The Parliament House

    She did not allow him to savour the moment for long.

    'By the same token,' she resumed, 'you have shortcomings that are imperceptible at first sight but that slowly emerge on closer acquaintance. I see it as my task in life to remedy those shortcomings.'

    'I study to improve myself, Brilliana.'

    'Then assert yourself more. Do not be so easily cowed into silence. Whenever you meet your father-in-law, you hardly ever say a word.'

    'He gives me no opportunity to do so.'

'Make an opportunity, Lancelot,' she urged. 'You bear the name of a noble knight. Display some knightly heroism. When we are in Father's company, seize the conversation with both hands.'

    'That's easier said than done.'

    'You'll earn his respect, if you do. And in time, I trust, you'll have enough confidence to follow in his footsteps.'

    'What do you mean?'

    'You must go into politics,' she decreed. 'You have money and position enough but you lack even a semblance of power. I want a husband of mine to guide the fate of the nation. If my father can become a Member of Parliament, so can you.'

    'But I disagree with everything that he stands for, Brilliana.'

    'Then oppose him vigorously in the House of Commons. Stand up for your principles. Proclaim them with a full voice.'

    Serle lapsed into a brooding silence. Since he first became involved with the Cheever family, the one thing he had never been allowed to do was to express his opinions with any degree of freedom. His wife muffled him and his father-in-law terrified him. As an unswerving Royalist, he had learned to button his lip whenever Sir Julius sounded off about the depravity of the court and the blatant unfitness of the King to reign. The thought of crossing verbal swords with the old man in the Parliament House made him shudder inwardly.

    'Coming back to your earlier remark,' he said, finding the strength to speak again, 'what's this about your father telling lies?'

    'He would probably call them excuses.'

    'For what?'

    'Concealing the fact that he is seeing so much of Mrs Kitson,' she pointed out. 'Whenever he leaves the house, he tells Susan that he is to meet other politicians but she knows that it is simply not true. Father has arranged clandestine meetings with his new friend.'

    'Is he so ashamed of the lady?'

    'On the contrary, Lancelot. He is inordinately proud of her. Susan can see it in his face and hear it in his voice. Yet he pretends that nothing is amiss. I'd not stand for such subterfuge,' she said, smacking his knee for effect. 'That's why I intend to do what Susan has so far been unable to do herself.'

    'And what's that, Brilliana?'

    'Confront him. Tax him. Bully the truth out of him, if need be.'

    'Sir Julius will not be easily bullied.'

    'That's why I may need to call on you.'

    Serle winced. 'Me?'

    'Father will see me as an interfering daughter, but you can speak to him man to man. You can probe for information, Lancelot. You can catch him unawares.'

    'I've never managed to do so before.'

    'Then see this as a test of your mettle,' she said, firmly. 'Susan and I need to know what is going on and you are the person to find out. If we cannot wrest anything out of him, you must use your wiles.'

    'But I have no wiles, Brilliana.'

    'Exactly. When you speak to him, Father will be completely off guard. He will not suspect you for a moment. Take advantage of that, Lancelot. Beat him at his own game and use political wiles against him. Prove yourself to me,' she exhorted with sudden passion. 'Will you become the husband that I know you can be?'

    He nodded willingly but his heart was a giant butterfly.

    Sir Julius Cheever returned to his house in Westminster in buoyant mood. As soon as he came in through the door, Susan knew that he had dined with Dorothy Kitson. She gave him a token kiss of welcome then she pointed in the direction of the parlour.

    'Christopher is waiting to see you.'

    'Christopher Redmayne?' he asked.

    'Yes, Father. He called this morning after you had left. I suggested that he came back later this afternoon.' She shot him a reproving look. 'Though I did not expect it to be quite this late.'

    'I'd better go and speak to him.'

    He opened the door of the parlour and went in. Christopher rose from his seat but was immediately waved back into it. Sir Julius lowered himself into a chair opposite him.

    'I take it that you've come about yesterday's sad event,' he said.

    'Yes, Sir Julius.'

    'Has any progress been made?'

    'Not as yet,' replied Christopher, 'but it will be.'

    'Bale is a good man. He'll not let us down. And I know that you have the instincts of a bloodhound as well, Christopher.'

    'We'll find the villain between us.'

    'I'm counting on it.'

    Sir Julius's voice was stern yet he had not altogether shed his air of contentment. A smile still hovered around his mouth and his eyes sparkled. Christopher was puzzled. Whenever the older man had returned from a heady political discussion before, he had always been roused to a pitch of excitement. If he had dined with a parliamentary colleague, he should be highly animated. Instead, he was curiously happy and relaxed. Christopher had never seen him so tranquil before. He was sorry that he would have to disturb that tranquillity.

    'I've been talking with my brother,' he began.

    'There's nothing unusual in that, surely?'

    'We spoke about you, Sir Julius.'

    'Oh? To what end?'

    'Henry has a wide circle of friends, not all of them entirely suitable, as it happens. But he's well-known at court and numbers several politicians among his intimates.'

    Sir Julius frowned. 'Supporters of the King no doubt.'

    'Denizens of the Parliament House,' said Christopher. 'Men who know the very nerves of state and who keep a close eye on each new faction that comes into being.' 'So?'

    'Is it true that you have formed your own club?'

    'That's my business,' said the other, curtly.

    'I've been forced to make it mine.' 'Don't meddle in things you don't understand.'

    'I understand danger when I catch a whiff of it.'

    'What are you taking about?'

    'You, Sir Julius,' said Christopher, sitting forward. 'Everyone I've spoken to has told me the same thing. You've been gathering men around you who share your aims and values. Susan has confirmed it. According to her, you hold meetings in this house that-'

    'Enough!' shouted Sir Julius, getting to his feet. 'What happens under this roof is entirely my own affair.'

    'I disagree.'

    'Then you are being impertinent.'

    'No, Sir Julius,' said Christopher, rising from his chair.

    'And you begin to irritate me.'

    'What happens in this house may be your own affair but yesterday, as we both well know, it spilled out into Knightrider Street.'

    'Nobody regrets that more than I do.'

    'It's a cause for fear rather than regret.'

    'Fear?'

    'Yes,' said Christopher with passion. 'Bernard Everett was an able man who might in time have caught the eye in the Parliament House. You, however, have already established your worth, so much so that you have attracted disciples.'

    'I do not follow your argument.'

    'Remember the weather.'

    'The weather?'

    'It was raining when we left that house yesterday. You and Mr Everett wore similar coats and hats. From a window in the Saracen's Head, it would have been impossible to tell you apart.'