The Indebted Earl

by Erica Vetsch

  Someone had bribed the magistrate? If that was true, what chance did Charles have? Surely he wouldn’t be hung by a crooked judge bought off by his enemies?

  Charles halted his thinking. Marcus had quite a bit of information for having arrived just this morning. How had he come by his intelligence?

  “I met your wards briefly. The little one was wearing your hat.” Marcus put the side of his finger against the seam of his lips, but he couldn’t hide the amusement in his tone.

  “Betsy.” Charles nodded. “She loves that hat, my gloves, my pocket watch. I’ve even found her wearing my uniform jacket, epaulettes and all. She tries to march around like she’s striding a quarterdeck, and any naval jargon that floats her way is captured and fired back at regular intervals.”

  “You’ve made quite an impression on her in a short time. And the other two?”

  He thought for a moment. “Penny is at turns sweet and baffling. One moment eager to grow up, the next holding on to girlhood. I will say, she has taken excellent care of her younger sisters. It’s a heavy responsibility for one so young.” Charles paced the small cell, hands behind his back. “Then there’s Thea. I’ve never met a more observant person, child or not. She’s perceptive and quick. Smart as can be, and absolutely fearless. She’s the one I worry about the most. I fear she’s in for some disappointments and futile battles, she’s so independent. Doesn’t think being a girl should hold her back from doing anything she wants.”

  “Hmm, that sounds familiar. I am eager to introduce her to my wife. They sound like twin souls.” Marcus crossed his arms. “I will say, I’m glad Sophie married you.”

  “You are?” Charles asked, stopping his pacing to spread his hands wide, encompassing his bleak surroundings. “I would have thought you would be questioning her sanity.”

  Marcus smiled. “Actually, I’m quite pleased. I thought Sophie might wear the willow for Rich for the rest of her life. She’s fiercely loyal like that. I’m glad she found someone else to love. Much like Rich, when she loves, Sophie will take a bullet for you.” Marcus’s stare pierced Charles right through. “But she’ll also shoot a few on your behalf. She’s out in the carriage right now, worried but ready to go to battle. That tells me her heart is fully yours.”

  Rockets of heat and light burst in his head and chest. Could it be true? Sophie loved him? Enough to fight for him?

  “You look stunned. Surely you know she loves you?”

  Charles tried to loosen his cravat, until he realized he wasn’t wearing one. “Of course. She’s my wife, after all.” His voice sounded strained. “Tell her …” He stopped. “Give her my regards.”

  “That’s a tame way of putting things. It’s plain as a pikestaff that you love her in return. Have you never told her?”

  CHAPTER 14

  SITTING DAY AFTER day in that cramped, musty cell, Charles thought he might lose his mind. When his incarceration stretched into a second week, he was ready to dig an escape tunnel.

  “It all starts tomorrow.” His solicitor, Mr. Coles, set a bandbox on the floor. “The magistrate approved me bringing you this, and the guards have searched it. Your wife sent clean clothing and your shaving kit. Get tidied up and looking respectable before they bring you into the dock.”

  “Where has Haverly been? I haven’t seen him all week.” Charles couldn’t imagine what had kept his brother-in-law away. He’d come every day for the first five, then disappeared.

  “He’s working on your case. As am I. His Grace has gone to Portsmouth following a lead. Now, I must go, but Mr. Allard here has a few questions, just to ensure that we’re well prepared for the morrow.” The bald-headed solicitor bowed and left the jail.

  Mr. Allard, Charles’s barrister, sat at a small table in the area in front of the cells, quill in hand, in the glow of a small lantern. “Now tell me again where you found the note.”

  It had been baffling to Charles that he needed two lawyers, a solicitor and a barrister, until Marcus explained that only a barrister could act for him in court. A solicitor handled all non-court-related points of law, but when one was really in trouble—say incarcerated and facing the noose if convicted—a barrister was needed. Mr. Allard insisted they go over everything again. And again. Either the barrister was very thorough, or he was completely out of ideas and just filling time.

