'He would have wanted you to know.' Her eyes were brimming, her voice unsure. 'He told me… that you were the finest young man… he had ever known… and if I didn't grab and marry you…'
The voice broke. Then she was in his arms.
Part 19 The Act of Union
Chapter 1
It was 3.20. Forty minutes left.
At 4 PM, simultaneously in Ottawa and Washington, the Act of Union would be announced.
In the House of Commons tension was growing. This morning the Prime Minister's office had allowed it to be known that a 'grave and significant announcement of national import' would be made. No details had been given, but on Parliament Hill speculation had been growing hourly.
Within the House, routine business was proceeding but there was an undercurrent of expectation. The public galleries were already filled, a line of luckless latecomers lining the halls outside. In the diplomatic gallery several ambassadors had already arrived. In an adjoining gallery, member's wives, vying for the choicest seats, were filing in.
Immediately outside the House, lobbies, corridors, and press rooms were abuzz with talk. News of a Cabinet split was widely rumoured but, so far as James Howden knew, there had been no leak as to the cause. A moment earlier, conversations in the Government lobby had stilled as the Prime Minister had entered, walking to his own House of Commons seat.
Settling down, he glanced around, then opened the folder he had carried in. Closing his ears to the current speaker – a backbench MP enjoying the unusual attention – Howden read, once more, the agreed joint statement and the opening text of his own speech to follow.
For days he had laboured on the speech, in between commitments, completing it in the early hours of this morning after returning from Montreal. He had had little sleep, but excitement and a sense of destiny sustained him.
The speech which he would make today in the House -unlike others of the past few days – was entirely his own.
Other than Milly Freedeman, who had typed the drafts, no one else had seen or worked on it. He was aware that what he had written, and would say, was from his heart. What he proposed would divert the course of history. For Canada, for a while at least, it would lessen nationhood. But in the end, he was convinced, the gain of union would outweigh a separate peril. There was courage in facing facts; greater, perhaps, than in empty insurrections with which the past abounded.
But would others see it too?
Some would, he knew. Many would trust him, as they had before. Others would be won by argument, a few by tear. A large section of the nation was American in thought already; to them, the Act of Union would seem logical and right.
But there would be opposition, and a bitter fight. It had begun already.
Early this morning he had interviewed separately the eight cabinet dissidents who were supporting Adrian Nesbitson. By strong persuasion and a personal appeal he had won back three, but five were adamant. Together with General Nesbitson they would resign and resist the Act of Union as an independent opposition group. Undoubtedly a few MPs, at least, would follow them, to form a rump within the House.
It was a serious blow, though not entirely unpredictable. He could have been more confident of surviving it, however, if the Government's popularity had not decreased in recent weeks. If only there had been no stowaway incident… Resolutely, to avoid rekindling his inner, burning anger, Howden switched his thoughts away. He had noticed, though, that Harvey War-render was not yet in the House. Nor was Bonar Deitz, the Leader of the Opposition.
A hand touched his shoulder. Turning, he saw the shock of black curls and bristling moustache of Lucien Perrault. Jauntily, as he managed to do everything, the French Canadian bowed to the Speaker and dropped into the empty seat of Stuart Cawston, who had briefly left the floor.
Perrault leaned over, whispering, 'It is true, I hear, that we have a fight before us.'
'I'm afraid so,' Howden murmured. He added warmly, 'I can't tell you how much your support has meant to me.'
Perrault gave a Gallic shrug, his eyes humorous. 'Well, we shall stand together, and if we fall there will be a thunderous sound.' After a moment, smiling, he moved away to his own seat.
A page boy laid an envelope upon the Prime Minister's desk. Ripping it open, Howden read in Milly Freedeman's handwriting, 'The President is preparing to leave the White House for the Capitol.' In the Prime Minister's office, a minute or two away, Milly was monitoring an open line to Washington. It was for last minute contingencies. So far there had been none.
On the other side of the House, the Opposition Leader came in. Bonar Deitz looked paler than usual and preoccupied, Howden thought. He went straight to his front row desk and snapped his fingers for a page boy. As the boy waited, Deitz scribbled a note, then folded it. To Howden's surprise the note was delivered to himself. It read: 'Essential we discuss urgent, personal matter re you and Harvey Warrender. Please meet me immediately, Room 16 – B.D.'
Alarmed and startled, Howden looked up. But the Opposition Leader had already gone.
Chapter 2
At the same moment that Bonar Deitz had entered the House of Commons, Brian Richardson strode into the outer office of the Prime Minister's suite where Milly Freedeman waited. The party director's face was set grimly. In his hand was a sheet torn from a teletype. Without preliminary he told Milly, 'Wherever the chief is, I need him – fast.'
Milly gestured to the telephone she was holding. She mouthed silently the one word 'Washington'. Her eyes went up to the clock upon the wall.
'There's time,' Richardson said shortly. 'If he's in the House, get him out.' He laid the teletype on the desk in front of her. 'This is Vancouver. Right now it comes first.'
Milly read quickly, then, putting the telephone down on its side, wrote a hasty note. Folding the note and teletype sheet together she sealed them in an envelope and pressed a buzzer. Almost at once a page boy knocked and entered. Milly instructed, 'Please take this quickly and come straight back.' When the boy had gone, she picked up the telephone again and listened.
After a moment, covering the mouthpiece, Milly asked, 'It's pretty bad, isn't it – the way things came out in court?'
Richardson answered bitterly, 'If there's another way of making the Government look stupid, vicious, and fumbling all at once, I haven't thought of it.'
'Is there anything can be done – anything at all?'
'With luck – if the chief will agree to what I want – we can salvage about two per cent of what we've lost.' The party director dropped into a chair. He added glumly, 'The way things are, even two per cent is worth saving.'
Milly was listening to the telephone. 'Yes,' she said. 'I have that.' With her free hand she wrote another note. Covering the mouthpiece again, she told Richardson, 'The President has left the White House and is driving to the Capitol.'
He answered sourly, 'Hooray for him. I hope he knows the way.'
Milly noted the time: 3.30.
Brian Richardson got up and came close beside her. 'Milly,' he said, 'the hell with everything. Let's get married.' He paused, then added, 'I've started my divorce. Eloise is helping.'
'Oh, Brian!' Suddenly her eyes were moist. 'You pick the strangest times.' Her hand still cupped the telephone.
'There is no time – no right time ever.' He said roughly, 'We have to take what we can get.'
'I wish I were as sure as you,' she told him. 'I've thought about it; thought so much.'
'Look,' he urged, 'there's going to be a war – everybody says so; and anything can happen. Let's grab whatever's left and make the most of it.'