And secret! He had gone to the gallows rather than speak of it, even to excuse himself.

“We had better look further,” she said at last. “What we want may not be here in this room, but it is the best place to begin.” It was also the only place, so far.

Juno bent obediently and opened the desk drawers. For one of them Juno sent to the kitchen for a knife, and then pried it open, splintering the wood.

“A pity,” she said, biting her lip. “I don’t suppose it can be mended, but I didn’t have the key.”

They began there since it was the only one specifically protected from intrusion.

Charlotte had read three letters before she started to see a pattern. They were carefully worded; the casual glance would have found nothing remarkable in them-in fact, they were rather dry. The subject matter was theoretical: the political reform of a state which had no name, whose leaders were spoken of personally rather than by office. There was no drama, no passion, only ideals; as if it were an exercise of the mind, something one writes for an examination.

The first letter was from Charles Voisey, the appeals judge.

My dear Fetters,

I read your paper with the greatest interest. You raise many points with which I agree, and some I had not considered, but on weighing what you have to say, I believe you are quite right in your thinking.

There are other areas in which I cannot go as far as you do, but I understand the influences which have affected you, and in your place I might share your view, even if not the extremity of it.

Thank you for the pottery, which arrived safely, and now graces my private study. It is a most exquisite piece, and a constant reminder to me of the glories of the past, and the spirits of great men to whom we owe so much… as you have said, a debt for which history will hold us accountable, even if we ourselves do not.

I look forward to conversing with you further,

Your ally in the cause,

Charles Voisey

The next one was in a similar tone; it was from Thorold Dismore, the newspaper proprietor. It too was largely in admiration for Fetters’s work, and requested that he write a further series of articles. It was very recently dated, so presumably the articles were yet to be written. There was a rough draft of Fetters’s acceptance. There was no way of telling whether the final had been sent or not.

Juno held out a letter from the pile she had taken, her eyes filled with distress. It was from Adinett. Charlotte read:

My dear Martin,

What a marvelous piece you have written. I cannot praise you enough for the passion you display. It would be a man devoid of all that distinguishes the civilized from the barbaric who would not be fired by what you have said, and determined at all costs to spend all his strength and his substance in creating a better world.

I have shown it to various people, whom I will not name, for reasons you will know, and they are as profound in their admiration as I am.

I feel there is real hope. It is no longer a time merely of dreams.

I shall see you on Saturday.

John

Charlotte looked up.

Juno stared at her, her eyes wide and hurt. Then she passed over a sheaf of notes for further articles.

Charlotte read them with growing misgiving, then alarm. The mention of reform became more and more specific. The Roman revolution of ‘48 was referred to with passionate praise. The ancient Roman Republic was held as an ideal and kings as the pattern of tyranny. The invitation to a modern republic, after the overthrow of the monarchy, was unmistakable.

There were oblique references to a secret society whose members were dedicated to the continuation of the royal house in its power and wealth, by any means at all, and the implication was there that even the shedding of blood was not beyond them if the threat was serious enough.

Charlotte put down the final sheet and looked across at Juno, who sat white-faced, her shoulders slumped.

“Is that possible?” Juno asked hoarsely. “Do you think they really planned a republic here in England?”

“Yes…” It seemed a brutal answer, but a denial would have been a lie neither of them could have believed.

Juno sat quite still, leaning a little on the desk, as if she needed its strength to support her. “After… after the Queen dies?”

“Perhaps.”

Juno shook her head. “That’s too soon. It could be any day. She’s into her seventies. What about the Prince of Wales? What are they going to do about him?”

“There’s nothing said here,” Charlotte answered very quietly. “I think they would be too careful to commit that to writing, if there is a plan, not just dreaming. Especially if there is a secret society, as they say.”

“I understand reform.” Juno searched for words. “I want it too. There’s terrible poverty and injustice. Funny how they don’t mention women.” She tried to smile, but it was too difficult. “They don’t say anything about us having more rights or more voice in decisions, even for our own children.” She shook her head, her lips quivering. “But I don’t want this!” She gestured with one hand as if to push it away. “I know Martin admired republics, their ideals, their equality, but I never had the slightest idea he wanted one for us! I don’t… I don’t want so much change.” She gulped. “Not so violently. I like too much of what we have. It is who we are… who we have always been.” She looked at Charlotte pleadingly, willing her to understand.

“But we are the fortunate ones,” Charlotte pointed out. “And we are a very small minority.”

“Is that why he was killed?” Juno asked the question that hung between them. “Adinett was actually a member of this other society, the secret one, and he murdered Martin because of this… plan for a republic?”

“It would explain why he said nothing, even in his own defense.” Charlotte ’s mind was racing. Was the Inner Circle monarchist? Was that what it was about, and Adinett had discovered what his friend planned, that his idealism was not merely about the glories of the past or the tragedies of ‘48, but meant something urgent and immediate for the future?

Even if it were true, how could that help Thomas?

Juno was still sitting and staring across the room. Something inside her had crumbled. The man she had loved for so many years had suddenly moved, revealing another dimension which altered everything that was already perceived, making it radically different, dangerous… perhaps irredeemably ugly.

Charlotte was sorry, desperately sorry, and she wanted to say so, but that would be condescending, as if she had uncovered this situation alone, relegating Juno to a spectator, a sufferer, not a protagonist.

“Do you have a safe?” she said aloud.

“Do you think there’s more in it?” Juno asked miserably.

“I don’t know, but I think you should keep these letters and papers there, since this drawer won’t lock anymore. You shouldn’t destroy them yet, because we are only guessing what they mean. We may be wrong.”

There was no light in Juno’s eyes. “You don’t believe that, and neither do I. Martin cared intensely about reform. Even now I can look back and remember things he said about republics as opposed to monarchies. I’ve heard him criticize the Prince of Wales and the Queen. He said that if the Queen had been answerable to the people of Britain, like any other holder of office, she would have been dismissed years ago. Who else can afford to abandon their job because they lost a husband or wife?”

“No one,” Charlotte agreed. “And there are plenty of other people who say the same. I think I do myself. That doesn’t mean I would rather have a republic… or even if I would, that I would do anything to make that happen.”

Juno gathered the papers together, frowning slightly. “There’s no proof in these,” she said quietly, as if the words hurt her and she had to force them out.