Cross of St George by Kent Alexander & Reeman Douglas

Author:Kent, Alexander & Reeman, Douglas [Kent, Alexander & Reeman, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Action & Adventure, Historical, onlib, Naval Battles - History - 18th Century, Napoleonic Wars; 1800-1815, _rt_yes, Fiction, __Fixed
ISBN: 9781409062295
Google: EvfoDP5YBU4C
Amazon: B0031RS6HI
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2009-04-05T04:00:00+00:00

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10

Time and Distance

* * *

SIR WILFRED LAFARGUE put down the empty cup and walked to one of the tall windows of his spacious office. For such a heavily-built man he moved with remarkable agility, as if the young, eager lawyer was still there, a prisoner of his own success. Lafargue had once been described as handsome, but now, in his late fifties, he was showing signs of good living and other excesses which even his expensively cut coat and breeches could not disguise.

The coffee was good: eventually, he might send for more. But he was content for the moment to stand looking out of this window, one of his favourites, across the City of London, where, despite more buildings than ever before, there were still many restful parks and ornamental gardens. This was Lincoln’s Inn, one of the centres of English law, and the prestigious address of many legal practices which served a world of both power and money.

This particular house, for instance, had once been the London residence of a famous general, who had met an ignominious death by fever in the West Indies. Now it held the offices of the legal firm which bore his family name, and of which Lafargue was the senior partner.

He idly watched some carriages as they rattled past on their way to Fleet Street. It was a fine day, with clear blue sky above the spires and impressive buildings. From the far window he would be able to see St Paul’s, or at least the dome of the cathedral; it was a sight that always pleased him. Like the centre of things, in his world.

He considered the visitor who was waiting to see him. His staff had been busy on her behalf, but this would be his first meeting with the lady in question, Lady Catherine Somervell. When he had mentioned the appointment to his wife she had been sharp, even angry, as if it offended her personally in some way.

He smiled. But then, how could she understand?

Now he would see for himself what the notorious viscountess was really like. She was certainly one of the most discussed women of the day: if only a tenth of it was true, he would soon discover her strength and her weakness. She had risen above it all, the scandal and the secret slander. The fact that her last husband had died mysteriously in a duel had been conveniently forgotten. He smiled more broadly. Not by me.

He turned with irritation as a door opened slightly, and his senior clerk peered in at him.

‘What is it, Spicer?’ The offices revolved around the senior clerk, a dedicated man who missed no detail in all the legal papers and documents that passed through his hands. He was also very dull.

Spicer said, ‘Lady Somervell is about to leave, Sir Wilfred.’ He spoke without expression. When the Prime Minister, Spencer Perceval, had been assassinated by some lunatic at the House of Commons the previous year, he had announced it in much the same fashion, as if it was a comment on the weather.

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