Sangria 10, Prune 8 [Divide and Rule]
Title: Above Suspicion
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Sangria #10 (We know that the tail must wag the dog, for the horse is drawn by the cart), Prune #8 (you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours)
Toppings/Extras: None.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2928
Notes: 1957; Edward Iveson, Julia Graves. (This was something I wrote quite a while back, but it wound up altered by a piece currently in process, so the ending’s more random, but Edward’s original bluffing tactics at the end got scuppered in the process.) (ETA: Just deleted a flavour prompt, because it was used in error. I am months behind in typing things up & got confused by my own scribbled notes, sorry. Can a mod please remove the tag? Thanks!)
Summary: Edward’s been appointed Foreign Secretary but he’s got to quash some backroom dealing before he can take up the post…
***
“Foreign Secretary. If I might have a moment of your time?”
Edward Iveson rose from behind his desk and extended a hand to his visitor as he walked over to meet him. “Sir George. Of course - come in.” The question, Edward knew, had been largely rhetorical, since he could hardly ignore Sir George Wheeler, Permanent Under-Secretary to the Foreign Office, or at least certainly not unless he wanted a very difficult and painful term of office.
“Good,” said Wheeler. “I’m relieved to have caught you, as it’s something of a delicate matter. However, if we don’t put it to bed as soon as possible, it could cause a considerable amount of trouble.”
Edward gestured over for the man to take the chair, and then sat back down at his desk. “In that case, you’d better explain.”
“It really is most delicate,” Wheeler said again, almost to himself, and then he glanced over at Edward. “You are familiar with the residences allocated to the Foreign Secretary?”
The Foreign Secretary had a flat in Carlton Gardens and a country estate at Donningford for use in matters of state. Edward knew that full well, having been Parliamentary Secretary to the Foreign Secretary and, for the previous year or so, Minister for State at the Foreign Secretary, and naturally having had to spend a good deal of time at both locations.
“Of course,” he said, still mystified.
Sir George shifted in his chair. “There has been a complaint - or at least a query - oh, dear, this is rather difficult.” He looked at Edward again, as if hoping that he could save him the trouble of explaining, and then, sighed. “It appears that someone has raised the question of whether or not it was appropriate for your wife to be hostess in those residences.”
Edward didn’t know what he had been expecting, but certainly not that. He stared at Wheeler, at a loss to understand: he couldn’t think of any possible objection to Julia - it couldn’t be her German mother, that was ridiculous, and despite the brief stab of worry, nobody else knew about her background with United Europe, and that was all over now, anyway - and then he understood. He put his hand to his face. “Oh, hell. You mean because of my divorce. That’s it, is it - the objection?”
“Indeed,” said Sir George, speaking much more easily now that the revelation had been made. “It was raised by a Member of the Opposition. Whether it originated with that gentleman or elsewhere I don’t yet know. You do see the full extent of the problem?”
Edward nodded. If it had come from a member of the Opposition, it was only to be expected that they’d try to find something to throw at the government if they could. If it was more deliberate, more personal - if someone else had made that point to a rival politician, that would be even more worrying. Edward moved his hand, brushing his fingers against his mouth, frowning over it, because never mind the politics, it was an insufferable insult to Julia.
“They don’t object to me being in the position?” he said. “It’s Julia, who’s done nothing -”
Sir George shifted his position on the chair. “Well, naturally, that might be the next question, I would say. Wouldn’t you?”
“Well, I can’t marry Julia in the Church of England unless I murder my first wife, and I can’t imagine that would help affairs.” The laws of England allowed for divorce, but the Church didn’t recognise remarriage except for the injured parties, and Edward had taken the blame in his case, because someone had to and it wasn’t going to be Caroline. Therefore, some interfering idiot was inferring, by that definition, he’d be effectively taking his mistress to preside at Donningford. Which, he thought irritably, he was willing to bet some of his predecessors probably had done. He stood again in his agitation, wanting to hit something. “Damn them!”
“Indeed, but that I think is also Church business?”
Edward reigned in his temper and gave a short nod, but he didn’t sit down, instead leaning back against the bookshelf full of leather tomes behind him. “What do you suggest?”
“Well, we can easily minimise some of the trouble. You had hoped to remain in your own residence while in town where possible - you have a young daughter, I gather?”