  Finally, the gray-haired man packed his papers and picked up the lantern. “Oh, I almost forgot. Your wife gave me a letter for you.”

  Charles snatched the paper. Sophie hadn’t been allowed to see him, and he missed her greatly. She invaded his dreams, and when he woke, it was to such longing and emptiness, he hardly recognized himself.

  “I’ll leave the door open so you will have light.” Mr. Allard sent him a knowing smile. “Your wife is quite a woman. Very loyal and staunch in your defense. And, I might add, quite charming. She gave me a thorough examination, wanting to know my credentials, my record in cases like yours, and what I planned to do to get you released.”

  An excited weakness flowed through Charles, and he could just imagine Sophie putting the barrister through her version of the Inquisition.

  Before he could open the letter, Admiral Barrington entered the jail.

  “Charles, how are you faring? Holding up?”

  Resplendent in gold braid and brass buttons, the admiral seemed to take up all the space in the small room.

  “I’m weathering the storm, sir.” Charles stood at attention, saluting his superior officer.

  “Yes, well, I think, under the circumstances, we can dispense with all that. You’re an earl now, Wyvern.”

  “I’m still a captain in the Royal Navy, sir.” Charles paused. “Aren’t I?”

  “We’ll discuss that at a later date. For now, I have news. Alastair Lythgoe has arrived and will manage your estate in your absence. He’s a top man. I’ve just been dining with your wife. Well done getting spliced to such a fine young woman. She’s got a bit of Tartar in her too, doesn’t she? She will accept no other outcome than that you are exonerated with all speed.”

  “I believe she gets that fierceness from her mother, sir,” Charles said.

  “I came down the coast on a Revenue cutter, and between the Duke of Haverly, Lythgoe, and myself, we’ve come up with a plan to scoop up the real culprits the moment this trial is over.” Barrington dug in his pocket for his pipe.

  “As long as I get to take part.” Charles’s hopes lifted.

  “Very good.” He patted his pockets for his tinder case. When he lit the pipe, clouds of smoke wreathed his head, and he blinked. “I cannot believe the Royal Navy, the most powerful fleet in the world, is reduced to hunting petty criminals, but there you are. We’ll do the job, and we’ll do it to the best of our ability.” Barrington tucked his tinder box away. “I’ll see you in court tomorrow. And never fear. This case has no foundation, and we’ll soon knock it out of the water. That it has gotten this far is a travesty.” He headed out into the sunshine, putting his bicorn on his head and scowling at the guard.

  The moment he was alone, Charles ripped open Sophie’s letter, nearly tearing it in his haste. After reading so many of her letters aloud to Rich in the hospital, this was the first he had received written specifically to him.

  “Dearest Charles.”

  Did she mean that? Was he dear to her? When Marcus had suggested Sophie was in love with him, Charles had at first rejected the notion. But the more he thought about it, the more he hoped it was true.

  First, the girls are well, though Thea is behaving strangely. She’s having trouble sleeping, and she’s angry all the time. And quiet, which isn’t like her at all. I am hoping when this is over, she will return to her normal active self. When we realized you were going to be in that dreadful cell longer than just a day or two, I brought the girls and Mamie to Lyme Regis. They are such a comfort to me. Marcus procured lodging for us in a respectable inn, and we’re comfortable enough. Better accommodations than you currently enjoy, I have no doubt. Why won�
��t the magistrate at least let me in to see you? The man is impossible. He maintains that a jail is no place for a woman, and there are no provisions for a proper meeting room. I think this is a lot of hogwash, and he’s just being obstructive. It’s almost as if he’s taking particular pleasure in punishing you.

  Marcus has departed, but he wouldn’t tell me where. Only that it would help your case. He’s left his most capable employee, Partridge, to watch over us. I can assure you we are in safe hands. Partridge’s great size deters most trouble, but he can and will act if necessary.

