“I agree. There is talk in some circles of increasing the minimum age for work to ten but even that isn't enough, 12 would be better, even 14.”
“Is there nothing that can be done?” James asked.
“Mary was trying to improve Sally's sewing skills, so that she might get a job in my father's factory; he pays slightly higher wages than many, especially to women and children.”
“That is hardly a solution, though.”
“Maybe not, but my parents have agreed to promote from within and with her brain, she could end up working as a supervisor, a clerk, a bookkeeper, or even running one of our shops.”
“But saving one child doesn't help the others,” he argued. He hadn't meant to get into a discussion about such things, but he was pleased to see the fire back in Hope's eyes.
“What more can we do? My father has testified to a House of Commons committee in the past, about the working conditions in factories and specifically, about how his lower hours and larger wage don't affect profitability, but as long as those with money make the law, it will always be an uphill struggle.”
“Which is why we desperately need to get the vote for all men.” James said.
“All people,” Hope amended, then blushed when she realised that they were back to their original argument. “Sorry.”
“Don't apologise,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “It warms me to see your spark coming back again.”
“Even when I call you ignorant?” she asked in a small voice, remembering her words to him the day he tried to propose.
“That stung, I confess, but you were right.”
Hope looked over at him, shocked by such an admission.
“Reading my sister's journal was an eye opening experience to me. Since then I have done a lot of reading and come to realise that you were correct. Until we give all women feme sole status, women like my sister will continue to be at the mercy of men like Malcolm.”
“That's quite a change from your earlier opinion.”
“I know. I must apologise for my behaviour when we first met and you are right, I was wilfully blind, I didn't want to rethink my views on the world. Besides which, I thought that being an educated man and having spent years at seminary school, I was already wise and I was too proud to admit that I might be wrong.”
Hope couldn't quite believe that this man was the same James she had first met. He was now so humble and sincere, so willing and above all, non-judgemental. Not that her parents told her that she needed to pull herself together or anything, but she knew that they felt that way. Or she strongly suspected they did. She even realised that they felt that was because they were concerned about her, but it didn't stop her from disliking their visits.
James though, well he was just a friend, never judging, never coaxing, never asking her to do things and rarely even asking her any questions. She was certain that when she first met him, he would not have handled her situation with anywhere near the same tact and care.
“Who are you and what have you done with my friend?” she teased.
“Yes,” he laughed. “It is quite a change.”
She had never heard his laugh before and found the sound to be quite appealing.
“It looks like today will be our last with Jane,” he said as he picked up Jane Eyre and noticed how little there was left of the book. “Have you given any thought to what you might like to read next?” he asked, then added, “Assuming you want me to continue reading to you?”
“I do.” she smiled. “You have such a theatricality to how you read, that you would not have been out of place in the theatre.”
“Oh, I cannot imagine such a life.”
“Well, your skills will not go to waste as a priest, your congregations are sure to hang onto your every word.”
“Thank you, that's very kind of you to say.”
Before she could answer, he opened the book and began reading aloud. He had barely read three pages though, when Martha burst into her room without knocking. They both turned towards the door, looking confused, then worried when they saw her expression.
“Malcolm died this afternoon,” she said without any preamble. “It's expected that the inquest into his death will be next week.”
James' expression grew grave but his only reply was to nod and say, “Thank you for telling me.”
Nonplussed by his reaction, Martha hesitated for a moment before she left. Once she was gone, James turned back to the book and continued reading aloud. Although she wanted to ask how he felt, Hope held her tongue.
She was worried about him, so for the first time that evening, she ventured downstairs to eat dinner with the family. They knew to expect her as she had needed her lady's maid to help her change, so no one acted out of sorts at her presence.
Dinner was a rather stilted affair though, since James seemed determined to ignore the news about Malcolm, which made Martha and Lucien feel uncomfortable about discussing the subject.
Hope didn't have any news to share, nor had she read the paper recently to talk of current affairs, so dinner was filled with awkward conversation, interspersed with uncomfortable silences.
The next day, Hope looked from her window to see James wandering through the gardens. His shoulders were slumped and his manner overall was grave. Hope wished that she knew of some way to cheer him, but she had a suspicion of what was troubling him and knew of no way to alleviate his guilt.
Despite the injustices done to his sister and Malcolm's general bad character, a man such as James couldn't help but feel guilty for taking a life. Any life.
He had acted out of anger (and perhaps a touch of wounded pride) which Hope felt was understandable. James couldn't be anywhere near so forgiving to himself though.
Hope's gaze was drawn to the woodland to the left of her window, where Malcolm had lain in wait for her. Her heartbeat increased as she saw it, so she quickly looked away, back to James' forlorn figure, and made a snap decision.
James didn't hear anyone approach, so he was surprised to look to his right and see Hope walking alongside him. She smiled in greeting but didn't speak. James smiled in reply.
