The Heart's Appeal

by Jennifer Delamere

  “Usher! Come here!” the magistrate barked.

  A man approached, looking singularly uncomfortable.

  “Why does it not state on these papers the full name and title of this woman?”

  “She never told us, your worship! How could we have known?” He looked as though he would have liked to throw Edith a glare for putting him in this spot but was too afraid of the consequences.

  “I am the daughter of an earl,” Lady Edith said, “but does that make a difference in the eyes of the law?”

  The magistrate slammed a hand down on the desk. “It makes a great deal of difference! You might very well have saved yourself a night in jail.”

  “So I can get off scot-free because I am a member of the aristocracy?”

  “Careful,” Michael advised, speaking softly. “This magistrate does not tolerate impertinence of any kind in his court.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement,” she whispered back, but she sounded not the least bit concerned.

  The magistrate glowered at her. “This is a court of law. We do not talk of ‘scot-free.’ We are here only to assess whether there is probable cause to commit you to trial. You may rest assured we will do our duty entirely as the law dictates. Mr. Stephenson, have you anything more to add to your statement?”

  “No, your worship.” Michael had done what he could. Now he only hoped the magistrate would release the women.

  After carefully adjusting his spectacles, the magistrate made a great show of taking his time to reread the official documents concerning this case as well as the notes he had made during the testimony.

  The murmuring among the spectators continued. Everyone was ogling Edith. She stood with her arms crossed, staring defiantly over the courtroom. Michael halfway thought she was daring the magistrate to commit her to trial. By contrast, Julia was looking only at Michael with a warmth in her eyes that made it hard for him to breathe. Clearly she was placing her trust in him. He could only hope he deserved it. There was no evident case against them, but Edith’s actions weren’t helping their cause.

  Finally the magistrate looked up and announced his decision. “The defendants Julia Bernay, Doreen Collins, and Edith Morton are discharged.”

  He didn’t use Edith’s title. This was probably a deliberate response to her refusal to lay claim to it.

  Michael gave a sigh of relief. He saw the women do likewise, despite the bravery they’d all shown. Doreen did not look entirely happy, though. She exchanged a worried look with Myrtle.

  The magistrate pointed at Myrtle. “You will stay. I have more to ask you.”

  Julia looked at Michael with tears in her eyes. “Thank you! How did you know we were here?”

  Edith said coldly, “Does my father know about this?”

  “No,” Michael answered, although a glance at the busily scratching pencils of the reporters confirmed that it wouldn’t be long before he did. “I’ll tell you outside,” he said, as the usher motioned for them to follow him to the exit.

  “We can’t go!” Edith hissed. “What about Myrtle?”

  Michael said, “You must admit the magistrate has good reason to question her further. You never met her before last night’s altercation. There may be extenuating circumstances you are not aware of.”

  Despite this counsel, Edith looked ready to dig in her heels.

  “Edith, please,” Julia implored, seeing the growing consternation of the magistrate and the usher.

  “You can do more for her as a free civilian than as a prisoner,” Michael urged. He wanted nothing more than to get these women out of the courtroom.

  This argument seemed to convince Edith. She said quietly to Myrtle, “We won’t forget you.”

  Doreen nodded, adding, “Soon as we get out, I’m coming straight back to the gallery.” Myrtle gave them all a grateful look.

  The usher led them out a side door to the hallway. They could just hear the magistrate beginning to question Myrtle again before the usher shut the door.

  Doreen took hold of Michael’s hand and pumped it vigorously. “Thank you, sir.” She added swift good-byes to the other women, promising to keep them informed of what happened to Myrtle, before returning to the courtroom through the visitor’s entrance.

  Julia turned eagerly to Michael. “How did you know we were here?”

  “Cara told me.”

  “Cara! When did you see her? What happened to her? Is she all right?”

  “She is safe and sound. She managed to get help and find me. She is now back at the Needenhams’ residence.”

  “Thank God!” Julia was radiant with happiness. “He has answered my prayers.”

  Michael would have preferred that Julia could have said her prayers at home and not in a jail cell. “With all due respect, Lady Edith, what were you thinking, to allow them to hold you all night? Surely with a word or two of explanation, you might have gotten all of you released.”

  “You may refer to me as Miss Morton,” the lady answered archly. “As to why I did it, I found the experience quite instructional. How am I going to help these people if I have no real idea what they face in their lives?”

  “I should think there are plenty of ways to do it without the risk of getting committed to trial.”

  “You are free to think what you like,” she responded. “I don’t intend to argue the point. You offered us your assistance, and I respect that. Although, given your connection to Julia, I should say I am not surprised.”

  Startled, Michael looked at Julia. Had she broken her promise about keeping their lessons a secret?

  Julia gave a tiny shake of her head to answer his unspoken question. “She means how I helped you on the day of the accident.”

  Edith looked between the two of them as if some intuition told her there was more to their connection than Julia was admitting to. “I must be going. Mr. Stephenson, I know you will understand if I say that the less time I spend with you, the more I will like it.”

  “Yes, Miss Morton, I understand completely.”

