Chapter 19 #2
“You have just heard a child say the Viscount gave his eldest niece something that made her ill,” Duncan said. “Would you like to hear the rest, or would you like to pretend you did not hear it?”
The constable swallowed, clearly thrown off his original script.
“Your Grace,” he said, “if there was poisoning, that is a serious charge.”
“It is,” Duncan replied, “which is why I did not rely on rumor, and I did not rely on a frightened girl’s word alone, and I did not rely on emotion, since men like this always accuse women of hysteria when it suits them.”
Duncan continued without hesitation.
“I have a physician’s note,” Duncan said. “A written statement, signed, concerning Charity’s condition after she was found ill, the substance suspected, and the fact that this man had access to her food and drink before she collapsed.”
“Lies. All lies,” Edward shouted again, voice breaking. “She is dramatic. She has always been dramatic.”
Duncan did not even look at him.
“I also have the threatening letters,” Duncan said, turning slightly so the constable could see Malcolm step forward with a packet in hand.
“Multiple notes sent to my house, warning me to return the girls, accusing me of theft, threatening consequences, and making clear the viscount is not thinking clearly, or behaving lawfully, or acting like a man with any stable judgment.”
Malcolm held the packet out without a word, and the constable took it with visible reluctance, then began to skim, his expression changing line by line. The second constable leaned in to read over his shoulder, and as they read, their uncertainty deepened into concern.
“This is written,” the first constable said slowly, as if he could not quite believe it, “like a man trying to frighten someone rather than like a man making a lawful complaint.” The constable looked up at Duncan, conflicted.
“Your Grace,” he said, “we were told the girls had been taken, and we were told the wedding was part of it.”
Duncan’s gaze stayed steady.
“And now you have been told otherwise, with witnesses, and written evidence, and two girls stating plainly that they left of their own will, and one child naming a specific act that suggests harm.”
The constable hesitated, then said, “We still have to consider guardianship.”
“Consider it properly,” Duncan replied. “Their father is dead. Their mother is dead. The viscount is their uncle, not their father. He may claim authority, but authority is not absolute when a man is unfit, and you have just watched him shout at a child in a chapel and call her a liar for saying she was frightened.”
Edward lunged forward again, trying to reach past the constable.
“They are mine,” he shouted. “They belong to my family. He cannot take them. She cannot take them. Charity is unstable, and she is trying to ruin me.”
Charity’s breath caught, and she felt the old panic surge, the instinct to shrink and apologize and make herself smaller so he would stop, then Duncan stepped forward at last.
He moved between Charity and Edward, and he did it with such controlled certainty that the room seemed to shift around him.
“You will not speak her name again in that tone,” Duncan said, voice quiet and deadly calm.
“You think being a duke makes you untouchable?” Edward stared at him, furious.
“It makes you foolish for coming into my chapel and accusing me of a crime with no proof,” Duncan replied.
The constable cleared his throat again, trying to regain control. “Your Grace, we have to proceed carefully. You have a physician’s note, you have letters, but we would need to see them, and we would need statements taken properly….”
“And you will take them,” Duncan said, then turned his head slightly toward Charity. “Tell them.”
Charity’s heart pounded so hard she felt dizzy, but she forced herself to speak, forced herself to breathe, forced herself to keep her voice steady.
“I was not taken,” Charity said, and her voice shook at first, then strengthened. “I came to the duke because my uncle’s behavior became unsafe, and because I feared for my sisters, and because I was given something that made me ill, and I do not believe it was an accident.”
“You cannot prove anything,” Edward let out a harsh laugh.
The constable looked uncomfortable, which told Charity Duncan was correct.
“Ask yourself,” he said to the constables, “why a duke would have any need to steal from a viscount?”
The first constable swallowed. “That is not…”
“It is exactly the question,” Duncan replied.
“He is accusing me of theft as if I gain something by it, but I gain nothing by stealing two girls who arrived at my gates frightened and asking for protection. What I gain is trouble, and you have brought it to my chapel on my wedding day, so let us stop pretending this is about theft.”
The second constable looked down at the letters again, then at Edward, then at the room full of witnesses.
“Sir,” he said to Edward cautiously, “if you have lawful documents that prove guardianship and a complaint that can be made properly, that should be handled through the court, not by interrupting a ceremony with accusations.”
“I wanted to deal with the viscount quietly,” Duncan said, and Charity heard his tone turn hard.
“I was ready to use the proper channels and keep this out of public view, since a scandal hurts the girls as much as it hurts him. But he chose to storm into my chapel with constables and accuse me in front of everyone. This is not a private family matter anymore.”
“Your Grace,” the first constable said, looking uneasy, “are you asking us to arrest a viscount here?”
“I am telling you that his title does not protect him when he behaves like this,” Duncan said. “If you take those girls out of this house today, you will be taking them back to a man who cannot control himself, and you will be responsible if anything happens to them.”
“We have to be careful calling a man insane,” the constable said.
“Call it whatever you want,” Duncan replied. “Call it instability. Call it unfit to care for children. Call it a man who shouts in public and sends threats to a duke. Just do your job.”
Edward snapped, “You cannot threaten constables.”
“I am not threatening them,” Duncan said. “I am making it clear this is serious, and it will be treated as serious.”
The first constable hesitated, then nodded slowly. “We will need statements from the girls and from Miss Cluett,” he said, “and we need to see the doctor’s note.”
“You will,” Duncan said. “Malcolm.”
Malcolm stepped forward and handed over a folded paper. The constable read it, and his face changed.
“It’s signed,” he said quietly. “It mentions henbane.”
“He paid that doctor,” Edward’s face tightened.
“You are making this worse for yourself,” Duncan said. “No one believes anything that you’re saying.”
The constable turned to Edward.
“Sir,” he said, firmer now, “did you give your niece anything that could have harmed her?”
“No,” Edward said sharply.
“Then you won’t object to us looking into it,” the constable replied.
“I object to all of it,” Edward said. “I am being framed!”
Duncan had heard enough of it by now. Edward was only being a nuisance now, and he was never going to admit his fault.
“Remove him from this chapel,” he said to the constables.