‘Yes. He was not alone. Like many of his fellows, he emerged from the war a pacifist and a — so far undeclared — socialist. An anti-monarchist, what’s more, who passed on his views to his daughter.’
‘Your father was a schoolmaster by trade, I understand. And he has spoken openly to you — a girl — of such matters?’
‘He had no son and has always declared himself glad of that. “No more sacrifices to be offered up to the god of war” is how he puts it. Like most survivors, he’s silent on his experiences but he conveys them through painting. And if a child approaches and asks questions about what she sees on the canvas, her father will answer and pass on his philosophy through the painted image. It was my father who taught me to use my head and my judgement. To question automatic acceptances of patriotism. And loyalty to the crown.’
‘You’re telling me now that you have no allegiance to the royal family?’ Joe was seriously alarmed. He shot to his feet in his agitation and thrust an arm towards her. ‘Do you see this right arm, Wentworth? It served King and Country for four years and was jolly nearly shot off at Mons. If revolutionaries were rampaging through the palace I’d slide it through the door latch and they’d have to break my bones before the mob would gain entry to their majesties!’ Feeling suddenly foolish, he lowered his arm and sank into his seat again.
The girl was not overawed but at least she didn’t giggle, he thought. ‘I can admire the depth of your feeling, though I consider it badly targeted,’ she said. ‘I wonder whether your loyalty is inspired by the office itself or by the people who currently hold and enjoy it?’ A question he’d never asked himself. Into his wary silence she plunged on: ‘This family has shallow roots in our native soil, being more German than British. They are ordinary mortals who’ve been fed the notion from an early age that they have a divine right to rule and exploit. They don’t. I think the notion of kingship in any modern state is outdated and retrograde. It’s the anointed Napoleons, the kings, the Kaisers and the tsars who lead their people to destruction. In their millions. Six, at least, European monarchs have been killed by their own subjects this century — so far — and more dethroned. It seems I’m not alone in wishing for a continent free of autocratic rulers.’
‘Great heavens, girl! Hold the speech until I have a soap box fetched, will you? And possibly a set of manacles!’ Joe was trying to keep it light but he was aghast. She sat there, looking as innocent as a sugar mouse and uttering views hot enough and red enough to warrant putting her on a charge of subversion. ‘I’ve heard much the same nonsense voiced at Speaker’s Corner. Who’ve you been talking to? Who’s stuffed your head with such dangerous ideas? Are you admitting to Bolshevist sympathies? “Off with their heads!” — would that be your war cry?’
‘Certainly not. I was as horrified as anyone by the slaughter of the Russian imperial family.’
‘Though you do not regret the passing of the institution, evidently. I see. Well, I can only conclude that you must, on your own judgement, ground your musket, pick up your kit bag and take your leave,’ he said with finality. He pushed back his chair and got to his feet, the conversation over. ‘You have every right. And you have those rights because others in their thousands, your father and grandfather among them, doubtless right back to Agincourt were willing to sacrifice their lives to preserve them.’
‘Ouch!’ Lily said. ‘Steady on, sir! I’m not armoured against such sentiments. The taking of life — whoever is in possession of it — is an abhorrence to me. And if you’re saying my presence tonight might help to preserve a life — royal though it be — I shall do my bit. I’d do the same for any poor soul threatened by the murderous forces of anarchy or terrorism that are plaguing us. The Prince of Wales or the conductor on the Clapham omnibus — their lives carry the same weight with me. I just wanted you to be clear about that. Look — wasn’t there talk of a drink at Claridges? I think I shall be earning at least a stimulating glass of champagne before the evening gets under way.’
He wondered if he accepted her volte-face too quickly. ‘Excellent notion! Let’s stop fencing and turn our swords in the same direction, shall we?’ He offered his arm and she rose to her feet and placed a hand on it gracefully. ‘Only the best, I think, should be offered in the circumstances. Will a pre-war Bollinger suit?’