Read Online William Monk 06 - Cain His Brother by Anne Perry - Free Book Online
Authors: Anne Perry
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speak.
“Nothing?” she said softly, no criticism in her voice.
“Nothing,” he conceded. Even in the single word there was a trace of some European accent, very slight, only an extra preciseness which marked English as not his mother tongue. His voice was rich and very deep, and at the moment expressive of his utter contempt. “They have a hundred prevarications, but they all amount to the same thing. They don’t care enough!”
“What excuses?” Enid demanded. “What could there possibly be? People are dying, scores of people, and it could be hundreds before it’s over. It’s monstrous!”
Hester had spent nearly two years as an army nurse. She was used to the workings of the institutional mind. No local authority could be worse than military command, or in her opinion more stubborn or totally fossilized in its thinking. Callandra’s late husband had been an army surgeon; she too was familiar with ritual and the almost insuperable force of precedent.
“Money,” Kristian said with disgust. He looked up and down at the length of the now-scrubbed warehouse with satisfaction. It was cold and bare, but it was clean. “To build proper drains would add at least a penny to the rates, and none of them want that,” he added.
“But don’t they understand …” Enid began.
“Only a penny …” Callandra snorted.
“At least half of the members are shopkeepers,” Kristian explained with weary patience. “A penny on the rates will hurt their business.”
“Half shopkeepers?” Hester screwed up her face. “That’s ridiculous! Why so many of one occupation? Where are the builders, the cobblers or bakers, or ordinary people?”
“Working,” Kristian said simply. “You cannot sit on the council unless you have money, and time to spare. Ordinary men are at their jobs; they cannot afford not to be.”
Hester drew in breath to argue.
Kristian preempted her. “You cannot even vote for council members unless you own property worth over onethousand pounds,” he pointed out. “Or rental of over one hundred a year. That excludes the vast majority of the men, and naturally all the women.”
“So only those with a vested interest can be elected anyway!” Hester said, her voice rising in fury.
“That’s right,” Kristian agreed. “But it helps no one to waste your energy on what you cannot change. Rage is an emotional luxury for which we have no time to spare.”
“Then we must change it!” Callandra almost choked on the words, her frustration was so consuming. She swung around to stare at the empty barn of a place, tears of impotence in her eyes. “We should never have to fill something like this with people we can’t save because some damnable little shopkeepers won’t pay an extra penny on the rates for us to get the sewage out of the streets!”
Kristian looked at her with an affection so naked that Hester, standing between them, felt an intruder.
“My dear,” he said patiently. “It is very much more complicated than that. To begin with, what should we do with it? Some people argue for a water-carried system, but then it has to empty somewhere, and what of the river? It would become one vast cesspool. And there are problems with water. If it rains heavily may it not back up, and people’s houses would become awash with everyone’s waste?”
She stared at him, as much of her emotion drinking in his face, his eyes, his mouth, as thinking of the bitter problem. “But in the summer the dry middens blow all over the place,” she said. “The very air is filled with the dust of manure and worse.”
“I know,” he replied.
There was a noise on the staircase. Mary returned with an undersized little man in a shiny hat and a jacket several sizes too large for his narrow shoulders.
“This is Mr. Stabb,” she introduced him. “And he will rent us two dozen pots and pans at a penny a day.”
“Each, o’ course,” Mr. Stabb put in quickly. “I got afamily to feed. But me ma died
“Nothing?” she said softly, no criticism in her voice.
“Nothing,” he conceded. Even in the single word there was a trace of some European accent, very slight, only an extra preciseness which marked English as not his mother tongue. His voice was rich and very deep, and at the moment expressive of his utter contempt. “They have a hundred prevarications, but they all amount to the same thing. They don’t care enough!”
“What excuses?” Enid demanded. “What could there possibly be? People are dying, scores of people, and it could be hundreds before it’s over. It’s monstrous!”
Hester had spent nearly two years as an army nurse. She was used to the workings of the institutional mind. No local authority could be worse than military command, or in her opinion more stubborn or totally fossilized in its thinking. Callandra’s late husband had been an army surgeon; she too was familiar with ritual and the almost insuperable force of precedent.
“Money,” Kristian said with disgust. He looked up and down at the length of the now-scrubbed warehouse with satisfaction. It was cold and bare, but it was clean. “To build proper drains would add at least a penny to the rates, and none of them want that,” he added.
“But don’t they understand …” Enid began.
“Only a penny …” Callandra snorted.
“At least half of the members are shopkeepers,” Kristian explained with weary patience. “A penny on the rates will hurt their business.”
“Half shopkeepers?” Hester screwed up her face. “That’s ridiculous! Why so many of one occupation? Where are the builders, the cobblers or bakers, or ordinary people?”
“Working,” Kristian said simply. “You cannot sit on the council unless you have money, and time to spare. Ordinary men are at their jobs; they cannot afford not to be.”
Hester drew in breath to argue.
Kristian preempted her. “You cannot even vote for council members unless you own property worth over onethousand pounds,” he pointed out. “Or rental of over one hundred a year. That excludes the vast majority of the men, and naturally all the women.”
“So only those with a vested interest can be elected anyway!” Hester said, her voice rising in fury.
“That’s right,” Kristian agreed. “But it helps no one to waste your energy on what you cannot change. Rage is an emotional luxury for which we have no time to spare.”
“Then we must change it!” Callandra almost choked on the words, her frustration was so consuming. She swung around to stare at the empty barn of a place, tears of impotence in her eyes. “We should never have to fill something like this with people we can’t save because some damnable little shopkeepers won’t pay an extra penny on the rates for us to get the sewage out of the streets!”
Kristian looked at her with an affection so naked that Hester, standing between them, felt an intruder.
“My dear,” he said patiently. “It is very much more complicated than that. To begin with, what should we do with it? Some people argue for a water-carried system, but then it has to empty somewhere, and what of the river? It would become one vast cesspool. And there are problems with water. If it rains heavily may it not back up, and people’s houses would become awash with everyone’s waste?”
She stared at him, as much of her emotion drinking in his face, his eyes, his mouth, as thinking of the bitter problem. “But in the summer the dry middens blow all over the place,” she said. “The very air is filled with the dust of manure and worse.”
“I know,” he replied.
There was a noise on the staircase. Mary returned with an undersized little man in a shiny hat and a jacket several sizes too large for his narrow shoulders.
“This is Mr. Stabb,” she introduced him. “And he will rent us two dozen pots and pans at a penny a day.”
“Each, o’ course,” Mr. Stabb put in quickly. “I got afamily to feed. But me ma died
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