Wonderland (Wonderland Series: Book 2)

by Irina Shapiro

  “My, how ingenious,” Warburton exclaimed, getting up to see the lens for himself, but forestalled by Hugo’s swift replacement of the modern-day object in his eye. Contact lenses would not come into existence for several hundred years, so they had to be kept a secret, even from Gideon.

  “Shall we begin?” Hugo asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of claret. He was clearly in charge of this gathering, so Brad retreated into a corner with his own drink and allowed Hugo to question the lawyer.

  “Do you feel yourself confident of proving your case, Master Warburton?” Hugo asked, watching Gideon’s reaction intently. The lawyer, who’d been ingratiating and timid only a few moments before, seemed to draw himself up to his full height and meet Hugo’s gaze with unflinching intensity. The law was his passion, and his knowledge gave him an upper hand.

  “I do. I have ample evidence and several credible witnesses who will swear to the fact that Maximillian Everly is not Hugo Everly, but there is a matter of some concern. I have only just found out that the judge appointed by the Crown has been replaced due to a bilious attack. George Jeffreys will now be presiding over the proceedings,” he added meaningfully.

  “Why do you find that concerning?” Hugo asked, suddenly tense. I could see that he was searching his memory for any mention of Jeffreys. Hugo had spent hours in the library while in the future, reading about the Monmouth Rebellion and the subsequent trials, but must have forgotten the name of George Jeffreys until he’d just heard it mentioned. There was a spark of recognition in his eyes as the piece of the puzzle fell into place.

  “Were you not in London during the Bloody Assizes, your lordship?” Gideon asked, surprised by Hugo’s ignorance of the name.

  “I’m afraid I was rather far away at the time,” Hugo replied, referring to his sojourn to the twenty-first century. “I have heard about the trials, of course, but am not familiar with the details.”

  “George Jeffreys is rather — how can I best put it — a bully. He doesn’t have a reputation for mercy or compassion. He prefers to err on the side of extreme punishment,” Gideon explained, clearly uncomfortable with enlightening Hugo. So, Jeffreys was what we’d call a “Hanging Judge.” I felt a shiver of apprehension as Gideon met Hugo’s gaze.

  “Jeffreys not only sentenced two hundred and fifty men to be executed, he’d condemned the rest to transportation to the West Indies to be sold as indentured laborers. Our case must be solid, which is where your sister comes in. People who have a slight knowledge of the accused might be mistaken, but a sister will be sure as to the identity of the man in the dock. I’ve had the pleasure of conversing with your sister, and she assured me that she knows the man in the Tower is an impostor, largely due to the fact that she likely realizes you are here in London. Eh, is she aware of your current whereabouts?”

  “My sister knows I’m not the man in the Tower, Master Warburton,” Hugo replied, avoiding the question. Given what had transpired, we couldn’t afford for Jane to know where we were. “Will Maximilian be permitted to testify on his own behalf?”

  “Prisoners are not allowed to speak in their own defense under the law, but I will be his mouthpiece,” Gideon replied proudly.

  I sat in the corner mulling this information. I vaguely remembered that it wouldn’t be until the end of the eighteenth century that William Garrow would begin to challenge the established British system, and come up with the world-famous phrase “innocent until proven guilty.” He advocated the adversarial court system while working at the Old Bailey, calling upon the cross-examination of the accused as well as the witnesses, who could be held in contempt of court or even arrested for perjury, as many witnesses were willing to testify to just about anything for payment.

  Now, a century earlier, most individuals accused of a crime did not receive any legal help, nor were they entitled to a trial by jury. In most cases, it was the local magistrate who presided over a case, and his word was law. In a sensational case such as the trial of a traitor, a higher authority was called upon, such as George Jeffreys, who was held in high regard by King James, and would be elevated to the peerage and made Lord Chancellor, as we would discover in time.

  “What do you suggest, Mr. Warburton?” Hugo asked. I could see the tension in his shoulders, but his voice was smooth and his hand steady as he cradled the empty cup, keeping his emotions under a tight rein.