Realising how difficult this must be for her, he reached out and took her left hand in his right. He squeezed a little tighter when she tensed up as they neared the woods, but neither of them spoke until they arrived back at the house, nearly an hour later.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.
Hope felt that she should be thanking him but simply smiled and said, “You're welcome.”
The inquest into Malcolm Arundell's death was held the following week. Edward Klein managed to get another Q.C. from his chambers to cover his workload, so that he could attend the hearing.
James, Lucien and Edward all attended but Hope declined. Even with Malcolm dead, she didn't feel any safer about leaving the house. By Martha also not going, Edward simply assumed that the women didn't want to attend an inquest where quite brutal incidents would be talked about in detail.
Thankfully Hope's ankle had turned out only to be a bad sprain, so although she had to keep it bandaged, she didn't have to use the bath chair any longer. Edward noticed her faint bruising and splinted wrist, but she lied and told him that she had taken a bad fall from her horse.
He was quite attentive to her when he could be but he was here to work and discussions with James, not to mention attending the inquest, took up most of his time.
After three days of detailed testimony from Malcolm’s staff, Dr McCoy and the Medical Examiner, the jury declared its verdict.
“We find that the immediate cause of the death of the deceased, Malcolm Joseph Arundell, was the result of an infection to a gunshot wound that he received in a duel with Sir James Charles Ashdown. We therefore find a verdict of wilful murder against Sir James Ashdown, as well as any and all parties who may have aided in the duel.”
James nodded in resignation. Even if they had found that Malcolm had died of some other cause, he would still feel guilty.
Chapter Twenty Four
“So, what happens now?” Lucien asked Edward.
“They will drop the charge for duelling which they have levelled against him and instead, charge him with murder.” Edward answered.
“Will he be kept in jail or do you think that we can get him out on a bond?”
“Having already granted him bail, I see no reason for them to now detain him, although a larger bond maybe required. Plus, James is of previously good character, is not exceptionally wealthy, so not much of a flight risk and I assume, Lord Beaumont, that you will still vouch for him?”
“Of course.”
“Then our chances are good.”
The inquest was held in the Magistrates Court, so they went to see the Court Clerk, who would draw up the charges. Obviously not everything could be settled that day but the Clerk, who had worked with Lord Beaumont in his role as a magistrate for over ten years, assured him that he would do everything he could to hurry the paperwork along.
“Everything from this point onwards will be a waiting game,” Edward explained once they were home. Both Hope and Martha were keen to hear what the next steps were. “You won't be indicted until the Assizes Court comes to town in July. First the grand jury is called. These are local magistrates, lawyers and respectable gentlemen from the town. It is likely that Lord Beaumont will be a part of that jury, unless he wants to recuse himself. They will examine the evidence and determine if there is enough reason to bring charges, then they will draw up a Bill of Indictment.”
“Then what happens?” Martha asked.
“Those whose cases haven't been dismissed will then be brought before the court and officially charged. After that, the trials begin and the petty jury will be sworn in. How long you will have to wait for the trial depends on where you fall in the calendar. If Lord Beaumont can do anything to alter the order, it is usually better to be early on the list. Juries, and even judges, soon get bored of listening to cases and then are much more likely to be easily swayed to vote guilty. In many people’s minds, there is no smoke without fire, so they believe that most defendants are guilty before they even hear one shred of evidence. It's far better to present your case while juries are still eager and interested.”
“And what will our case consist of?”
“Well the inquest focused on the infection; how it was introduced and how long it took to kill him. I noticed that there was a lot of opinion but little in the way of absolute proof; it simply seemed most likely that the infection was introduced through the bullet wound. We will have to argue that the infection that killed him happened at a different time.”
“Such as food poisoning?” Lucien asked.
“Exactly. Unfortunately, I'm no doctor. I will obviously write to some experts but there is no saying if they will agree with me.”
“We'll see what we can find out for you, if that would help?” Martha offered.
“It would. Unfortunately I have a rather full case load at the moment, but it should ease in a few weeks and I will do what I can then.”
Before they could go into more detail, dinner was served and everyone filed through into the dining room.
The topic turned away from infection as no one wanted to go into such matters whilst eating, and Edward took the opportunity to talk to Hope. He had noticed that she seemed much quieter than the last few times he had met her and when the topic of a trial by Assizes Court, or trial by the House of Lords came up last night, she didn't even argue with James at all. It was more than that though, it was as if she was any young lady that he usually happened across, refined, quiet, placid. So very different from the last time he saw her, as she rode her horse out from the yard with such confidence and self-assurance.
He realised that her fall from her horse might have shaken her confidence a little, but surely only for riding. Nevertheless, although she was always unfailingly polite, he was unable to draw Hope out of her shell.
He returned to London the next day and only in conversation with a fellow passenger, did he find out the story of the attack on Hope Beaumont by Malcolm Arundell.