Edward nodded again. “Yes. So she and Julia need to be at home if we can manage it. And of course, we could arrange it like that with Carlton Gardens - me there for state issues and the two of them back at Charlcot Crescent. But Donningford is another matter. She won’t need to accompany me on every occasion, but she has to sometimes. And if she doesn’t, if she’s not allowed there, then we’ll be forced to wonder if taking her with me on any state visits is also disrespectful?”
“That may be an issue in some cases, anyway, of course.”
“But to be dealt with when and if it arises,” said Edward. “This can’t be ignored. It’s ridiculous - surely no one would insist on such a point. Julia and I have been married for years and my divorce happened over a decade before she came on the scene. She had nothing to do with it!”
“I am aware of the details, Foreign Secretary.”
“Yes,” said Edward, and made himself sit back down, biting back his anger. “What did you have in mind?”
“I think, if possible, it would be best nipped in the bud before it’s even raised in the House. I don’t think anyone would bar Mrs Iveson from Donningford in the end, but the discussion itself must be avoided. A long debate over your moral suitability before you’ve even begun will not do. It has been over twenty years since the Abdication, but you know how people can be.”
Edward glanced down. “And if I hadn’t married there’d have been a question over that, wouldn’t there? I’d probably have never even come this far. I suppose, of course, one should know to make the right choice in the first place, but I took a little time to learn that.”
“Regardless, we must take the issue seriously.”
Edward nodded. Coming from the government, it was pure hypocrisy, but he couldn’t pretend that a good majority of the ordinary population of the country might take it seriously and that wasn’t something they could afford to ignore. He found it hard to swallow the irony that Harding, who must have had a good dozen affairs over the time Edward had known him, was allowed to be Home Secretary without a murmur, while Julia was censured for a perfectly legal act of Edward’s.
“I’ll take advice,” he said. “In the meantime, there’s no reason for Julia to be at Carlton Gardens and hopefully we’ll have this laid to rest before she dares to pollute the shades of Donningford.”
“Whatever it is,” Julia said, clearing away the dinner things, “I suggest you get on and tell me. Is it really that dreadful?”
Edward turned to look up at her, his hand resting on his hand as he remained sitting at the table, frowning over the problem. “Yes, of course. You’d better sit down, though.”
“Well, I suppose I can see the logic,” said Julia, once he’d explained.
Edward stood. “Logic! There is no logic. Someone’s making trouble - if you’re not a fit person to be permitted in Donningford, then I’m certainly not fit to hold an office of state. I’m the damned divorcé, not you.”
“I wouldn’t shout that too loud if I were you,” Julia said. “You’ll be out of office before you’ve begun.”
Edward stopped stalking about the room. “Yes, well, that’s the point, isn’t it?”
“I don’t have to go to Donningford at all,” said Julia. “If that’s how it needs to be, then fine. It’ll be a nuisance sometimes, but you’re Foreign Secretary. There was always going to have to be some changes and that’s not as bad as the man from Special Branch who keeps standing around outside the house and following me when I go shopping.”
Edward crossed back over to where she was sitting to take her hand. “No, no, Julia. If we concede this, then, as you say, the next question is inevitably the appropriateness of my appointment. And even if that isn’t taken seriously, it’ll be an embarrassment to the government, and you know how the government hates to be embarrassed.”
“I see,” said Julia. “What idiot started it?”
Edward released her and sat back in his chair. “I don’t know yet - and that’s the question. Some Opposition backbencher, but whether it came from them or someone else is something I’ll need to find out.”
“Perhaps it was a concerned archbishop?” she said. “Or a reporter. You could ask Jack.”
He shook his head. “I’ll have to be more discreet than the press, even a tame press man. It could have simply come from the Opposition, which would be underhand but par for the course, but it could also be anyone else with a grudge or an agenda - wanting someone whose policies were more agreeable. I wondered about Sir George himself.”
“Isn’t he supposed to be on your side?”
Edward grinned. “You can’t assume the Permanent Under-Secretary is necessarily on the side of the Minister, at least not in private. In public, of course; he would never be anything else. If Wheeler thinks I’m the wrong choice, he might make trouble like this. Probably not, of course, but I do wonder - he was the first one to mention it.”