  “Rumor has it that Jeffreys has rather a taste for the finer things in life,” Warburton suggested, eyeing Hugo to see if he took his meaning.

  “You mean he’s open to bribes?”

  “Only very substantial ones, I’m afraid.”

  Hugo considered this information for a moment and turned back to the lawyer. “Master Warburton, I know that you will do everything in your power to defend your client, but should your defense fail, I authorize you to do whatever is necessary to ensure a desirable outcome.”

  “As you wish, my lord. Now, with your permission, I will leave you to your fine claret.” Gideon Warburton rose a trifle unsteadily to his feet, bowed to Hugo and retreated toward the door.

  Brad rose to his feet, refilled Hugo’s cup and patted him on the back. “I have the utmost confidence in Gideon’s abilities,” he said, which only signified to me that he was damn worried.

  “Your friend’s abilities might not be enough,” Hugo countered, a look of consternation on his face. “If Jeffreys is as sadistic as his reputation suggests, we’d better have a substantial amount of money ready to buy him off. This is the last rebellion-related trial, and Jeffreys will not wish for history to remember him as being lenient or merciful, not at this late stage. He has a reputation to protect, especially if he hopes to elevate his position in the future. We must be prepared.”

  “I will make sure that Gideon has access to whatever he needs,” Brad replied, nodding in agreement with Hugo. “I’m afraid you are right about Jeffreys. His last-minute appointment changes everything.”

  There didn’t seem anything left to say, so Hugo draped the cloak over my shoulders and steered me toward the door. I was tired, and worried. Tomorrow would be a day I wouldn’t soon forget.

  Chapter 42

  Liza waited patiently until most of the girls were occupied with clients before quietly slipping out the back door. The night was dark, the moon obscured by thick clouds which leached all the light from the sky. Here and there, a torch burned and cast a pool of light into the street, but there were long stretches of inky blackness. Liza pulled her shawl over her head, partly for warmth, and partly to cover the large bruise blooming on her cheek. Madame Nelly had not been well pleased with Liza’s unauthorized absences, and made her feelings known very eloquently. She’d hit Liza until her teeth rattled in her face, but at least she hadn’t been angry enough to turn her over to Jack. That would have been the end of her and her baby.

  Liza kept to the shadows as she hurried along the streets. It hadn’t been too difficult to find out where Lionel Finch was staying the night before the trial. London was abuzz with news, and all one had to do was listen. There would be a heaving mass of people by the Tower tomorrow, waiting to learn the outcome of the proceedings, but Liza wouldn’t be one of them, not if things went her way tonight.

  She was relieved to finally see the sign for the White Hart Inn. It was a respectable establishment, within walking distance of Whitehall Palace; a testament to the fact that Lionel Finch considered himself to be an important man despite his lack of title or position on the Privy Council. According to the innkeeper, he’d taken several rooms, one for himself, and the rest for his men-at-arms, who were currently drinking and dicing in the taproom.

  A burly man who looked as if he could squash Liza’s head like a ripe melon came forward and eyed her belligerently. “What do you want?”

  “I need to speak to Master Finch,” Liza said, glaring at the man with all the authority she could muster. “It’s urgent.”

  “He’s not interested in the likes of you,” the man replied, spittin
g a gob of saliva, which landed by Liza’s feet.

  “I have information about the trial that he’ll be very interested in, unless, of course, you think you know best. Don’t blame me if he guts you from chest to groin when he finds out you’ve turned me away,” she hissed, hoping that the man was stupid enough to let her through. Lionel Finch had a reputation for violence; perhaps her threat wasn’t as empty as it sounded.

  “Follow me.”

  The man rapped his knuckles on the door at the top of the stairs, but didn’t enter until he heard confirmation from Finch. “This wench says she has information you desire,” he said carefully, watching Lionel Finch for signs of rage.

  “Let her through,” Finch commanded.

  Liza was surprised to see how insignificant the man looked. He wasn’t very tall; his hair was thinning in the front, and he had a weak chin. Lionel Finch regarded her with his expressionless eyes as she stood before him. He must have been getting ready for bed since he wore just a shirt which was untucked from his breeches, and yellow stockings which made his skinny shins look like chicken legs.

