Chapter 8

"I still don't much care for lawyers," Lucy said.

The breakfast table broke into polite laughter. Lucy's social promotion — from maid to guest in James's house — had not quieted her tongue.

"Well, perhaps you would be willing to make an exception in the case of your friend's lawyer." Mr. Carhartt inclined his head toward Caroline, sitting across from Lucy.

"Perhaps," Lucy said with a sniff. "But I still do not understand why she needs to go through all of this. Simply because Sir Edward's witch of a sister won't open her greedy, grasping hands."

"Don't be coy," Caroline said. "Tell us your real opinion of her, Lucy."

"I'm quite serious, Caroline," Lucy said. "Years of nothing and then two trials on the same day?"

"Ah, well that is Judge Dennings," the attorney said. He was quite unused to being asked to dine with his client on the morning of a trial, particularly in the home of the private secretary to the Viscount Castlereagh, and felt obliged to keep up his end of the conversation. "The first part of November is, for reasons I do not pretend to fathom, a particularly slow time in the chancery courts. And I have no doubt that by scheduling them on the same day, he is trying to curry favor somewhere, perhaps with your father, Mr. Stanhope."

"Please, sir, I am James to my friends."

"James, then. This judge is a sycophant of the first degree, although he is not without his parts. But I am quite certain that he expects to be well-rewarded for dispatching both of these cases in the same day."

"Then Caroline has no chance?" Lucy asked. She had paid little attention to earlier discussions between Caroline and James.

"No, no. Not at all. I fully expect that Judge Dennings will try to show his good judgment by splitting the difference."

"King Solomon," James said with a grin.

"Quite so," Carhartt agreed. "I'm sure that he already has the comparison firmly in mind. He will express his considerable doubts about the circumstances of Caroline's marriage to Geoffrey Stanhope, but in the end he will find himself unable to ignore the reams of depositions given by the young man's shipmates on the issue of the will.

"I do not expect him to reach the question of the marriage at all. And if he does, the testimony of Mr. Stanhope — James — the decedent's best man, is quite convincing. I do find it difficult to imagine that the parson, assuming he is still available and still willing to perjure himself, will last long under cross-examination. As for why the judge will throw Mrs. Stanhope that bone, perhaps he has a sponsor at the Admiralty whose good wishes he needs even more than those of the Earl. Although pray do not be surprised if he declines your late husband's wish to name you executor, Lady Stanhope."

Lady Stanhope raised an eyebrow.

"Executrices — female executors — are rare enough. In Judge Dennings' court, to my knowledge, they are unheard of. But you need not be concerned. He will likely appoint James as administrator in your stead, and the will, of course, will be unaltered. As for the second matter, I am afraid that the judged may hope to placate the Earl by finding against her on the matter of Sir Edward's investment."

"I believe the Earl cares more about my son than my money," Caroline said with a sigh.

"And yet he was quite clearly trying to ruin you financially," Mr. Carhartt said.

"Frankly I found that quite odd," James interjected. "Caroline's inheritance is a pittance to him. And the letter he sent — the "Merchant" letter — is particularly strange. The reports that I have been receiving from his staff — mostly those loyal to my brother at this point — have been favorable. He seems to be recovering his senses. At least for now."

"Much as His Majesty used to," Mr. Carhartt said.

"Exactly. That is why the letter surprised me. And angered me, to be honest. Not that he listens to anything I say at this point, but I sent him a note stating that in light of my brother's love for Caroline, the only effect of his having sent such an unspeakably crude letter — a letter whose sole purpose was to impoverish you — will be to alienate the only heir to whom he is still speaking. The only child still willing to speak to him. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go compliment Mrs. Childs on her crêpes."

He bowed to the women and left the table.

Caroline gently shook her head.

"I'm afraid that James is sometimes more headstrong than sensible. That the love that Geoffrey and I shared should affect his father's relationship with his family at this point seems quite naïve. Mr. Carhartt? You look puzzled."

Her attorney dabbed his lips with his napkin.

"Really, it is not my place."

"Please," Caroline said, "you are my counsel. And we are among friends."

"I simply misinterpreted Mr. Stanhope's remark. He had two brothers, as I understand. One your late husband..."

"Geoffrey, yes," Caroline said.

"And the other the naval officer."

"Sir William."

"Quite so. And when he spoke of your brother's love for you, I understood him to mean his, er, living brother."

Caroline sat back in her chair as if she had been slapped.

"William?" she said in a hushed whisper. "But William doesn't..."

"Doesn't what?" James asked as he came back and resumed his seat.

"When you were speaking of your brother's love just now, you meant Geoffrey, of course, did you not?" Caroline asked.

James exchanged a glance with Mr. Carhartt that lasted a fraction of a second too long.

"William's love?" Caroline's voice was barely audible.

"I'm so sorry, Caroline," James said. "I thought it was quite obvious."

"He has never said a thing."

"No, I'm sure not." James said. "And now I hope that he does not appear today after all. I should be most mortified."

"He is here?" Caroline's asked. "In England?"

"His ship was sighted at the entrance to the Thames yesterday. I sent him a message that we would be in court today, and left a similar message at the Admiralty in case he appears there first."

Caroline sat in stunned silence while Lucy, to fill the void, once again expressed her sense of unfairness at Caroline's treatment, particularly with respect to the money she had given Sir Edward.

Her attorney was very grateful for the change of subject.