“And this is why the government gets nothing done,” said Julia. “You’re much too busy conspiring against each other. I’d sort you all out.”
“Not all of us,” said Edward with a smile. “Or not always, anyway. I’ve done what I can for the moment. I spoke to Harding and he’s confident he can spike their guns if and when it gets raised in the House.”
“Then isn’t that it over with? A storm in a tea cup.” Julia rose, untying her apron.
Edward stood again, catching hold of her. “Not really. I need to know who started it and why. And damn them anyway, why this - why you? You’re not to blame. It was all my own doing, and long over and done with before I met you.”
“I hardly think that’s true,” said Julia. “I think an awful lot of it was Caroline’s fault, too, you know.”
Edward walked along the Embankment, stopping alongside a man who was gazing out across the Thames as he puffed at a cigarette. Edward knew him well; he had worked with Clive Andrews in MI5 for the best part of the war. It was, though, worryingly easy to slide back into old habits: make it look like a casual meeting, not an arranged one.
“I’ve a question to ask,” Edward said. “Unofficially.”
Andrews dropped his cigarette and fished another out of the box in his pocket. “Got a light, sir?”
“Somewhere,” said Edward, searching in his coat and jacket. “Look, this isn’t exactly government business; I’m not trying to circumvent anyone or anything. I just need to know who’s been starting up complaints about me - about my divorce, and Julia’s status.”
Andrews shrugged and pulled out his own lighter. “Still. Can’t use Five like that.”
“If it’s a disgruntled bishop or an Opposition MP, at least it’s only what it seems,” Edward said. “What I’m worried about is that someone else wanted questions asked. Because, depending on who it is, we might need them stopped - or I might need to step down after all. Things are hardly stable as it is, without starting off with a scandal involving the Foreign Secretary. I need to know.”
His former colleague stared out at the river again and then gave a curt nod. “All right. In return, though -”
“I might have known.”
Andrews laughed. “Just something you might want to keep an eye on. We’ve got a Major Jemmings in the department at the moment. Something of a rising star. Very popular with the MoD.”
“Is that a problem?”
Andrews shrugged. “He’s also close friends with one of your lot. Tom Hallam. You know the one?”
“None of us could fail to,” said Edward. “But that doesn’t amount to a great deal, I’d have said. You’ve been in the job too long - you’re seeing conspiracies everywhere.”
“Says the minister who wants me to find out who’s starting nasty rumours about him.” Andrews straightened himself. “And you’re right. There’s nothing to say as yet. But I’ve had to run a couple of operations under him and I don’t like his way of working. Don’t like the way he runs assets either. Worse still, he’s had quite an impressive track record at uncovering traitors in the service. Only three so far, but I’m beginning to wonder if they weren’t strategically chosen. Two of them, anyway. Three would be a giveaway.”
Edward took his point. “What were you hoping I would do? You really ought to talk to Harding - he’s the Home Secretary.”
“Just keep an eye open from your end,” said Andrews. “And, of course, if I disappear, tell someone, won’t you?”
Edward hid a small smile. “Is there anyone left I can trust to tell?”
“Try Sydney Elliott or Jennifer Ordsley.”
Edward turned to walk away, but paused. “Do you really think that’s likely?”
“You know,” said Andrews, before heading away in the other direction, “I’m not sure what the hell I do think these days.”
Harding’s talk, as far as Edward was concerned, had been disgraceful. It had successfully laughed the point out of the Commons when the question was raised, so Edward had thanked him grudgingly, later. He, of course, had not been present and he’d made Julia promise not to go to the visitor’s gallery that afternoon or it would only have risked raising it all again in the press. However, while Harding had pointed out that to make such an objection was also to make a mockery of the government’s own laws, probably something the government should leave to others and so on, he had also made comments about the Ivesons’ marriage and for all they might have been flattering overall, they were irreverent and Edward detested private matters becoming public in any case. It was an occupational hazard from time to time, but by and large the press had really had nothing interesting to say about his marriage and it was the first time he’d had to experience it. He hoped it would be the last.
“What did Harding say?” Julia asked him, that evening, perching on the arm of his chair. “You can’t refuse to tell me, not when people were talking about me.”
Edward shrugged. “I wasn’t there. Best forget about it.”
“Darling,” said Julia, “you do realise that I can probably read it in Hansard later, don’t you?”
