The next one was in a similar tone; it was from Thorold Dismore, the newspaper proprietor. It too was largely in admiration for Fetters’s work, and requested that he write a further series of articles. It was very recently dated, so presumably the articles were yet to be written. There was a rough draft of Fetters’s acceptance. There was no way of telling whether the final had been sent or not.
Juno held out a letter from the pile she had taken, her eyes filled with distress. It was from Adinett. Charlotte read:
My dear Martin,
What a marvelous piece you have written. I cannot praise you enough for the passion you display. It would be a man devoid of all that distinguishes the civilized from the barbaric who would not be fired by what you have said, and determined at all costs to spend all his strength and his substance in creating a better world.
I have shown it to various people, whom I will not name, for reasons you will know, and they are as profound in their admiration as I am.
I feel there is real hope. It is no longer a time merely of dreams.
I shall see you on Saturday.
John
Charlotte looked up.
Juno stared at her, her eyes wide and hurt. Then she passed over a sheaf of notes for further articles.
Charlotte read them with growing misgiving, then alarm. The mention of reform became more and more specific. The Roman revolution of ‘48 was referred to with passionate praise. The ancient Roman Republic was held as an ideal and kings as the pattern of tyranny. The invitation to a modern republic, after the overthrow of the monarchy, was unmistakable.
There were oblique references to a secret society whose members were dedicated to the continuation of the royal house in its power and wealth, by any means at all, and the implication was there that even the shedding of blood was not beyond them if the threat was serious enough.
Charlotte put down the final sheet and looked across at Juno, who sat white-faced, her shoulders slumped.
“Is that possible?” Juno asked hoarsely. “Do you think they really planned a republic here in England?”
“Yes…” It seemed a brutal answer, but a denial would have been a lie neither of them could have believed.
Juno sat quite still, leaning a little on the desk, as if she needed its strength to support her. “After… after the Queen dies?”
“Perhaps.”
Juno shook her head. “That’s too soon. It could be any day. She’s into her seventies. What about the Prince of Wales? What are they going to do about him?”
“There’s nothing said here,” Charlotte answered very quietly. “I think they would be too careful to commit that to writing, if there is a plan, not just dreaming. Especially if there is a secret society, as they say.”
“I understand reform.” Juno searched for words. “I want it too. There’s terrible poverty and injustice. Funny how they don’t mention women.” She tried to smile, but it was too difficult. “They don’t say anything about us having more rights or more voice in decisions, even for our own children.” She shook her head, her lips quivering. “But I don’t want this!” She gestured with one hand as if to push it away. “I know Martin admired republics, their ideals, their equality, but I never had the slightest idea he wanted one for us! I don’t… I don’t want so much change.” She gulped. “Not so violently. I like too much of what we have. It is who we are… who we have always been.” She looked at Charlotte pleadingly, willing her to understand.
“But we are the fortunate ones,” Charlotte pointed out. “And we are a very small minority.”
“Is that why he was killed?” Juno asked the question that hung between them. “Adinett was actually a member of this other society, the secret one, and he murdered Martin because of this… plan for a republic?”
“It would explain why he said nothing, even in his own defense.” Charlotte ’s mind was racing. Was the Inner Circle monarchist? Was that what it was about, and Adinett had discovered what his friend planned, that his idealism was not merely about the glories of the past or the tragedies of ‘48, but meant something urgent and immediate for the future?
Even if it were true, how could that help Thomas?
Juno was still sitting and staring across the room. Something inside her had crumbled. The man she had loved for so many years had suddenly moved, revealing another dimension which altered everything that was already perceived, making it radically different, dangerous… perhaps irredeemably ugly.
Charlotte was sorry, desperately sorry, and she wanted to say so, but that would be condescending, as if she had uncovered this situation alone, relegating Juno to a spectator, a sufferer, not a protagonist.
“Do you have a safe?” she said aloud.
“Do you think there’s more in it?” Juno asked miserably.
“I don’t know, but I think you should keep these letters and papers there, since this drawer won’t lock anymore. You shouldn’t destroy them yet, because we are only guessing what they mean. We may be wrong.”
There was no light in Juno’s eyes. “You don’t believe that, and neither do I. Martin cared intensely about reform. Even now I can look back and remember things he said about republics as opposed to monarchies. I’ve heard him criticize the Prince of Wales and the Queen. He said that if the Queen had been answerable to the people of Britain, like any other holder of office, she would have been dismissed years ago. Who else can afford to abandon their job because they lost a husband or wife?”
“No one,” Charlotte agreed. “And there are plenty of other people who say the same. I think I do myself. That doesn’t mean I would rather have a republic… or even if I would, that I would do anything to make that happen.”
Juno gathered the papers together, frowning slightly. “There’s no proof in these,” she said quietly, as if the words hurt her and she had to force them out.
Charlotte waited, uncertain, her mind fumbling towards the next conclusion. Before she reached it Juno spoke.
“There are other papers somewhere, ones that are more specific. I have to find them. I have to know what he meant to do… as if it were only what he wished for.”
Charlotte felt the tightness inside her. “Are you sure?”
“Wouldn’t you have to know?” Juno asked.
“Yes… I… I think so. But I meant are you sure there is anything more to find?”
“Oh, yes.” There was no doubt in Juno’s voice. “These are only bits of something, notes. I may be entirely wrong about what Martin was working on, but I know the way he worked. He was meticulous. He never trusted solely to memory.”
“Where would it be?”
“I don’t-”
They were interrupted by the maid, who had come to say that Mr. Reginald Cleave had called, and begged her pardon for the inconvenience of the hour, but he would very much like to see her, and commitments he could not escape made the traditional time impossible for him.
Juno looked startled. She turned to Charlotte.
“I’ll wait wherever you wish,” Charlotte said quickly.
Juno swallowed. “I will receive him in the withdrawing room,” she told the maid. “Give me five minutes, then show him in.” As soon as the maid had gone she turned to Charlotte. “What on earth can he want? He defended Adinett!”
“You don’t have to see him.” Charlotte spoke out of compassion, but she knew it was the refusal of an opportunity to learn more. Juno was exhausted, frightened of what she might discover, and profoundly alone. “I’ll go and tell him you are unwell if you wish.”
“No… no. But I should be grateful if you would remain with me. I think that would be quite seemly, don’t you?”
Charlotte smiled. “Of course.”
