The Barrister and the Letter of Marque

by Todd M Johnson

  The prince regent pondered a moment, then nodded. “That is acceptable.”

  “Good. I also want the Padget returned to my clients with its cargo intact, along with damages commensurate with their suffering. You must also secretly communicate with the French king that neither he nor the owners of the French vessel must attempt any further effort to recover the Padget’s cargo, or the French Crown will face public claims as well.”

  “You spoke of damages to your clients. How much in damages?”

  “I’m not prepared to say. You’ll have to trust me to be fair.”

  The prince regent cleared his throat. “I’m not accustomed to placing such trust in barristers. Is that all?”

  “No. Then there is the matter of my fees.”

  “Of course.”

  “And I want no charges brought against the boys, Tad and Simon. I’ll arrange for their care. And I must know what will happen to the malefactors. If you’ve deduced some of these crimes the past few days, I suspect you’ve already given that some thought.”

  “Before I respond, do I take it that you agree Sir Barnabas had no role in these schemes?”

  “I do. As much as I railed against some of his tactics, his surprise at the critical evidence was sincere. I intend to confirm that belief, but I think I’ll find that he had no role in the impoundment of the Helen or the secret charging of the captain and so didn’t realize the seizure of the Padget was a replay of an illegal scheme.”

  The prince regent sighed. “I fully agree. As to the remaining persons involved, I have thoughts about punishments commensurate with the crimes. Trials in open court risk releasing evidence that must not become public fare. We’ll capture Lonny McPherson eventually, but he already has a dozen capital crimes which can be charged. The man can only be hanged once.”

  William nodded. “I understand. Sergeant Rhodes?”

  “If he hasn’t fled already, he’ll be court-martialed for his actions in a closed military proceeding.”

  “Mandy Bristol?”

  “What do you think appropriate?”

  An image of the long-gone Tyburn gallows came to mind, though he had no proof that Bristol had engaged in the portion of the crimes warranting capital punishment. “Transportation would do nicely,” he said grudgingly. “I imagine Mr. Bristol will agree, given the alternative of a lengthy stint in Newgate.”

  “As you wish.”

  “What of Lord Brummell?”

  “Mr. Snopes,” the prince regent said, “once again I must ask: what would you have me do? If everything you say is true—and it is now difficult to believe otherwise—I can’t openly try him for his crimes, for the reasons we’ve discussed. And he can’t simply disappear; he’s too enmeshed in society.” The prince regent paused. “Have you given some thought to Lord Brummell’s punishment?”

  “I have, Your Highness. I believe you should require Lord Brummell to write a full confession, to be kept in the royal vaults for one hundred years—only to be released before that time has passed if necessary, to use it as evidence for prosecution in the event he violates the terms of your punishment. I would like to retain a copy of that confession as well.”

  “What punishment do you envision?”

  “Exile from England forever. Modestly paid employment as a government clerk in Tasmania perhaps, where, should he live long enough, he will be permitted to retire.”

  The prince regent shrugged. “That’s a kindness after what he’s done.”

  “Perhaps. I imagine that fashions are abysmal in Tasmania, which will prove the severest punishment for the man. In any event, I see no alternative.”

  “Very well. We’ve left the matter of my daughter for last.”

  William looked to the floor. “No matter the leverage I may have, Your Highness, I can’t bring myself to insist on a father imposing punishment of my choosing on his own daughter.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Snopes,” the prince regent said with a sigh. “Thank you very much. Apart from my personal feelings, I face the same dilemma openly punishing Charlotte for her crimes as I do Lord Brummell, yet I will admit that the Lord Privy Seal’s research and yours implicate her in great wrongdoing. I can’t bring myself to believe she had a hand in the murder of the poor girl Isabella. She was kind once, though a point of contention between her mother and me. I’ve convinced myself that hers were crimes of greed that spun in directions she couldn’t control, driven perhaps by restrictions I’ve placed on her marriage and the tight purse I’ve imposed. In that light, I’ve considered an imprisonment of a different sort for someone who treasures money and society. I have in mind marriage to a certain aging baron in Silesia, a man of stultifying tastes who despises ostentation and travel.”

  William stood. “I accept that, Your Highness. Now I need to get back to court. Will you inform Judge Raleigh of the arrangements, so far as they require the court’s involvement?”

  “I will send someone immediately, Mr. Snopes, as well as begin to fulfill the remaining terms we discussed.”

  “Thank you.” William hesitated. “There is one last thing, Your Highness.”

  “What is that, Mr. Snopes?”

  “Forgive me,” William began, “but it must be said. I’m aware of what difficult financial times these are for England and for the Crown as well. I pray that that hasn’t colored your own judgment in these matters.”

  The prince regent’s face grew red. “What are you insinuating, Mr. Snopes?”

  “As I informed a colleague recently, I don’t insinuate, Your Highness. I prefer to speak right to the heart of matters.”

  He drew on his last energy to project the conviction he usually reserved for juries.

