by R. N. Morris
It was now time for Elgar’s song, ‘A Christmas Greeting’.
There was a moment of quiet as the audience settled and the soloists took their positions, Émile Boland wielding his violin as if it was an extension of his own body and Dame Elsie Tatton moving with dignified serenity. Fonthill made an upward gesture to the choir and half the women got to their feet, including Lady Fonthill. Quinn was surprised to see that Anna Seddon was among them too, but not Ursula Cavendish. She did not appear to be among the women who remained seated either.
Whatever Lady Emma felt about her husband’s resurrection, her look gave nothing away. For now, she was focused entirely on the performance to come.
Nods were exchanged between Boland and Fonthill. Fonthill lifted his baton and something wondrous suddenly existed, a sound produced by the tiny instrument in Boland’s hands, playing in close harmony with one of the violinists from the orchestra.
But just as Dame Elsie drew breath in preparation for her first note, the performance was disrupted by a cry from the audience. A young man had leapt to his feet and was shouting. It was hard to make out exactly what he was shouting, but Quinn thought he made out the word ‘imperialistic’ and perhaps also ‘rubbish’. Quinn’s right hand instinctively flew inside his ulster, to touch the handle of his Weber service revolver. As it did so, he felt a surge of elation. But he was prevented from drawing his weapon by Leversedge’s restraining grip around his wrist. ‘No, guv. Not here. Not now. I’ll deal with it.’
The secret service chaps had formed a barrier around Churchill, leaving it to Leversedge to approach the shouting man. Leversedge showed the same coolness under pressure that had been evident in Limehouse. He merely had a quiet word with the protester and encouraged him to leave. Quinn noticed a look pass between Leversedge and Commander Irons that he did not like. Something was undoubtedly communicated between them, and he could not shake off the impression that it had to do with him.
Inchball cut short Quinn’s reflections by snarling, ‘It’s that bloody Masters!’ He sprang to his feet and pointed at Roderick Masters as he was escorted out. ‘I warned you!’
A look of terror came over Masters and he practically ran from the hall.
Naturally, the disturbance unsettled the audience and the choir. Sir Aidan appeared ashen-faced and shaken. He seemed to forget where he was. His mouth gaped in shock.
Lady Emma Fonthill stepped forward from her place in the front row of the choir and made her way through the orchestra to her husband’s podium. She placed a hand on his arm and whispered something into his ear. Her look was not tender, exactly; it was firm, but not devoid of sympathy. Fonthill nodded as he took in her words and seemed to recover.
He tapped the podium with his baton and the music began again. This time, Dame Elsie was allowed to begin singing.
Quinn closed his eyes and thought of the time, a few days ago, when the moon had appeared in the morning. It was such a fragile thing, barely there, and yet huge and wondrous.
He felt something touch his hand and opened his eyes to see Lettice Latterly’s hand on his. He took hold of it and turned to look at her. She was facing straight ahead, towards the music, smiling. At the same time, she blinked, and a tear ran down her cheek.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This novel could not have been written without the help of my wife, Rachel Yarham. She sings in an excellent choir, which, it goes without saying, is nothing like the entirely fictional choir featured in this novel. She very helpfully checked the musical parts of the story for glaring errors. If any remain, it’s my fault for not listening. More importantly, she gave me the idea for the murder method. I could say it’s a little bit worrying, but then I’m the one who’s written all the crime novels.
I’d also like to thank my agent, Christopher Sinclair-Stevenson, and the team at Severn House, in particular my editors, Kate Lyall Grant and Sara Porter. Thanks also to Piers Tilbury for another great Silas Quinn cover design.
