Nerissa sat down, but leaned forward as the tall stranger stepped forward.
“I am Count Anthony of Stratham, of the Quiversley line,” said the man, and Nerissa rolled her eyes to hear the delighted chitter of the ladies down the row from her.
Though she would have been lying if a shiver did not spark up her spine as he spoke. Count Anthony was commanding; each word was uttered as though he was accustomed to not only being listened to, but being the most important person in the room.
And he usually was, she thought with a wry smile.
“I am here to get back what is mine,” Count Anthony was saying. “Mine by right. This gentleman was given the responsibility of caring for the finances of Olympic Shipping Company, and he did most purposefully allow the company to drift into bankruptcy, without notifying myself or any other investor.”
Now the murmuring around her was darker, and Nerissa looked at her father, who was staring determinedly directly ahead of him.
“I request that the balance of my investment be taken from Mr Fairchild from his wages, and returned to me,” finished the Count.
Shocked murmurings echoed around the court room but Nerissa barely heard them, for at that moment Count Anthony turned away from the judge and raised his eyes to hers. They met, just for a moment, a flashing instant that seemed over almost as soon as it had started, but Nerissa flinched as though she had been burned.
What was that, that look which gave a fiery heat throughout her body?
The sound of the gavel quietened the gallery, and the judge raised his eyebrows at the Count.
“Is that not the general idea of an investment?” He said in his slow and methodical voice. “That it is a risk, with unsecure money, in the attempt to gain more?”
“And yet a business investment is different,” countered the plaintiff, and Nerissa saw the confidence in him grow, his shoulders rising. “Investors should be kept informed of changing risks, so that any impending catastrophe could be avoided.”
The judge considered him for a moment, and was just about to speak when the gallery gasped and Nerissa followed their gazes to see what had caused such consternation – and gasped herself.
Her father had risen from the dock. The judge indicated that he could speak, and Nerissa found herself digging her nails into the palm of her hand.
“In my own defence,” said her father, his solemn face now turned towards the judge, “only God can tell what is truly to come. I do not see how I can be blamed for something that cannot be predicted by mere man. I believe that if you consider the definition of a catastrophe, my lord, it is something that cannot be foreseen nor prevented.”
Murmurs rose throughout the court room, but Nerissa felt the tension leave her as she smiled at her father – but not all of it. Something twisted in her heart, something that she would never voice but could not ignore.
Her father was an intelligent man. Surely he would have known something, or could have done something about the collapse of the Olympic Shipping Company? It seemed almost impossible that a man such as he could have had no warning whatsoever.
It saddened her, this suspicion of her father. Did she not trust him enough?
“Order!” The judge brought down the gavel twice more, and the noise subsided. “I do not think that we should proceed with this case any further, it does not seem a case for this court, but rather the court of heaven.”
“But my lord – ” Count Anthony had risen from his seat in protest, but he was immediately quietened by the gavel.
“I say that you, Count Anthony of Stratham, entered into a risky business, one which you invested in for profit, but with the risk of failure,” pronounced the judge with a steely look in his eye. “I find in favour of Mr Marcus Fairchild, and this case is closed.”
Uproar erupted from the gallery, and Nerissa rose to smile down at her father – but her eye was instead caught by Count Anthony, who gave her a look of such contempt and fury that she felt it brand her very soul.
More from Catastrophe with a Count HERE.
HISTORICAL NOTE
I always strive for accuracy with my historical books, as a historian myself, and I have done my best to make my research pertinent and accurate. Any mistakes that have slipped in must be forgiven, as I am but a lover of this era, not an expert.
About the Author
Emily Murdoch is a historian and writer. Throughout her career so far she has examined a codex and transcribed medieval sermons at the Bodleian Library in Oxford, designed part of an exhibition for the Yorkshire Museum, worked as a researcher for a BBC documentary presented by Ian Hislop, and worked at Polesden Lacey with the National Trust. She has a degree in History and English, and a Masters in Medieval Studies, both from the University of York. Emily has a medieval series, a Regency series, and a Western series published, and is currently working on several new projects.
You can follow her on twitter and instagram @emilyekmurdoch, find her on facebook at www.facebook.com/theemilyekmurdoch, and read her blog at www.emilyekmurdoch.com
Beached with a Baronet Page 10