The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [371]
‘These people are public opinion?’ he growled, dubiously.
‘They have votes, many of them. They receive ideas from the leaders of public opinion.’
As far as Albion was concerned, down in the Forest, he was a leader of public opinion, but he didn’t think that was what Furzey meant. ‘And who are these leaders?’ he enquired grimly.
‘Writers, artists, lecturers, scientists,’ said Minimus. ‘People who write in newspapers.’
‘People like you?’ asked Albion, in even deeper gloom.
‘Exactly,’ said Minimus happily. ‘What you need is a petition, letters to the press from artists. The new plantations are ruining the landscape. Then there are the naturalists. They will tell you that the Forest is unique. There are all kinds of species here found almost nowhere else. We could make an outcry in the press, the universities. The political men are frightened of such things. Anyway,’ he concluded, ‘if you want to save the Forest, you take my advice. I could help. I’m on your side,’ he added encouragingly.
The thought of having Minimus on his side did not seem to bring Colonel Albion much happiness. ‘Thank you for your advice,’ he said drily. Then, remembering the pleadings of his wife, he took a very deep breath and addressed his son-in-law as kindly as he could. ‘There is another matter, Minimus,’ he forced himself to say the name, ‘that I think we should discuss. It is the question of money.’
‘Really? I haven’t any, you know,’ said Minimus.
‘I know,’ said Colonel Albion.
‘We get by. I sold some paintings last year. I’m writing a book. That might bring in something.’
‘A book. On what subject?’
‘Beetles.’
The Colonel breathed deeply. ‘Were you to die,’ he asked hopefully, ‘have you made any provision for Beatrice? Do you know what would become of her?’
‘She can have my pictures and my collections. She’d have to go back to you I should think. You’d take her back wouldn’t you?’
‘Have you considered how you would live if you had children?’
‘Children? Beatrice wants them, you know.’ He smiled vaguely. ‘I suppose they just run around, don’t they?’
‘They also have to be paid for. There are expenses.’
‘Perhaps,’ Minimus said dubiously, ‘I could ask my father. I don’t know if he’d help, though. He thinks I should be employed.’
Colonel Albion had never met Mr Furzey the solicitor, but he felt for him. How was it possible, he wondered, that this irresponsible young man had dared to tell him how to organize the affairs of the Forest?
‘How would you educate them?’
‘Oh, that I do know. Beatrice and I want to educate them at home.’
‘Sons?’ Daughters of course could be educated at home but sons were another matter. Some aristocratic families still engaged tutors, but that was hardly possible here.
‘Well, we certainly wouldn’t send them to any of these new boarding schools,’ said Minimus.
There had been boarding schools in England since the Middle Ages. A few, like Eton and Winchester, had even been patronized since the eighteenth century by the aristocracy. But the passion of the richer classes for sending their sons away to such institutions was a recent phenomenon, and these establishments were springing up everywhere.
‘They’re the most terrible places,’ Minimus continued. ‘They blunt the intellect, destroy the sensibility. Do you know they flog the boys and make them play games? Did you go to a place like that?’
Colonel Albion looked at him in stupefaction. ‘I went to Eton,’ he said coldly.
‘There you are, then,’ said Minimus.
‘This is not the manner,’ said Albion, with rising anger, ‘in which I wish to see my daughter living, Sir.’
Minimus stared at him in genuine surprise. ‘Of course it isn’t,’ he said. ‘But if she married me,’ he glanced around the room at the volumes of genealogy and the Colonel’s hunting coat, ‘I suppose she must