Chapter 29
They managed to snatch a couple of hours of sleep, in the end — which was most likely more than poor Sir Baldric managed, with all the chaos that had taken place overnight.
Still, he was his usual self as arrangements were finally made for the inquest.
They were using one of the manor’s largest rooms for the purpose, a dining hall that was large enough for dozens of guests.
Codlington and his fellows sat behind one table, Weatherby and the MacClaran delegation behind another.
At the front of the space was a podium where witnesses and speakers would stand to give their testimony.
The whole thing made Lissa feel like she was being personally pranked by the universe.
If you’d added a bored-looking stenographer to one corner, put everyone in suits and scattered a few laptops around the room, the setup would have been identical to the long, laborious inquest she’d gone through after everything that had happened with her last client.
At least this time she wasn’t the star witness.
That dubious honor was reserved for Hamish and Amelia, who both looked as though they’d had about as much sleep as she and Niall had.
She flashed Amelia a reassuring smile, and her friend returned it gratefully.
Lord Codlington made the opening remarks, making repeated reference to the fact that he would be presiding over the hearing, and that his judgment would be what decided the case one way or the other.
For a man who’d been so openly conspiring to backstab, murder and assassinate people who were inconvenient to him, he did an impressive job of hiding his true nature.
Only the occasional hesitations gave him away — the suspicious narrowing of his eyes, and the small double-take he performed when he saw Allan sitting among the witnesses, alive and well.
It was Allan’s account of events that opened the hearing — and Lissa quickly realized why Codlington had been so keen to earn the young man’s silence, one way or the other.
The tale he told made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that it had been Lord Taffington who had been responsible for the accident that had claimed his life.
He’d bullied Allan into driving the coach at reckless speeds, with an unwilling Amelia restrained in the back seat — when Allan had protested that it was unsafe, Taffington had even threatened him with a knife.
So he’d driven the horses on through the darkness, through thick fog and unsteady ground.
It had only been a matter of time until a turn in the road came up that was too sharp to safely negotiate.
“I tried my best to keep us on the road, but we’d built up too much speed,”
Allan said, his voice shaking a little with the remembered fear of that night.
“The horses and carriage parted ways, and the carriage flew off the edge of the road and was dashed to pieces on the rocks below.
I only survived because I held the reins and jumped clear and was dragged from the edge by the horses.
By the time I was able to get up, someone had pulled Lord Taffington out of the wreckage, but he was already dead.”
Lord Codlington thanked him coldly for his testimony — but Lissa could see the fury he was concealing from the slight pulsing of a vein in his eyelid.
Next to testify were Amelia and Hamish, whose story backed up Allan’s completely.
It really was a hell of a tale — Lissa only wished she was hearing it in a less tense situation, where she might have been able to enjoy it more.
Amelia had fought her way out of the restraints Taffington had put her in and kicked open the door of the carriage while it was still in motion.
Then, in a daring rescue, Hamish had ridden up beside the carriage and pulled her out of it to safety, only seconds before Allan lost control of the horses and the body of the carriage plunged over the cliff’s edge.
There were a few more testimonies after that, including from the men who’d investigated the wreckage of Taffington’s carriage, and the doctor who’d inspected his body — all of them agreed that the evidence matched the story that the three witnesses had presented.
Codlington was doing his best to pick holes in their stories and undermine their credibility, but with the weight of the evidence, it was hard work.
Lissa could see now why he’d been so keen to keep Amelia and Hamish from testifying, and why he’d tried to silence Allan — it was almost impossible to make the case that Taffington’s death had been anything other than a tragic accident, one that the Lord had brought on himself through his reckless actions.
And then, to her surprise, Sir Codlington snapped.
“This is a farce!”
he bellowed suddenly, with the immediacy of a summer storm.
“I refuse — I simply refuse to continue in the face of such blatant nonsense! This — every single word of this testimony has been utter rubbish.
I’m disgusted even to have allowed this scum to speak,”
he spat, making an obscene gesture toward Hamish and Amelia.
She’d never seen Hamish look so shocked before — behind him, Niall’s mouth was hanging open in surprise.
“And I demand to know who paid this wretched man to back up their lies!”
He was pointing at Allan, who rose to his feet, pale in the face but shaking with rage at the accusation.
“Every word I spoke was God’s honest truth,”
he said stridently, his voice trembling not with fear but with passion.
“And the only person who tried to tell me to say anything other than that was you , Lord Codlington!”
