The world was a powder keg. Aubrey felt sorry for his father, leading Albion in such times, but he was also grateful that the nation had such a leader.
‘Sir,’ he said, seizing the moment. ‘Have you heard of any movements in the diplomatic staff at the Holmland embassy?’
Sir Darius pursed his lips for a moment. ‘Anything in particular you’re interested in, Aubrey?’
‘Von Stralick. I’ve heard he may be in the country.’
‘Ah. Tallis sent me a report yesterday. Special Services intelligence has indicated that this is a possibility. Not as a member of the official Holmland diplomatic staff, however. As a rogue.’
‘A rogue?’ Lady Rose echoed.
‘A free agent,’ Sir Darius said. ‘If he’s here, he’s gone to ground. Probably with one of the refugee communities.’
‘Ah.’ Aubrey exchanged a glance with Caroline.
‘And this is important in what way?’ Sir Darius said.
‘Von Stralick and I have unfinished business.’
‘We live in a time of unfinished business,’ his father said. ‘But leaving well enough alone is a fine policy, although I find it hard to believe that either of you would take such advice.’
‘Don’t worry, Father,’ Aubrey said. ‘After what I’ve seen, I’d never underestimate Hugo von Stralick.’
‘If that was meant to be reassuring,’ Lady Rose said, ‘then I’m afraid it failed by a considerable margin.’
‘Mother–’
Lady Rose shook her head. ‘Don’t protest, Aubrey, you’ll only back yourself into a corner. Caroline.’
Caroline blinked. ‘Lady Rose?’
‘Whatever it is that’s going on, can I be assured that you and George are involved? That you’re staying close to my son?’
Aubrey watched with fascination as Caroline sorted through the implications of those questions. Eventually, she nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said guardedly.
‘My dear,’ Lady Rose said to Sir Darius, ‘I’m afraid that’s about the best that can be done. If George and Caroline are part of this – whatever this is – then they’ll temper the worst of Aubrey’s excesses.’
The telephone rang. Aubrey noticed how his father stiffened, and how the four of them waited in silence while the butler answered it. It was with a sense of dread and certainty that they watched Harris approaching after he’d replaced the receiver.
‘Sir? It was the Foreign Minister. You’re needed at the Foreign Office.’
‘My hat, Harris.’ Sir Darius squeezed his wife’s shoulder. ‘I had been hoping we could lunch together.’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Aubrey thought his mother’s attempt at indifference was half-hearted. ‘Anyway, I have a meeting of my own. At the museum.’
‘Good, good,’ Sir Darius said absently. He was already on his way up the hall toward the front door. He took the hat and gloves that Harris offered him, then he looked up, sharply. ‘Aubrey, I’ve had a report land on the desk about the incident with Prince Albert. I know you’ve told me everything, but I think you need to know that it’s on the record now.’
‘On the record?’
‘An attempt on the life of the heir to the throne? Of course.’ Sir Darius must have caught the dismay on Aubrey’s face, for he went on. ‘Don’t let it worry you. My own dossier has some appalling things on it.’
‘It has?’
His father smiled. ‘As Prime Minister, I’m able to examine all top secret documents, my own dossier among them.’ He stroked his moustache. ‘Your case is different. You weren’t responsible for what happened. My blunders, however, were all my own.’ He turned to Lady Rose. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know when I’ll be back.’
And he was off. Harris closed the door behind him, and Aubrey’s determination to live up to his father’s example was only increased.
Lady Rose put the basket of herbs on a hall table. ‘I’m off. I shan’t be back for the rest of the day.’
With more than a little disquiet, Aubrey watched his mother’s brisk preparations to leave, noting the concern in her eyes that she attempted to hide. Like his father, she was extraordinarily capable, but she did pride herself on her self-reliance – to the extent that, at times, she found it difficult to confide her fears in others.
Caroline interrupted his thoughts. ‘Aubrey, I’m assuming you have a plan?’
He never wanted to disappoint Caroline, even though he had no idea what she was referring to. ‘Of course.’
‘For finding von Stralick.’
‘Oh.’ An item rose from his back-of-the-mind ponderings. ‘Refugee communities.’
‘I’d been thinking along the same lines. So where do we start?’
Aubrey was inordinately pleased that they thought along the same lines. He filed it in his ‘Reasons to be Optimistic’ folder.
‘South of the river,’ he said, remembering their recent encounter with Count Brandt and his displaced Holmlanders.
‘Which is half the city,’ Caroline said gently.
Aubrey had an idea. ‘Cook. I’ll ask her where she gets her sausages. We had them last week and she was telling us how Holmland sausages are the best.’
‘Woodley Lane in Little Pickling,’ came a voice from the top of the stairs. ‘Four of the best sausage-makers in one tiny stretch of street.’ George stood at the top of the stairs, beaming. ‘It’s the centre of the Holmlander community in Trinovant.’
‘I should have asked you first, George,’ Aubrey said. ‘Food is your business.’
‘We all have our specialities, old man. Let’s go. I might be able to pick up some of those delightful dumplings while we’re there.’
Six
The Istros Coffee House was named after Holmland’s most famous river. It was right in the middle of a small cluster of shops that seemed to be dedicated to recreating Fisherberg in the heart of Trinovant. The sausage makers fought for business, and the trade was brisk. Sweet pastries were piled high in the windows of Holmlander bakeries. Waltz music seeped through doors and open windows.
‘This seems like a good place to start,’ Aubrey announced after they’d studied the comings and goings for some time.
‘It can’t hurt to make some enquiries,’ George said.
Caroline looked doubtful. ‘I can imagine half a dozen ways this could go wrong.’ She sighed. ‘But I don’t have any other ideas.’
Aubrey led the way. He pushed open the door and led the way into the warm, dark, splendidly aromatic interior. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust, and he was relieved to see that their entrance hadn’t excited any more than cursory glances from the patrons, who were far more interested in their refreshments. Aubrey’s Holmlandish was good enough for him to hear half a dozen different regional accents in the room. It seemed as if the Istros Coffee House drew its customers from all over Holmland.
‘Do you recognise anyone?’ Caroline asked.
He shook his head. He’d been hoping that someone they’d met in their time with Count Brandt would have remained behind in Albion instead of joining their comrades in their ill-fated mission back to Holmland.
George nodded toward the back of the café. ‘Sounds as if there’s another room down there. I can hear accordion music.’
‘Oh dear,’ Caroline said. They both looked at her. ‘I’m sorry. I have trouble with the accordion.’
‘So does whoever’s trying to play it.’ George winced. ‘Still, it’s hard to tell the difference between an accordion played badly and an accordion played well.’
Bemused, Aubrey led them to a door just to the left of the entrance to the kitchen. A hearty Holmlandish dance tune came from it as the accordionist worked up a good head of steam. Caroline grimaced. ‘I had a cat, once, who made that sort of noise when I accidentally stepped on his tail.’