  “Well, what is it, girl?” Lionel Finch barked when Liza failed to speak.

  “I have some information that could be valuable to you,” she began, but stopped speaking as Finch let out a bark of laughter.

  “What information could you possibly have, you stupid cow?”

  “Information you’d be willing to pay for,” Liza spat out. “Or do you not want to know where the real Hugo Everly is?”

  “He’s in the Tower, where he belongs,” Finch replied, but he didn’t sound certain. He was studying Liza, trying to figure out if she were having him on.

  “No, he’s not. But, if you’re not interested in what I have to say, I suppose I’d better be going.” Liza turned toward the door, praying that Finch would stop her. He did.

  “Where is he? And how do you know?” he asked.

  “I won’t tell you where he is until you pay up. And as to how I know; I used to share his bed before that witch came along, so I’d recognize him anywhere. Seems he’s here in London, searching for his little guttersnipe, Jem.”

  That seemed to perk Finch’s attention, but he wasn’t a man of business for nothing. Lionel Finch adjusted his expression to one of indifference, and studied Liza in silence for a few moments before finally asking her to name her price.

  “I want fifteen guineas,” she announced, squaring her shoulders against Finch’s gaze. Liza had thought long and hard about how much to ask for. She didn’t want to reach too high, but she also didn’t want to give up the information too cheaply. Fifteen guineas was a fortune to someone like her; a windfall that would allow her to live in comfort for the rest of her days. Of course, Finch would never just agree to the sum, but it was a starting point in their negotiation.

  “I’ll give you five, and only if your information is worth anything,” he countered.

  “Then I’m leaving,” Liza said with disdain. Of course, five guineas was more money than she’d ever clapped her eyes on, but she was willing to walk away. This was her one chance, and she had to get as much as she could.

  “All right, girl, I’ll give you ten guineas, but if your information is worthless, I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Is that understood?” Finch snarled as he reached for his purse. He slowly counted out ten guineas and laid them on the table in front of Liza. “Talk.”

  “Hugo Everly is staying at a small inn in Blackfriars called the Silver Cross Inn. He’s been there for the past week at least. I’ve followed him several times to make sure. His whore and his man-at-arms are with him. What you do with this information is not important to me,” she added, “but I want my money now that I’ve told you.”

  “And what’s your stake in this?” Finch asked as he pushed the coins toward Liza.

  “I was ill-used by Hugo Everly and dismissed by his sister, who threw me out without paying my wages or giving me a character reference which would help me secure another position. I had to take a job in a brothel to survive. I won’t spend the rest of my days cleaning up after whores; I have a child to think of,” Liza replied. She had nothing to lose by telling him the truth.

  “Carrying a bastard, are you?” Finch asked conversationally.

  “I’m not the first, nor the last to be taken in by a lying cur of a man, but I will rise above my situation and make a life for myself,” Liza retorted, color rising to her cheeks. She scooped up the coins and slipped them into the pocket of her skirt.

  “I can have you thrown out of here without the money you extracted from me, but I won’t. You have spirit, girl, and I admire that,” Finch said.

  As long as it’s not in your wife, Liza thought vengefully.

  “Go back to your brothel, and don’t be surprised when my man follows you. If your information proves to be false, you will pay dearly. Now go.”

  Liza turned and fled down the stairs. She heard Lionel Finch ordering his man to follow her, but she was already flying through the night, running for her life. Her pursuer might be strong, but he was clumsy and unused to running, especially down narrow, dark alleyways. She could hear him gasping for breath as he lumbered after her. She was getting winded herself, but she kept going, her feet landing lightly on the ground and making the minimum amount of noise. The distance between Liza and the man-at-arms was growing rapidly, so she began to look around for a place to hide. She’d be damned if she went back to the brothel now. If anyone found out, they’d take the money away, and she’d get a beating for leaving without permission. She just had to make it through the night, then she would be free. Her only regret was not saying goodbye to Mavis and thanking her for the friendship and help she’d given so freely.

