Word of Honour

'Nothing. The lacemakers use the auditorium, but this place has a set of offices too. Someone has asked to meet you.'

THE OFFICE HAD ONE SMALL WINDOW, AND THE GENERAL gloom this created wasn't helped by the decor. The walls were panelled with black wood, the desk and chairs were heavy and equally dark. Two large filing cabinets – in dark wood – stood like sentinels in one corner. In front of the desk, a long table stretched toward the door.

Two men and a woman looked up when Aubrey, Jack, Caroline and George entered. The men stood, tall and straight. Aubrey knew military bearing when he saw it, and suspected the origin of these strangers even before he heard them speak.

Jack addressed himself to the older of the two men. 'Count Brandt, this is Aubrey Fitzwilliam, who you've heard me talking about.'

'At last,' Count Brandt said, bowing slightly, and his accent confirmed Aubrey's suspicions. 'I get to meet your Prime Minister's son.'

Aubrey was accustomed to this sort of greeting. It ranked him somewhere between the Prime Minister's fourth assistant secretary and the Prime Minister's cufflinks. 'Count Brandt.'

While Jack introduced Caroline and George, Aubrey studied the Holmland count.

He was in his fifties, Aubrey guessed, from the grey that sprinkled his otherwise black hair and beard. Tall, powerful, but definitely starting to lose the muscularity he had once had. Too much good living? His hands were blunt, well-manicured, but Aubrey could see several scars that must have come from nasty wounds. A military background, without question, from his posture. His suit was expensive, from Maitland's, one of Old Street's finest tailors, if Aubrey was any judge.

His Albionish was excellent – precise, fluent, with a good grasp of idiom. Aubrey wondered how much time he'd spent in the country.

Brandt waited until Jack had finished his introductions and took his turn. 'These are my good friends, Mr Rudolf Bloch and Miss Anna Albers.'

Aubrey glanced at George and received a merest hint of a wink in return. 'So,' George said, 'lacemaking is popular in Holmland?'

Brandt stared at George. Bloch and Albers looked at each other, worried, and Aubrey was pleased to have them on the back foot.

'Not lacemaking?' he said, sharing another ghost wink with George. 'You must be philanthropists, then, making a large donation. I always admire Jack's ability to conjure up money.'

Jack started to talk, but Brandt held up a hand. 'No, let me explain, Mr Figg. You've been good enough to help we exiled Holmlanders settle into your country. Now it is time for me to tell you all why I need to speak to Mr Aubrey Fitzwilliam.'

More than a little intrigued, Aubrey took his place at the table with the others. Bloch and Albers looked nervous, Bloch rubbing his hands together constantly, while Albers seemed to find it difficult to meet the gaze of anyone else in the room.

'We know of you,' Brandt began, 'Mr Fitzwilliam. Various of our members have noted your deeds, your part in several recent events.'

'Members? Is this a club?'

Bloch's and Albers's agitation increased, and Bloch mopped at his brow with a handkerchief. Brandt remained calm. 'Not a club, no. A loose association, a group of friends and like-minded Holmlanders who do not agree with the way the country is being run.'

'Which country?' Caroline said. 'Albion or Holmland?'

'Holmland, Miss Hepworth.' Brandt glanced at his colleagues. 'Please, you must understand, this is difficult.' He placed both hands, palms down, on the table in front of him. 'Some of us had to leave Holmland, unable to endure the situation. Some are still there, in positions of importance.'

'You want to overthrow the Elektor,' Aubrey said flatly.

Brandt shook his head. 'We want to restore Holmland, not destroy it. The Elektor is badly advised, easily led. We want to remove those who are steering our country toward war.'

'The Chancellor and his government?' Aubrey said.

'Just so. Once the Elektor sees how reasonable our position is, he will change his direction and all will be well.'

Bloch cleared his throat. When he spoke, it was a growl. 'If he doesn't, then –'

'Enough,' Brandt snapped. He shrugged at Aubrey. 'You must excuse us. The Chancellor's people have treated us very badly.'

Aubrey frowned. 'I still don't see how I fit in.'

'They have much to do here, Aubrey,' Jack Figg said. 'There's a sizeable Holmland community in Trinovant now. Displaced, dispossessed. Your family's work in setting up the Broad Street Clinic made me think you might be able to help.'

'Jobs,' Madam Albers said. 'Houses. Somewhere to live, our people need.'

'Of course,' Brandt said. 'This would be helpful. Vital. But it is with influence that I hope you can help most.'

This was something Aubrey was used to. 'I'm afraid I can't do much there. Father is very concerned to keep things on the up and up. No indulgences, no personal favours.'

'We understand. But if you could advise us on the proper channels, who to approach?'

'I think so. If it could help.'

'It would be greatly appreciated.'

An understanding having been reached, the conversation took a turn to the mundane. After some chat about the weather and Caroline's mother's looming exhibition, both Bloch and Albers were growing noticeably anxious and made efforts to bring the niceties to an end. Farewells were made, but as the others filed out, Count Brandt signed for Aubrey to stay. 'You have some magic, I believe?' he said softly. Caroline looked back from the corridor, frowning, but Aubrey gestured for her to go on.

'Why do you ask?'

'We have some members of our group who are well qualified, magically, but they cannot obtain positions at your universities.' He scowled. 'And your companies sneer at our Holmland degrees.'

'It's unfortunate,' Aubrey said.

'I hoped you would understand. A waste of magical talent is a sad thing. Is there any way you can help?'

Aubrey rubbed his chin. 'Let me see what I can do at Greythorn. There must be someone up there who'd be sympathetic.'

'It's important,' Brandt said. 'For our cause as well as for them.'

'I'll see what I can do.'

Brandt smiled. Aubrey knew a politician's smile when he saw one and Brandt's came straight out of the textbook. 'Thank you, Mr Fitzwilliam. I hope we meet again soon.'

A firm clasp of the hand and Brandt backed into the office, closing a door that wasn't so thick that Aubrey couldn't hear the voices immediately raised in disagreement behind it.

LADY ROSE WAS WAITING FOR THEM AT MAIDSTONE.

'Good,' she said as soon as they stepped through the front door. 'I need to speak to Caroline.'

Aubrey stared. 'How did you know she'd be here?'

'She rang me, of course. Yesterday.'

Then they were off, into Lady Rose's drawing room. The door shut firmly behind them.

'I wonder what that's about?' George asked.