Arthur & George

you came here?’
    The Vicar looked questioningly at his wife. ‘The Election,’ she replied.
    ‘Yes, that is true. I have, on more than one occasion, lent the schoolroom for political meetings. There was a problem for Liberals in obtaining halls. I am a Liberal myself … There were complaints from some of the more conservative parishioners.’
    ‘More than complaints?’
    ‘One or two ceased coming to St Mark’s, it is true.’
    ‘And you continued lending the hall?’
    ‘Certainly. But I do not want to exaggerate. I am talking of protests, strongly worded but civil. I am not talking of threats.’
    Sir Arthur admired the Vicar’s precision; also his lack of self-pity. He had noted the same qualities in George. ‘Was Captain Anson involved?’
    ‘Anson? No, it was much more local that that. He only became involved later. I have included his letters for you to see.’
    Arthur then took the family through the events of August to October 1903, alert for any inconsistency, overlooked detail, or conflict of evidence. ‘In retrospect, it’s a pity you did not send Inspector Campbell and his men away until they had equipped themselves with a search warrant, and prepared yourself for their return with the presence of a solicitor.’
    ‘But that would have been the behaviour of guilty people. We had nothing to hide. We knew George to be innocent. The sooner the police searched, the sooner they would be able to redirect their investigations more profitably. Inspector Campbell and his men were, in any case, quite correct in their behaviour.’
    Not all of the time, thought Arthur. There was something missing in his understanding of the case, something to do with that police visit.
    ‘Sir Arthur.’ It was Mrs Edalji, slender, white-haired, quiet-voiced. ‘May I say two things to you? First, how pleasant it is to hear a Scottish voice again in these parts. Do I detect Edinburgh on your tongue?’
    ‘You do indeed, Ma’am.’
    ‘And the second thing concerns my son. You have met George.’
    ‘I was much impressed by him. I can think of many who would not have remained so strong in mind and body after three years in Lewes and Portland. He is a credit to you.’
    Mrs Edalji smiled briefly at the compliment. ‘What George wants more than anything is to be allowed to return to his work as a solicitor. That is all he has ever wanted. It is perhaps worse for him now than when he was in prison. Then things were clearer. Now he is in a state of limbo. The Incorporated Law Society cannot readmit him until the taint is washed from his name.’
    There was nothing which galvanized Arthur more than being appealed to by a gentle, elderly, female Scottish voice.
    ‘Rest assured, Ma’am, I am planning to make a tremendous noise. I am going to stir things up. There will be a few people sleeping less soundly in their beds by the time I have finished with them.’
    But this did not seem to be the promise Mrs Edalji required. ‘I expect so, Sir Arthur, and we thank you for it. What I am saying is rather different. George is, as you have observed, a boy – a young man, rather – of some resilience. To be honest, his resilience has surprised both of us. We imagined him frailer. He is determined to overthrow this injustice. But that is all he wants. He does not wish for the limelight. He does not want to become an advocate for any particular cause. He is not a representative of anything. He wishes to return to work. He wishes for an ordinary life.’
    ‘He wishes to get married,’ put in the daughter, who until this moment had been quite silent.
    ‘Maud!’ The Vicar was more surprised than rebuking. ‘How can he? Since when? Charlotte – did you know anything of this?’
    ‘Father, don’t be alarmed. I mean, he wants to be married in general.’
    ‘Married in general,’ repeated the Vicar. He looked at his distinguished guest. ‘Do you think that is possible, Sir Arthur?’
    ‘I myself,’ replied Arthur with a chuckle, ‘have only ever been married in particular. It is the system I understand, and the one I would recommend.’
    ‘In that case,’ – and here the Vicar smiled for the first time – ‘we must forbid George from getting married in general.’
    Back at the Imperial Family Hotel, Arthur and his secretary took a late supper and retired to an unoccupied smoking room. Arthur fired up his pipe and watched Wood ignite some low brand of cigarette.
    ‘A fine family,’ said Sir Arthur. ‘Modest,