John sat restlessly in the parlor of the grand house in Wimpole Street. He had made the two-mile journey here from the inn in Paddington on a number of occasions over his three weeks in town, but today would hopefully be his last before he returned to Milton.

John shifted again in his seat. It was turning cold out, but he felt overheated. The stuffiness of the room was irritating him, and the anticipation of the news that Sir Henry would soon bring made him tense. When John arrived this morning the housekeeper said that her master was expected back presently. That had been an hour ago.

He looked around at the fine furnishings. Sir Henry's wealth was displayed in all its glory in this sitting room. From the marble fireplace and the oak paneling to the oriental rugs and the luxurious drapes tied with gold tassels. Every comfort that money could buy was in this room. John's own wealth had afforded his family a comfortable home, but this – this was something else indeed.

Sir Henry's house was only a short walk to Harley Street. Each time John called on Wimpole Street he was reminded that Margaret had lived much of her young life in a similar fashion, only a street or two away. She had been accustomed to the finery and fashion that such an address bestowed. John reflected on how different things were for her in Milton.

He had strolled the length of Harley Street – more than once. He did not know which house had been hers; he just liked knowing that she had once walked the same paths.

John's business in London had taken longer than he expected. But his real reason for delaying his return to Milton lie in the information that Sir Henry could procure for him.

Almost as soon as he arrived in London, John had sought out the counsel of his long time friend and advisor. He had known Sir Henry Martin for a number of years. The older gentleman was a member of parliament until the last year or two and continued to have several business interests in Milton. When he and John were introduced at a gentleman's club by a mutual acquaintance, Sir Henry had quickly identified the keen intellect and good sense of the young Mill owner. It was Sir Henry who had encouraged John to become a magistrate.

Unfortunately Sir Henry was out of town when John first called on him three weeks ago. Uncertain of the timing of his return, John left a note begging the gentleman's immediate assistance regarding a Navy matter.

On the day that Fanny left London for Milton, Sir Henry sent for John. A kind and generous man by nature, Sir Henry listened sympathetically as John relayed the story of a young lieutenant who had been missing since he was involved in an incident on board a ship. How the officer was believed to have rebelled against the atrocities of a vicious captain and stood up against injustice ..on behalf of others more helpless. That the lieutenant had left behind a family desperate to clear his name, and a dying mother whose last wish was to see her son again. John begged for Sir Henry's assistance to find out whether anything could be done.

Sir Henry took down the particulars of the case, and promised he would make enquiries.

A further week was to pass before John was finally summonsed to Wimpole Street.

There had been times during this last week that John had wondered whether he had acted sensibly by asking for Sir Henry's assistance. He trusted the older man -without reservation. John knew him to be discreet and honorable – qualities that wealth, politics and position had not eroded. But he was not sure if the same could be said for Sir Henry's associates and contacts? However, what was done was done, and John could now only maintain his faith in his friend's judgment and hope for the best.

As the clock in the corner struck 12 o'clock, the front door finally opened. John stood, anticipating Sir Henry's appearance. He could hear the housekeeper greet her master and advise him of John's presence in the parlor. Without delay, a stout but pleasant looking man with a gleaming bald spot and wisps of greying hair entered the room.

'John, dear fellow. Sit down. Sit down. Do not stand on ceremony for me.'

John returned to the uncomfortable chair he had occupied for the last hour.

Mrs Baker the housekeeper set down some tea and poured each of the men a cup before silently making her exit. John took a sip of the scorching liquid, opting to wait for Sir Henry to speak.

Sir Henry sighed and scratched his forehead. 'Well, I'm afraid I have no good news for you John. Your young lieutenant I'm afraid is in terrible trouble indeed.'

John remained silent, waiting for Sir Henry to continue.

'After I spoke with you I contacted my friend, Sir Charles Vincent. '

John almost gasped. 'The Admiral of the Fleet?'

