The Parliament House Read Online Free PDF

her father whom he had really come to see.
        'What time will Sir Julius return?' he asked.
        'Not until late this afternoon.'
        'In that case, I may have to call back.'
        'Why?' said Susan. 'Do you have a message for him?'
        'Yes, I do.'
        'Can you not trust me to pass it on?'
        'I'd prefer to speak to him myself,' said Christopher, not wishing to alarm her by confiding what he had discovered. 'Meanwhile, I can have the pleasure of spending a little time with you.'
        She gave a wan smile. 'It's hardly an occasion for pleasure.'
        'Quite so. What happened yesterday was appalling.'
        'I still cannot believe it, Christopher.'
        'No more can I. It had been such a joyous occasion for all of us. Then, in a flash, it turned into tragedy. How is Mrs Polegate bearing up?'
        'Indifferently well. Mr Everett was very dear to her.'
        'It was kind of you to offer some comfort, Susan.'
        'I stayed there for hours but I could not ease the pain of her bereavement. Mrs Polegate was inconsolable. The only thing that might take the edge off her grief is the arrest of the man who killed her brother.'
        'Jonathan Bale and I will do all we can to find him.'
        They were in the parlour of the house, a room that reflected the taste of the client rather than that of the architect. Sir Julius had been the most decisive employer that Christopher had ever had, knowing exactly what he wanted from the start. That brought advantages and disadvantages. The main benefit was that valuable time had been saved because there had been none of the endless prevarication that made other clients so frustrating. On the debit side, however, was the fact that Christopher had to agree to an interior design that was serviceable while also being totally out of fashion. Even when seated beside the woman he loved, he was aware of how much more intrinsically appealing the room could have been had he been given his head.
        Gazing fondly into her eyes, he forgot all other problems.
        'These past couple of months have been wonderful,' he said.
        'Have they?'
        'Of course, Susan. I've been able to see so much of you.'
        'That's been the saving grace of our visits,' she confessed.
        'Don't you enjoy coming to London?'
        'Only if I can see you, Christopher. As you know, I'm a country girl at heart. We may have St James's Park on our doorstep, but it's not the same as being surrounded by thousands of acres of land.'
        'There are plenty of fine estates on the outskirts of the city.'
        'But none that I'd exchange for the one we already own.'
        'What about your father?' asked Christopher. 'He used to describe the capital as a veritable cesspool. His exact words, if I recall them aright, were that London is a swamp of crime and corruption.'
        'He still holds to that view.'
        'Then why has he spent so much time here recently?'
        'Commitments of a political nature.'
        'But the House of Commons has not been sitting.'
        'Father doesn't confine his activities to the Parliament House,' she said. 'He claims that the most fruitful debates take place outside it. He's gathered a small group of like-minded men around him.'
        'Men like Bernard Everett, for example?'
        'Yes, Christopher. As soon as he was elected, he paid us a visit in Northamptonshire. He and father discussed political affairs all night.'
        'That must have been very tiresome for you, Susan.'
        'It's worse when we come here.' 'Is it?'
        'Far worse,' she complained. 'There are evenings when the whole house seems to echo with political gossip. They talk about who's rising in power, who's likely to fall, how this objective can be best achieved and that one cunningly blocked, how the King exercises too much sway over the House of Commons and how his brother is an even more dangerous threat to