Southampton Row - Anne Perry [58]
CHAPTER
SIX
When Emily opened the newspaper the day after the discovery of the murder in Southampton Row, her immediate interest was in the political reports. An excellent picture of Mr. Gladstone caught her eye, but for the time being she was more concerned with the London constituencies. There was less than a week to go before voting would begin. She felt a sharp tingle of excitement, more than for the previous election because now she had tasted the possibilities of office and her ambition for Jack was correspondingly higher. He had proved his ability and, perhaps more importantly, his loyalty. This time he might be rewarded with a position of greater importance, and so more power to do good.
He had made an excellent speech yesterday. The crowd had been appreciative. She scanned the pages looking for a report of it. Instead she saw Aubrey Serracold’s name, and below it an article which began quite well. Until she was halfway through it she did not read between the lines the sarcasm, the veiled suggestion of the foolishness of his ideas, and that though well-intentioned, they were formed in ignorance, a rich man playing at politics, indescribably condescending in his ambition to change others to his own idea of what was good for them.
Emily was furious. She dropped the paper and stared across the breakfast table at Jack. “Have you seen this?” she demanded, jabbing her finger at it.
“No.” He held out his hand and she picked up the fallen sheets and passed them to him. She watched as he read it, the frown deepening between his brows.
“Will it hurt him?” she asked when he looked up. “I am sure it will hurt his feelings, but I mean his chances of being elected,” she added quickly.
A flicker of amusement lit his eyes for a moment, and then gentleness. “You want him to win, don’t you? For Rose’s sake . . .”
She had not realized she was so transparent. It was uncharacteristic of her. She was usually good at revealing only what she wished, totally unlike Charlotte, who could be read by almost anyone. Yet it was not always satisfying to feel so alone. “Yes, I do,” she agreed. “I thought it was more or less a certainty. It’s been a Liberal seat for decades. Why should it be different now?”
“It’s only one article, Emily. If you say anything at all, there’s bound to be someone who disagrees with you.”
“You disagree with him,” she said very seriously. “Jack, can’t you defend him anyway? They’re making him sound far more extreme than he is. They would listen to you.” She saw him hesitate, the shadow in his face. “What is it?” she demanded. “Have you lost confidence in him? Or is it Rose? Of course she’s eccentric, she’s always been that way. What on earth does it matter? Do our politicians have to be gray to be any good?”
There was laughter in his face for a moment, and then it was gone. “Not gray, but toned down a little. Don’t take anything for granted, Emily. Don’t take it as certain that I’ll win. There are too many issues at stake that could change the way people vote. Gladstone’s always on about Home Rule, but I think it’s the working day that’s going to decide it.”
“But the Tories wouldn’t grant that!” she protested. “They’re even less likely to than we are! Tell them so!”
“I have. But what they say about not granting Home Rule makes sense, at least to the workingman here in London, where our docks and warehouses serve the world.” His face tightened. “I’ve heard what Voisey is saying, and people are listening to him. He’s very popular just now. The Queen knighted him for courage and loyalty to the Crown. Nobody knows exactly what he did, but apparently it saved the throne from a very serious threat. He’s half won the audience even before he speaks.”
“I thought the Queen wasn’t very popular,” she said dubiously, remembering some of the ugly remarks she had heard, both in society and among more ordinary people. Victoria had been