This mood of self-confidence lasted until the first week of July. At that point the editor of the Review returned his manuscript with a polite letter saying he was sorry they could not make room for it. The note gave no indication why the article had been rejected and Johnny didn't know what to think.
He had been so sure of a favourable response he had begun another piece on repeal of the Corn Laws--very scholarly it was, full of references to utility and the political economists.
Bewildered as much as hurt, Johnny took his manuscript to Clanross and sought his opinion.
They sat in the earl's private study, a snug room apart from the main traffic of the house. Clanross read slowly. Johnny held his breath. At last the earl set the paper aside.
"It's well reasoned, Johnny, and clearly worded."
"Then why did they not want it?"
Clanross frowned. "I don't know. Perhaps--"
"Perhaps what?"
"Journals are strange organs. Mind you, the only writing I've published has been scientific in nature and the reasons for selection may be different. I'd guess the Review sent this back because you say nothing very surprising."
"Nothing of a sensational nature?"
Clanross smiled. "I don't think you ought to strain after sensation." He came from behind his desk and returned the manuscript to Johnny, gripping his shoulder briefly. "The man you should be asking is Richard Falk."
"But Colonel Falk is a satirist. That is, the history was not satire, but--"
"Richard is a writer. He has been publishing his work since he was twenty years old. You say you wish to write for money."
"Not just for money!" Johnny protested. "I should never sign my name to ideas I thought were false or...or depraved."
Clanross's eyebrows rose. "Do you find Richard's ideas depraved?"
Johnny was horrified. "No, no, of course not, but I'm sure I couldn't write satire. I'm not witty or fanciful. I just want to tell the truth."
Clanross regarded him for a silent moment, then nodded. "Well, my advice is to show this piece to Richard, and your next, when you've finished it. Meanwhile, recast the first in the form of a speech. I need an all-weather oration on the subject of Reform, and I'm fresh out of phrases."
Johnny stared.
Clanross's eyes twinkled. "I'll probably change it in delivery. My ideas are rather more extreme than yours, but, I like your line of reasoning."
Johnny swallowed. "I'd be honoured."
"Nonsense. My speech-making talents have been compared unfavourably to a creaking gate."
Johnny rose, feeling lighter of heart.
"Come to London with me."
The queen had refused Wilberforce's offer and the House had finally brought in a Bill of Pains and Penalties. Although the trial would not begin until August, Clanross felt obliged to spend a week in town consulting with Featherstonehaugh and other like-minded politicians.
"Do you need my services in London, sir?"
Clanross frowned. "Not necessarily. The thing is, you could visit the offices of other journals and talk to men who make a profession of political writing."
Johnny swallowed hard. "Oh, sir... my lord. Thank you!"
19
"Good heavens, Johnny, where did you spring from?"
"London. Is Colonel Falk at home?"
A home question. I think like Richard, Emily reflected. In fifty years shall I look like him? "In a manner of speaking," she said vaguely. "Do sit down. I'll call for sherry. Tell me what you've been doing."
Johnny sat on the edge of the withdrawing room sofa. He looked as if a loud noise might propel him ten feet in the air. "I must see the colonel."
"You shall, of course, but he's out riding with Amy and Tommy. You're agitated, Johnny. Has something happened?"
"I... I want Colonel Falk's advice on a delicate matter."
The idea of Richard dispensing delicate advice tickled her. She bit back a smile and rang for her father's butler.
Johnny was so distressed, his manners had flown out the window. Emily made soothing remarks, poured sherry, asked after Tom, offered small family anecdotes. Johnny began to look less harrassed. He even gave her a few connected answers. When she asked how the Brecon ladies did, however, he lapsed into lip-chewing silence. Richard's entry was a relief.
The two men shook hands. When Emily excused herself, neither objected. They wanted her to leave. She wondered what would happen if she continued to sit obstinately between them.
* * * *
Johnny was so relieved to see Colonel Falk, he could not immediately order his thoughts. When Mrs. Falk had left the room and both men were seated once more, he burst into an account that sounded confusing even to him.
