Epilogue
Lincoln’s Inn, London
Will and Tia paused beneath the arch of the gatehouse at Lincoln’s Inn’s. He turned to the gentleman they had been speaking to in Will’s office. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Hone. Our conversation was very productive.”
“My pleasure. When you mentioned collaborating with Humanity Dick and Lord Erskine, you piqued my interest,” said the journalist. “How long do you think the bill will take to pass—if it makes it through the House of Lords?”
Will shrugged, thinking of the retired barrister whose first attempt at a law concerning animal cruelty had failed ten years earlier.
The Irish politician Richard Martin had appealed to Lord Erskine for help in drafting the new bill.
“Too long, in my humble opinion, being a subject near and dear to my heart. I hope by this time next year. The sooner we can pass The Ill Treatment of Cattle Bill, the sooner we can address the other abuses of the poor beasts in our society. That’s where you come in. ”
“Revelations to the public is my self-inflicted duty,” Hone said with a grin. “I’ll make sure letters and essays are exchanged and published. The public will soon read of the quiet atrocities happening under their noses.”
Will nodded. “I’ll keep you informed. You know Martin will want to tackle carriage horses and small animals next.”
“I have a feeling I’ll be planning more than a few dinners over the next several years,” said Tia with a smile.
“I’m looking forward to it, Mrs. Page.” Mr. Hone tipped his own hat and ambled down the street.
Will signaled his driver, who had been waiting off the Lincoln’s Fields, and helped his wife into the carriage.
He followed, settling next to her, and nodded at Phoenix.
The gray and black speckled Great Dane, sitting across from them, let out a loud woof, informing the driver to bring them home.
They now lived in Mayfair, a lovely townhouse large enough to accommodate a growing family.
Tia laughed as Phoenix tried to turn a circle on the velvet squabs, then plopped down with a martyred sigh. She leaned forward and scratched both his jowls with enthusiasm, causing his hind leg to start flopping. “You silly dog,” she said. “You’d be more comfortable at home.”
“Possibly,” agreed Will, “but he’s not happy unless he’s with us.”
“You’re lucky Johnson likes company,” she said, kissing the dog on top of his head. “Then again, how could anyone not love you?”
Will laughed. Their driver usually put Phoenix up on the box with him while they waited. He said it kept the rapscallions away. Wrapping an arm around Tia’ shoulders, he pulled her close. “Thank you for coming with me,” he said softly in his ear.
“Of course,” she said with a brilliant smile, “I’m happiest when I’m helping. Oh, you received a letter from Lord Erskine as I was leaving to meet you.”
When Will had been called to the bar in 1815, he’d met the esteemed Lord Erskine shortly after.
The man was legendary, having worked with the famed William Garrow, who had made huge strides in the law for the defense of the common man.
Innocent until proven guilty constantly echoed in Will’s ears since he’d become a barrister.
The poor, often accused without evidence and based on hearsay—considered fact if coming from a peer—and convicted by statements of witnesses that were rarely verified.
Will saw men resign themselves to the gallows because their pleas of innocence were never heard.
He would continue to intervene whenever he could, utilizing Erskine and Garrow’s methods, including thorough cross-examination that could be vital in turning the jury in favor of the accused.
The law profession was slowly becoming a herald of the truth rather than a crutch for the entitled, and William Page was proud to be part of it.
Tia had introduced the idea of lending his expertise to the dilemma of animal abuse.
The Pages were great animal lovers, and Will couldn’t remember a time when his family had not owned pets.
With three brothers and a sister, none of them would agree on a single animal.
His father, the Earl of Beecham and a widower, had indulged his children.
There had been the usual hounds and horses, a few cats outside the mandatory mousers, a parrot, a hedgehog, and a donkey that brayed each morning like a rooster.
He and Tia planned to have a menagerie of their own. Hopefully, they would soon add one without fur or feathers.
“Did I ever tell you about our donkey named George?” he asked.
“No, but I’m sure it will be an amusing story,” Tia said, laying her head against him.
“The donkey belonged to a neighbor, and the poor beast wandered onto our property. He’d been beaten mercilessly.
Annette decided we couldn’t return him.” Will remembered his sister’s indignation at the animal’s condition.
“When the neighbor’s steward came looking for him, my father went out to speak with him.
I still don’t know what was said, but George remained with us.
We never saw any more mistreated beasties from the adjacent estate either. ”
“George?”
“He had a whining bray and a potbelly, which Annette said reminded her of George IV, Prince Regent at that time.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Your sister is a character. I wish she lived closer.”
“Do you think, perhaps… just perhaps, if people learned to be kind to animals, they might be more humane to one another?”
“We can only hope,” Tia said, leaning forward to give Phoenix another rub.
Out of habit, Will’s fingers rubbed the charm attached to his fob, remembering the eccentric shopkeeper.
When the shadows threaten to envelop ye, the Fu dog will pull ye to the light and ease yer heavy load.
“What exactly is that strange little figure?”
Will smiled and winked. “My good luck charm.” He told her of Percival’s Providence, the Shop of Curiosities and of Phoebe’s, Charles’s wife, discovery of it and his own visit there.
“I wear it to help maintain the balance between responsibility and leisure. It came to me at a dark time in my life. But I’ve come to realize that maybe its true power was leading me to you. ”
“Me?”
“The Foo dog kept my mood from deteriorating. Without it, I don’t think I would have gone to Simon and Meg’s house party.
” He turned slightly and bent his head, kissing her softly on the lips.
“You are my true balance, Florentia Page. You help me navigate the dark clouds of justice by providing me with love and happiness. I can’t imagine how my life might have turned out without you. ”
“I won’t take all the credit,” Tia said, studying the odd marble figurine. “But I wonder if we should take Addie to visit the place.”
Will nodded, settling back against the squabs with a smile. Yes, maybe Mr. Percival Peabody could produce another happy ending.