Edward couldn't understand why she wanted to keep such a thing secret, for there was nothing shameful in her actions. Indeed, he rather admired her courage, for he doubted that many women could overpower a man, even an injured man.
Still, he would not speak of it unless Hope broached the subject, but he was glad that he finally understood why her confidence seemed so very shaken and re-avowed to do everything in his power to get James Ashdown found not guilty. Malcolm Arundell deserved to be shot for such atrocious behaviour towards his wife but for hurting Hope, at least as far as Edward concerned, he deserved a great deal more!
Hope decided to throw her efforts into research and began with the family periodicals. There were none that seemed to be dedicated to science, medicine or nature, but many of the literary periodicals also had scientific articles. The Cornhill Magazine especially, although Macmillan's also had its fair share. Over the next week, she lost count of how many magazines she looked through. Few articles were about infection but she did find a few of the more recent editions referred to something called germ theory and ascertained that these germs were thought to cause infection, among other things. Hope noted the names, so that she could give her father a list of names that he could look up in the library. He and her mother's dedication to education, led to Marchwood having one of the best libraries outside of the cities.
Unfortunately by the time she had finished the list, her parents were in Penchester for the rest of the week on business. Her father’s premature return after her attack meant that they had a lot to catch up on, so her mother had gone to help.
James was still here, of course, but he was also the talk of the town at the moment and not inclined to go out very often. Still, was she brave enough to go alone? Since her wrist was still splinted, she would have to call the carriage, so she wouldn't be alone for long. She turned to her mirror and looked at her face. Only a few yellow smudges remained as reminders of her bruises, so they were hardly noticeable. She could wait for her parents to return but each day lost meant that she might delay discovering the article that could save James, so she rang the bell and asked for the carriage to be readied.
The first five minutes of the journey were the hardest but Hope resolutely kept her mind off anything Malcolm related and she soon calmed down. Besides, Alf, her uncle was her driver and not only wouldn't he let anything happen to her, he had a couple of large whips. He stopped by the library and helped her down from the carriage.
“Do you need help carrying your books?” he asked gesturing to her splinted wrist.
Hope hadn't considered that. “Yes, it might be a good idea.”
“I'll secure the horses then meet you inside, unless you want to wait?”
Hope had a moment of hesitation but shook her head. “No, that's fine.”
She loved the library, the peaceful hush, the scent of books, the air of learning that seemed to permeate the place. She headed to the enquiry desk and the librarian took the list of names from her and began to look them up using the index cards. When he had pulled perhaps six out, Hope began to look through them. Most were for periodicals again but each card listed the article title, which was often enough to tell if it would be relevant to her search. Alf came in a few minutes later but he couldn't help with her search. Eventually they had sixteen cards which related to germs, infection or surgery and wounds. It took about an hour to find the relevant volumes. When they returned to the front desk, the librarian had also sought out two books on nature and medicine that the library had, which he thought might be helpful.
It wasn't strictly possible to check volumes of periodicals out of the library but since the Beaumonts had built this library and funded it very well since, she hoped that they would make an exception for her.
The librarian who had helped her wasn't able to agree to such a thing, but said he would do his best to convince the head librarian a
nd asked how long she might need them for.
“Um, two weeks should be plenty.”
“Leave it with me.” His smile as he came back confirmed that in this instance it was fine. “He said that if it were anyone else, he would have to say 'no' but given your love of literature, he thinks they will be perfectly safe with you.”
“I hope I won't inconvenience anyone else,” she said sincerely.
“Most read the periodicals when they come in but few want to look over back issues, so I doubt it'll cause any problems.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you!” He answered, which surprised her. “Mr Arundell wasn't much liked in these parts Miss, but Mrs Arundell was. We're on Mr Ashdown's side on this one.”
She wondered how much the town knew, not to mention now much was fact and how much fiction.
“That's nice to hear.”
“Good luck, Miss.”
They left, Alf carrying the volumes of magazines while Hope carried the two books in her good arm. They stored them in the carriage and Alf offered Hope his hand to help her step up.
“Do you have a lot of work back at the house?” she asked suddenly.
“Not especially. With your father away, I don't have to pick him up from the workshop. Why?”
“I was wondering if you would accompany me for a stroll. It's been so long since I was out that I don't feel inclined to return yet.”
“Sounds lovely,” Alf smiled.
They walked in silence for a while, drawing a few stares given the gossip but being the Earl's daughter, that usually happened to some extent whenever she went out.
“Shelly misses you, you know,” Alf said out of the blue.
Hope turned to him, surprised by the statement and a little shamed because he was right. “I can't ride yet, not until Dr McCoy says the splint can come off.”
“I know, but you rode her almost every day. You're her mistress and she misses you. Besides, we don't feed her nearly the amount of carrots and apples that you do.”
Degrees of Hope Page 19