The older man nodded. 'The very one. He is an old friend you see. We sat many years together in parliament before his elevation to the head of the Royal Navy.'

John felt a mixed sense of triumph and regret that a person of such consequence had been called on to examine Frederick Hale's case.

'I can see what you are feeling John. Let me assure you that I would not have spoken of the matter to Sir Charles if I did not feel that it would be considered impartially. Sir Charles is far more sympathetic than his predecessors; he understands the suffering that seaman have endured under the tyranny of rogue officers. He does not believe in the need for physical punishment of sailors and is determined to bring about reform in the navy. '

John sat forward in interest. 'Does that mean that the Hales have reason to hope that one day the Lieutenant may be able to return home to England to a fair trial?'

Sir Henry was grim faced. 'I doubt it, my boy. Sir Charles told me that Lieutenant Hale was named by those on board as the mastermind behind the mutiny on the Russell. I saw the witness statements myself.'

'What do you think would be the fate of Lieutenant Hale if he were to face a trial?' John was impatient for his opinion.

'Regardless of the circumstances provoking it, I am afraid mutiny is still mutiny in the eyes of the navy. It is to be tolerated neither in peace nor in war. I have no doubt in my mind that if the lieutenant were to return to England he would be convicted of treason.'

'And what would be his fate?' John needed to know what Sir Henry thought would become of Margaret's brother.

'He would be flogged then hanged. '

John inhaled deeply. He was disappointed, but not surprised by the futility of the situation.

Sir Henry's tone softened. 'I'm sorry John. I get the sense that this person means something to you.'

John shook his head. 'On the contrary sir, the lieutenant means nothing to me. I am only concerned for the family he has left behind. They are…' John considered his next words carefully. 'They are good people.'

'Oh, dear me.' Margaret laughed as she held up a porcelain figurine of a miniature greyhound that had arrived amongst the donated items for the school shop. 'I am not quite sure that the poor of Milton will be able to make use of this?'

'Here let me see that.' Mrs Phillips took the ornament from Margaret and scrutinised it, turning it over in her hand. 'It is a fine piece, but not a Staffordshire. I have a nice pair of King Charles Spaniels myself on my mantelpiece.'

Margaret tried to hide her amusement. Mrs Phillips was a favorite with Margaret, but her appreciation for the poor of Milton was limited by her privileged life. 'Thank you again for your help today Mrs Phillips. I think we are more than ready to open the doors on Monday.'

'We really must recruit some more volunteers for the ladies committee Margaret. I hear that you plan to be here three mornings next week. Really, you must not be expected to take so much on yourself.'

'I am perfectly content. Please do not concern yourself. I am only grateful that so many of the ladies have agreed to help. And once the shop is in operation, we may be able to employ someone to run it for us.'

Mrs Phillips put on her gloves and collected her shawl. 'You are a good girl Margaret.' Stopping with a dramatic pause, the older lady did a turn of the room. 'I am going to get Mr Hodge back to build some more shelves in that corner. A rather ridiculous waste of space, don't you think? Yes, I shall go there now and see to it myself. He won't say no to me I'm sure. '

'Ah..thank you Mrs Phillip,' Margaret said with some uncertainty although not wanting to deny Mrs Phillips her contribution. 'Some shelves would do well there I'm sure.'

'Good day then Margaret.' With a regal wave Mrs Phillips strode out closing the door behind her.

Margaret put the impractical dog ornament on the counter. She was just thinking that it was so ugly that she might need to resort giving it away when she heard the door open again. 'What did you forget…' Margaret stopped mid sentence. To her surprise it was not Mrs Phillips.

A fashionable young lady was making her way into the shop. Margaret smiled in greeting. 'I'm sorry I thought you were my friend returning.'

The young lady stood poised. 'Miss Hale, is it?'

Margaret nodded, her face quizzical that the attractive young woman should know who she was.

'Miss Hale, my name is Anne Latimer. I was wondering if I may speak with you a moment?'