"Start over, Dyott, from the beginning." Colonel Falk took a sip of sherry. "You discovered what the young ladies were doing in Greek Street."
Johnny pulled the crumpled poem from his coat pocket. Mute, he handed it over and watched as Falk read it through, eyebrows raised.
"Heady stuff."
"I found it in a Crown Street bookshop. It's bound to be labelled seditious."
"No doubt. Almost everything one thinks these days is seditious."
"You do see that?"
The colonel's eyebrows twitched. "That the abuses the author attacks are real? Oh, yes. 'A Patriot,'" Falk read. "An ambiguous nom de plume. You didn't write this?"
"Certainly not!"
"Then I gather Tom's librarian did. He knows his Burns."
"Eh?"
"'Scots Wha' Hae wi' Wallace Bled,'" Falk said impatiently. "'Lay the proud usurper low,/ Liberty in every blow/ Let us do or dee.'"
"Oh." Johnny was briefly consoled to know Owen had plagiarized his best line. That was beside the point, which was Maggie's safety; "I think the twins took the poem to Greek Street to friends of Owen's who saw it into print."
"Sounds likely. How did you recognise the poem without the author's name?"
"I heard it," Johnny said grimly, "at every stage of composition. I believe I have it by heart. Ought I to tell Clanross?"
"Why not? It summarizes Tom's feelings. Some of his feelings." He frowned. "A trifle bloodthirsty for Tom, of course."
Johnny drew a deep breath. "If such a poem were to come into the hands of an informer--"
"The ladies might find themselves in the suds and so might their guardian." Colonel Falk completed the thought for him. "Tell Tom."
"If I betray Maggie she'll never forgive me."
To his relief Falk did not laugh. "You'd run that risk."
"I can't do it!" Johnny tumbled into an account of his courtship of Maggie, how important it was that she trust him.
"Why don't you explain that to Tom?"
Johnny swallowed. "I can't ask Clanross for her hand until I've the means to support her." He went on to describe the quarrel with his father and the sad business of the article. A week in London haunting coffeehouses patronised by journalists had not shed light on the rejection.
"Did you bring the article with you?"
"I... As a matter of fact, yes. It was in my coat and I forgot to remove it."
Falk held out his hand.
Reluctant, Johnny dug out the paper and turned it over to him. "It has nothing to do with Owen's poem."
The colonel smiled briefly. "I might as well advise you on something that lies within my experience." He read it through. "Not bad. Rather dull."
"Dull! Reform of Parliament?"
"My dear Dyott, interest, like beauty, is in the mind of the beholder. You've done almost nothing to stir your reader's sympathy."
"I won't make extravagant emotional appeals!"
"I don't suppose you'd consider collaborating with young Davies? Forget I said it," he added glancing at Johnny's face.
"What am I to do about the poem?" Johnny uttered through clenched teeth.
Falk leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. After a considering pause, he opened one eye. "Has the author been identified? By government spies,
I mean."
"Not yet. I hope not."
"And the twins have escaped detection?"
"No hint of scandal has appeared in the newspapers."
"Ride up to Brecon and ask Lady Margaret to tell you exactly what happened. Tell her you must inform your employer, then go to Tom and lay the matter bare."
"It sounds simple."
"We already agreed you would be running a large risk," the colonel said patiently. "Lady Margaret is not stupid. You say she likes you and trusts you. If you're open with her she'll feel obliged to reciprocate."
Johnny brooded. "All right."
"You must tell Tom."
Johnny rubbed his forehead.
"If you don't I shall."
Johnny stared.
Falk met his eyes. "Tom and I have been friends too many years for me to connive at a deception that could embarrass him. He's a publick man with a reputation for honest dealing. The government won't charge a peer of the realm with sedition, but they might try to discredit him. Forewarned is forearmed. Let Tom decide what to do."
When Johnny did not reply, he added, "I'll give you a week."
