The House of Cards Complete Trilogy by Michael Dobbs Read Free Book Online

most meager of parliamentary accolades, an unpaid job as skivvy to a senior minister, to fetch, to carry, to do so without complaint and without question—qualities designed to impress prime ministers when selecting candidates for promotion. Williams’s help had ignited a spectacular rise through ministerial ranks for Samuel and the two men remained firm friends.
    “Problem, Teddy?” Samuel inquired.
    “A prime minister can choose his friends and his Cabinet,” the old man sighed, “but not his relatives.”
    “Any more than we get to choose our bedfellows.”
    Samuel nodded toward the door. Urquhart had just entered with his wife after driving up from his constituency. Samuel’s glance was cold. He didn’t care for Urquhart, who hadn’t supported his promotion to Cabinet and who on more than one occasion had been heard to describe Samuel as “a latter-day Disraeli, too good looking and too clever for his own good.”
    The veneer over the traditional and still lingering anti-Semitism wore very thin at times, but Williams had offered the brilliant young lawyer good counsel. “Francis is right,” he had said. “Don’t be too intellectual, don’t look too successful. Don’t be too liberal on social matters or too prominent on financial matters.”
    “You mean I should stop being Jewish.”
    “And for God’s sake watch your back.”
    “Don’t worry, we’ve been doing that for two thousand years.”
    Now Samuel watched unenthusiastically as Urquhart and his wife were forced by the crush of people toward him. “Good evening, Francis. Hello, Mortima.” Samuel forced a smile. “Congratulations. A seventeen thousand majority. I know about six hundred MPs who are going to be very jealous of you in the morning with a victory like that.”
    “Michael! Well, I’m delighted you managed to hypnotize the female voters of Surbiton once more. Why, if only you could pick up their husbands’ votes as well, you too could have a majority like mine!”
    They laughed gently at the banter, accustomed to hiding the fact that they did not enjoy each other’s company, but it quickly passed to silence as neither of them could think of a suitable means for disengaging from the conversation.
    They were rescued by Williams, who had just put down the phone. “Don’t let me interrupt, but Henry will be here any minute.”
    “I’ll come down with you,” Urquhart volunteered immediately.
    “And you, Michael?” asked Williams.
    “I’ll wait here. There will be a rush when he arrives. I don’t want to get trampled, from behind.”
    Urquhart wondered whether Samuel was having a gentle dig at him but chose to ignore it and accompanied Williams down the stairs, which had become crowded with excited office staff. Word of the Prime Minister’s imminent arrival had spread and the appearance of the Party Chairman and Chief Whip outside on the pavement galvanized the crowd. An organized cheer went up as the armored black Daimler with its battalion of escorts swung around the square, appearing from behind the skirts of St. John’s to be greeted by the brilliance of television lights and a thousand flaring flashguns as cameramen, both professional and amateur, tried to capture the scene.
    As the car drew to a halt, Collingridge emerged from the rear seat and turned to wave to the crowd and the cameras. Urquhart pushed forward, tried just a little too hard to shake his hand and instead managed to get in the way. He retreated apologetically. On the other side of the car Lord Williams, with the chivalry and familiarity that comes of many years, carefully assisted the Prime Minister’s wife out of the car and planted an avuncular kiss on her cheek. A bouquet appeared from somewhere along with two dozen party officials and dignitaries, all of whom were struggling to get in on the act. It seemed a minor miracle that the heaving throng managed to squeeze through the swing doors and into the building without casualties.
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