She smiled back at him. “Yes, of course I will. And I will look after your mother. I think with the other tensions there are, poor Mrs. Radley could do with all the assistance any of us can offer.” A ghost of amusement, and perhaps pity, crossed her eyes and vanished. “I did hear rumors of what the trouble is between the Moynihans and the McGinleys, but I shall pretend I didn’t. I think it will be the only way to get through the day, which threatens to feel like a week.”
“Surely they will forget all that now?” Piers looked startled. “The future of Ireland may be altered here if Mr. Radley can keep the conference going. After all that has happened, how can anyone care about something so—”
She smiled at him, touching his cheek with her finger. “My dear, we are quite capable of worrying about our own personal grievances and private habits while the whole world is collapsing around us. Perhaps it is easier to think on that scale. I don’t doubt the Last Trump will find some of us bickering about the price of a piece of ribbon, or who forgot to pinch out the candle. The end of the world would seem too much to grasp in the mind.” She glanced at Pitt. “Don’t worry about us, Mr. Pitt, we shall manage the day.”
He found himself liking Justine far more than he had expected to. She was anything but ordinary. He wondered what she saw in Piers that so attracted her. He seemed so young compared with her mature humor and balance. But then he was judging on the slightest acquaintance, and it was unfair. He knew very little about any of them, beyond the superficial.
He thanked Eudora and took his leave, arranging to meet Piers in the stables in fifteen minutes.
It was cold but not unpleasant as they set out on two excellent horses, traveling first across the parkland at a brisk canter, then turning along the edge of plowed fields and towards a lane which wound through a patch of woodland. It had been years since Pitt had ridden. One does not forget the feel of the animal. The creak of leather, the smell, the rhythmic movement were all familiar, but he knew he would be painfully stiff the next day. He was using muscles unstretched in a decade. He could imagine Tellman’s comments, and see the discreet smile on Jack’s face.
They could not converse while they were moving swiftly, but when they were obliged to slow to a walk between the trees it came quite naturally. Piers rode well, with the grace of a man who is both used to the saddle and fond of his animals.
“Will you look for a city practice?” Pitt asked, as much for something uncontentious to say as because he was interested.
“Oh no,” Piers replied quickly, lifting his head to look at the bare branches above. “I really don’t like London. And I know Justine would prefer a country life.”
“I imagine your father’s death will change your plans?” They were moving more slowly now along a winding path, Piers a little ahead as they crossed a stream and the horses scrambled up the farther bank, sending a scatter of stones back into the water. The wind caught a flurry of fallen leaves with a rustling sound, and far away to the left a dog barked.
“I hadn’t thought of it,” Piers said frankly. “Mama will stay on in Oakfield House, of course. It hasn’t anything like the lands of Ashworth. There are no farms to manage. She won’t need me. Justine and I will find somewhere, perhaps near Cambridge. Of course, financially I will be more fortunately placed, I suppose.”
“You probably will not need to practice medicine,” Pitt pointed out.
Piers swiveled quickly to stare at him. “But I want to! I know my father would have liked me to stand for Parliament, but I have no interest in it whatever. I am interested in public health.” There was a sudden enthusiasm in his face, a light in his eyes which made him quite different from the rather bland young man he had been even moments before. “I care about diseases of nutrition especially. Have you any idea how many English children suffer from rickets? The medical textbook even calls it the English disease! And scurvy. It isn’t only seamen who get scurvy. And night blindness. There are too many things we are on the brink of being able to treat, but we don’t quite manage it.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to be in Parliament?” Pitt said wryly, catching up to ride beside him as they emerged into an open field.
Piers was perfectly serious. “You can’t make laws until you have proved your case. First you must make them believe, then understand, then care. After that it is time for legislation. I want to work with people who need help, not argue with politicians and make compromises.”
Pitt dismounted and opened the gate at the side of the field and held it while Piers took both horses through, then closed it behind them. He remounted a trifle more elegantly than he had mounted the first time.
“That makes me sound very arrogant, doesn’t it?” Piers said more moderately. “I know compromise is necessary in a lot of things. I just have no skills at it. My father was brilliant. He could charm and persuade people into all sorts of things. If anyone could have succeeded with the Irish Problem, it would have been he. He had a sort of power, almost an invulnerability. He wasn’t afraid of people the way most of us are. He always knew what he wanted out of any situation and how much he was prepared to yield or to pay for it. He never changed his mind.”
Pitt thought about it as they moved forward into a canter again over a long stretch of pasture land. He had seen that assurance in Greville, the quiet ruthlessness of a man who can keep his purpose in mind and never waver from it. It was a very necessary quality in his chosen profession, but it was not entirely attractive. Piers had not said that directly, but he had allowed it to be inferred. There was no warmth when he spoke of his father, and very little regret.
Oakfield House was, as he had said, considerably smaller than Ashworth, but it was still a very handsome residence. Approaching it from the west, it looked to be of a size to have ten or twelve bedrooms, and numerous stables and other outbuildings. It was the country home of a man of both taste and position, discreet but of considerable wealth.
They left the horses with the groom and went in through the side door. Pitt was already feeling his leg muscles pull a little. By the next day he would be regretting this.
The butler came across the hall looking disconcerted, his white hair ruffled.
“Master Piers! We weren’t expecting you. I’m afraid Mr. and Mrs. Greville are away at the moment. But of course …” He saw Pitt and his expression became colder and more formal. “Good morning, sir. May I be of any assistance?”
“Thurgood,” Piers said quietly. He walked towards him and took him by one elbow. “I’m sorry, but there has been a tragedy. My father has been killed. Uncle Padraig is with Mama, but it was necessary that I come here with Mr. Pitt.” He indicated Pitt while still steadying the swaying butler with the other hand. “We need to look at Papa’s papers and letters, and find the threats that were sent recently. If there is anything you know which might be of help, please make sure you tell us.”
“Killed?” Thurgood looked startled. Suddenly his slight officiousness vanished and he looked elderly and rather rumpled.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Piers continued. “But please tell the staff there will be no changes, and they are to continue as usual. They must not discuss it yet, because it has not been in the newspapers, and we have not informed the other members of the family.”
It rose to Pitt’s tongue to ask Thurgood not to mention it at all, but he realized before he spoke that that would be an impossibility. The man’s shock was all too apparent. Others would draw the news from him even if he were unwilling. The air of tragedy and fear was already in the house.