“Nonsense!”
the Lord bellowed, clearly trying to drown out the murmur of surprise and shock that was rippling through the audience.
“Nonsense and slander! It’s obvious to me that Lord Taffington’s carriage was sabotaged by Lord Weatherby himself, and I will not leave these lands until I ensure that justice is done!”
“Is that why you’ve been attempting to have me poisoned?”
Lord Weatherby asked, his tone impressively calm — the man had a knack for the theatrical, Lissa thought with amusement as another ripple of shock went through the audience.
“More lies and slander,”
Codlington growled, though his face had gone pale.
“Point of order, Lord Codlington.”
Niall was on his feet now, and though she could feel the tension in his body from here, she was impressed by how calm his voice sounded.
“We’ve recently added a witness to the hearing who’s willing to testify that she was paid to put poison into the meals of Lord Weatherby and other guests of the Manor.”
Lord Codlington went white as a sheet as a familiar figure stepped forward from the crowd.
It was clear from his face that he recognized Penny immediately — the young woman’s face was blotchy and red from crying, but her watery eyes didn’t leave Lord Codlington’s face as she lifted her voice to be heard.
“That’s right.
My poor Master Bell, God rest his soul, he gave me powder to put in their food.
He didn’t tell me it was poison — he wanted to protect me.”
She sniffled, a few more tears spilling down her cheeks.
“He was so loyal to Lord Codlington.
Everything he did, he did on his orders.”
“And while we’re raising additional questions,”
Hamish added, rising in turn to his feet.
“Lord Codlington, I’m curious to know just how many members of Parliament you bribed to ensure that you were appointed as the head of this particular inquest? According to the evidence we possess — courtesy of your own man, in fact — it’s at least four, but I’m wondering if there are any more?”
Lord Codlington looked like he was about to faint.
For a moment, Lissa thought he might — he swayed alarmingly on his feet, his hard eyes flicking wildly around the room.
But instead of passing out, he simply returned to the podium, his back to the assembled crowd for a moment while he worked to regain control of himself.
Another of the Lords who’s name Lissa couldn’t recall stood, and said, “I think we’ve heard enough, do you not, Codlington? It’s fairly clear this was an accident.”
When Codlington turned again to address the crowd, the look of wild panic was gone from his eyes, replaced by a hard, calculated resentment.
Lissa felt her shoulders relax even before he spoke.
That was the unmistakable look of a man who knew he was beaten.
Codlington was no longer trying to get his way in the inquest — he’d changed tack, and she’d be willing to bet everything she owned that he was working on his escape plan.
He gave the man a nod.
“I will be drawing the inquest to a close,”
he said abruptly, pressing on before the murmur of surprise in the hall could take off in earnest.
“Sufficient evidence has been presented to come to a conclusion that I trust will satisfy both the Crown and the assembled parties.
The regretful death of Lord Taffington is hereby ruled to have been an accident, and Lord Weatherby absolved of all further responsibility regarding the matter.”
Lissa glanced around at the expressions on the faces of the crowd around her, realizing as she did that, she wasn’t the only one noticing how deeply strange this was.
For all that Codlington was giving an Oscar-worthy rendition of a man who wasn’t scared to death, she could see the white-knuckled way he was gripping the podium.
And his grim rictus of respectability wasn’t being upheld with quite as much skill by the other men in his delegation — she could see his fellow Lords exchanging looks of outright fear, and more than a few of them were slipping out of the room already, clearly on their way to getting out of town as quickly as possible.
Fair enough, too.
Given how hard Codlington had been working to deliver insult after insult to just about everyone in the room, she’d be making herself scarce right now too if she was his ally.
“I trust that this result will be acceptable to all gathered parties, and thus there will be no further need for discussion of the matter,”
Codlington continued, his voice picking up speed — she could almost see his mind speeding through the remaining obstacles between him and getting in his carriage and away from this place.
“With all due thanks for your hospitality, Lord Weatherby, I will be taking my leave this afternoon.
Farewell to you all, and?—”
“One moment, please.”
The voice cut effortlessly across the gathering hubbub in the room.
Laird Donal was on his feet — Codlington froze in place, having already taken a step toward the door at the back of the room.
“Before you leave Clan MacClaran lands, Lord Codlington, I want it stated and heard before the gathered witnesses that while you are guaranteed safe passage out, you do not have our permission to return.