  Admiral Barrington arrived by boat. You’ve got a very loyal friend there. The day before he arrived, the new steward, Alistair Lythgoe, presented himself to me at the inn. He had been on his way to Gateshead and stopped over in Lyme Regis, just as we did on our journey. That seems a lifetime ago, does it not? He stopped at The Crown and Child, and the publican informed him that his new employer was sitting in the local jail. Mr. Lythgoe came right to our lodgings. He seems quite capable, younger than I had anticipated, and indignant about your current circumstances. When I met him, he took my hand between both of his, and he said, ‘Lady Rothwell, I know these charges are completely unfounded. Captain Wyvern has an excellent reputation in the fleet, and he is above reproach. It’s an honor to work for him.’ I was most reassured. He and the admiral and Marcus put their heads together, and then Marcus and Mr. Lythgoe went their separate ways.

  Charles read that last paragraph again. Mr. Lythgoe was young, and he’d taken Sophie’s hand? It was silly to be jealous, and yet he was. He would love to hold Sophie’s hand right now. The age difference, and their history … would it always stand between them?

  He returned to the letter.

  I hope the clothing Mr. Coles brought to you is suitable. I sent someone to Gateshead to procure what I thought you would want. If you would prefer something else, send word and I’ll search out a haberdasher here in Lyme Regis. I will be in the gallery tomorrow, and if the magistrate tries to keep me out of the courtroom, I’m going to cause a scene.

  The girls will stay with Mamie during the trial. She’s been wonderful. I can’t thank you enough for the way you accepted her with all her frailties. I know you did it because you wanted to honor Rich’s memory, but I think you also did it because that’s the kind of man you are.

  Betsy wants me to send you her greetings. Actually, she just marched by with her hands behind her back, and said, “Tell him to come home.”

  Penny has been a bit … morose? I think she is just now realizing that while you are not guilty of smuggling, others are, and she’s wondering how high and far the smuggling ring reaches. She hasn’t asked any questions about her father’s possible involvement, but I think she’s realized that Miles Enys is almost certainly guilty of collusion at the very least. I don’t think her heart is involved, however, because she has managed to notice that the innkeeper’s son is quite handsome.

  Charles, I do hope you’re keeping up your spirits. I have prayed for you so often, that this miscarriage of justice would be righted soon and that you would maintain your integrity and witness. I have questioned so often how any of this can be God’s will, and yet I am at peace that His will shall be accomplished in spite of your enemies surrounding you.

  I have been reading in the book of Job, and this morning I came across this verse that gave me great comfort.

  Job 5:12: “He disappointeth the devices of the crafty, so that their hands cannot perform their enterprise.”

  I am confident this will be true in your case. Hopefully, by the end of the day tomorrow, you will be a free man, and we will be reunited.

  All your girls send their regards. We are thinking of you and praying for you.

  He cast his eyes to the signature.

  “Affectionately, Sophie.”

  His throat constricted. As she had done for Rich, encouragement and hope flowed from each line. She had informed him of much he had wondered about, had lifted his spirits, and satisfied him that while he was missed, she was caring for those he loved.

  He would have to thank Marcus for seeing that someone was looking after Sophie while she spent her time looking after everyone else.

  Who would look after her when Charles went back to sea?

  If he got the opportunity to go back to sea, that was. He had to get through this trial first.

  Sophie edged into the row of chairs near the back wall. People packed the assembly room. The magistrate, a small man with enormous side-whiskers, marched to the table in the front of the room, chest puffed out, coattails fluttering.

  Sophie stiffened. The man had been rude and pompous to her, forbidding her to see her husband. Insisting it was to protect her sensibilities since she was a “mere woman.” She clamped her teeth together.

  Admiral Barrington sat beside her, drawing glances and whispers. He exuded power and confidence, and Sophie was grateful for his presence. On her other side, Mr. Coles took a chair. He gave her an encouraging smile.

  “Have no fear, my dear. This trial is a formality, nothing more.”

  “What happens if we don’t win?”

  “The case will be referred to Crown Court, and we’ll all go to London. For now, the affair is being handled by the local magistrate, but if things don’t go our way—though I’m certain they will—Allard will appeal on the grounds that the case should have been tried in Crown Court from the beginning.”

