Until the Colours Fade Read Online Free PDF Page A

free of bribery – he could defeat not only George’s marriage plans but also his father’s political ambitions. Nor could he be accused of personal spite: if Braithwaite was forced to stand down and abandon his candidature there would be no bloodshed on polling day, and Catherine would be saved a wretched and loveless marriage, since she would never marry into a family dishonoured by fraudulence. The perfect solution:private and public disaster averted by the same means.
    The simplicity of the idea astounded and yet dismayed Magnus. There would be much he would never be able to find out. He felt suddenly despondent. Joseph Braithwaite would know how to cover his tracks. Then Magnus smiled. The artist. Of course. And the man had clearly known far more than he had been prepared to say. He had been evasive, certainly, but there had been an openness about him too: something very appealing. Magnus could not quite put his finger on it, but he had an intuitive hunch that, if faced with a clear-cut moral decision, Strickland would side with the angels. He was amused by his memory of the young man’s righteous remarks about baronets’ sons not understanding the vulnerable position of those without means. If he only knew my real situation, thought Magnus, my God if he only knew. But he will soon enough, if I need him; he will then.
    Soon Magnus came to a decision not to return to Leaholme Hall that evening but to spend the night in Rigton Bridge. It would be better not to see Catherine until he had first made some inquiries in town. After so many years a day would be forgiven, and he had only specified the week during which he could be expected. Several hours before Magnus had felt close to despair; he had been returning home not just to see his brother and sister but because he could think of nowhere else to go; now matters seemed quite different. Old Braithwaite would be a formidable adversary, but there was always great consolation in having nothing to lose. The cold air stung Magnus’s hands and face as he rode, but he did not care. A rabbit crossed the track in front of him; in the distance he could see the lights of Rigton Bridge.
    *
    As he rode beside George, Tom Strickland made no attempts at conversation. Braithwaite’s morose silence suited him. If it persisted he might never have to explain why he had been at the station ; if George were to ask, he had decided to fob him off with flattery about having been interested in his yeomanry duties, but reluctant to mention this in case George had felt imposed upon. In fact Tom was confident that George’s only wish would be to forget the events of the past few hours as swiftly as he knew how, and in any case Tom was still too disconcerted by his conversation with Crawford to give much thought to George.
    While remaining as certain as ever he had been that it was harder to paint, with even average competence, than to perform the most exacting military duty, Tom could not help feeling that by being unforthcoming with Magnus, he had missed an opportunity – worse still that, where an important principle had been involved, he had let himself down. He was not proud to be working for Joseph Braithwaite, whom he knew to be ruthless and unscrupulous, and this increased his discomfort. Only when Tom thought of the work he would be doing in a few months’ time, while living on Braithwaite’s money, did his conscience disturb him less. He had a duty – as onerous as any military one and more compelling, because self-imposed – to convey his feelings in paint. There was nothing intellectual about it; he felt it as an emotional and intuitive necessity.
    In the past year, without an adequate income, he had been constantly diverted and debilitated by the struggle to survive. Endless interruptions caused by the need to earn a few pounds, had made him almost despair of ever having a long enough period to mount a concentrated attack on particular problems which he had so far failed to