Chapter Eight
Chapter
EIGHT
Constable Nolley was an angry fellow at the best of times, but this evening he was positively incandescent with rage. So red and seething that it was a wonder he wasn’t already foaming at the mouth.
Oblivious of little Barkington, who, as an impeccable judge of character, was growling at him in warning, Nolley practically screamed, “They have gone too far this time!” His hands were balled into tight fists, and it was only a matter of time before one of those fists punched Leo’s desk.
“We cannot allow those dangerous radicals to continue to publish treason in our city!” Sensing an imminent display of violence too, Snifferson, who hated a raised voice almost as much as Barkington hated the constable, immediately sought refuge beneath the desk, not caring that he had to roughly barge past Leo’s legs to do it.
“This isn’t treason, Constable Nolley.” Leo glanced down at the newspaper that was rapidly becoming the bane of his life.
Despite its month of silence, Equitas had clearly come back with a bang.
Quite a bold and defiant bang if its opinion piece was any gauge.
“Treason has quite specific parameters in law. It has to be committed in deed, not just words. And this—” As he had predicted, the fist came down on the desktop before Leo could finish his sentence.
“If it’s not treason then it’s a slanderous pack of lies! It’s a libelous defamation of all our good characters! It’s a clear-cut case of sedition!”
It was none of those things either but trying to get this unpleasant and wholly unreasonable man to see that was likely a complete waste of Leo’s breath.
But waste it he must or, like a cocked pistol, the constable was likely to go off and do untold and unhelpful damage.
“Please sit, sir.” He gestured to the chair opposite his desk that the constable had recently shot up from like an incensed firework.
“So that we can discuss this calmly.” Although he also knew there was fat chance of that happening after reading “the pack of lies” that had riled up the constable.
Not that they were lies either.
Leo took issue with several of the broad accusations in that well-written column—because they were generalizations that did not apply to every court in the land—but he could not argue with the crux of the piece.
The worst form of justice really was pretended justice, exactly as Plato had said two thousand years ago, and the entire legal system was flawed, well past its prime and in urgent need of the sort of reforms suggested in this article.
“I’ll be calm when I get my warrant, your grace!” Nolley dropped back into the chair with a thud, his arms immediately folding as he glared like a petulant child. “I would have it already if I reported to Lord Corston!”
Leo did not doubt that for a second because Corston was almost as unreasonable an arse as Constable Nolley was.
The only difference between their hang ’em and flog ’em outlooks was in the diligence with which they pursued that quest. Being paid to do the job, Nolley was a royal pain in the neck every single day of the week, whereas Lord Corston rarely turned up at the petty sessions because he nearly always had better things to do with his time than sit on the magistrates’ bench.
Things that usually involved drink, women, or feathering his own nest either socially or financially.
But he’d happily string anyone up if he felt they deserved it—and with little regard for the particular circumstances or, indeed, the necessary proof that the accused were actually guilty.
“But you don’t report to Lord Corston, you report to me, Constable Nolley, and so you will plead your case for a warrant calmly and in line with the letter of the law, or I will not grant it.
” Sometimes, and much to Leo’s chagrin, the only way to get the constable to see reason was to remind him who paid his wages.
Lord Corston hadn’t fought tooth and nail to have all the local constables that he oversaw paid.
That libertine was content to give the roles to any corrupt individual with a pulse, so long as it did not affect him in any way, and would happily abdicate all responsibility for a constable’s actions.
Whereas Leo believed in holding them to account.
It was one of the reasons he had fought tooth and nail for those who served the city to be paid, although Nolley had not been his choice.
He had inherited him because of proximity.
In Leo’s absence, Nolley could report to anyone, and gratefully grasped any opportunity to do so.
“We have a civic and moral responsibility to the citizens of Bath to do things properly. And a legal responsibility to maintain an accurate and watertight public record so that it can withstand any and all scrutiny if challenged. On what grounds do you want a warrant issued regarding Equitas?” Leo picked up a pen so that he could pretend to make a record because he knew the man would have nothing solid.
