same, and the unshifting belief.”
“Is he coming alone?” Pitt enquired.
“No, he is bringing his sister, Miss Kezia Moynihan.”
“So possibly she is of the same persuasion?”
“Very much so. I have never met her, but I am told, by men whose opinions I trust, that she is a very competent politician, in her own way. Had she been a man, she might have served her people most effectively. As it is, it is unfortunate she is not married, or she might be the intelligence behind some useful man. But she is close to her brother, and might well be a practical influence on him.”
“Hopeful,” Cornwallis observed, but his voice had no lift to it, and his face, with its long nose and wide mouth, held little light. He was a man of average height, of slender build but with broad, square shoulders. He was prematurely completely bald, but it suited him so naturally one realized it only with surprise.
Greville did not reply.
“The last representative is Carson O’Day,” he finished. “He is from a very distinguished Protestant landowning family and probably the most liberal and reasonable of them all. I think if Padraig Doyle and O’Day can reach some compromise, the others may be able to be persuaded at least to listen.”
“Four men and two women, apart from yourself and Mrs. Greville and Mr. and Mrs. Radley,” Pitt said thoughtfully.
“And yourself and your wife, Mr. Pitt,” Greville added. Of course Charlotte would go. There could never have been any question about it. Still, Pitt felt a lightning bolt of alarm at the thought of what danger, or sheer chaos, Charlotte could get herself into. The trouble she might cause with Emily to assist her brought a word of protest to his lips.
“And of course everyone’s servants,” Greville went on inexorably, ignoring him. “I imagine each person will bring at least one indoor servant—possibly more—and a coachman, groom or footman.”
Pitt could see it assuming nightmare proportions.
“That would be a small army!” he exclaimed. “You will have to make arrangements for them to come by train, and have them met by Mr. Radley’s carriage at the station. A valet for each man and a maid for each woman will be the maximum we can watch or protect.”
Greville hesitated, but the reasoning was overwhelming.
“Very well. I will arrange it. But you will come, with your own ‘valet’?”
There was no point in hesitation. He had no choice.
“Yes, Mr. Greville. But if I am to be of any service to you, I must ask you to take any advice I may give you regarding your safety.”
Greville smiled, a trifle tight-lipped.
“Within the bounds of fulfilling my duty, Mr. Pitt. I could remain at home with a constable at my entrance and be perfectly safe, and accomplish nothing at all. I shall weigh the danger against the advantage, and act accordingly.”
“You mentioned an attempt on your life, sir,” Pitt said quickly, seeing Greville about to rise. “What happened?”
“I was driving from my home to the railway station,” Greville recounted, keeping his voice deliberately very level, as though the matter were of no more than casual importance. “The road was through open countryside for the first mile, then a wooded stretch of about two miles before another similar distance through farmland to the village. It was during the drive where the road is concealed by trees that another very much heavier coach came out of a side turning and drew behind me at close to a gallop. I told my coachman to hasten to a place where he could get off the road safely to let it pass, but it quite quickly became apparent that the other driver had no intention of slowing down, let alone remaining behind me.”
Pitt noticed that Greville was sitting more rigidly as he recalled the event. In spite of his effort at calm, his shoulders had stiffened and his hand was no longer at ease on his knee. Pitt remembered the body of Denbigh in the London alley, and knew Greville had every cause to be afraid.
“My driver had moved to the left of the road,” Greville went on, “at some danger, since it was heavily rutted from recent bad weather, and reined in the horses to little more than a walk. However, the other vehicle came by still at a hectic pace, but instead of swerving to avoid us and swinging wide, the driver quite deliberately steered so that he crashed into the side of us and all but tipped us over. We broke a wheel, and one of the horses was injured, fortunately not critically. A neighbor passed by a few moments afterwards and took me to the village, while my coachman cared for the injured animal and I sent assistance back to him.”
He swallowed with slight difficulty, as if his mouth were dry.
“But had no other vehicle chanced to pass that way at that precise time, I do not know what would have happened. The other coach simply kept going, increasing speed again and disappearing.”
“Did you discover who they were?” Pitt asked.
“No,” Greville said flatly, a frown between his brows. “I had enquiries made, naturally, but no one else saw the men. They did not go on to the village. They must have turned off somewhere within the wood. I saw the driver’s face as he passed. He turned towards me. He had his animals under perfect control. He intended to push us off the road. I shall not forget the look in his eyes easily.”
“And no one else saw this coach before or afterwards, to assist in identifying it?” Pitt pressed, although he had no hope it would be of use. It was simply a matter of showing Greville he took him seriously. “It was not hired from a local stable, or even stolen from someone nearby, a farm or a large house?”
“No,” Greville answered. “We were unable to learn anything of use. Tinkers and traders of one sort or another come and go along the roads. One coach without a coat of arms looks much like another.”
“Would not a tinker or trader have a cart?” Pitt asked.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