  “I have unresolved concerns, Your Highness, about the role Lord Brummell has played in these matters, as a liaison to yourself and to Sir Barnabas as well. Should I ever learn that you joined in these terrible crimes, either by your action or purposeful inaction—crimes nearly ruinous to innocent people and the death of one—then I’ll pursue you and the Crown itself with all the skill and experience I possibly can bring to bear. Good day, Your Highness.”

  59

  HEATHCOTE ESTATE

  ESSEX

  William trotted his bay up the drive to the manor house in the fresh air of an early spring. Not enough time had passed for great improvements since his last visit before trial. Nor, he knew, had enough funds yet arrived from the Crown to pay for significant work, though they were promised for the coming week. But the dew-sparkled grounds gave off the heady smell of freshly cut grass. And he noticed, even in a matter of a few weeks, the drive had been repaired. It seemed a small but determined gesture.

  Miss Kendall took William to the study. Captain Tuttle was there, seated before flames in the fireplace. He rose and gave William a broad smile. William saw, happily, how much he’d already improved.

  “Forgive my visit without notice or invitation, Captain,” William said. “It was a sudden decision.”

  “Not at all. I’m just glad you have time to visit so soon after the trial.”

  “I’ve seen no notice in the papers of your betrothal.”

  Harold smiled. “Rebekah’s parents still disapprove. But I think I’m winning them over. It won’t hurt to collect my portion of the Padget’s profits.”

  “Are you visiting your cousin?”

  “It’s a bit more open-ended than that. Since the acquittal and the impending sale of the Padget’s cargo, I’ve accepted my cousin’s invitation to stay at the manor for a while to help out. At least while I decide how to proceed with the Padget in the future. Have you put your own affairs at Gray’s Inn in order? Can you stay a few days at least?”

  “I can’t stay. But I can happily report that the judge has vacated his contempt order—expunged it entirely, in fact, at the Crown’s urging. We’ve also received assurances that the funds promised by the Crown to compensate us all will be arriving soon. And it seems that a wealth of new clients are finding my door.”

 
“Clients who can pay with more than future promises, I hope?”

  “I believe so, though I haven’t accepted any quite yet.”

  “Planning a rest?”

  William hesitated. “No. It’s just that I have some decisions of my own to make first.”

  The captain nodded and smiled knowingly. “Is that so? Perhaps you’d like to greet Madeleine, then. She’ll be very pleased by your visit. She’s in the back gardens, down by the brook.”

  William gladly accepted the gesture and left out a back door.

  A path led through beds still dormant from winter but already showing glimmers of hope. The detritus of the long cold was being cleared away by a few staff working there. Shapes of past and future glory could be seen breaking through the garden’s surface.

  He took the path down to the arched bridge over the brook, then passed beyond to rows of hedges. He made out Madeleine ahead, working on patches of some lower gardens. She was wearing the work clothes he remembered from his first visit. Kneeling, her back to him, he got near without her noticing.

  “Lady Jameson?”

  She turned.

  He was instantly struck again by the openness of her smile—as though the jury’s verdict had been a reprieve for her spirit as well. Her braided hair and everything else about her were, as always, so unconsciously natural. He helped her rise.

  “Once again, you arrive unannounced, Mr. Snopes.”

  “Once again, I find you indistinguishable from your staff.”

  She laughed. “I actually can dress better, especially if I’m forewarned.”

  “I’ve no doubt. You forget I accompanied you to a ball. But I think I may prefer you this way.”

  “There’s so much to be done. Harold has promised to stay and help me get it in order, but even so, I can’t afford enough help to begin to satisfy my ambitions yet. But you must see it in summer. The estate will look like it hasn’t for years.”

  “I’m sure its beauty won’t disappoint, Lady Jameson,” he said, not looking away.

  Her cheeks reddened. “I think, Mr. Snopes, that you may call me Madeleine now.”

  He bowed. “William, at your service.”

  An awkward silence grew.

  William spoke first. “Uh, Madeleine, I owe you an apology.”

  “You don’t, William. I breached your trust by not telling you the entire truth of my situation. I was just too stubborn to admit it at the church in Whitechapel.”

  “You did what was required for the best of reasons. I’m sorry I blamed you so. You acted . . . as I would have acted in your place.”

  “I appreciate your forgiveness.”

  He felt her gaze and smile on him like a beating sun and knew that if he waited, he’d certainly lose his nerve and turn away before expressing what he’d really come to say.

  “Madeleine,” he began again, “I have ambitions of my own. As I shared with your cousin a moment ago, clients are finding my door with matters the likes of which I’ve never entertained before. Claims of fraud implicating a duke. A banker alleged to have spied in the late war. But I’ve held them all off, not wanting to make business decisions until I’d settled other matters.”

  She nodded but remained silent.

  He took a deep breath of the faint fragrance of the nascent garden. “I haven’t told you much about my life, other than that I left home when I was young. Too young to make decisions of importance with any wisdom. Leaving was the right decision; I believe that. But it’s meant a lonely life. Not that I’ve minded too much. I love what I’m doing, mostly. I love the law and all it’s capable of at its best. I love London and mentoring Edmund and Obadiah. It’s always seemed enough. Until now.”