  They made their way down the long hallway to the main doors. Outside, the sun was bright. The ladies squinted, their eyes unused to such light after their time in jail and court.

  “Shall we go?” Edith said to Julia, motioning toward the street corner, where a line of hansom cabs stood waiting at the cab stand.

  “Thank you, but I will make my own way,” Julia said. “I want to visit Cara and make sure she is all right.”

  Edith nodded. “I am going back to the police station. I want to see what has happened to Eliza and ensure she gets proper care. As Mr. Stephenson said, I might manage to do some good as a civilian.”

  It was a deprecating twist on Michael’s words. Although he had benefited greatly from having Lord Westbridge as a client, he was sorry that its corollary must be that the man’s daughter perceived him as an enemy. He could see why Julia was friends with this independent-minded woman.

  “We are still going to visit Sybil tomorrow, are we not?” Julia asked her.

  That took bravery, Michael thought, to return to Bethnal Green after what they’d been through.

  Lady Edith sent another appraising glance between Julia and Michael. Her distrust of him was evident. Michael didn’t like to think she might transfer that mistrust to Julia by association, but the possibility was clearly there.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said to Julia and walked off toward the cab stand.

  Julia turned all her attention to Michael. “Did Cara give you her address? I never got it from her yesterday.”

  “Yes, I know the address. May I take you there?”

  She looked hesitant. “I couldn’t ask you to drive me all over London.”

  Her brown eyes looked into his. Her smooth cheeks looked feather-soft, even though they were smudged with dirt from her night in the jail.

  “It’s no trouble.” The words came easily, despite the many items of business he needed to handle today. “But are you sure you don’t want to
go home first and get some rest? You’ve had a trying experience.”

  “No, I’m anxious to get to Cara and set her heart at ease.” She looked down at her dirty frock. “I know I look a sight, but I expect I’ll have to go in the servants’ entrance anyway, since I’m visiting their nanny. What is the correct protocol for that? In the past when Cara and I have been able to see one another, we always did it on her day off and met somewhere away from her employer.”

  He’d been so busy looking at her that he hadn’t realized she’d asked him a question. He scrambled to figure out what it was. Protocol. Right. He cleared his throat. “We’ll work it out when we get there.”

  Michael helped her into a cab, conscious of her nearness as they settled onto the narrow bench.

  Once the carriage was in motion, she said eagerly, “Please tell me what happened last night. I can’t imagine how Cara found you!”

  Michael shared with her everything he knew, including the details Cara had given him about her escape and how she’d ended up at his chambers.

  Julia shook her head. “It’s astounding. And yet I think everything worked out for the best.”

  “Including your night in jail?”

  To his surprise, she said, “Oh yes. It was, in fact, a triumphant night. I was able to minister to a lost soul. To give her a word of hope and encourage her to return to God. I hope she will keep those things in her heart as she faces what’s ahead.”

  “You just spent a night in jail, with the possibility of being sent to trial for serious crimes even though you were innocent, and the main thing you can say is that you’re happy you were able to talk to someone about God?”

  The words came out sharply. After the hours he’d spent worrying, her breezy statement rankled him.

  Her mouth flattened. “All right, I admit it was not a pleasant night. It would have been easy to give in to fear. If you had seen the way they treated that woman Eliza . . .” Her face drew tight with pain at the memory. “Most of all, I was so worried for Cara. If anything had happened to her, it would have crushed me. And it would have been my fault for getting her into that mess.”

  Michael was sorry now that he’d chastised her. He saw plainly that her cheerfulness did not replace deep empathy.

  “I don’t worry so much on my own account,” she continued, “but Cara has always been flighty and unequipped to face hard situations.”

  “Perhaps she’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

  “Well, she made it through last night, and she had the ingenuity to find you. Perhaps she is.” She wiped away a tear. “But speaking to Gwen about God’s love and grace—that was like a balm to me last night. To give glory to Him. How else does one truly survive life’s worst situations?”

  Michael looked away, ostensibly to watch the passing buildings, not wanting her to sense the truth about his life. His answer for harsh, bitter times had always been to place a guard around his mind, toughen his heart, wall off his feelings. He used unyielding stoicism to survive disasters, even on days when it felt like swimming through icy waters or running through fire. Thus far, the strategy had worked for him. But grinding his way to success had never given him the kind of satisfaction he saw right now shining in Julia’s eyes.

  “Here we are, nearly to her street,” he said, eager to change the topic.

  The carriage passed by the open gate of a small park bordered with brick walls.

  Julia exclaimed, “There she is! In that park with Robbie. Driver, can you stop?” she called, leaning dangerously out of the cab.

  The cab came to a halt. Without waiting for Michael or the driver to help her, Julia got down from the carriage and doubled back toward the gates of the park. Michael paid the cabbie and walked swiftly to catch up to her.

  As they walked through the gates, he saw Cara and a boy tossing a ball back and forth. Julia shouted her name, and Cara turned just as the boy threw the ball. It whizzed past her as she broke into a run toward her sister.

  CHAPTER

  20

  JULIA CLUNG TIGHTLY TO HER SISTER. They’d had plenty of disagreements growing up and were generally about as compatible as oil and water, but at this moment, Julia had never been so glad to see anyone. “Oh, my dear Cara, I was so worried for you!”

