The Parliament House

    'I encouraged his interest,' said Brilliana, 'so that he would feel obligated to me. When I have a more secure hold on him, I'll ask Henry to introduce you to people who can assist your own political career. In due course, he will also present you at court. Would you not like to rub shoulders with the King?'

    'Who needs a king when I live with a queen?' he said, gallantly.

    'A pretty compliment but it evades my question.'

    Serle was more forceful. 'Then my answer is this: yes, I would like to enter parliament. Yes, I do want to have my say in the government of the country. And yes, moving in court circles would be - if you'll forgive a crude pun - the crowning achievement. However,' he went on, seriously, 'I'd like to do it by my own efforts, Brilliana, and not be beholden to a man who nurses improper thoughts about my wife.'

    'Henry does not have improper thoughts.'

    'Judging by those paintings, he never has any other kind.'

    'His father is the dean of Gloucester Cathedral.'

    'I discerned no ecclesiastical leanings in his elder son.'

    'Lancelot,' she said, stamping a foot, 'I cannot help you if you will not be helped. Knowing the right people is everything.'

    'My suspicion is that Henry Redmayne knows all the wrong ones.'

    Brilliana gasped. 'What has possessed you?'

    'I'm sorry, my dear. I know that you mean well but I think that there are other ways to fulfil my ambitions. Dangling the person I love as tempting bait in front of another man is not one of them, especially when the man in question is Mr Henry Redmayne.'

    She stared at him with a mixture of annoyance and admiration, piqued that he should deny her a role in his political advancement yet stirred by the boldness with which he had spoken. Brilliana did not know how to respond. The need to do so was removed by the arrival of Susan.

    'Ah, there you are,' she said. 'Am I interrupting anything?'

    'Yes,' replied Serle.

    'No,' overruled his wife, putting a hand on his knee. 'Lancelot and I were engaged in idle gossip, nothing more. Do join us, Susan.' Her sister held her straw hat as she ducked under the arbour. 'You look as if you've brought news.'

    'I have,' said Susan, taking a seat beside her. 'A message has come from Father. He's called on Mrs Kitson again.'

    'I thought that he went straight to the Parliament House.'

    'He could not resist going to Covent Garden first, even though it took him right out of his way. His message is simple. We are to expect Mrs Kitson this evening.'

    'Splendid!' said Brilliana, clapping her hands.

    'And it seems that her brother will be coming as well.'

    'Her brother?'

    'Mr Golland. He's a justice of the peace.'

    'I've always wanted to sit on the bench,' said Serle, alerted by the news. 'I look forward to meeting him.'

    'We must not let Father down,' warned Brilliana. 'We must be on our best behaviour. Her brother as well, you say? It sounds as if it will be quite a party. Listen, Susan,' she said, artlessly, 'perhaps you should invite Christopher to join us.'

    'I think not,' said Susan, 'this is a family affair.'

    'Well, he is practically one of the family.'

    'Not yet, Brilliana.'

    'But he's such a presentable young man and would add some interest for Mrs Kitson. And I have an even better idea,' she continued. 'Since we are enlarging our number, why not add one more and include Christopher's brother as well? I should like to meet Henry again.'

    Henry Redmayne could not get her out of his mind. Though he appeared to be working at the Navy Office that morning, his thoughts were with Brilliana Serle and that bewitching smile she had given him as they parted. She had come into his life at an opportune moment. Spurned by one wife, he had met the ideal replacement. She was womanhood in all its glory and he coveted her madly. There was the small problem of her husband but Henry had had great experience in circumventing spouses. No obstacle would be allowed to stand in the way that led to paradise.

    Bent over his desk, he was lost in contemplation of Brilliana Serle when a voice broke into his reverie. Henry looked up at Maurice Farwell.

    'Mr Farwell,' he said, leaping obediently to his feet. 'Good day to you, sir. This is an unexpected pleasure. It's not often that you stray this far from parliament.'

    'I've come for ammunition, Mr Redmayne.'

    'We do not keep any cannonballs here.'

    'I know,' said Farwell with a quiet smile. 'That's not the kind of ammunition I had in mind. We are to debate naval procurements this afternoon, and I need to have the relevant details at my fingertips. I'm told that you could provide them.'

    'Why, yes,' said Henry, burrowing among the papers that littered his desk. 'I have everything you need here. You've been such a friend to us in the past that you can always count on our help.' His hand closed on some documents. 'This is what you require, I believe.'

    Farwell took the documents. 'Thank you,' he said, perusing them.

    'You may borrow them, if you wish.'

    'There's no need, Mr Redmayne. I have an excellent memory and it always impresses the house if one can speak without notes. Yes,' he went on, nodding in appreciation as he read on. 'These facts and figures are quite unanswerable.' He turned to the second page and scanned it with a sharp eye. When he had read the last page, he was content. 'With these at my disposal, I'll be able to bring Sir Julius crashing down.'

    'Sir Julius Cheever?'

    'That's the fellow - though I fancy that he prefers to see himself as another Julius Caesar. He's a stubborn Roundhead yet he has strangely imperial ambitions.' Farwell gave the documents back to him. 'Someone should remind him what happened to Caesar.'

    'Do you see much of Sir Julius in parliament?'

    'Far too much. I do not mind lively debate - it's the essence of our democracy - but I do draw the line at personal invective. Respect for one's political opponents is important, I feel. When the business of the day is done, we should be able to shake hands and act as gentlemen.'

    'I cannot imagine Sir Julius shaking hands with a government minister,' said Henry. 'He would sooner amputate his whole arm.'

    'It makes for so much unnecessary hostility.'

    Henry did not know him well but he had followed Farwell's career with interest. The man's rise had been swift and sure. Unlike most successful politicians, he seemed to have held himself aloof from the cabals and conspiracies that animated the Parliament House. Maurice Farwell was above such things. Henry had never once heard his name connected with skullduggery or corruption.

    'In some ways,' admitted Farwell, 'I admire him. We need men of Sir Julius's calibre. He has a simple integrity that shines like a candle in the darkness. But he does not, alas, treat us with any regard,' he said. 'Full- throated abuse is all that we hear. And there is such a ring of defiance about him. He still seems to think that the Lord Protector will walk into the chamber at any moment.'

    'Cromwell is dead - thank goodness! Those dark days are over.'

    'You would not think so to listen to Sir Julius.'

    'He has supporters, I hear.'

    'A ragbag of hangers-on. Nobody of any standing follows him. Though he could have counted on Bernard Everett,' he conceded. 'Now, he would have been a much more formidable opponent. His death was untimely. By repute, he was a master of debate. I would have enjoyed locking horns with Mr Everett.'

    'My brother is involved in the pursuit of his killer.'