  Madeleine raised a hand to interrupt. “William, if I understand your purpose, will you please let me say something first?”

  “All right,” William said hesitantly.

  “Did you see my father when you rode in?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sure he was there, sitting at the window of his front room. He sits and looks out on an estate that he sustained all his life, even as it withered and nearly died around him, died as much of his family had done. I’ve spent years trying to save Heathcote Manor, struggling not to succumb to an utter loss of every faith I ever held. Now that is passing, and thanks to you and Harold, I believe I can save the estate. I want to finish that job before I consider dedicating myself to anything else. Before he dies, I want my father to see the manor as it was. Can you understand that?”

  “I can,” William said, knowing her meaning and forcing a smile in return.

  She paused. “There’s more I want to share with you. I had a visit yesterday from the American.”

  A twinge of uncommon jealousy rose in him. “You did?”

  “I did. A surprising visit, since I’d told him that it would still be some weeks before I can finish repaying his loan. He didn’t care. He came to ask for my hand.”

  William stood mute. He never thought he’d feel such crushing disappointment again.

  “I told him no.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. He’s a better man than he cares to admit, but he’s not a man I’d marry. For the reasons I just shared. But for more as well.”

  He watched her face, wondering if he really understood her. “What you hope to achieve here doesn’t require isolation, does it?”

  “No. But it will require someone centered here, in the countryside. Just as your growing practice will, I suspect, demand that your life be centered in London and its courts. At least for a time.”

  This was so foreign to him. A path never taken. A cause he couldn’t argue to persuasion.

  “It seems you’ve already thought this through,” he said sadly.

  “I have. I’ve also thought a great deal about you.”

  William looked toward the woods where he now knew he’d first loved her. Seeing her that night beyond the flames, framed by the dark, the rain, and her crumbling home. Refusing to surrender. This was a singular woman. He would wait two lifetimes for her, so long as he was certain there was a chance.

  “Are you saying such single-minded dedication won’t be necessary forever, Madeleine?”

  “It won’t, William. Not so very long, I hope. Nor does it require solitude. Tell me, was it so long a ride here today?”

  “No. It was . . . refreshing. I wouldn’t mind taking it often.”

  “Good. And I enjoy a good ride into London. Perhaps to stay with Obadiah and Suzie again.” She smiled in that way that nearly overcame him the first time he’d seen her smile so in Obadiah’s home. “Promise me something, William.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Promise me that you won’t forsake your habit of visiting without notice. It allows me the hope, any time and any day, of seeing you ride up the drive on that beautiful bay again.”

  Epilogue

  LATE SPRING, 1818

  OFFICE OF BARRISTER WILLIAM SNOPES

  GRAY’S INN

  LONDON

  Edmund strode into William’s office. William noticed that he still limped, though it was better each day. In his hand was a sheet that he was reading closely.

  “Have you seen this, Mr. Snopes?” Edmund asked.

  “Seen what?”

  “This brief. The one alluding to the charge of spying involving Count Mountcrest.”

  “Yes, I have seen it.”

  “What do you make of it?”

  “Very interesting. I think the case against him is weak.”

  “Intriguing.”

  There was a rap on the doorframe behind Edmund. Father Thomas stood there. “Am I interrupting?” he called.

  “Often,” William replied. “But not at present. What can we do for you?”

  “I was considering lunch. I thought perhaps someone might wish to join me.”

  “Can’t,” Edmund replied. “My boss works me like a slave.”

  “I’d be game,” William said, “but I was asked by Obadia
h to wait for him. He said he was coming by with a new client.”

  There was the sound of footfalls up the hall beyond the office. Obadiah appeared behind Father Thomas with Suzanne on his arm.

  “It appears to be a party,” Edmund said. “I haven’t the time for it.”

  “No, wait, Edmund,” Obadiah declared, then looked to William. “I’ve brought the new client, sir.”

  Worried, William addressed Suzanne. “Are you in legal trouble?”

  She smiled. “No. If I was, I’d have hired a solicitor with fewer future time constraints.” She patted her belly.

  Father Thomas was already grinning as Edmund threw his arms around Obadiah. “Don’t be a fool, Mr. Snopes!” he cried. “Get your head out of the law books.”

  The light dawned. William stood and came around the desk to embrace Suzanne.

  “I’m so pleased, Suzie. Really, I am. When will we meet the new client face-to-face?”

  She smiled. “November, Mr. Snopes.”

  “In time for a Christmas christening by Thomas. This is wonderful news.”

  “We could only drop by for a moment,” Obadiah said. “We’ve errands to run, preparing for the new arrival.”

  “Then you are free for lunch,” Father Thomas said to William.

  “I suppose I am.”

  Obadiah and Suzanne said their good-byes over a final round of congratulations. Edmund retreated to his office as William retrieved a hat.

  William thought a moment. “Have you ever tried The Peacock, Thomas?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Excellent tea.”

  “Good,” the Father said. “Because I’ve brought some tracts for you to look over.”