Redemption - Leon Uris [150]
“We sense that imperial man may be on the wane.”
“Gawd! Now you hear me, Caroline—publish those dirty little diaries if you dare and I dare expose you and your paddy boy, Conor Larkin. When the Orange mob learns about you fucking your croppy in the barn, they’ll have your guts on the pavement of Shipquay Street! See, madam, you’re not all that clean!”
“I am guilty of a lot of things, Roger, extravagance beyond that of Marie Antoinette, blindness to a slave labor operation, guilty of a despicable arrogance in treating decent human beings as if they were dogs—all that—but I am not a criminal. Sorry to disappoint you, but I have been faithful to you. I didn’t want it that way, but Conor Larkin had too much decency, despite his low breeding, for the likes of us…just as Molly O’Rafferty has too much decency for the likes of us. As for infidelity, the Brigadier also supplied me with your little black book…some of whom you’ve been paying exorbitant amounts.”
Roger made a few disjointed gestures, cried, croaked, mumbled a plea. He was boxed in on every side. He slumped in defeat.
“Is the old monster back in its cage, Roger?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“You will report to Freddie’s office promptly at three tomorrow afternoon. The papers are drawn up. Take your fucking earldom and piss off. In the future, I pray that a redemption is possible between me and our sons and that I can help them in worthwhile enterprises.”
A knock on the door was followed by a trio of maids. “May we draw a bath for the Countess?”
“Yes, that would be lovely. By the bye, his Lordship is running a slight fever. Do you suppose he might have his own room and a doctor?”
When they had gone, Caroline started for her bath, then turned.
“Freddie was right,” she said. “He said you’ve got too much blue blood to duke it out with a street fighter. When it came down to eyeball-to-eyeball, you’d cave in.”
50
Secret Files of Winston Churchill
October 3, 1911
I have reached the first major crisis of my career, requiring me to make the most serious decision imaginable.
No one, and I repeat, no one fought more vigorously for the People’s Budget of 1910, a signature event denoting the beginning of the era of the common man’s right to a higher standard of living.
To pass this budget I led the fight to threaten the dissolution of the House of Lords and fight off the Conservatives whose mentality is deadened with rigor mortis. They still live in the memory of an exploiting empire and massive military budgets.
I met the PM at 10 Downing today and he offered me the post of First Lord of the Admiralty. This not only means I must abandon my fight for more social reforms; it means a complete reversal of roles by becoming a leader in the arms race.
Asquith refused to take my “no” as an answer and was extremely compelling about the inevitability of a land war on the European continent.
As First Lord, I would be in charge of building a thousand-warship navy, the most powerful fleet the world has ever known.
I took a bundle of reports to study, written by our greatest experts in the military, intelligence, financial men, industrial wizards, scientists, and politicians and advised the PM I would give him an answer as soon as possible.
October 7, 1911
I am torn, utterly, horribly torn. There is no conclusion a sane and reasonable man can draw except that war will soon be upon us and there is no way we can finesse our way out of it. The German empire is in wretched shape and the Kaiser and General Staff feel that there is no way to prevent an internal collapse except to go to war against France and Russia.
What chills the marrow is the prediction of casualties. One million men from each of the major nations are predicted to be killed, a minimum of six million dead and God knows how many wounded.
All of my lovely dreams of the march of