  Liza wandered the darkened streets until she came upon a church. The door was locked, but she hid in the church porch, pressing herself into a dark corner until she was invisible from outside. She’d wait until morning, then make her way to the city gates and hope that someone might offer her a ride in their wagon. She was going home, and she was rich.

  Liza fingered the money in her pocket, amazed that she’d been able to get Lionel Finch to pay up. The coins were heavy, weighing down her skirt in a pleasant way. That’s what it must feel like to have a full purse. Ten guineas was more money than she’d earn in a lifetime, enough to support her, her baby, and her mother for years to come. She might even be able to do something for her sisters; a modest dowry perhaps. All she had to do was make sure she didn’t get robbed. If anyone heard the jingling in her pocket, they’d get suspicious, and she had no way of protecting herself.

  Liza took out a coin and stared at it lovingly. It wasn’t big, but still too big to swallow. She’d choke. She looked about her person frantically, looking for a place to hide her fortune. She thought of putting the coins in her shoes, but the soles were so thin the coins might get pushed right through. Putting them inside her bodice was impractical as well. The coins might slide out. She needed a safe place, a place where no one would think to look should they have a mind to rob her. Liza swallowed hard as she thought of a solution. It was distasteful, but her fortune was sure to be safe. Liza lifted up her skirts and pushed the coins one by one into her body. The metal was cold and hard, but she ignored the discomfort as she curled up in the corner and fell asleep, a small smile playing about her lips as she dreamed of the life to come.

  Chapter 43

  “You useless gob of dog shit,” Lionel Finch bellowed. “I should make you pay me ten guineas in recompense for your unimaginable stupidity. How could you let that silly trollop get the better of you, Harvey?”

  “She knows these streets, and it was dark,” Harvey mumbled in his defense. “And we’d been drinking. I wasn’t exactly steady on my feet, now was I?”

  “You listen to me, you moronic lump of uselessness; you go to that inn, and you stay outside and watch until you see Hugo Everly, or you’ll pay with more than a few coins. Am I making myself clear?” Lionel hissed, his eyes narrowed with fury. H
e was surrounded by morons; morons whom he paid handsomely for their services. He knew damn well that they felt no loyalty toward him; he wasn’t the kind of man who inspired feelings of devotion, so he had to pay for them. But money couldn’t buy good sense.

  “I don’t know what he looks like,” Harvey protested, taking a step back.

  “No, you don’t, do you? But you know what Archie Hicks looks like. You’d diced with him half the night, if I recall. So, look for him. Everly can’t be far behind. And DO NOT LET THEM OUT OF YOUR SIGHT!!!!”

  “So, how will I keep you informed if I’m not to leave my post?” Harvey asked, perplexed.

  “Not the sharpest knife in the box, are you?” Finch replied. “I will send Oliver there to find you. Now GET OUT!”

  Harvey didn’t need to be told twice. He shut the door behind him with a bang, leaving a furious Lionel Finch to pace the floor. Lionel poured himself a cup of wine, drank it in one go, and slammed the cup back on the table. The trial was tomorrow, which meant that he had a decision to make. If the man on trial was not Hugo Everly as he claimed, did it make sense to testify against him? What did it matter if he was released? However, if the accused were convicted in his stead, Hugo Everly would go free, which wasn’t as straightforward as it sounded. Hugo would no longer be hunted, but he wouldn’t be able to return to his estate or pick up the threads of his former life. Of course, Everly had enough money to leave the country and start a life someplace else, while someone managed his estate until he felt it was safe to return.

  Lionel began pacing the small room, pivoting on his heel every time he reached the end. He would find Liza and kill her if she’d lied to him, but if she’d been telling the truth, then Lionel had been presented with a unique opportunity to get his revenge. If his theory was correct, then Hugo had no reason to remain in London after the trial.

  No doubt he was waiting to hear the outcome and know how his own life would be affected. Of course, Lionel could just order Harvey to stick a knife between Everly’s ribs and be done with it, but that approach lacked finesse. He needed Hugo Everly to know that he’d been hunted down and cornered, and he wanted to see the look on his face as he realized that death was inevitable, and he would go to his grave knowing that his woman would be left at the mercy of a vengeful enemy.