He gave a reluctant smile. “Then do, if you must. I should think you’d enjoy it more than I would have done, had I been forced to sit through it.”
“That’s it now, isn’t it?” said Julia. “It’s over and buried. Isn’t it?”
Edward didn’t answer again, turning to look for a book he’d misplaced.
“Ned,” Julia said. “Do you know who started it? Is that it? Because I’d like to know. No matter what they wanted, they objected to me rather than you.”
Edward would rather have kept it to himself, but she had a good point and, considering who was to blame, she might even have something useful to say about it. It seemed, after all, to be personal rather than political. “Lord Howe,” he said.
“Oh, was it?” Julia said with a sudden anger that startled Edward. He raised his gaze to look at her and she put her hand on his arm. “Do you remember when we went to stay with them - the second time, even after I told you we shouldn’t?”
He watched her. “I could hardly forget it. Why?”
“Because not everything is about politics,” said Julia. “Or about you, Edward. Well, he’s broken the deal we made. He thought I wouldn’t find out - that you wouldn’t find out he was behind this, and that even if you did, you’d hardly tell me! He wouldn’t tell his wife, of course!”
“I think it’s time for you to explain,” he said. “Can we deal with him?”
She smiled. “Oh, I should think so. And I will explain, but first, you’d better tell me what Mr Harding said.”
“You could ask him. Or Diana.”
“That wouldn’t be as much fun,” said Julia. “And then and only then I’ll tell you exactly what Lord Howe did twenty-odd years ago, what he did six years ago, and how we can hopefully make him keep very quiet again for at least the next six years.”
Edward rose from the chair and looked down at her. “Honestly, Julia -” He pulled her to her feet.
“If you murder me now,” said Julia, “there’s a man from Special Branch who’ll come running in time to catch you red-handed. I’m sure he’ll cover it up quite nicely for you, but after that he’ll have to see about getting you assassinated or sent as far away as possible. They can’t have Cabinet Ministers doing that sort of thing.”
Edward laughed. “And the wrong wife anyway.”
“Oh,” said Julia. “You want to murder Caroline! Well, that’s different. You should have said; I’ve been planning it for years.”
***
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Sangria #10 (We know that the tail must wag the dog, for the horse is drawn by the cart), Prune #8 (you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours)
Toppings/Extras: None.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2928
Notes: 1957; Edward Iveson, Julia Graves. (This was something I wrote quite a while back, but it wound up altered by a piece currently in process, so the ending’s more random, but Edward’s original bluffing tactics at the end got scuppered in the process.) (ETA: Just deleted a flavour prompt, because it was used in error. I am months behind in typing things up & got confused by my own scribbled notes, sorry. Can a mod please remove the tag? Thanks!)
Summary: Edward’s been appointed Foreign Secretary but he’s got to quash some backroom dealing before he can take up the post…
***
“Foreign Secretary. If I might have a moment of your time?”
Edward Iveson rose from behind his desk and extended a hand to his visitor as he walked over to meet him. “Sir George. Of course - come in.” The question, Edward knew, had been largely rhetorical, since he could hardly ignore Sir George Wheeler, Permanent Under-Secretary to the Foreign Office, or at least certainly not unless he wanted a very difficult and painful term of office.
“Good,” said Wheeler. “I’m relieved to have caught you, as it’s something of a delicate matter. However, if we don’t put it to bed as soon as possible, it could cause a considerable amount of trouble.”
Edward gestured over for the man to take the chair, and then sat back down at his desk. “In that case, you’d better explain.”
“It really is most delicate,” Wheeler said again, almost to himself, and then he glanced over at Edward. “You are familiar with the residences allocated to the Foreign Secretary?”
The Foreign Secretary had a flat in Carlton Gardens and a country estate at Donningford for use in matters of state. Edward knew that full well, having been Parliamentary Secretary to the Foreign Secretary and, for the previous year or so, Minister for State at the Foreign Secretary, and naturally having had to spend a good deal of time at both locations.
“Of course,” he said, still mystified.
Sir George shifted in his chair. “There has been a complaint - or at least a query - oh, dear, this is rather difficult.” He looked at Edward again, as if hoping that he could save him the trouble of explaining, and then, sighed. “It appears that someone has raised the question of whether or not it was appropriate for your wife to be hostess in those residences.”
