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Something in Naylor’s face pinched with a shadow of disappointment. “A compassionate man,” he observed. “Others said that of him.”
“Compassionate,” she agreed. “Not indecisive, Sir Peter. What I believe you are asking me is, will he have the strength to make harsh and unpopular decisions, or act against those he may still pity. Are you afraid that he is too eager to please his social superiors to risk making a decision that will displease them? Or perhaps he is like the man driving one of those new motors towards the cliff edge, so balanced in judgment that he can see the virtues of turning to the left so equally with those of turning to the right that he ca
“Yes, I suppose so,” he conceded. “But servant class, all the same. Might that not make him too easily swayed to give respect where regrettably it is not due?”
This time she laughed outright, a rich, happy sound of pure delight. “My dear young man”-he was close to fifty but seemed very young to her-“if you imagine that our servants are blind to our faults or our weaknesses, then you are utterly naive. I’m sure your valet treats you with the utmost respect, but do not forget that he has seen you at your most vulnerable and most absurd.” She ignored his blushes, although she may have been well aware of the kind of incident he was recalling with such embarrassment. “He may be very fond of you,” she continued. “But it is not a blind affection. On the contrary, it is probably more clear-eyed than that of your wife. And you may be certain she thinks a great deal that she is far too tactful to say.”
At this point he felt very young indeed, and at a considerable disadvantage. Had he not been directed by the prime minister himself to obtain this information from Lady Vespasia, he would have excused himself stiffly and left.
Vespasia was still smiling at him. “It was Pitt’s very painful decision in a certain matter some years ago which rescued His Majesty when he was still Prince of Wales. It was a situation which might well have cost him the throne-indeed have cost England its monarchy. Instead it earned Pitt the undying enmity of the king. Queen Alexandra will confirm what I say. Thomas Pitt may agonize over a decision, but he will make it according to his conscience, not according to orders, favors, or threats. That is something you may wish to consider both for him and against him. But he will place his duty to his country first, which I believe is what you are asking me?”
“Yes,” he said reluctantly. “I suppose I am. But he is fallible!”
“Of course,” she agreed. “And occasionally stubborn. He knows a good painting when he sees one, from his time in the Metropolitan Police when he investigated the thefts of art from the homes of the wealthy. He is particularly fond of land- and seascapes, and pictures of cows. That is because he has a deep love of the land. He was too close to it in childhood to be sentimental about it. He knows it is full of little deaths; he chooses not to think of them.
“He loves poetry, because he loves language and ideas, but he might as well have ears of cloth as far as great music is concerned. I have watched him suffer a form of torture, having no choice in courtesy but to sit through an entire ballet and pretend that he was not bored to tears by it. It is to his credit that he almost succeeded. The transfixed look on his face was mistaken for rapture. He was invited to go again, and I was obliged, out of pity, to rescue him.”
“His ma
“I doubt that,” Vespasia replied. “His wife has tried for a quarter of a century and not made the slightest difference that I have observed.”
“Ah, yes, his wife. I shall come to her in due course. The clothes may be addressed later, if necessary. To more delicate subjects.” He looked at her gravely. “All men have weaknesses. Please do not be evasive out of kindness, Lady Vespasia. I ask because I require to know. I ca
“I am quite aware of why you ask, Sir Peter,” she told him. “His family is his greatest strength and his greatest weakness, which is perhaps true of all of us. We can be reached most wildly and dangerously through what we love.”
Naylor bit his lip. “He has a son, Daniel, and a daughter, Jemima, I believe. Daniel is at university, studying medicine, and Jemima has just married an American.” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“If you are considering that that may be a problem,” she answered, “then you know something unfortunate of Anglo-American relations that I do not. Many of our great families have married Americans, to their benefit. The Churchills and the Astors, to name but two.”
He sighed and sat back. “Tell me something about the man, so I feel as if I know him better than a casual encounter at the club, if you please.”
“You will not encounter him at your club,” she replied, as if the very notion entertained her. “Or at anyone else’s. He would greatly prefer to be at home by his own fireside or, better yet, in the kitchen. It is an extraordinarily agreeable room. The floor is wooden and frequently scrubbed, as is the large table. I like the smell of clean wood, perhaps just a trifle damp still, do you not?”
He was taken aback.
“I… I’ve never thought about it,” he admitted. “Did he tell you this?”
“Of course not.” She was dismissive. “I have observed it. There is a Welsh dresser against the wall, with blue-and-white ringed china on it, and some with painted butterflies and wild grasses, drawn extremely well. There are copper kettles and pans on the wall, and more often than not, clean linen on the airing rail, which hangs from the ceiling. The aroma of that brings back to me memories of laughter and friendship, of desperate battles against evil fought side by side, and good people who are no longer with us. Perhaps that is why he has no wish to move from Keppel Street, even though he could well afford to. The house is full of the past, of triumphs and disasters that have both been enriching.” Her eyes seemed far away for several moments, then suddenly she returned. “And you are not entirely correct about the untidiness. He has always loved good boots, ever since his sister-in-law, Emily, gave him his first pair. So far as I know, it is his only extravagance, the very best boots.”
“And his indulgences?” he asked.
She did not hesitate an instant.
“Cider, and steak-and-kidney pudding, the proper sort with mushrooms in, and even oysters, and of course a suet crust. That is absolutely imperative. And black currant jam, preferably on toast. Dark marmalade, sharp enough to bite back at you, but then anyone with any taste at all likes that. Must be made with Seville oranges, of course, obtainable only in January. But you must know that yourself. I apologize for telling you. Pockets full of string, paper clips, pipe cleaners, penknives, stubs of pencil, mint humbugs, and anything else which might conceivably one day be useful… or not.”
“I begin to like him,” Naylor remarked.
“Good. Although it is irrelevant.”
“A very different kind of man,” he observed.
“Very,” she agreed with a smile, as if she knew much that she would not say.
“That brings me to Charlotte Pitt.” He leaned forward again. “A somewhat unconventional woman, one might even say ‘meddlesome.’”
“Unless one were being unhelpfully tactful, one would definitely say ‘meddlesome,’” she agreed. “Usually to excellent effect.”