Free Merciless Reason by Oisin McGann

say!”
    â€œI’ll have Daisy look over it,” Gerald muttered, cutting through a piece of beef.
    â€œDaisy can’t sign checks!” Oliver protested.
    â€œAnd what about the talk of these Irish-American Fenians?” Gideon called out. “Hardened veterans from that blasted war of theirs, coming back in their thousands to fight the British here? Some are already here, training up the native rabble! They’ll cause havoc!”
    â€œThis idea of a returning army is a myth for the most part,” Gerald replied, jabbing his meat with his fork. “I think most men in Ireland are concerned with going in the opposite direction. Certainly, thousands spend their life savings to leave on our ships every year, with little prospect of returning. The Irish-Americans make a lot of noise, but they have their own problems to occupy them.”
    â€œHow can we be sure?” someone asked.
    â€œMore to the point, should we be charging more for the passage to America?” another voice piped up. “If it’s such a popular route, I mean.”
    â€œWe have not resolved the matter of selling our empty gold mines,” Elvira shouted. “There is still money to be made there, before it all falls flat. This must be completed, before we discuss buying more land from destitute widows or taking the life savings from emigrants.”
    â€œWhat are we going to do about this blasted Highwayboy?” someone else called up. “I’ve been robbed twice by the little rotter, and now we hear the cur’s got all the ruddy peasants on his side by throwing them money he steals from our pockets!”
    â€œWhat about all the money we lost on that fool Livingstone’s expedition up the Zambezi?” a new voice asked. “How—”
    â€œWho gives a damn about Africa?” another snapped. “It’s more trouble than it’s worth. As far as I’m concerned you can stick that bloody Livingstone up your Zambezi and be done with it!”
    â€œWe must discuss California!”
    The voices rose in volume and number, shouting each other down until no one voice could be heard. As the crescendo of arguments became angrier, Gerald pinched his nose and sighed. Then he started to whistle.
    It was a sound mat every ear in the room recognized. Even Elvira’s. There was a sudden silence as Gerald continued to whistle Brahms’s Lullaby. It was a sweet, innocent tune and Daisy was amazed at how quickly it had its effect. Voices faltered and fell quiet. Those who had stood up to make their points abruptly sat down. Everyone exchanged anxious looks and then picked up their cutlery and started eating.
    Daisy could not be sure if it was the whistling itself that had physically forced them all to shut up, or if it was merely the fear of it that had the effect. Either way, nobody spoke again after Gerald stopped whistling. Apart from the clink of cutlery and the nervous gulps of wine, there was hardly a sound.
    Until Leopold started banging his spoon on the table and demanded another tune. His mother gently took the spoon off him and waved to a servant, who nodded briskly and walked out. Seconds later, the man was back, holding a violin. His gentle music accompanied Leopold’s eating for the remainder of the meal.
    Gerald was first to leave the table. Elizabeth and Leopold went with him. Daisy waited a full minute before following them. She allowed them to reach the elevator and step inside before coming round the last corner. Ringing the bell to summon the other lift, she walked in as the doors opened. The boy controlling the lever looked up at her.
    â€œThe laboratory, please,” she said.
    Occupying much of the basement space at the foot of the tower, Gerald’s laboratory was the only part of Wildenstern Hall that truly reflected his state of mind. Once, this place had been orderly, laid out with careful deliberation. Daisy had often found it an exciting