Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN
Portia had recognized William’s writing on the front of the letter the second she spotted it in the housekeeper’s hands with the rest of the morning post.
“I can deliver all those for you, Mrs. Rumpole.”
“Well … if you do not mind, your grace…”
“It is still very much Portia to you and of course I do not mind.”
She relieved her of the pile and found a quiet corner to read his missive. In typical William style, it was brief and to the point.
We have a new home and a printing press and we intend to go to print again this Sunday!
I sincerely hope that you will find a way to join us!
William
She had no clue how such a miracle had occurred so quickly but was delighted that it had. However, there was no way that she could join them at the new address scrawled at the bottom of the letter, even for a few minutes.
None at all.
Not while she was the Duchess of Debden.
Except, as she wandered around the house to distribute all the letters, it soon became apparent that she was doomed to suffer another pointless morning of doing nothing.
Leo had left early to “borrow” some files from the clerk of court to show her.
His mother and sisters intended to spend one final morning shopping to be sure that they had everything that they needed for the trip to the palace and Portia would rather stick pins in her eyes than do any more of that.
She had had seen enough modistes, cobblers, milliners, and glovers this past week to last her a lifetime and had so many fancy new clothes upstairs now that there wasn’t any space left in the wardrobe to put them in.
Was there really any harm in paying one last visit to Equitas to congratulate them on their good fortune?
It would also give her a great deal of peace to know for certain that it would be able to continue without her.
And she was headed to Mayfair tomorrow with no clue when she would be coming back, so this morning really was her only opportunity.
What to do?
Torn, she pleaded a headache to ponder it and guiltily hid in her room until the ladies left.
Once the house was as silent as the grave, the urge to go to the newspaper overwhelmed her.
Before she changed her mind again, she snuck out the back gate with Snifferson and Barkington attached to their leads so that she had a good excuse for venturing out alone if anyone happened to see her sneaking back in.
The new premises were still near the river, but this smaller and still ramshackle warehouse was tucked well out of sight behind a tannery.
That meant that the air outside the building wasn’t the most fragrant, but that was a small price to pay for the additional privacy.
The inside was as neat as pin when she arrived.
Neater, in fact, than she had ever seen Equitas.
After Nolley’s senseless destruction, a mismatched collection of secondhand desks had been procured from somewhere that were begging for somebody to cover them in the clutter that only came from publishing the truth.
Each was paired with an assortment of donated chairs and stools, and there was even a nearly new bookcase.
Empty, but in dire want of knowledgeable books.
The old kettle that filled William’s copious cups of tea had been salvaged and was already steaming in anticipation of his next one on the tiny hearth.
But the thing that really drew her eye was the much smaller, more modern, shiny black printing press that made the dearly departed Bessie look like a relic from the Dark Ages.
“It’s a Stanhope press,” said William caressing it lovingly. “Made by Robert Walker of Soho—one of the best makers in the country.” Which Portia could see thanks to the shiny brass plaque. “Isn’t she lovely?”
“She is. Does she have a name yet?”
“I’m toying with ‘Helen’ seeing as she is the most beautiful woman in the world. Or ‘Verity,’ in honor of the Roman goddess of truth Veritas.”
“My vote goes to ‘Verity’ as that is less insulting to your long-suffering saint of a wife.”
“A very good point Portia, thank you.”
“How did Verity come to pass?”
William shrugged, his besotted gaze never leaving his wonderful new machine. “I wrote to headquarters to tell them the bad news and this arrived at the old place on the back of a cart yesterday.”
“They stumped up for a brand spanking new printing press? Will wonders never cease?”
“Believe me, nobody was as surprised as I was, but I am relieved that they have finally invested in us as we’ve had to get by on next to nothing up till now.”
Portia glanced around the barren walls where all their reams of paper were supposed to live. “It’s a shame they couldn’t have stumped up for some paper to print on too. Don’t they realize how expensive that is?”
“I agree, but we’ve had more than one savior step up.
” William grinned as the kettle whistled.
“We were flooded with donations from local supporters after our catastrophe. Enough that we could at least afford enough paper and ink to see us through the next two editions.” Snifferson followed him as he headed toward the kettle, his inquisitive nose never leaving the floor.
“And speaking of the next edition, I do hope you will be a part of it. Every issue after for that matter too. You are the best assistant editor I have ever had.”
“I can’t, William. Not yet at least.” It was staggering how much those words cost her when her fingers itched to get cracking again.
“But as soon as Leo gets his annulment, obviously I will be back here with a vengeance.” She filled him in on Leo’s plan to discredit Nolley and get her first conviction overturned so she no longer had to worry about being transported.
“In the meantime, I am headed to London, to be presented to the king, so even if I was allowed to help, I still can’t. ”
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow. First thing.”
“Could you at least supply me with an opinion piece?” He clutched at her sleeve, his gaze beseeching. “Without both you and Edgar the Snake here to help we are dreadfully shorthanded.”
“I know—but I owe it to Leo not to embarrass him while he is stuck with me, so both K Pendle and P Kendall are temporarily retired.”
