Andrew Pepper - The Revenge of Captain Paine

Pyke could see where Gore intended to go with this and wondered whether Emily would be able to stand her ground.

‘Properly funded by the state, I don’t believe they would bring harm to the nation, if that’s what you mean.’

‘So you believe they should be paid for out of general taxation?’

Emily nodded, and glanced across at Pyke.

‘Then what should the exchequer sacrifice in order that we should be able to pay for the railways? Or perhaps taxes should be raised for everyone?’

‘If the well-off paid more, would that be such a terrible thing?’

Gore shrugged. ‘Did you know that more than twenty million pounds has already been invested in the construction of a railway network in this country? That figure would represent almost a quarter of our government’s total yearly expenditure. Think of the cuts that would have to be made elsewhere to come up with that sum. I don’t believe the state can afford to pay for the railways. Which leaves us with a dilemma, because unless we can persuade private individuals to dip into their own pockets, then it stands to reason that we won’t have a railway. And to do this requires a system of inducements. To put it bluntly, my dear, without the risk-and-reward model Eddy mentioned a few moments ago, nothing at all would get built or manufactured. And we, as a country, would quickly return to the Stone Age.’

‘But you’re assuming, are you not, that railways, or anything else for that matter, are given life to by capital, when in fact these things, in reality, are created by the hands of men and women.’

It was an admirable response and one that left Gore struggling for something more to say. In the end, he started to laugh, a great, booming laugh that carried across the room, and said, ‘My God, you’re a formidable woman. Formidable. You’ve more than met your match here I’d wager,’ he added, looking at Pyke. When no one rushed in to say anything, he continued, ‘But isn’t this exactly what makes this country so great? That we can freely and without fear of repercussion air our differences?’

‘You believe we should be able to say what we like about whoever we like?’ Pyke asked.

‘Within reason. I mean, if someone deliberately set out to cause offence to someone else, that person’s rights would have to be protected too.’

‘Perhaps you’ve heard of my uncle, the publisher Godfrey Bond?’

Gore scratched his chin and thought for a moment. ‘I don’t believe I have. What kind of things does he publish?’

‘A scandal sheet and an unstamped newspaper. He’s currently being hounded by the law because, and I’m guessing here, he poses a threat to the reputations of the upper classes.’

‘Ah.’ Gore’s eyes narrowed slightly. He glanced across at Morris and wetted his lips.

‘Not the kind of free speech you’d be comfortable defending?’

That appeared to offend Gore. ‘You jump to the wrong conclusion, sir. I wouldn’t rush to celebrate such low publications, but I would always defend their right to exist in the first place.’

‘And a worker’s right to form a union and take oaths of allegiance to that union?’ Emily asked quickly.

That brought a lid down on the conversation and, for a short while, no one seemed to know what to say.

‘Tea, anyone?’ Morris interrupted.

‘That would be splendid,’ Gore said, evidently relieved that someone had changed the subject.

‘And I was going to say,’ Morris added, while he poured out the tea, ‘I’m hosting a charity ball at the Colosseum in Regent’s Park in honour of Marguerite’s birthday tomorrow evening. I know it’s short notice, but I’d love it if all of you could be there to celebrate with us.’

He looked at Pyke and Gore but it was Emily who answered him first. ‘I’m afraid I’ll be away from the capital.’ She hesitated and looked at Gore. ‘There’s an event I have to attend in Birmingham.’

Gore remained silent but Morris piped up, ‘Really, my dear? What kind of event?’

‘To speak at a meeting organised by the GNCTU.’

‘Eh?’ Morris handed her a cup of tea, not having really heard what she’d said.

‘The Grand National Consolidated Trades Union of Great Britain and Ireland.’

‘You actually speak at such events?’ Gore asked, apparently surprised, a note of caution in his tone.

‘I heard her address a similar meeting in the East End,’ Pyke said. ‘She had the men cheering on their feet.’ Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emily blush with gratitude and felt his pride swell further. A pulse of desire rose within him and he fought to keep his expression neutral.

‘And the men don’t mind, being addressed by a…?’

‘A woman?’ Emily offered. ‘The daughter of an aristocrat? ’

Gore smiled at her remark and asked them all to excuse him for a few moments, while he visited the necessary house.

They talked about inconsequential matters while they took their tea, but when after a further ten minutes there was still no sign of Marguerite, Jo and Felix, Emily proposed that, since it was nearing Felix’s bedtime and it would take them a good half-hour to ride back to Hambledon, someone should perhaps go and find them. She volunteered herself but Morris wouldn’t hear of it and assured her he would retrieve them at once. But when he returned five minutes later, a look of unease on his face, saying that he hadn’t managed to locate them as yet, Pyke and Emily exchanged a worried glance, Pyke saying he would look for them outside, Emily that she would join Morris in searching for them inside the house. For his part, Morris seemed embarrassed more than worried, that Marguerite had disappeared for such a long time, and taken two of their guests. As he put on his coat and headed into the garden, Pyke thought about the scene he’d witnessed a few weeks earlier, the burial, and wondered again just how stable Marguerite was. But he didn’t believe, for a moment, that she would try to harm their son.

He didn’t find them in the garden, though, and didn’t think Marguerite would have taken them farther afield into the estate. Not with Jo there, too. Jo knew that Felix wasn’t dressed for such a venture.

Back in the house, Pyke traced his path to the drawing room, where a now clearly agitated Emily was pacing up and down while Morris and Gore tried to reassure her that the women and the boy would appear from some ‘nook’ or ‘cranny’ at any minute.

‘No sign of them?’ he asked.

Emily shook her head. ‘Nor in the garden?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘They will be here somewhere,’ Morris said, sounding simultaneously angry and embarrassed.

‘Where could they be?’ Emily stared at Pyke. ‘They’ve been gone for almost an hour now, haven’t they? And Felix has only just recovered from a dreadful cold. If she’s taken him outside…’ She paused and added, ‘Why would a complete stranger insist on throwing herself at our child?’

‘She isn’t a complete stranger,’ Pyke replied, trying not to show his concern. ‘And remember Jo is with them.’

‘I’m sure my wife hasn’t thrown herself at your lad,’ Morris said, sounding a little hurt. ‘And, to be quite frank, he would be perfectly safe whether your nursemaid was with them or not.’

‘If they’re not in the house,’ Emily said, ignoring Morris’s intervention, ‘and not in the garden either, then where are they?’

Morris didn’t know what to say and muttered something under his breath.

Gore heard something first and sprang up from his armchair. ‘There; that’ll be them.’ He sounded as relieved as any of them.

They looked around and from a door at the other end of the room Felix appeared, closely followed by Marguerite and finally Jo, who immediately gave Emily an awkward, apologetic look. Felix ran across the room to greet Emily, who lifted him up into her arms, Felix explaining that Marguerite had taken them up to the attic, where there were all these toys and games. Pyke exchanged a brief look with Marguerite, who seemed, as far as Pyke could tell, almost pleased by the worry she’d caused. Morris shot her the dirtiest of looks and once again apologised for delaying their departure. The carriage was waiting for them at the front, he assured them, and it was ready to leave as soon as they were.