Anne Perry: The Angel Court Affair

Pitt stared at the Home Office minister with disbelief. They were standing in a quiet, sunlit room in Whitehall, the traffic outside inaudible.

“A Spanish saint?” he said, struggling to keep his voice more or less level.

“She’s not Spanish, she’s English,” Sir Walter replied patiently. “She merely lives in Spain. Toledo, I’m told. She is here to visit her family.”

“And what is this to do with Special Branch, sir?” Pitt asked. Special Branch had been created initially to deal with the Irish Problem, and now in the spring of 1898, its remit had broadened greatly to address anything that was considered to be a threat to the security of the nation.

All Europe was in turmoil as the century drew toward its close. Unrest was escalating and becoming more open. Anarchist bombings occurred in one place or another every few weeks. In France the Dreyfus affair was raging on toward a climax no one could predict. There were even rumors that the government might fall.

Addressing the threat of assassination to a dignitary visiting England was among the duties of Special Branch-but seeing to the needs of a touring nun, or whatever she was, was certainly not. Pitt opened his mouth to point this out, but Sir Walter spoke first.

“There have been letters containing threats against her life,” Sir Walter said, his face completely expressionless. “Her opinions have caused some concern and…anger. Unfortunately she has been rather too free in expressing them.”

“It’s a police problem,” Pitt said tersely. “I doubt anyone here will care enough to argue with her, let alone cause a nuisance. But if they do, then the local police can take care of it.”

Sir Walter sighed, as if this was a tedious argument. “Pitt, this is not a suggestion. You may think that many people are apathetic as to the exact details of religious doctrine, and only deeply committed Christians will argue with her-and even if they do, you trust that they at least know how to behave within the law.” He raised white eyebrows. “If so, you are a fool. Some men will argue more passionately about religion than anything else on earth. To many, religion represents order, sanity, the inevitable victory of good over evil. It confirms to them their place in creation.” He smiled bleakly. “Somewhere near the top. The appearance of modesty forbids the very top. Something has to be held back for God.” His smile faded and his eyes were grim. “But say something to threaten that place near the top, and you threaten everything.”

He shook his head. “For God’s sake, man, look at how religion has torn us apart throughout history. Start with the Crusades, and the Inquisition in Spain, the persecution of the Cathars and Waldenses in the rest of Europe, the massacres of the Huguenots in France. We’ve burned both Catholics and Protestants ourselves. You think it couldn’t happen again? If Dreyfus were not a Jew, do you think this whole monstrous affair would ever have started, never mind reached this proportion?”

Pitt drew breath to argue, and found the words frozen on his tongue.

It was barely the end of April. Earlier in the month President McKinley had asked the U.S. Congress for a declaration of war against Spain. Cuba had been seeking independence from Spain for many years, and the United States had begun to intervene in the dispute, seeing an opportunity to gain power and position. When the battleship USS Maine had been mysteriously blown up in Havana harbor, the powerful U.S. press openly blamed Spain. On 21 April Congress had ordered a naval blockade of all Cuban harbors, demanding that Spain surrender control of Cuba. On 25 April, four days ago, America had declared war. It was the first time they had done such a thing in their brief, idealistic existence. They had focused on internal expansion, had settled the land, built, explored and developed industry. Now suddenly the country was increasing the size of its armies and its navy and looking for possessions overseas, as far away as Hawaii and the Philippines.

This new desire for outward expansion could grow to involve other naval powers, even Britain, if America chose to make it so. If anything went wrong with this Spanish woman’s visit, it could easily be misconstrued by Spain. A chilling thought given the state of affairs across Europe. President Carnot of France had been assassinated four years ago. Last year it had been Prime Minister Cánovas del Castillo in Spain, where the violence had reached new abominations.

“She is bringing half a dozen or so of her…acolytes,” Sir Walter went on, as if he had not noticed Pitt’s absence of attention.

“God only knows what sort of people they are, but we don’t want any of them killed on our soil. I’m sure you understand the embarrassment that would be to Her Majesty’s Government. Especially in light of our history with Spain. We don’t want to give them any excuses for war with us as well.” He looked at Pitt carefully, as if possibly he had overestimated him and would be obliged to reconsider his opinion.

“Yes, sir,” Pitt replied. “Of course I understand. Is it even remotely likely that she would be attacked here?” He asked the question not in a spirit of incredulity, but hoping for some assurance that it was not so.

Sir Walter’s expression eased a little, the deep lines about his mouth less severe. “Probably not,” he replied with the ghost of a smile. “But apparently this woman’s English family do not approve of her at all. She left in the first place over some quarrel of principle, so I hear. Families can be the devil!” There was some sympathy in his voice.

Pitt made a last effort to avoid the task. “I would point out that domestic violence is also police work, sir, not Special Branch’s. We have a big case of industrial sabotage at the moment that looks as if it is foreign inspired. It’s getting worse and has to be stopped.”

Sir Walter’s eyes were bright and sharp. “I am well aware of Special Branch’s concerns. I will remind you that it is the effect on the nation that determines whose problem it is, Pitt, and you know that as well as I do. If you didn’t, believe me, you would not be long in your position.”

Pitt cleared his throat, and spoke quietly.

“Do we know the nature of this quarrel within the woman’s family, sir?”

Sir Walter gave a slight shrug. If he noticed the change in Pitt’s tone, he was sophisticated enough not to show it.

“The usual sort of thing with willful daughters, I believe,” he replied, the smile back on his face. “She declined to marry the young man of excellent breeding and fortune, and tedious habits, whom they had selected for her.”

Pitt remembered that Sir Walter had three daughters.

“And ran off to Spain and married some Spanish man of unknown character and probably unknown ancestry, at least to Sofia’s parents,” Sir Walter added. “I imagine it was embarrassing to them.”

“How long ago was this?” Pitt asked, keeping his face as expressionless as he could. His own daughter, Jemima, was fast approaching marriageable age. He didn’t like to think about it.

“Oh, it has been some time,” Sir Walter replied ruefully. “I think it is her religious views that have now compounded the problem. It wouldn’t matter so much if she kept them to herself. But she has formed something of a sect. Has her acolytes, as I mentioned.”

“Roman Catholic?” Pitt imagined a cult to do with the Virgin Mary, perhaps, causing old persecutions to be remembered.

“Apparently not.” Sir Walter lifted one elegant shoulder. “It hardly matters. Just see that no one attacks her while she is in England. The sooner she leaves the better, but alive and well, if you please.”