Southampton Row - Anne Perry [4]
“I can’t affect the vote!” Pitt said bitterly. It was no longer an argument against losing his holiday and his time with Charlotte and the children, it was helplessness in the face of an insoluble problem. He could see nowhere even to begin, let alone to achieve a victory.
“No,” Narraway agreed. “If I wanted something like that done I have more skilled men for it than you.”
“It would also make you little better than Voisey,” Pitt said with chill.
Narraway sighed, shifting his position to one more at ease. “You are naive, Pitt, but I knew that. I work with the tools I have, and I don’t try to saw wood with a screwdriver. You will watch and listen. You will learn who are Voisey’s tools and how he uses them. You will learn Serracold’s weaknesses and where they may be exploited. And if we are fortunate enough that Voisey has any unguarded vulnerabilities, then you will find them and inform me immediately.” He breathed in and out very slowly. “What I may choose to do about him is not your concern. Understand me in that, Pitt! You are not exercising your conscience at the expense of the ordinary men and women of this country. You know only a small part of the picture, and you are not in a position to make grand moral judgments.” There was not a shred of any kind of humor in his eyes or his mouth.
The flippant answer died on Pitt’s tongue. What Narraway was asking of him seemed all but impossible. Had he any idea of the real power of the Inner Circle? It was a secret society of men sworn to support each other above all interests or loyalties apart. They existed in cells, no one man knowing the identities of more than a handful of others, but obedient to the demands of the Circle. He knew of no instance in which one had betrayed another to the outside world. Internal justice was immediate and lethal; it was the more deadly because one never knew who else was Circle. It could be your superior, or some ordinary clerk of whom you took little notice. It could be your doctor, your bank manager or even your clergyman. Only one thing were you certain of, it was not your wife. No woman was allowed any part in it or knowledge of it whatever.
“I know the seat is Liberal,” Narraway was going on. “But the political climate at the moment is turning extreme. The Socialists are not only noisy but making actual headway in some areas.”
“You said Voisey was standing as a Tory,” Pitt pointed out. “Why?”
“Because there will be a Conservative backlash,” Narraway replied. “If the Socialists go far enough, and mistakes are made, then it could sweep the Tories into power for a long time—quite long enough for Voisey to become Lord Chancellor. Even Prime Minister one day.”
The thought was cold and ugly, and certainly too real to dismiss. To turn away from it as far-fetched was to hand Voisey the ultimate weapon.
“You said Parliament rises in four days?” Pitt asked.
“That’s right,” Narraway agreed. “You’ll start this afternoon.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Pitt.”
“What?” Charlotte said incredulously. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs facing Pitt as he had come in through the front door. Her face was flushed with exertion, and now temper.
“I have to stay because there’s going to be a general election,” he repeated. “Voisey’s going to stand!”
She stared at him. For a moment all the memories of Whitechapel came back, and she understood. Then she closed it from her mind. “And what are you supposed to do about it?” she demanded. “You can’t stop him from standing, and you can’t stop people from voting for him if they want to. It’s monstrous, but it is we who made him into a hero because it was the only way to stop him. The republicans won’t even speak to him now, let alone elect him. Why can’t you let them deal with him? They’ll be furious enough to shoot him! Just don’t stop them. Arrive too late.”
He tried to smile.