Johnny rose. "I'm obliged to you, sir."
Falk got to his feet, too. "I doubt it. I merely clarified what you were already thinking. About the article, Johnny."
Johnny turned in the doorway.
"There's meat in it."
"Thank you."
"What it wants is a daub of mustard."
Johnny stared.
"Good luck," Falk said gravely.
* * * *
Johnny rode off as precipitously as he had come. That evening, when Emily and Richard were retired to their bed, she decided to pry.
"I daresay you can't tell me what Johnny wanted." According to Emily's brother, James, a statement like that, if couched in Latin, would begin with a particle num and expect a negative answer.
"No," Richard said predictably.
Emily sniffed. "Can you tell me whether his concern has to do with the Nation or the ladies at Brecon?"
"Both."
"We could play twenty questions."
Richard chuckled.
"You won't tell me?"
"My lips are sealed."
"Oh, very well." She turned away from him and punched the feather pillow with her fist.
"We may have an entertaining time at Brecon," he murmured. "What an earnest chap Johnny is."
"Is that bad?"
"No, but there are more and more like him. That doesn't bode well for satirists."
Emily propped herself on one elbow and squinted at him. "Do you mean to write another satire?"
"Yes," he said drowsily. "If need be, I'll publish it myself."
* * * *
Maggie was dawdling up the hill from a visit to her young sisters at the Dower House. She heard the horseman before she saw him, and stepped onto the grass verge.
It was Johnny. She recognised him at once. Her heart leapt and she found she was grinning foolishly.
When he came abreast of her, Johnny reined in and slid from the saddle. "Thank God I found you alone. We must talk."
"Of course." He had ridden ventre á terre to be at her side? Really, Johnny had a great deal of romance in his make-up. "You're covered in mud." Alarm sharpened her voice. "Is anything the matter?"
He drew her off behind a screen of trees and tied his nag to a low branch. "I've found out what you and Jean were doing that day in Soho."
Maggie went cold.
"Quite by accident." Johnny drew a breath. "I wasn't trying to spy on you, truly." He described how he had found Owen's poem in the bookstall, his cruel dilemma, and his hasty journey into Hampshire to seek Colonel Falk's advice. Johnny looked tired. If he had ridden to Hampshire, turned round, and come directly to Brecon without pausing to rest, it was no wonder.
Maggie could think of nothing to say. He must despise her.
"I would not have forced your confidence for the world." His eyes were so dark with distress, she had to look away. "For God's sake, Maggie, speak to me."
"I couldn't betray Jean," she mumbled, "and she made me swear."
"Of course you couldn't." The warmth in his voice gave her the courage to look at him again. "She's your twin, your oldest friend."
Maggie blinked back relieved tears. He understood!
"I'll never come between you and your sister, Maggie. I promise."
She smiled tremulously.
"But I have my loyalties, too. Clanross pays me a wage. Even if I did not like and admire him, I should still be obliged to inform him. It's too dangerous a matter to leave undisclosed." He twisted his hat in his hands.
"Must you? He'll send Owen away, punish him."
"Look at me, Maggie."
She obeyed.
His brown hair ruffled as the breeze touched it. "Do you think Clanross would act unjustly?" His eyes were grave.
She raised her hands to her face. "I wish I knew what to do. We must warn Jean. At once."
"Where is she?"
"In our room, I think. She meant to read Colonel Falk's novel."
He gave a hollow laugh. "Let's find her, then, and talk it over with her."
"She'll want to inform Owen, too."
"Owen should be hanged by the thumbs," Johnny said bitterly.
"He was worried when he found out we left the poem with his friend's landlady." Maggie untied the horse and handed him the reins.
"You did what?"
Frightened, she repeated what she had said.
Johnny groaned.
Maggie was having trouble breathing. "I'll find Jean. Do you find Owen, and we'll meet in the book room in half an hour. It's empty. Lizzie is with the babies."
"Oh lord, Lady Clanross!"
