“It’s sunny, isn’t it? Go and fetch a woolly if you’re not up to braving the elements. I’ve decided I’m not going to waste another day of my life. There may not be much of it left, professionally speaking. I’ve got two weeks leave while they decide what to do with me, the bluebells are thick on the ground-my favourite flowers-and just breathe in that wild garlic! I’m enjoying every moment of it. I’m anticipating summer.”
Joe settled down on the hammock and patted the space by his side. “Come on. Jump up. You can do it.”
Dorcas looked at him doubtfully. “You never used to let me sit with you.”
“You’re much bigger now. The balance will be better.”
Dorcas settled herself awkwardly into the space he’d left.
“I thought you’d be needing a bit of company,” she said. “I was watching your face when you said good-bye to Jackie after lunch. You looked like a father waving his oldest son off to school for the first time. You know, the tears bouncing off the stiff upper lip. You got fond of him, I think. Well, we all did. I know how you must feel. I’ve lost people.”
“More than your fair share, Dorcas.” Joe smiled. “But then, you’ve found some too. And, speaking of your latest acquisition, was that your Truelove on the phone just now? That’s the third time today.”
“Not funny, Joe. And it was the second. James is not ‘my true-love,’ so you can forget the nasty jibes. Married man, as you know.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Since when was that an obstacle to skulduggery? I’ve decided to speak to Orlando. It’s time your father told him he was aware of nefarious intentions towards his daughter and warned him off.”
Dorcas groaned. “Not horsewhips and club steps?”
“Yes. And I shall hold his coat while he does it.”
“And a very silly pair you’d look.”
Dorcas wriggled and hitched herself closer. In a voice that was almost a whisper, she asked: “Would you really like to know how things are between me and James? You’re never going to ask me, are you?”
Joe shook his head.
“He’s attractive, friendly, funny, and he likes female companionship. He likes me. He wants to take things further. I’m considering it.”
“That all?”
“All I’m prepared to say to you.”
“And is that what he had to say just now? I wondered what had put that secret smile on your face.”
“No. James had some good news he wanted me to pass on to you. He’s been given a new department.”
“I think I can guess which.”
“Education. With Aidan Anderson under investigation, not to say a threat of imprisonment, James is taking over. Since you stormed into London, flinging accusations and handcuffs about and generally tearing down the pillars of the Temple, there have been resignations and reshuffling in several departments of state. Starting, of course, with the spider at the centre of the lethal network: Aidan Anderson, alumnus of St. Magnus, member of the Eugenic Society and minister in the Education Department.”
“I was pleased to corner him and rip his mask off. And I don’t regret it, whatever happens. Dorcas, there was no family resemblance, was there? I didn’t miss that, did I? Between the minister and his cousin? Our first lost boy, the study in sepia?”
“No. I couldn’t see one either. As boys, they must have known each other, Joe. They were at St. Magnus at exactly the same time: between 1895 and 1900. But there were no features in the photograph you could possibly have identified.”
“But Aidan thrived and went on to Oxford and a political career. Arthur sickened and sank under a debilitating nervous illness. Precisely what we’ll never know. Was it unintentional, that first disappearance? It could have been, you know. Or was the child put down? Whichever one, the idea of a convenient disappearance with the blessing of a eugenist philosophy was planted, one must assume, by that occurrence. And the notion of a cull in the name of eugenics passed on down the generations.”
“Well, Aidan now finds himself culled. James has been given his department, and he’s incorporating Reform into it, so I suppose he’s doubled his empire. Well, he deserves it. He’s kind and clever. I told you so.”
“It rather depends on who he’s trying to make up to at the time. If you were to ask his brother-in-law Bentink’s opinion on Sir James, the response would be unrepeatable. It might include the words ‘traitor,’ ‘conspirator,’ ‘bolshy police-poodle,’ ‘marriage-wrecker’.…”
“The first three, fair enough. But James wasn’t to know that his sister would begin divorce proceedings.”
“And leave her husband in the lurch? She made her mind up pretty quickly to stay in London when he slipped bail and headed for the continent. Don’t imagine I’m unaware that strings were pulled and officials looked the other way. I’m quite certain you were in there from the beginning, aiding and abetting, if the truth were known.”
“Does it matter? Bentink’s out of the country and can do no more harm.”
“Rubbish! I can’t imagine what evil the man’s perpetrating in the name of science over there where his views and methods are supported and encouraged.”
Dorcas was squirming with excitement. “I can! James told me just now. It’s why his sister decided to pull the plugs on the beast.”
“I’ll try not to glaze over while you tell me. But I don’t expect I shall understand a word.”
“Oh, you will! You of all people,” she said. Then added quickly: “The word is a made-up one. Bits of Greek. You’ll work out the subject of his new scientific enthusiasm when you hear it. It’s … um.…” She took a run at it: “… eutelegenesis. You won’t find it in a dictionary. Or even in a scientific paper yet. It’s one of those fashionable words scientists murmur to each other.”
“Not another eu word! Lord! This one sounds even more dastardly than the rest. Let me think. Tele-that’s ‘at a distance,’ as in ‘telephone,’ so we’ve got ‘good breeding at a distance.’ Sounds like something a stockbreeder might have need of. I mean transporting bull’s-er-essence, in a glass jar a hundred miles to a suitable recipient. No! Dorcas! Tell me I’ve misunderstood.”
“You probably haven’t. ‘Artificial insemination,’ an animal breeder would have called it when it was invented in seventeen hundred and something. Some wise men are beginning to say: We can breed the very best in plants and animals-why do we ignore the needs of humanity? The brightest and best of our men are not remarkable for their fecundity. Bentink actually calculated that fewer than a hundred babies are being born to men of calibre in this country every year. I do wonder what sources he used! He estimates that, given the right number of women prepared to oblige-and Joe, they are coming forwards! — he could increase this tenfold. Already there are five hundred on the waiting list in England and two thousand in the United States. In three or four generations we would be looking at a race of supermen. They say.”
“My God! I’ve never heard such tripe! Who are these silly women? What do they think’s on offer? They’d sign up for a Rupert Brooke or a Douglas Fairbanks, and that’s understandable, but when I look around at our brightest and best brains, what do I see? I see the ugly bodies, the unattractive features that seem to be part of Mother Nature’s sly deal. To use Bentink’s own words: ‘You wouldn’t want to breed from them.’ Anyway, what man would be so arrogant as to volunteer his seed anyway?”
Dorcas snorted. “Well, Bentink for a start! It was at this revelation that the relationship with Mrs. Bentink began to curdle. Imagine-walking in the park and seeing dozens of baby Bentinks out in their prams!”
“No bonnet big enough!”
“James says his sister was only too glad when he ducked off to Germany, where they take him seriously. Well worth the loss of the bail money.”
“No waterworks over there, I expect.” Joe sighed. “You know, I’d give a lot to hear Francis Crabbe’s views on-what was it? No, I won’t say the misbegotten word, and I hope never to hear it again. Though perhaps I might share the thought with Francis next time I visit. Just the sort of nonsense he’ll appreciate.”