Edward didn’t know what he had been expecting, but certainly not that. He stared at Wheeler, at a loss to understand: he couldn’t think of any possible objection to Julia - it couldn’t be her German mother, that was ridiculous, and despite the brief stab of worry, nobody else knew about her background with United Europe, and that was all over now, anyway - and then he understood. He put his hand to his face. “Oh, hell. You mean because of my divorce. That’s it, is it - the objection?”
“Indeed,” said Sir George, speaking much more easily now that the revelation had been made. “It was raised by a Member of the Opposition. Whether it originated with that gentleman or elsewhere I don’t yet know. You do see the full extent of the problem?”
Edward nodded. If it had come from a member of the Opposition, it was only to be expected that they’d try to find something to throw at the government if they could. If it was more deliberate, more personal - if someone else had made that point to a rival politician, that would be even more worrying. Edward moved his hand, brushing his fingers against his mouth, frowning over it, because never mind the politics, it was an insufferable insult to Julia.
“They don’t object to me being in the position?” he said. “It’s Julia, who’s done nothing -”
Sir George shifted his position on the chair. “Well, naturally, that might be the next question, I would say. Wouldn’t you?”
“Well, I can’t marry Julia in the Church of England unless I murder my first wife, and I can’t imagine that would help affairs.” The laws of England allowed for divorce, but the Church didn’t recognise remarriage except for the injured parties, and Edward had taken the blame in his case, because someone had to and it wasn’t going to be Caroline. Therefore, some interfering idiot was inferring, by that definition, he’d be effectively taking his mistress to preside at Donningford. Which, he thought irritably, he was willing to bet some of his predecessors probably had done. He stood again in his agitation, wanting to hit something. “Damn them!”
“Indeed, but that I think is also Church business?”
Edward reigned in his temper and gave a short nod, but he didn’t sit down, instead leaning back against the bookshelf full of leather tomes behind him. “What do you suggest?”
“Well, we can easily minimise some of the trouble. You had hoped to remain in your own residence while in town where possible - you have a young daughter, I gather?”
Edward nodded again. “Yes. So she and Julia need to be at home if we can manage it. And of course, we could arrange it like that with Carlton Gardens - me there for state issues and the two of them back at Charlcot Crescent. But Donningford is another matter. She won’t need to accompany me on every occasion, but she has to sometimes. And if she doesn’t, if she’s not allowed there, then we’ll be forced to wonder if taking her with me on any state visits is also disrespectful?”
“That may be an issue in some cases, anyway, of course.”
“But to be dealt with when and if it arises,” said Edward. “This can’t be ignored. It’s ridiculous - surely no one would insist on such a point. Julia and I have been married for years and my divorce happened over a decade before she came on the scene. She had nothing to do with it!”
“I am aware of the details, Foreign Secretary.”
“Yes,” said Edward, and made himself sit back down, biting back his anger. “What did you have in mind?”
“I think, if possible, it would be best nipped in the bud before it’s even raised in the House. I don’t think anyone would bar Mrs Iveson from Donningford in the end, but the discussion itself must be avoided. A long debate over your moral suitability before you’ve even begun will not do. It has been over twenty years since the Abdication, but you know how people can be.”
Edward glanced down. “And if I hadn’t married there’d have been a question over that, wouldn’t there? I’d probably have never even come this far. I suppose, of course, one should know to make the right choice in the first place, but I took a little time to learn that.”
“Regardless, we must take the issue seriously.”
Edward nodded. Coming from the government, it was pure hypocrisy, but he couldn’t pretend that a good majority of the ordinary population of the country might take it seriously and that wasn’t something they could afford to ignore. He found it hard to swallow the irony that Harding, who must have had a good dozen affairs over the time Edward had known him, was allowed to be Home Secretary without a murmur, while Julia was censured for a perfectly legal act of Edward’s.
“I’ll take advice,” he said. “In the meantime, there’s no reason for Julia to be at Carlton Gardens and hopefully we’ll have this laid to rest before she dares to pollute the shades of Donningford.”
“Whatever it is,” Julia said, clearing away the dinner things, “I suggest you get on and tell me. Is it really that dreadful?”
