The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [40]
“A little under five weeks, Lady Cumming-Gould,” he replied gravely. “I think the government will announce it very soon. As for the campaign, I am still very uncertain about that. I have an extremely strong opponent.”
“Indeed? I know little of him.”
“Nigel Uttley,” he replied, watching her face to see if she wished further information or if she was merely making polite conversation. He must have judged the former, because he went on to describe him. “A little over forty, younger son of a wealthy family, but not socially prominent. He has been a strong supporter of the government for a long time, and quite honestly they fully expect him to win.” He pulled a rueful face. “I think they gave him the opportunity as a reward for loyalty in the past.”
“What does he believe in?” she asked perfectly seriously.
He laughed, a spontaneous, infectious sound. “Himself!”
“Then upon what platform is he campaigning?” she amended with a smile.
“Restoring the old values which made us great, in general,” he replied. “More specifically, on imposing law and order in the cities, altering the police force to make them more efficient, harsher sentences for crime …”
“The Irish question?” she interposed.
His amusement was quick again. “Oh no, he is not foolish enough to tackle that one! It brought Gladstone down, and it will probably ruin anyone else who advocates Home Rule, which is the only real solution.”
They were passed by a group of elderly gentlemen murmuring in low voices who glanced at Thelonius and nodded, then proceeded on their way. A naval officer in uniform spoke overloudly in a sudden silence and blushed.
“You won’t catch Uttley committing himself to any grand statements,” Jack continued. “He’d execute a few Fenians with pleasure, and make speeches against anarchy in general, but we can all do that.”
“He is very critical of the police,” Emily said with a glance at Charlotte. “I loathe him for it,” she added cheerfully.
“My darling, you would have to loathe him for something.” Jack put his arm around her. “But I agree, that is an excellent cause. And it gives me some solid foundation on which to oppose him.” He sighed. “Although this latest murder doesn’t help. It appears to be the second grisly lunatic loose in London in two years, and they didn’t catch the first one.”
Emily looked at Charlotte, a question in her eyes.
“Yes,” Charlotte acknowledged. “He is.”
“Thomas is on the case?” Jack said quickly. “Is there any progress? One can hardly ask the family, although Lord Winthrop keeps making dark noises about what he will have done and who he knows.”
“I don’t think it’s a madman at all,” Charlotte replied, her voice sinking lower and lower. “From all that we know, it seems undeniable it was a personal crime. That is why we are here—to help Thomas.”
“Does he know that?” Jack asked.
“Don’t be foolish,” Emily said quickly. “We’ll tell him when we can offer something useful. That will be quite soon enough.” In a single sentence she had included herself in whatever was to be done. Vespasia noted it with dry amusement, but made no comment.
Further discussion was prevented by Nigel Uttley himself joining them. He was not quite as tall as Charlotte had thought, seeing him in the distance, but his blue eyes were sharper and there was an inner energy in him which was initially belied by a casual manner and a self-confidence which masked effort.
“Good afternoon, Lady Cumming-Gould,” he said with a slight bow. “My Lord,” he acknowledged Thelonius, addressing him as if he had been in court. “Really—Mrs. Radley …” He