“You gave him something to think about perhaps,” said Peterkin.
“The trouble with people like him,” said Frances, “is that they are not given to thinking. Their minds run in channels laid out for them. It saves a lot of energy to follow the set rules. Happily his opinions are of no importance to us. Joe, you’ll see a lot of difference in the houses since you were last here. We’ve extended, started new projects. We’ve had luck.”
“Thanks,” said Joe rather bitterly, “to your generous father-in-law.”
Frances looked steadily at her brother. She knew that he hated my Uncle Peter and that he could not forgive him for ruining his father; but she, in her calm commonsensical manner, wanted old hatchets buried. She took the long view. Whatever had happened had brought great prosperity to her world and she had to welcome that. She was doing more good, she reckoned, than any commission for the suppression of vice could have done. Frances believed in action, not talk.
But she was fond of her brother and she did not want to spoil his visits by getting involved in arguments about which they could not agree.
She changed the subject.
“Annora has been working hard since she came here. I was going to suggest she take a day off. Why don’t you two take a trip up the river? There’s a lovely old-fashioned little inn I’ve heard a good deal about. They serve whitebait. It really is good, I’m told. I imagine you two have a lot to talk about.”
Joe was looking at me expectantly.
I said: “I should like that.”
He smiled. “Then let’s do it.”
Frances seemed satisfied. She then went on to talk about an extension to the kitchen which she was planning.
It was pleasant on the river. We rowed down towards Richmond and found the inn near the grassy bank just past Kew. It was called the Sailor’s Rest. It looked charming. There was a garden in front facing the river; tables and chairs were set out.
Joe tied up the boat and we went ashore.
Over the food, which was served by a maid in a mopcap and a Regency-style dress, I asked Joe questions about what he was doing. He was living in the North with his parents, he told me. His father owned a cotton mill up there and that was their main interest now.
“You are finding it satisfying?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s quite absorbing … in a way. I’m learning a lot about cotton and trade is good. It has increased tremendously in the last years. Hargreaves’ spinning jenny and Crompton’s mule have speeded up production and kept prices down. We export a great deal to Europe. Oh yes, it is interesting, but …”
“I know, Joe, what you really wanted was to go into politics.”
He was silent. Then he said: “It’s the reason why I don’t come to London very much. Every time I pass the Houses of Parliament I feel a terrible longing …”
“Why don’t you try to get in?”
He looked at me in amazement. “How could I … now?”
“That is all in the past.”
He shook his head. “As soon as one of us came into prominence it would all be remembered. Annora, I cannot understand Frances taking his money.”
“Frances has a very good reason, and she makes the best possible use of it.”
“To take money from the man who ruined our father!”
“I wish you could talk to Uncle Peter. I wish you knew him.”
“I’d rather know the devil.”
“Joe, you have to try to look at this coldly, calmly, without bias. You have to try to understand.”
“I understand perfectly. There was an important post almost certainly about to be bestowed on my father—a chance to do good, to wipe the town free of vice. Your uncle looked on it as a stepping-stone to his ambitions. Moreover he himself was trading in vice. How ironical it would have been to have had him on the Commission! But as I say, he saw it as a stepping-stone to his ambitions. And trying to get it … he destroyed my father.”
“And you tried to destroy him. But it seems he was indestructible.”
“I cannot understand you, Annora. I think you are on his side.”
“No. That’s not true.”
“And Frances … there she is taking his money and saying, Thank you very much, dear Papa-in-law. I can’t understand my sister.”
“I can. She takes it because she can make good use of it. And what is she doing with it but bringing help to those who so sorely need it? If she did not take it, think of how those people would suffer. She is saving lives, Joe.”
“It is a question of morality.”
“What is morality? Uncle Peter takes from those people who spend their money in an immoral way, you would say. But suppose they did not spend this money, it would not be going into the Mission. It might be spent on fine clothes, houses, horses. It’s a difficult question to answer, and I think Frances and Peterkin are right to take the money. In fact I think they are wonderful people.”
“That money is given by your uncle, not because he wants to do good but because he wishes to be seen as a philanthropist, whose good works will wash away his past.”
“That is true. Oh, Joe, we’ll never agree about this. But … why don’t you try to get into Parliament?”
“And face all that scandal being revived?”
“If it were … by your opponents … it would only be for a short while. After all, it was not even you who were involved. At least, that is what people would think.”
“I see that your uncle is setting up Helena’s husband now. I suppose he will decide which way the young man is to vote.”
“I think Matthew will judge for himself. Uncle Peter spoke for him during the election. Everyone knows he was supporting his son-in-law. That did not spoil Matthew’s chances. So why should what happened to your father spoil yours?”
“I couldn’t risk it.”
“If you don’t take risks now and then you can’t hope to succeed.”
“Annora, I want to be there. It’s the life I want. I know I could do it. I could have got in at the last election.”
“You should have tried.”
“I couldn’t face it. All that stuff in the papers. I was afraid it would be revived. I shall never forget it.”
“It’s past.”
“And you and I,” he went on. “We were getting on very well, weren’t we? And that stopped it. That day you saw me in that room …”
“I know.”
“You seemed to despise me.”
“No. Joe. I understood.”
“It was for my father.”
“You didn’t do him any good by your attempt to ruin Uncle Peter.”
“And I lost your friendship, I know. You were different afterwards. You couldn’t forgive me for using you to get into the house. I was desperate. If it had been your father, wouldn’t you?”
I thought of the accusation that woman had made against my father. Yes, I would do a great deal to prove her wrong … not only for the sake of Cador, but for my father’s memory.
I said: “I understand how you felt about your father.”
“He is a good man, a man of high morality. Think of that sleazy scandal involving such a man. Think of my mother, the family. I could have killed him when I knew he had set it all up.”
“He is ruthless. He brushed people aside to get what he wants. But that is not all of him. People are strange. They are not all bad … not all good.”
“I think any goodness he may have is lost beneath the weight of evil.”