"She won't find out," Maggie said without conviction.
But Elizabeth did find out.
Scarcely had the four of them got past the first explanations and recriminations when Elizabeth entered the book room, looking puzzled.
Maggie and Jean froze. Johnny made an odd noise in his throat, and Owen edged toward the open window as if he might cast himself from it.
"Johnny? Fisher told me you'd come on horseback. Is anything wrong? Tom--."
Johnny cleared his throat. "His lordship is very well and still in London."
"Then that's all right." Her eyes narrowed. "You look guilty, all four of you. What's amiss?" When no one answered, she said impatiently, "You might as well open your budgets. I'll find out sooner or later."
Maggie and Jean launched into simultaneous protest. Johnny overrode them.
"I came to warn Lady Margaret that I had discovered the reason for the twins' visit to Greek Street."
"Tell me that. That do I long to hear,'" Elizabeth quoted dryly.
Maggie writhed. She had hated deceiving Elizabeth only a little less than deceiving Johnny.
"Well?" Elizabeth tapped her foot.
Johnny launched into a partial explanation. When he had got as far as his hasty flight to Hampshire, she interrupted him.
"Why did you not tell Tom?"
"I thought I ought to warn Lady Margaret first." He looked at the toes of his boots. "And Lady Jean."
Elizabeth's mouth set. "You must inform Clanross at once."
Johnny met her gaze. "I mean to return to London at first light."
Elizabeth turned to her sisters, unsmiling. "How you must have enjoyed your come-out--frolicking at Almack's, kissing the king's hand. Tschaa!"
Maggie squirmed.
"Clearly you have depths of character I've never plumbed. As for Owen--" She took a step forward.
Owen stood by the window with his chin up. Maggie, from the pit of her humiliation, had to admit he looked heroick.
"It's a fine poem," he said, defiant.
"It's a skilful pastiche of half a dozen works I could recite for you if I had the stomach. I acquit you of malice and ingratitude, Mr. Davies. You are merely a reckless fool."
"I shall remove from Brecon
at once."
"Oh, no, you shall not!" Elizabeth in a fury was not to be trifled with.
Maggie took a step backward and bumped the bookcase, but Owen held his ground.
"You will remain here under my guard until my husband decides what's to be done with you. I know you for a coward, sir."
"By God, ma'am, if you were a man--"
"If I were I man I'd call you out! Puppy! Poltroon! Allowing girls of seventeen to run your risks for you! You sicken me."
"Owen is not a coward," Jean said passionately. "It was all my idea. I insisted."
"That I can believe." Elizabeth gave her a look designed to freeze her marrow.
Maggie was glad Elizabeth's glare had not fallen upon her. She had not felt obliged to defend Owen but she felt she ought to defend Jean. She cleared her throat. "I thought of the disguises and worked out the details of our venture, Lizzie. It was not all Jean's idea."
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly. "Very well. You're to blame, all three of you. Johnny I acquit of everything but confused loyalties."
Johnny winced.
Elizabeth glowered from one to the other. "Does none of you have common sense? Sedition is not a game. Men have been transported for less than that poem. Yes, and women, too."
"The cause of liberty--"
"Fustian, sir. If you cared tuppence for Liberty, you would not have placed Clanross's credit in the Lords at risk."
"The Lords--" Owen's lip curled.
Elizabeth said in a shaking voice, "Be still, jackanapes, before I do you a mischief."
Owen's eyes dropped.
Elizabeth raised a hand to her brow and brushed back a strand of hair. Maggie saw that her sister's hand trembled. "I must write to Tom at once--and think what to do with you all meanwhile. You had better go to your rooms until dinner."
No one moved.
"'In God's name, go!'" Elizabeth roared, echoing an ancestor of the maternal side.
They went.
* * * *
By the time Elizabeth had writ Clanross and dressed for dinner, the first surge of her wrath had spent itself. She knew she had spoken with more heat than was becoming or, indeed, just. She felt rather sick.
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