Chapter 9 #2
“By the time I went up, it was far too late to hide my brains. Especially the clever young men of our mutual acquaintance.” For so very long, the intelligence services of Britain had recruited from well-bred young men who’d gone to a handful of public schools before going on to Oxford and Cambridge.
And specifically, from people who were clever enough in a particular way to go into classics in some form.
The thought was that such men would understand service, discretion, and fitting into the necessary systems. It was snobbish, classist, and not entirely wrong as a working model.
They had recognised enough of themselves in Edmund, and he now had to live with the consequences.
“If I hadn’t read Greats, they’d have wondered why. ”
“Your father had it much easier.” Papa had read History and come away with a first. But the implications of reading history were different from reading Greats.
A strong background in Greek, Latin, and the history of the ancients was the foundation of everything the British empire wanted to instil.
Very much including the empire-building parts of the Roman world.
Now, Major Manse considered. “You look very much like him at that age. You must have seen photographs. Allowing for the changes in clothes.”
“He brought out an album the other day, sir. Some photographs of you as well. A picnic, a punt.” The thing with Major Manse was that he was a family friend. Edmund had called him Uncle Lap until Edmund had gone to work for MI6, for all he’d not been around a great deal while Edmund was growing up.
He knew that Major Manse and his parents were not only friends, but that the Major had been his parents’ handler in intelligence matters since well before Edmund was born.
It made things both delicate and tremendously sturdy.
Major Manse had been one of the very first to read Modern Languages formally, which had stood him in good stead for work in Europe.
“Hah.” Major Manse snorted. “I was a different man then. I suppose we all were.” Edmund tucked that away in order to ask Mama to see about having some copies made. Major Manse, he thought, kept very little of his personal history at hand. “What would you say if I had a thought about your summer?”
“That I have a great deal of reading to do in the long vac, sir,” Edmund said promptly. “But of course I’ll hear you out.” He owed his mentor that much. Far more than that, but hearing him out, certainly.
“Would you be willing to consider a trip? Greece and Italy, optimally. We could use a pair of ears and eyes not committed to any particular line of thought. You’d travel, have a meal or such with a handful of people, report to the proper offices in each place.
Nothing strenuous. You’re exactly the useful age for it. ”
Edmund had to admit that he was. And, well, with a little planning and a trip into some more remote areas, he could earn his own membership in the Explorers’ Club in Trellech.
His parents would certainly approve of that, and Merry would cackle and be glad of the company.
“I’m glad to consider it, sir. Is this the sort of thing where there will be a formal proposal?
Or is it the sort where you send me a note in a fortnight and leave me to arrange the details? ”
“Letter laying out the itinerary desired within a month. I’ve already had a word with Benton, of course.
He’s glad to see to the practical arrangements.
” That put a different weight on it. If Major Manse had talked to Master Benton, that meant it was needed and that his parents already knew and approved of the idea.
Master Benton, their estate steward, had been Papa’s batman during the war, before going into intelligence work beside him.
As Papa put it, they’d saved each other’s lives too many times to count.
On the third hand, if Master Benton was making the arrangements, they would have an optimal combination of practical comfort and making the right show.
All to the good. There would be risks, of course, especially in the chaos and aftermath of the war.
But Edmund had more resources for coping with those than most. And he really had a perfect excuse for wandering around peering at things.
“In that case, sir, I agree in principle.” Edmund was sensible enough not to fight it. “How long a trip, so I can pace my reading?”
“Six weeks, most likely. You’ll have plenty of time at home, and a good long train trip each way.” Major Manse leaned back. “You may tell the clever young men I had a thought about occupying some of your time as a consultant and let them theorise.”
Edmund grinned suddenly. That would make the conversation over drinks rather more enjoyable, yes.
“Quite, sir.” From there, the conversation wound around to other topics.
Major Manse enjoyed hearing the latest from Ytene— the horses, the falcons, the way the New Forest was returning to its more usual rhythms finally.
And he’d had several interesting conversations— none of them too confidential to share— that Edmund found intriguing.
Those were about what information was moving freely in the world these days, and which pieces were far more sluggish.