“And what tangible evidence do you have to justify it?”
“Isn’t that treasonous rag evidence enough?” Typically, Nolley jabbed a finger toward the newspaper as if its mere existence rendered it guilty as charged. “It is direct contradiction of the Blasphemous and Seditious Libels Act.”
“How?”
“They have called me a pathetic minion and you a biased, privileged, and unreliable mouthpiece of the government.”
Leo wanted to smack his head against his desk, but didn’t. “Neither you nor I were named in this article, so it cannot be construed as libelous.”
Constable Nolley crossed his arms again and stuck out his chin. “As that article was written within the confines of this city and that newspaper is printed somewhere within it, then the libel toward all those of us here who uphold the law is implied by default.”
“There is no mention of Bath in this piece either. As I read it, this questions why we continue with a legal system struggling under the weight of its increasing burdens when the world has moved on since the medieval monarchs created it seven hundred years ago.”
Instantly that reminded him of Miss Kendall’s thinly veiled and sarcastic criticism that if their legal system was good enough for William the Conqueror, then surely it was good enough for us?
A bizarre coincidence that made Leo’s mind wander back to her, something he apparently needed no excuse to do seeing as it had wandered to her more times than he could count today alone.
He had no clue why, beyond that something about her got under his skin.
As much as he would have preferred to ponder the pretty but vexing Miss Kendall some more, he forced his attention back to the nuisance that was Nolley.
“Personally, and I am sure that you will agree with me, seeing as you are one of the few paid and professional constables outside of Bow Street in London…” It might help to flatter the man’s ego a little.
“I believe that our legal system does need to be run by professionals in both root and branch. Paid experts in their field who are all held accountable to the same robust set of standards. Judges, magistrates, and constables alike.” Because god only knew how happily Leo would hand the poisoned chalice over to somebody salaried who actually knew what they were doing.
Never mind all the other nonsense that magistrates got roped into on top of crime.
Like the collection of overdue local taxes or the funding of roads or poor relief or trying to figure out ways to stop people dying from whatever epidemic next decided to kill the inhabitants of a town in droves.
And do not get him started on the stupid disputes between neighbors that he was supposed to adjudicate on.
“They probably shouldn’t be members of the peerage either as that only seems to rub the ordinary people the wrong way. ”
Obviously, his impassioned and reasoned speech fell on Nolley’s deaf ears.
“I’m sure I’ll find plenty of libelous sedition if you’d just grant me a blasted warrant to search their premises.
Or at the very least issue one for the immediate arrest of that rabble-rouser Sir William Stowe.
I’d love to put him and that bloody Pendle fellow”—he jabbed a finger at the offending article again—“on the next bloody boat to Botany Bay!”
“For what crime, Constable Nolley?”
“Incitement to riot!”
Leo stood because, frankly, he was about to have a conniption of his own.
“Nowhere in this publication does it ask the masses to arm themselves and lay siege to anywhere or anyone, Constable Nolley, or to actively disobey the laws of the land. When it does, come back and see me and I shall happily issue you with a warrant. Until then—” He stalked to his study door.
“You will just have to suffer the fact that Equitas and you have very different opinions, which to the best of my limited legal knowledge has not yet been deemed a crime.” He flung the door open and blinked in surprise at the sight of Miss Kendall on the other side.
While Nolley had risen from his chair, his feet remained planted firmly in Leo’s office. “These people are dangerous criminals, and we need to make an example of them!”
“Then bring me some actual evidence, sir.” Leo swept his arm forcefully toward the hallway.
“I am afraid that I am going to have to leave you to show yourself out, Constable Nolley, as I am already late for my next appointment.” Then for effect, he did some theatrical groveling to the stunned-looking stunner waiting to tell him that she was finished for the day.
“My humblest apologies for keeping you waiting, Miss Kendall. Please do come in.”
Sensing tension, Miss Kendall quickly scurried into his study, lowering her head and not making eye contact as she passed the stillincandescent constable as he reluctantly exited the room.