Edward turned to look up at her, his hand resting on his hand as he remained sitting at the table, frowning over the problem. “Yes, of course. You’d better sit down, though.”
“Well, I suppose I can see the logic,” said Julia, once he’d explained.
Edward stood. “Logic! There is no logic. Someone’s making trouble - if you’re not a fit person to be permitted in Donningford, then I’m certainly not fit to hold an office of state. I’m the damned divorcé, not you.”
“I wouldn’t shout that too loud if I were you,” Julia said. “You’ll be out of office before you’ve begun.”
Edward stopped stalking about the room. “Yes, well, that’s the point, isn’t it?”
“I don’t have to go to Donningford at all,” said Julia. “If that’s how it needs to be, then fine. It’ll be a nuisance sometimes, but you’re Foreign Secretary. There was always going to have to be some changes and that’s not as bad as the man from Special Branch who keeps standing around outside the house and following me when I go shopping.”
Edward crossed back over to where she was sitting to take her hand. “No, no, Julia. If we concede this, then, as you say, the next question is inevitably the appropriateness of my appointment. And even if that isn’t taken seriously, it’ll be an embarrassment to the government, and you know how the government hates to be embarrassed.”
“I see,” said Julia. “What idiot started it?”
Edward released her and sat back in his chair. “I don’t know yet - and that’s the question. Some Opposition backbencher, but whether it came from them or someone else is something I’ll need to find out.”
“Perhaps it was a concerned archbishop?” she said. “Or a reporter. You could ask Jack.”
He shook his head. “I’ll have to be more discreet than the press, even a tame press man. It could have simply come from the Opposition, which would be underhand but par for the course, but it could also be anyone else with a grudge or an agenda - wanting someone whose policies were more agreeable. I wondered about Sir George himself.”
“Isn’t he supposed to be on your side?”
Edward grinned. “You can’t assume the Permanent Under-Secretary is necessarily on the side of the Minister, at least not in private. In public, of course; he would never be anything else. If Wheeler thinks I’m the wrong choice, he might make trouble like this. Probably not, of course, but I do wonder - he was the first one to mention it.”
“And this is why the government gets nothing done,” said Julia. “You’re much too busy conspiring against each other. I’d sort you all out.”
“Not all of us,” said Edward with a smile. “Or not always, anyway. I’ve done what I can for the moment. I spoke to Harding and he’s confident he can spike their guns if and when it gets raised in the House.”
“Then isn’t that it over with? A storm in a tea cup.” Julia rose, untying her apron.
Edward stood again, catching hold of her. “Not really. I need to know who started it and why. And damn them anyway, why this - why you? You’re not to blame. It was all my own doing, and long over and done with before I met you.”
“I hardly think that’s true,” said Julia. “I think an awful lot of it was Caroline’s fault, too, you know.”
Edward walked along the Embankment, stopping alongside a man who was gazing out across the Thames as he puffed at a cigarette. Edward knew him well; he had worked with Clive Andrews in MI5 for the best part of the war. It was, though, worryingly easy to slide back into old habits: make it look like a casual meeting, not an arranged one.
“I’ve a question to ask,” Edward said. “Unofficially.”
Andrews dropped his cigarette and fished another out of the box in his pocket. “Got a light, sir?”
“Somewhere,” said Edward, searching in his coat and jacket. “Look, this isn’t exactly government business; I’m not trying to circumvent anyone or anything. I just need to know who’s been starting up complaints about me - about my divorce, and Julia’s status.”
Andrews shrugged and pulled out his own lighter. “Still. Can’t use Five like that.”
“If it’s a disgruntled bishop or an Opposition MP, at least it’s only what it seems,” Edward said. “What I’m worried about is that someone else wanted questions asked. Because, depending on who it is, we might need them stopped - or I might need to step down after all. Things are hardly stable as it is, without starting off with a scandal involving the Foreign Secretary. I need to know.”
His former colleague stared out at the river again and then gave a curt nod. “All right. In return, though -”
“I might have known.”
Andrews laughed. “Just something you might want to keep an eye on. We’ve got a Major Jemmings in the department at the moment. Something of a rising star. Very popular with the MoD.”
“Is that a problem?”
Andrews shrugged. “He’s also close friends with one of your lot. Tom Hallam. You know the one?”
