Free Political Death by Antonia Fraser

the past. The one member of the government everyone trusts, apart from Harry Carter-Fox, that is." Jemima wasn't sure whether this was intended to be a joke. "You have to understand that this whole thing could ruin him my father, our father," she ended.
    Jemima had not expected her to be quite so direct, nor was she prepared for what Sarah said next. "He did give evidence at the Faber trial and yes, as far as we know he did have an affair with Lady Imogen. But that's thirty years ago," said Sarah fiercely. "Why should it all be dragged up now? What is it all to do with politics, let alone government now, the problems which we all have to face in this country and abroad, which are..."
    Archie interrupted her. He had gone slightly pink. "Just because that dreadful old bat lost her marbles and started making threatening calls, telling the newspapers about it, or trying to. Dad's paid the price. He was young then but he's paid the price and he doesn't have to pay it twice. Or rather Mum paid the price. For him. You say you could have killed her, Sarah, but I could have cheerfully strangled her. I wish I had."
    "Our mother found the situation very difficult to cope with." Sarah spoke with extreme care. "She doesn't go out much these days. As you know, she never travels with Dad, doesn't act as his hostess, never has done, just lives quietly in the country."
    "Oh come on, Sarah, don't be so mealy-mouthed. We're asking Jemima to be open with us, to tell us what the old girl said to her. So don't let's try to be tactful.
    Jemima had better know the truth. Mum drinks. People do. She does. She probably drank a bit even when she was young look at Uncle Pel, permanently blot to and I believe our grandfather died of drink. But she certainly drank a hell of a lot more after the Faber Case. All those whispers about Faber visiting her in Dorset, she helping him to disappear, all nonsense of course, just inventions, rumours. But not helpful.
    "She's still a great person on a good day. And she doesn't need any of this. This shit the Press and all that all over again. I put that above Dad's fucking career, election or no election. So, are you going to tell all about it on television, Jemima?" The pinkness of his smooth skin was quite intense.
    To her surprise, Jemima was moved, but why should she be surprised? Part of the idiocy of an election was the way people became demonised. Until now the Smyths, to say nothing of their secluded mother, had been lay figures to her, and not particularly sympathetic ones. Now she saw them all as potential victims of this mischief from the past. But she also made careful note of the reference to Teresa Smyth, the 'clever, clever Tee' of Imogen Swain's Diary, and now apparently drunken, drunken Tee. Another victim, like Imogen Swain herself. How ironic if you like was the fact that both the women in Burgo Smyth's life had ended up destroyed, whereas he had prospered. This had to be considered later.
    The laws of libel had prevented even the most scurrilous accounts of the Faber Mystery from dwelling a great deal on the character of Teresa Smyth. It was apparent from her son's attitude that in certain circles the rumours had been far stronger in that direction than Jemima had realised. In a way Teresa Smyth too had been marginalised, written out of the story much as her rival Imogen Swain had been: two invisible women. But Teresa Smyth at least must have been happy to be invisible. Jemima wanted to get back to her flat and rethink one or two things... "Of course I'm not going to put it on TV!" she exclaimed, "Whatever that means. I'm an investigative reporter, not a muck-raker. Lady Imogen wrote to me in answer to an advertisement about memories, I went to see her. That was it." But that wasn't quite it, whispered the voice of conscience. You've got that Diary still, haven't you? Lady Imogen gave it to you. And you know about the other Diaries, you know about their father's letters, don't you?
    Jemima decided to