Traitors Gate - Anne Perry [96]
Until now Pitt had acted on a passionate instinct, not needing to rationalize what he thought; no one had required it of him.
“There is a difference between the open power of government and the secret power of a society whose members no one knows,” he said with commitment. He saw the derision in Farnsworth’s face. “Of course there can be oppression, corruption, incompetence, but if we know who holds the power, then they are to some degree accountable. We can at least fight against what we can see.”
“Rebellion,” Farnsworth said succinctly. “Or if we fight against it secretly, then treason! Is that really what you prefer?”
“I don’t want the overthrow of a government.” Pitt would not be goaded into taking a more extreme position than he meant. “But I have no objection to its downfall, if that is what it merits.”
Farnsworth’s eyebrows rose.
“In whose judgment? Yours?”
“The majority of the people who are governed.”
“And you think the majority is right?” Farnsworth’s eyes were wide. “That it is informed, wise, benevolent and self-disciplined or, God damn it, even literate—”
“No, I don’t,” Pitt interrupted. “But it can’t ever be if it is governed in secret by those who never ask and never explain. I think the majority have always been decent people, and have the right, as much right as you or anyone else, to know their own destiny and have as much control over it as is possible.”
“Consistent with order”—Farnsworth sat back, his smile sardonic—“and the rights and privileges of others. Quite. We have no difference in aim, Pitt, only in how to achieve it. And you are hopelessly naive. You are an idealist, quite out of touch with the reality both of human nature and of economics and business. You would make a good politician on the hustings, telling the people all the things they want to hear, but you’d be hopeless in office.” He crossed his hands, interlacing his fingers, and gazing at Pitt with something close to resignation. “Perhaps you are right not to accept the offer of membership in the Inner Circle. You haven’t the stomach for it, or the vision. You’ll always be a gamekeeper’s son at heart.”
Pitt was not certain whether that was intended as an insult or not; the words were, judging from Farnsworth’s voice, and yet the tone was disappointed rather than deliberately offensive.
He stood up. “I expect you’re right,” he conceded, surprised that he minded so little. “But gamekeepers protect and preserve what is good.” He smiled. “Is that not what you have been talking about?”
Farnsworth looked startled. He opened his mouth to dismiss the idea, then realized its truth and changed his mind.
“Good day, sir,” Pitt said from the doorway.
There was only one thing Pitt could profitably do regarding the Colonial Office. The routine investigation of associates, personal habits, the search for weakness, could be accomplished as well by Tellman and his men as by Pitt himself. Not that he expected any of it to yield much of value. But quite apart from that, Arthur Desmond’s death still filled his thoughts in every quiet moment and the underlying sadness was with him all the time. It grew gradually more compelling that he should resolve what he could, for Matthew’s sake and for his own.
Charlotte had said little to him on the subject, but her unusual silence was more eloquent than speech. She had been gentle with him, more patient than was characteristic, as if she were sensitive not only to his loss but to his awareness of guilt. He was grateful for it. He would have found her criticism painful, because it would have been fair, and when one is most vulnerable, one is also the least able to bear the wound.
But he also longed to return to the frankness that was more natural to both of them.
He began with General Anstruther, and was obliged to pursue him from one of his clubs to a second, and ultimately find him in a quiet reading room of a third.