Franco held up his hands to me as if in surrender, an effect not a little marred by his newly got purse, clutched in one hand. Nevertheless, more than trembling with fear, he turned red with mortification, and I sensed that he did indeed regret his deception. The earnestness of this evident regret so disarmed me that I stood still, having no notion of what I should say or do.
Miss Glade chose to take pity on my uncertainty. “Blame not this man,” she said. “He was but an unfortunate as you were, forced against his will into Cobb’s service.”
“Upon my arrival in London, I’m afraid I made some rather poor choices with my money, including an investment in Mr. Pepper’s engine—a scheme that brought me to the attention of Cobb. He contrived to acquire my debts as he did with you and your friends, and he then demanded of me that I form a connection with your family.”
“Your daughter was a spy too?” I asked, the disgust in my voice undisguised.
“No,” he said. “Alas, I could not depend upon so sweet a creature to deceive you, so I dissimulated with her as well. Allow me to say, however, that had the two of you found each other more agreeable, I should have had no objection to a match.”
“You do me too much kindness,” I said with bitterness.
He shook his head. “When I observed that the two of you would not form a match, I sent her to Salonica, that she might be well away from this madness. I am sorry, sir, very sorry, to have been made to deceive you. I can only hope, when you hear all, that you will not regard me with so much distaste.”
“Rather than nursing your indignation toward Mr. Franco,” Miss Glade said, “you may discover you wish to thank him. It was out of regard for you that he contacted the ministry and chose to turn coat and join with us.”
“It is true,” Franco said. “I knew Cobb to be a villain, and you to be a man of honor, and so—with my daughter safely abroad—I risked my safety in order to work for, rather than against, my new home. Sadly, one condition of my service was that you could know nothing of all this.”
“And why?”
Miss Glade laughed. “Is it not evident that you are too nice in convictions to be trusted in a matter such as this, when what is right and what is wrong is a matter of some ambiguity? We knew you would never willingly serve the French and that you must rally, if given the choice, to your own kingdom. We were less certain that you could be depended on if there was a conflict between your notion of what was best for the kingdom and ours.”
I snorted with disgust. “And so you played me like a puppet.”
“We had no wish to,” Franco said most pitiably.
“Mr. Weaver, you have been a man in this world long enough to know that we cannot always be used as we wish, and at times we must sacrifice our own inclinations for the good of something greater. If I were to learn my government had deceived me to such an end, I should not object. I should always choose they do so rather than be the loser for it.”
“And that is your choice,” I said. “Not mine. I know better than to believe the government makes a good bargain by supporting this Company. Two great powers can never live well together, and the time will come when the one must seek to crush the other.”
“The day may come,” Miss Glade told me, “when the ministry will be at odds with Craven House, but right now we are at odds with the French, and the French wish to destroy the East India Company as a means of destroying our power abroad. Politics cannot always be about what is moral and right and good for all men and for all time. It must be about what is expedient now, and what is the lesser evil.”
“That is a wretched way to manage a nation. You are no better than the Company men, thinking only from one quarter to the next.”
“It is the only way to manage a nation,” she said. “Any other method is doomed to failure.”
After a pause, she turned to Franco.
“I believe you have presented your case as well as you might,” Miss Glade said to him. “May I suggest you leave us that we may exchange a word in private?”
He did so, bowing once more and rushing from the room. Miss Glade then closed the door and turned to me, her mouth wide, showing me an enchanting grin of white teeth.
“So,” she said. “You are angry with me?”
“You speak to me as though we have some connection in which my anger might disturb you. You are nothing to me but a betrayer and a manipulator.”
She shook her head. “I won’t believe it. You are angry with me, but you do not consider me those things. Your pride is hurt because I have had the advantage over you for these three weeks, but I think when you consider the matter at greater length, you will come to see me in a kinder light. Assuming, of course, you do not already. I think you rather like me more than you will admit.”
I did not answer, for I neither wished to confess nor to lie. Instead, I said, “Tell me this. You suggest the French killed Baghat. Did they kill Carmichael? And what of Pepper?”
“As for Carmichael, we have uncovered information that leads us to suspect that one of Ellershaw’s men had it done.”
“What?” I demanded. “You will let him get away with such a thing?”
“You must understand what the risks are here. This is a struggle of nations for world power, for an empire the likes of which has never before been seen. Such a prize is to be desired, yes, but even more so, that our enemy may obtain it must be fought at all costs. Do you wish for France to dominate Europe and the world? Have you considered how well our people do under English rule—here and in the colonies? Shall I tell you about life in the Catholic countries on the continent?”
“I am aware of those matters,” I said.
“I have nothing but hatred for Ellershaw, and I, like you, wish he could be punished for his crimes, but this is a war—a war as real and with as great, if not greater, consequences as the kind fought by great armies upon battlefields. If we must endure a rascal like Ellershaw, then we must endure him—just as kings must endure monsters who sometimes make for remarkable commanders in the field.”
“So he is not punished?”
“He cannot be. Even if we had proof, which we lack, it would be unwise to move against him.” Here she smirked at me. “And none of your rough justice, if you please. Should any unfortunate accidents befall Mr. Ellershaw, I don’t believe the ministry would let the matter rest, and I would not be in a position to protect you. You must seek retribution in your other way.”
I could not know what she meant by those words, but I suspected she knew more of my mind than I would like. I turned away from her, crossing my hands behind my back. “And what of Absalom Pepper? Who killed him, and shall that person face justice?”
“I notice you turn away from me when you ask that question,” she said. “You do not trust yourself?”
Anxiety and admiration filled me in equal measures, but I could not ignore the challenge. I therefore turned to her. “Who killed him?”
“I think you know the answer,” she said, with the little smile that I had come to find both infuriating and irresistible.
“If I knew, would I not visit justice accordingly?”
“I believe you will.”
“And you will not stop me?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Can the ministry approve?”
“The ministry will not know.”
I studied her very narrowly, wondering if she planned some sort of ambuscade upon me. “Yet you will not attempt to stop me?”
“You must not think me blind in my loyalty. I would do anything to keep France from gaining the power Britain seeks, but that does not mean I am unable to envision what these companies represent. You are right to wonder what happens when they grow too powerful, and I am in agreement with you that it is better that their power be curtailed while we possess a weapon with which to strike. And so you may do as you wish, and I shall, in every official capacity, take no notice of it. In a more private setting, however, I believe you will know of my approbation.”