  “And I for you!”

  They were only brought out of their fog of happiness by Robbie crying out in irritation, “Now look what you’ve done!”

  They separated, both wiping tears from their eyes, to look at the boy. He was pointing to a row of bushes. “The ball went under there!”

  “I’ll help you,” Michael offered. He got down on his hands and knees, looking under the bush. “I think I can just reach it.”

  He moved in closer, extending his arm under the shrubbery, looking most undignified. Julia was amused and intrigued to see how naturally he interacted with the child.

  “I knew Mr. Stephenson would get you out of jail,” Cara said, beaming. “And now he is rescuing Robbie’s ball, too!”

  Her eyes shone with admiration. Or perhaps it was only an effect caused by her tears of happiness. Either way, Julia could see her sister was quite enamored with Michael. Julia could not blame her. After the events of last night and today, her own estimation of him was higher than ever.

  Michael got to his feet and held out the ball. “Here you are, Master Needenham.”

  The boy was only four, but someone—could it really have been her flighty sister Cara?—had drilled some manners into him. “Thank you, sir,” he said with deferential politeness. He even gave Michael a little bow, which was absolutely endearing.

  “Robbie, I see that Master Reese has arrived with his dog,” Cara said. “Why don’t you go play with him?”

  She pointed to where a large, energetic dog was dragging a boy into the park. The boy was shouting commands at the dog, to which the creature paid no heed. The nanny who trailed in their wake wasn’t any help. She looked afraid for the boy, but even more afraid to go near the dog.

  “Napoleon!” Robbie cried out in excitement—Julia presumed this was the dog’s name—and ran over to join them.

  “He does love dogs,” Cara explained to Michael and Julia. “Poor little tyke. He really wants one for a pet, but Sir John says dogs should only be kept for hunting and not allowed in the house.”

  Seeing that the boy was happily chatting with his friend, Cara put her arm through Julia’s. “You can’t think how tormented I was last night worrying about you! You must tell me everything! Was it horrid in the jail? Did they mistreat you? I’ve heard such lurid stories about those places!”

  Julia could see her sister’s mind running in all sorts of misguided directions. She also knew it would take some time to give her a complete account. She looked at Michael. “You should go. I know you are so busy. We have already caused such an imposition by coming to you for help.”

  “Well, how else was I going to get you out of jail?” Cara protested. “You don’t know how I agonized over what to do!”

  “You did exactly the right thing,” Michael assured her. To Julia, he said, “To be honest, I’d like to stay and hear your story. Once Cara told me you’d been arrested, I had a bit of a hard night of it myself.”

  He said this with the air of giving a confession, and Julia was surprised to see an unusual vulnerability in his eyes. It struck her how deeply he’d been worried for her. This knowledge, added to the way he was looking at her just now, caused an odd tickling sensation near her heart. She said, somewhat breathlessly, “I’m glad you want to stay.”

  “Excellent!” Cara exclaimed, and tugged her toward a nearby bench.

  Michael remained standing. He looked as though he were keeping one eye on Robbie. Cara seemed to have forgotten all about the boy in her excitement to hear Julia’s story. As Julia told them everything in detail, she also cast her gaze toward the boy from time to time, but he was happily engaged with his friend and the dog.

  “What adventures we both have had!” Cara exclaim
ed when Julia had finished. “It sounds like they were very quick to let you go once they found out about Edith. Lady Edith, I mean. Imagine that! If I were an earl’s daughter, I wouldn’t hesitate to let everyone know it.”

  “She has her reasons,” Julia said and looked at Michael, wondering if she should say more.

  He didn’t seem inclined to broach the subject of the lawsuit. He said merely, “Lady Edith wants to distance herself from her father. To make her own way in the world.”

  “Why, doesn’t she like her father?” Cara tsked. “It would be too bad to have a father and not get on with him. I’d be thankful just to have a father, whether he was an earl or a commoner. Our father was a ship captain, but he disappeared some years ago. We don’t know for certain where he is. But I expect Julia has told you these things already.”

  This rapid, breathless way of talking was normal for Cara—and, Julia was sorry to note, so was the content. For years her little sister had clung to the belief that their father was still alive somewhere. Nothing in what she’d just said hinted that she was yet mature enough to accept that he was dead.

  “Are your parents still living?” Cara asked, her gaze fixed on Michael with interest.

  “They are not,” he answered with a sad smile.

  “I’m sorry to hear it. Were you very young when it happened?”

  “Not so young. But not yet out of school.”

  “And do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “A sister.”

  Julia thought back to the times she’d asked Michael the same questions. He was answering Cara more directly and, Julia thought, with more evidence of emotion behind the words. Was it Cara’s artlessness that made it easier to breach his walls? Or had something changed?

  Cara said, with the air of speaking to a good friend, “Then I’m sure you understand, just as Julia and I do, why families should always stick together.”

  The same thing had gone through Julia’s mind as she’d gotten to know Edith. It hadn’t been a direct thought, the way Cara was stating it now, but rather a vague, troubled feeling. Cara had put it into words.