  A side door opened, and Charles appeared between two guards, his wrists in shackles. But his head was high, and he wore the clothes she had sent him.

  His naval uniform.

  She had known he would want it, would feel best if he could wear it. It was such a part of his character, his being a naval captain, and she wanted him to be proud and assured as he defended himself today.

  The barristers entered. Mr. Allard carried a satchel under his arm.

  The only one not present was Marcus. Where was he?

  Charles’s eyes sought hers as he was ushered to the chair beside his barrister, and he nodded. His face was grim, determined. In the ten days he had been incarcerated, he seemed to have aged.

  The magistrate called the room to order, and the formal charges were read. Knowing they were false made hearing them all the more difficult. Sophie clenched her hands in her lap and pressed her lips together. Barrington shifted in his seat, but Mr. Coles was unmoved.

  Then the prosecuting barrister rose.

  The case appeared damning. Especially when so-called witnesses were brought in to testify. People Sophie had never seen before saying that they had often seen signals from the cliffs at Gateshead since Charles had become the earl.

  Mr. Allard refused to cross-examine any of them, and Sophie nudged Mr. Coles. “Why won’t he ask them questions? Why is he letting them tell lies?”

  “Not now, milady. Allard has his methods. The defense will have the opportunity to tell their side of things later.”

  The magistrate frowned in their direction, and Coles straightened.

  The Revenue officer took the stand and testified to finding the contraband alcohol on the estate. He also showed the note to the court.

  That wretched note. Where had it come from? Had it been written to the previous earl, or was it manufactured and planted to condemn Charles?

  Then a man was called to the stand, and he produced the red, white, and blue banner that Thea had found on Sophie and Charles’s wedding day. The banner Miles Enys had been instructed to destroy.

  “It’s common knowledge that this is for signaling ships. I’ve seen it on the cliffs at Gateshead plenty of times. When it’s there, within a few hours a boat usually slips into the cove, or the Shearwater, the estate’s boat, runs out of the cove to meet up with a vessel anchored offshore.”

  The magistrate called for a noon recess. Sophie made for the defense table, hoping for a word with her husband before he was escorted out. She had to force her way through onlookers and gawkers. By the time she got to the rail, he had been shac
kled once more and the guards were leading him away.

  “Charles.” She elbowed between two rotund men’s backs. They turned, frowning, and reluctantly made room for her to pass.

  One guard held up his hand. “Stop there. You can’t approach the prisoner.”

  “She’s my wife,” Charles declared, standing tall and straight.

  “I don’t care if she’s Princess Charlotte herself. We have our orders.” The guard tugged on Charles’s arm.

  Sophie reached out, and her fingers brushed her husband’s outstretched ones. “Keep your courage.”

  “You too.” And he was gone, whisked away to his cell.

  Thus far, if Sophie had been a disinterested party, she would think Charles guilty. His barrister had put up a paltry defense against the prosecution’s lies. Where had they dug up witnesses with such ridiculous stories, and why hadn’t Allard confronted them?

  And where was Marcus? If he had gone to find evidence to prove Charles’s innocence, he needed to hurry.

  “You will not let evildoers prevail. You will disappoint them in their crafty ways.” She breathed the prayer as she went out of the assembly room. Though it was midday, she couldn’t think of eating.

  In the afternoon, it was finally Charles’s turn to make his case. Mr. Allard rose, adjusted his robe, and addressed the court. “Gentlemen, what you have listened to this morning is a fabrication, a carefully crafted plot to make my client appear guilty. It is illusion and subterfuge. Before you is an honorable man, a naval captain of excellent reputation, a titled gentleman willing to take on three orphaned girls with little thought to anything except that it was the right thing to do.

  “He never asked for the title or estate at Gateshead, wishing only to remain in the navy, but he understood his responsibility. And he was pitchforked into an impossible situation. Smuggling has long been a problem on our shores, and when he arrived to assume his position at Gateshead, he unwittingly set in motion a chain of events that the real culprits found intolerable. Therefore, they sought a way to get rid of him, even if only for a time, in order to complete their nefarious deeds.”