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“And that someone is you?”
“Why not? I had the finest tutors growing up. I’ve studied mathematics and literature both at Eton that makes me exceedingly qualified over my peers. I know every law practiced in this country by rote.”
“And do you know of the injustice?”
“I beg your pardon?” Edward asked, frowning.
Charles fixed his gaze on him. “You’re a Lord. What you experience is limited. What do you know outside of your peerage?”
Edward pulled himself out of the chair and paced the room. “Do you remember the workers’ protest last week? It was abhorrent. Think of the things they might do if left to themselves. They might very well burn this city down.”
“While I admit the protest itself was of a vile nature, they surely had a few ideas.”
“Exactly!” Edward said. “And those are precisely the ideas that will destroy them and everything this country stands for.” Edward wasn’t one of those fanatic Catholics who voted for religious supremacy in Parliament. He wanted nothing to do with those zealots. He knew people had the choices but needed to make informed ones. That’s where he and the rest of the Parliament came in. But his thoughts on women and other sensitive issues like class distinctions tended to be more on the conservative side and he didn’t see anything wrong in that.
“Have you ever been out of London? And no—I don’t mean your country estate. Have you been to the Continent or even just the slums fringing the main streets of London?”
“No,” Edward admitted.
“Then what gives you the right or the motive to decide for these people?” Charles asked, making a sweeping motion with his hand.
“My birthright,” Edward said simply.
“That is a weak argument,” Charles said. Edward knew it too so he fell silent. He wanted to do well for the masses, but it had never occurred to him to go out there and meet them. He had just assumed that they would be fine with the decisions made in the Parliament. The King had the best interests of his subjects after all.
“All right, cousin,” Edward said. “I’ll take your leave now.”
Charles stood up from his chair, looking at his childhood friend. “Did I offend you?”
“Not at all. It will take more than that to crack through our veneer of friendship. Besides, I enjoy these debates with you. It has given me much to think about.”
And it had indeed. As he entered his carriage and instructed his footman to drive him home, Edward couldn’t stop thinking about what his cousin had said. Had he really hidden away behind his privilege for so long and that had, in turn, muddied his perspectives? He was a politician and it wouldn’t do to think of his own gains. He was to remain neutral without his upbringing coloring his view of the world.
Could Charles possibly be right? Edward’s mother always donated to charity, raised funds through the balls of the year every year at the start of the debutante season. But had he ever met someone who had needed the money and the clothes they gave away?
The answer was no.
Edward looked out of his carriage window. It was a little after ten and the cobbled streets were empty. It had rained a while ago and had probably driven people back into their homes.
Something needs to change.
“Halt,” Edward called out to the driver. The footman came scurrying around to the door and threw it open.
“Yes, my Lord. Do you want anything?” the footman asked expectantly
“I wish to talk a walk along these streets.”
“That is not advisable, my Lord,” the footman said. Fear flickered on his face. “The streets are filled with scoundrels and thieves at night with naught to stop their wicked deeds.”
Edward raised a brow. “What about the policemen?”
“Even they are afraid to enter some of these parts,” the footman replied, looking around himself.
“What lies beyond this street?” he asked, making a sweeping motion with his hand. He didn’t recognize this one in the darkness of the night.
The footman hesitated. “There’s a slum called Clerkenwell. It lies beyond the main streets, in the fringe. All sorts of crooks abound the dark by-lanes and alleyways.”
Edward tapped his walking stick on the ground as he exited his coach. His footman’s words had just made him more determined to find out what lay beyond the streets. And while the thought daunted him, he was haunted by Charles’ words too. He needed to find out if he was indeed right.
