the questions to the police. If they catch whoever shot Sebastian, we’ll have a lead toward who’s behind the conspiracy in the document.”
“Very comforting,” Joseph replied sarcastically. “I’m sure the queen will feel a lot better.”
“What has the queen to do with it?”
“Well, it’ll be a trifle late to save the king, don’t you think?”
Matthew’s eyebrows rose. “And you think finding out who shot Sebastian Allard is going to save the king from the Irish?”
“Frankly, I think it’s unlikely anything will save him if they are determined to kill him, except a series of mischances and clumsiness, such as nearly saved the archduke of Austria.”
“The Irish falling over their own feet?” Matthew said incredulously. “I’m not happy to rely on that! I imagine rather more is expected of the SIS.” He looked at Joseph with a mixture of misery and frustration. “But you stay out of it! You aren’t equipped to do this sort of thing.”
Joseph was stung by the condescension in him, whether it was intentional or not. Sometimes Matthew seemed to regard him as a benign and otherworldly fool. Part of him knew perfectly well that Matthew was aching inside from the loss of his father just as much as he was himself, and would not admit that he was afraid of losing Joseph as well. Perhaps it was something he would never say aloud.
But Joseph’s temper would not be allayed by reason. “Don’t be so bloody patronizing!” he snapped. “I’ve seen just as much of the dark side of human nature as you have. I was a parish priest! If you think that just because people go to church that they behave with Christian charity, then you should try it sometime and disabuse yourself. You’ll find reality there ugly enough to give you a microcosm of the world. They don’t kill each other, not physically anyway, but all the emotions are there. All they lack is the opportunity to get going with it.” He drew in his breath. “And while you’re at it, Father wasn’t as naive as you think. He was a member of Parliament, after all. He didn’t get killed because he was a fool. He discovered something vast and—”
“I know!” Matthew cut him off so sharply that Joseph realized that he had hit a nerve; it was precisely what Matthew feared and could not bear. He recognized it because it was within himself as well: the need to deny and at the same time protect. He could see his father’s face as vividly as if he had left the room minutes ago.
“I know,” Matthew repeated. He looked away. “I just want you to be careful!”
“I will.” This time the promise was made sincerely, with gentleness. “I’ve