"The law, Miss Burton, is not always an equitable being, even in a court of equity, I'm afraid."

"Perhaps you will allow me to at least attempt to explain," James interrupted. "To see if I grasp the problem."

The lawyer nodded and James turned to Lucy.

"Let us suppose there is a woman. Not Caroline, of course, but an unscrupulous woman out to try to obtain herself a fortune."

"Let's call her Charlotte," Lucy said.

"Oh, Lucy," Caroline said with a shake of her head.

"Charlotte, then," James said. "Charlotte appears in court to testify that she gave her money to the Lord Wilfredus Countleby for safekeeping. Now she would like it back. You are the judge Lucy. What do you do?"

"Give her back her money, of course."

"And what proof do you demand that it is hers?"

"She said it was hers, didn't she?"

"She swore an oath on the Bible, Lucy."

"Well, then."

Lucy exulted in her triumph.

"And your Charlotte would never lie, would she?"

Lucy closed her mouth.

"Well?" James asked, leaning forward to press her for an answer.

"Well, how should I know?" Lucy said.

"Exactly," James said, sitting back with a laugh. "So Parliament, in its infinite wisdom, passed the Statute of Frauds and Perjuries. Long ago, if I am not mistaken."

He looked at the attorney for confirmation.

"Over a century."

"And it provides that certain cases shall not go forward in the absence of a writing — any sort of writing — that confirms the debt. In this case, that would be the debt owed by Sir Edward to Caroline as a result of his agency — his acting on her behalf by investing her funds. Did I miss anything?"

"Not at all," Carhartt said.

"Then Caroline really does have no chance?" Lucy's voice rose in alarm.

"Not at all," he repeated. "I have an excellent argument, I believe, that this particular type of transaction is not subject to the statute. But that is for the judge to decide. Miss Pelham's lawyer will certainly argue to the contrary. And speaking of arguing, James, I believe that it is time for us to begin making our way toward the court.

They arrived with ten minutes to spare. Caroline, who was named the executor of Geoffrey's estate under his last will, sat inside the bar with her counsel. Lucy and James sat just behind. A sallow, sharp-faced man, quite clearly the lawyer representing the interests of the Earl, the only person objecting to probate of the will, sat at the other table.

The bailiff's solemn request that the courtroom rise out of respect to Judge the Honorable William Dennings was only partially undercut by the appearance of Judge Dennings himself. Clad in black robes that made His Honor look like little more than a black sphere, he took his seat in a wooden chair that creaked ominously as it accepted his weight.

"We will hear first the Matter of the Estate of Geoffrey Stanhope. Mr. Carhartt appears for the executor named in the will. Mr. Sloss for the challenger. Do either of you have any wish to address the court before I begin?"

"Your honor, we do not," Carhartt said, rising to address the court. "I understand that the burden is on Mr. Sloss, though, to convince you not to probate Lieutenant Stanhope's last well and testament."

"Mr. Sloss is discharged."

A man in his middle sixties stood at the back of the courtroom. His heavy cloak and muffler dropped to the seat behind him.

"Dear God," James muttered. "Father."

"Your father?" Lucy asked. He had spoken too softly for Caroline and Carhartt to hear him. They had turned to look at the man as well.

The judge appeared to be most put out.

"By what right do you interrupt this court, sir? I shall have the bailiff remove you upon another outburst like that."

"I am Sir Richard Stanhope, Earl of Prescott, the challenger named in this proceeding. I have, to my shame, employed that man there and that man there."

He pointed first at the lawyer, and second at another man sitting in the corner of the courtroom, a man shocked to see the Earl.

"I have brought a letter of introduction, sir, from the Regent's personal secretary. And my son, James, who sits there and who is employed by the foreign secretary, can confirm my identity.

Caroline and Carhartt turned their stunned faces to James, whose own face appeared close to collapse.

"He called me his son," James whispered.

"The attorney I hereby discharge," the Earl continued. "The other, a man who has stolen my personal stationery and forged letters purporting to come from me, I request the bailiff to take into custody."

"You stupid git!" the man snarled. "I did what you asked."

"You far exceeded your instructions." The Earl's voice was gaining in strength, booming through the courtroom. "Instructions which I now admit went much too far. And which, in any event, did not include the forging of my name."

"You owe me three hundred pounds, you fucking bastard!"

The judge was even more outraged at this new outburst.

"Bailiff, take this men downstairs."

The man sprang from his seat before the bailiff could react, however. The judge, the litigants, and the spectators all watched him run from the room.

"It matters little," the Earl said with confidence. "He will not get far. I have a man on the streets. And in the meantime, Your Honor, I should be very grateful if you would dismiss my challenge to my son's will and confirm his wife, Lady Caroline Stanhope, the mother of my grandson, as both his executor and his sole heir."

Judge Dennings was wholly unused to his courtroom filling with tears of joy. He gave his gavel close study, quite unwilling to interrupt the reunion — if in fact there had ever been a union to begin with, which was most unlikely — between the Earl of Prescott, his eldest son, and youngest son's widow. When everyone had settled back into their seats, he quickly signed an order confirming Caroline's status as heir and executor — the last with a simpering glance at the Earl. Finally, he announced that he would return at two o'clock to hear the Matter of the Estate of Edward Pelham.

"I have never seen Caroline so happy," Lucy said as she and the attorney sat at a table in a London tavern. "It is quite astonishing."