He wondered how he could do all this while pursuing his goals. The events of the last few weeks had only confirmed his desire for a life in politics – on his own terms. It was the way to true achievement. But when? University first? The army first? Or what about Craddock's invitation to join the Magisterium? He was still swamped with choices.
He smiled. His escapades had shown him something: for better or worse, he was his own man. His abilities and his strengths had saved his father, while he had coped with weaknesses that were undeniably his own. The challenge of living in his father's shadow and up to his expectations had, perhaps, been a burden of his own making. It might be time to lay it down, especially with his father's recognition of his magical skill. Magic was a sphere Sir Darius had not conquered, but perhaps his son could. It could be a chance to step aside from measuring himself against the man he respected so much. So maybe magic was where his future lay. Perhaps he could carry the torch of rational magic that Baron Verulam had lit so long ago.
He grinned. But I do love a challenge, he thought and, for the moment, he left the future to take care of itself.
He looked at the smiling faces, the animated conversations in the ballroom. The Progressive Party was about to sweep the Royalists from power, no-one had any doubt about that. It was a time for change, for bettering society, for righting wrongs. Aubrey caught himself and smiled. He'd been the one making the speeches this time.
He looked around at the excited candidates, those who were about to be elected and become the law-makers of the land. As the evening drew out, Sir Darius and Lady Fitzwilliam circulated around the room, arm in arm, speaking to every candidate and every current member of parliament. Aubrey shook off his sombre mood and took on the role as Sir Darius's son without a tinge of resentment. He shook hands, congratulated workers, listened to stories. Eventually, he was able to sit at a table with Mrs Hepworth, Caroline and George.
'Nervous, Aubrey?' Caroline asked.
'Definitely,' he said. Mostly around you, he thought. 'Can't take this election for granted, you know.'
She smiled and he hoped she hadn't read his mind. '"What lies ahead can be seen if one knows enough of what lay before." Scholar Tan.'
'Ah.' She'd developed a knack of making him feel inadequate. He had almost grown accustomed to it.
'Excellent salmon, Aubrey,' George said. 'Try some?'
'Not just now.'
Mrs Hepworth – Ophelia, Aubrey told himself – leaned over. 'Your father looks very handsome. The years sit easily on him.'
Aubrey looked at his father, then back at her. 'You know him well?'
'I knew him well indeed.' She gazed at Sir Darius with affection. Aubrey noted this and filed it away for future consideration. I knew he had a past, he thought, but it might be even more interesting than I'd thought.
The confidence in the room grew as the evening progressed and the news coming from across the road grew steadily better. By midnight, champagne was being opened and poured.
Aubrey smiled. A dance band was summoned and the evening became a party. He waved to a campaign official, asked a few questions and then sat back with a foolish smile on his face.
'Have we won?' George asked Aubrey, raising his voice over the music.
'Yes. Oh, nothing official, but the result is in no doubt. The Prime Minister is apparently meeting his Cabinet and advisers, deciding how to put a good face on the defeat.'
'Grand.'
A man rushed into the ballroom and stood on tip-toes and looked around. Spying Sir Darius, he hurried to his side. A quick conversation and Sir Darius nodded decisively. With one athletic bound, he leapt to the stage and spoke to the bandleader. The bandleader gathered the musicians and ended the tune with a flourish.
Sir Darius raised his arms. He was about to speak, when he looked down. Lady Fitzwilliam smiled up at him. He grinned back and motioned for her to join him on the stage. Amid applause, she did, but she used the stairs instead of duplicating her husband's leap.
When the acclamation died down, Sir Darius cleared his throat and addressed the crowd. 'Loyal colleagues, friends and supporters. The Prime Minister has conceded!'
Aubrey knocked his chair over as he leapt to his feet. His cheers joined those of everyone else in the room. Triumphantly, George shook a fist in the air. Caroline smiled. Mrs Hepworth applauded, tears in her eyes.
A man's voice rose above the acclamation. 'Three cheers for Sir Darius, our new Prime Minister!'
The cheering rose again, shaking the chandeliers and the windows. Sir Darius waved, then led Lady Fitzwilliam from the stage, shaking hands and suffering claps on the back as they went.
Sir Darius took Lady Fitzwilliam onto the dance floor and bowed to her. He looked to the bandleader and nodded. A tune struck up and the Fitzwilliams moved gracefully into a dance. He led deftly, and she followed his moves as if they'd rehearsed for years. Every eye in the room was on them, but the couple was oblivious.
'They dance well,' Caroline said.
'Yes,' Aubrey said. 'Do you dance?'
'Yes.'
'Let me guess . . . a friend of your father's taught you?'
'Of course. I dance very well, thanks to the Count of Lower Gallia.'
'So do I,' Mrs Hepworth said. She put her chin on her hand.
Aubrey opened his mouth, but at that moment Sir Darius and Lady Fitzwilliam came to their table. 'Ophelia,' Sir Darius said, smiling, 'it's good to see you. It's been too long.'
She smiled. 'Yes.'
'Miss Hepworth, I'm glad you're here to help celebrate. Without your help . . .' Sir Darius left the obvious unstated. He coughed. 'It's time for us to leave.'
'Now?' Aubrey asked, dismayed.
'We'll let the people enjoy themselves,' Sir Darius said. 'They've earned some respite from my presence. Loyal as they are, I'm sure things will be more carefree once I leave.' He paused. 'Mrs Hepworth, Miss Hepworth – you'll join us for a small celebration at Maidstone?'
When his father made this unexpected offer,Aubrey had been tussling over the best way to say goodbye to Caroline so as to ensure seeing her again. He leapt to his feet. 'A capital idea. Just the thing. Rather noisy here, now, I mean, even though the band was a nice touch . . .'
'Aubrey,' Caroline said, 'you're babbling.'
Lady Fitzwilliam leaned across the table and patted Caroline on the arm. 'We're used to it, my dear,' she said sympathetically.
Aubrey was so delighted at the coming together of things that he felt no irritation whatsoever.
Stubbs was waiting for them when they came out of the hotel. He tipped his cap and opened the door of the Oakleigh-Nash. 'Wonderful night, ma'ams, miss, sirs.'
'Indeed,' Sir Darius said. 'It's a wonderful country.'
DUCHESS MARIA MET THEM WHEN THEY ENTERED Maidstone. She stood in the entrance hall, at the bottom of the great stairs, eyes bright, hands clasped. 'Darius,' she said. 'Well done, Prime Minister.'