“What if we don’t print either name? We could give you another one or just leave it blank? Nobody need ever know that it’s you outside of these four walls.”
“I really can’t, William, as much as I want to. Leo—”
“Need never know either.” Honestly, when Sir William Stowe wanted something, the rogue had sadder puppy eyes than Snifferson. “I desperately need your help, Portia. Equitas needs your help. Our cause needs your help or I wouldn’t ask. Please.”
The temptation to say yes was overpowering, but so was her need to do right by Leo. “I shall think on it, William, but please do not hold out much hope.”
“I shall hold the column regardless until we go to press tomorrow—just in case you have a change of heart.”
“This is what I have found so far.” Leo slid the two documents across his desk and tried not to notice how the copper in her hair shimmered in the lamplight or how his foolish heart yearned for her.
“The first one is a list of every arrest made at the protest and the second is the list of all those who were charged at the jail. Notice anything different?”
“Only that the second one is shorter to the tune of six names and one of those missing is Abigail’s.”
“So if we assume that the other missing five names all had the charges dropped and were released just like Abigail was, it suggests that Constable Nolley had no proof of the guilt of those five and released them. Seeing as we already know he isn’t averse to fabricating proof when he wants it, that strikes me as unlikely.
” Leo hoped he wasn’t clutching at straws.
“Or it suggests that the other five all came from a similar privileged background to my sister. Or something more sinister is afoot—like bribery.”
“Why do I get the distinct impression that you believe it is the latter?” Portia’s clever eyes were narrowed.
“Because I went to visit every single one of those people this morning and there is nothing aristocratic about any of them. They do all, however, possess fathers with reasonably successful local businesses. The sort who could pay our untrustworthy constable a decent amount to avoid their relatives getting a criminal record.”
“You have proof he has taken bribes?” Her eyes lit up and he tried not to be upset by that. “Because if you do, then we have grounds to declare my first conviction unsound.”
“In theory, yes. But in practice, no, because none of those five people or their fathers would admit to that when I spoke to them. They are all adamant the charges were dropped because they were arrested by mistake and are all the sort of upstanding citizens who would never dream of attending a protest. In other words, Nolley has obviously put the fear of god into them as well as pocketing their money.”
She leaned on her chin with a huff. “They were also probably wary of admitting to a second crime to a local magistrate. Bribing an official is as much an offense to those making the bribe as it is to the constable for taking them. Doing anything to obstruct the administration of justice carries a death penalty.”
“They are more likely to be transported nowadays—but I take your point. Thanks to Nolley, they do not trust the law and I am very much the public face of it here in Bath.”
“And he worked for you.”
“There is that too. Which leaves us with only two options. I either keep digging into his arrest records going way back to find someone who is brave enough to testify against him or I send you to talk to the five and use your talented way with a convincing argument to try to encourage them to tell the truth.”
“Then let’s get started!” She was up out of her chair like a shot, which he supposed would be the exact speed that she would leave this house and him if he granted her an annulment.
“It’s almost midnight, Portia.” Leo managed to catch her hand before she sprinted out the door. “Hammering on somebody’s door at midnight, especially someone already scared, isn’t going to achieve anything beyond scaring them further.”
Instantly, she deflated. “But we leave first thing for London so there won’t be time then.”
“I know,” he said as his thumb stroked her palm in sympathy.
“This is going to have to wait until we get back. A couple of weeks isn’t going to alter the facts or change the outcome.
A bit of time and distance might even work in our favor as those five people are likely still reeling from both their arrests and my visits to them today.
Besides, for all Nolley’s faults, being a fool isn’t one of them.
Rushing into this might tip him off that we are on to him and we don’t want him covering his tracks. ”
She opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it closed.
“Much as it galls me to admit it, you are right.” She rolled her eyes as if it really pained her and then gave a saucy smile.
“But I take comfort that even a stopped clock is right sometimes.” A comment that made him smile too until she spoiled it.
“And I suppose I can cope with being a duchess for a few more weeks.”
And there it was.
Another reminder, not that he needed one, that she could not wait to be shot of him. “That’s jolly decent of you.” Because he was still holding her hand like a lovesick fool, he dropped it and in doing so noticed her ink-stained fingers.
He grabbed them again and scowled. “Please tell me you are not writing sedition behind my back again!” It came out sharper than he intended, but his scalp had already started to itch and his throat constrict at the thought of her putting herself in danger again.
She yanked her hand away. “How unlike you to immediately think the worst of me!”
“Well, you do have form, madam, and it is hardly my fault that I do not trust a word you say!”
He spat that with such venom that her head snapped back, but before he could apologize, her chin tilted in that stoic, defiant way that it always did when she wanted to put him in his place.
“I did not realize that I needed your express permission to write to my friends in London. As your legal chattel, I shall be sure to seek it next time I dare to put pen to paper.” She spun on her heel and before he could find the right words to tell her that he was sorry without admitting that he had only lashed out because she had brought up the damned annulment again, she was gone.