To make the situation abundantly clear — if you are sighted again on Clan MacClaran lands, you will be hanged.”
It was a mark of how thoroughly cowed Codlington was that he was unable even to muster any anger at the Laird’s words — he simply went a few shades paler, pressed his lips into a thin, bloodless lines, and gave a short, jerky nod.
Satisfied, the Laird resumed his seat — and with that, Codlington was gone as quickly as he’d arrived, scurrying into the hall that lay beyond the door.
He was already shouting for his servants to attend him, and it couldn’t have been more than half an hour later that he was all but running across the Manor grounds to throw himself into his carriage and slam the door hurriedly behind him.
“Perhaps we should have kept him in custody,”
Niall observed, moving up behind her to put an arm around her waist.
The audience of the inquest had drifted out onto the Manor grounds after Lord Codlington had called the whole affair to such an abrupt end.
It had barely passed midday, and there was a pleasant wash of sunlight to be enjoyed — not to mention the very satisfying sight of Codlington and his remaining men leaving as quickly as they could.
Lissa shook her head.
“Getting him out of here was the best thing we could do,”
she said, watching as the carriage made its way down the winding path past the open gates.
“It’s tempting to want to punish people like that for their crimes, but it’s more important to make sure everyone’s safe.
Speaking of which — what’s going to happen to Penny now that her boss is gone?”
“That won’t be an issue.”
She turned at the sound of a familiar voice — Sir Baldric had materialized behind them, quiet as ever.
“She’s been offered a position on the staff here — as has our other witness, Allan.
It was the least we could do in return for their testimony.”
Lissa smiled, thinking of the frantic headwoman — she’d no doubt be glad of the spare pair of hands.
And it was clear that she was going to need them sooner rather than later.
Word quickly spread through the crowd that Lord Weatherby was calling for an impromptu feast — a celebration of the outcome of the inquest.
Lissa had been quietly hoping that she and Niall might be able to steal away to do some private celebrating on their own, but Lord Weatherby wouldn’t hear of it.
Along with Hamish and Amelia, the star witnesses of the inquest, they were the guests of honor, and Weatherby insisted on having them seated right next to him.
She’d never seen the man so animated — the smile on his face didn’t seem to fit the reserved, slightly snooty man she’d come to know over the last few days.
The copious amounts of wine that were being poured probably had something to do with it, she thought with some amusement.
Weatherby was certainly being generous on that front — he’d also insisted on having wine sent down to the camp where the Keep guards were staying, involving them in the festivities as well.
“It’s the absolute least I could do,”
he kept saying, gesturing with his wineglass so enthusiastically that he spilled half the contents onto the table.
“The absolute least I could do to thank you.
Thank you, thank you all — you saved my life, and what’s more, you saved my reputation.
I could hardly stand to think of them all back home thinking that I would allow harm to come to a guest of mine.
I’ll be able to show my face in polite society again — all thanks to you.”
The mood was certainly bright — but Lissa couldn’t help but notice, as plates of food were brought out to the gathered guests, that Niall was a little quiet.
She leaned in to ask what was going on, pleased for the excuse to get close to him.
“Lord Weatherby’s still at risk,”
he said softly, keeping his voice low — though the thoroughly inebriated Lord Weatherby certainly didn’t seem like he was listening.
“Codlington might have left Clan lands for now, but I doubt he’s gone for good.
And if Weatherby’s in danger, so is the Clan.”
“We can handle it,”
Lissa said, squeezing his hand.
“Whatever he comes back with, we’ll face it together.”
The upside to Weatherby being so drunk, of course, was that it made it very easy to slip away once the festivities were underway.
She and Niall lingered for a moment on the edge of the impromptu dance floor that had been set up — a few of the men had pulled out instruments from somewhere and they were playing a lively jig for the crowd.
Lissa was surprised to see Amelia and Hamish in the midst of the throng, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms as they whirled skillfully through the crowds — she hadn’t realized her friend was such a skilled dancer.
She couldn’t help but notice, too, that two of the other witnesses had found each other in the throng — Allan and Penny were dancing, shyly but with undeniable enthusiasm.
She looked up at Niall to find him smiling softly down at her, his eyes full of that quiet intensity that had stolen her heart just about the first time she’d seen him.
“Do you want to dance?”
he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
She smiled back at him, knowing he’d dance with her if she asked — and knowing, at the same time, that it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.
She shook her head, smiling.
“No, Niall.
I think I want to go home.”