“None of us could fail to,” said Edward. “But that doesn’t amount to a great deal, I’d have said. You’ve been in the job too long - you’re seeing conspiracies everywhere.”
“Says the minister who wants me to find out who’s starting nasty rumours about him.” Andrews straightened himself. “And you’re right. There’s nothing to say as yet. But I’ve had to run a couple of operations under him and I don’t like his way of working. Don’t like the way he runs assets either. Worse still, he’s had quite an impressive track record at uncovering traitors in the service. Only three so far, but I’m beginning to wonder if they weren’t strategically chosen. Two of them, anyway. Three would be a giveaway.”
Edward took his point. “What were you hoping I would do? You really ought to talk to Harding - he’s the Home Secretary.”
“Just keep an eye open from your end,” said Andrews. “And, of course, if I disappear, tell someone, won’t you?”
Edward hid a small smile. “Is there anyone left I can trust to tell?”
“Try Sydney Elliott or Jennifer Ordsley.”
Edward turned to walk away, but paused. “Do you really think that’s likely?”
“You know,” said Andrews, before heading away in the other direction, “I’m not sure what the hell I do think these days.”
Harding’s talk, as far as Edward was concerned, had been disgraceful. It had successfully laughed the point out of the Commons when the question was raised, so Edward had thanked him grudgingly, later. He, of course, had not been present and he’d made Julia promise not to go to the visitor’s gallery that afternoon or it would only have risked raising it all again in the press. However, while Harding had pointed out that to make such an objection was also to make a mockery of the government’s own laws, probably something the government should leave to others and so on, he had also made comments about the Ivesons’ marriage and for all they might have been flattering overall, they were irreverent and Edward detested private matters becoming public in any case. It was an occupational hazard from time to time, but by and large the press had really had nothing interesting to say about his marriage and it was the first time he’d had to experience it. He hoped it would be the last.
“What did Harding say?” Julia asked him, that evening, perching on the arm of his chair. “You can’t refuse to tell me, not when people were talking about me.”
Edward shrugged. “I wasn’t there. Best forget about it.”
“Darling,” said Julia, “you do realise that I can probably read it in Hansard later, don’t you?”
He gave a reluctant smile. “Then do, if you must. I should think you’d enjoy it more than I would have done, had I been forced to sit through it.”
“That’s it now, isn’t it?” said Julia. “It’s over and buried. Isn’t it?”
Edward didn’t answer again, turning to look for a book he’d misplaced.
“Ned,” Julia said. “Do you know who started it? Is that it? Because I’d like to know. No matter what they wanted, they objected to me rather than you.”
Edward would rather have kept it to himself, but she had a good point and, considering who was to blame, she might even have something useful to say about it. It seemed, after all, to be personal rather than political. “Lord Howe,” he said.
“Oh, was it?” Julia said with a sudden anger that startled Edward. He raised his gaze to look at her and she put her hand on his arm. “Do you remember when we went to stay with them - the second time, even after I told you we shouldn’t?”
He watched her. “I could hardly forget it. Why?”
“Because not everything is about politics,” said Julia. “Or about you, Edward. Well, he’s broken the deal we made. He thought I wouldn’t find out - that you wouldn’t find out he was behind this, and that even if you did, you’d hardly tell me! He wouldn’t tell his wife, of course!”
“I think it’s time for you to explain,” he said. “Can we deal with him?”
She smiled. “Oh, I should think so. And I will explain, but first, you’d better tell me what Mr Harding said.”
“You could ask him. Or Diana.”
“That wouldn’t be as much fun,” said Julia. “And then and only then I’ll tell you exactly what Lord Howe did twenty-odd years ago, what he did six years ago, and how we can hopefully make him keep very quiet again for at least the next six years.”
Edward rose from the chair and looked down at her. “Honestly, Julia -” He pulled her to her feet.
“If you murder me now,” said Julia, “there’s a man from Special Branch who’ll come running in time to catch you red-handed. I’m sure he’ll cover it up quite nicely for you, but after that he’ll have to see about getting you assassinated or sent as far away as possible. They can’t have Cabinet Ministers doing that sort of thing.”
Edward laughed. “And the wrong wife anyway.”
“Oh,” said Julia. “You want to murder Caroline! Well, that’s different. You should have said; I’ve been planning it for years.”
***