The day of preliminary judgement dawned bleak and cold, and as the defense, prosecutor and judge all made their way down to the courthouse, curious onlookers and gawkers followed. It was rumored that old man Hamper had even suspended work at the factory and that half his mill would be in attendance. For the townsfolk it was an incredible event of justice of the poor over the tyranny of the Masters; David and Goliath in the flesh and they would be damned if they missed this incredible event. True, it was simply the inquest that would determine the fate of the trial and the movement of the proceedings, but it still drew a crowd and provided a bit of fun for the amusement-starved masses.
Women in tatty friezes and yellowing bonnets made their proud way along the high street, children left at home with older siblings, and their fathers either working or feigning sick to watch the inquest. As per custom the council of twelve jurors were presents alongside the witness box, occupations ranging from hog farmers to the Brew Master and even one wealthy old merchant who owned the curiosities shop by the river. Some said he had been to China and knew magic, and so was a pleasing and worldly juror. The buzz in town was palpable, and people being rather more prone to consume during days of excitement had provided both the ail houses and tobacconists with more than enough business for the week. For this they were grateful and took their customers money with more than regular cheerfulness and zeal.
Margaret, on the other side of town, did not feel this prosperous energy but rather a dull ache in her stomach. Deftly she buttoned her frock and arranged her hair in a low chignon. She was waiting for John to come home for the factory, and her mind was made up to tell him about Mary. She could not in good conscience let Mary's secret be a surprise to the prosecution and was sure Slater would put her on the stand for purgering herself if she did not reveal what she knew. It is sometimes said that a mother can always tell state of another just by sight, but Margaret, after much mulling and contemplating decided that Mary, given her circumstances and her assault must be with child. It was that or she was just gaining weight for reasons unknown and was reluctant to stand against James Slickson for her own personal reasons. These reasons were false of course, as one, Mary had been starving herself since the rape and had begun to worry family with her insistences that she was healthy and eating, and two, Mary would fear James' family would order her to destroy the child should they know. A bastard for such a family with such a tentative toehold as the Masters maintained could not be tolerated. Mary, being relatively clever and intuitive would know this and her options would be limited. She could place the child with a baby farmer or orphanage but neither lives would be pleasing to her. On the contrary, if she decided to keep the baby, an impossibility, she would be unable to attend school and receive her education; the escape from her miserable circumstances.
Nicholas would help of course, but that meant him knowing the full tragedy of what had happened to her. Of course he now knew about the assault and fuzzy details about what transpired that night, but it was decided that the less he knew the better off everyone would be and the less likely he would be to murder James Slickson himself and damn him for the child that had come of his ignorance and cruelty. It was not a question if Nicholas would love the child and insist on keeping it, or that he would make the best grandfather a child could ask for, but that he would be incapable of convincing Ginny of taking in another child. She had her own, and now that he was grown into a man she would not be as receptive to a squalling babe in arms as a new addition to her family. It would be lovely if she could accept the child, but she would no doubt demand the education that was afforded her dear Tristan, something that Nicholas would shy from on account of his own upbringing and belief in a practical education being the best litmus test for a child's future abilities.
But her mind was wandering. Just as she heard the front door open, she went into the nursery and kissed her boys goodbye, breathing in the fresh smell of them and the peace of their sanctuary. Owen leaned out of his crib, his big blue eyes smiling, and Margaret took him in her arms. Richard was asleep, and Margaret spoke to her eldest child in a low, placating voice.
"Shh darling, I'll be back soon. Take care of your brother for me." Owen nodded and Margaret ruffled his hair, so much like his fathers but not so grey. In response he hugged her as tightly as his little arms could manage and she kissed him on the forehead, her mind elsewhere. Seeing as he was awake, she took him downstairs to Dixon, and handed him off with a little sigh.
"Good luck Missus," Dixon bowed, struggling to hold a wiggling Owen, "I've been praying for you and poor Mary. God will show us right."
"I am touched by your faith," Margaret responded a little disheartened. "I too have prayed. May the Almighty grant us mortal's justice."
"As much as we can hope for in this life," John said, surprising both women as he came into view from his den, black coat turned up against the chilly mid-may weather. He kissed his wife and greeted his son, and the two took off out of the safety of their home and into the milieu of the Milton Commons. As they walked they received relative ignorance and acceptance from the towns folk, some shouting encouragement and others turning away from them in disgust at the circus they apparently had brought down upon their names and the town. Mary was the main attraction of course, and for her safety she had been escorted to the courthouse early in the morning by the constable's coach assisted by Head Constable Gills and his deputy Terwilliger.
Why the Thornton's decided to walk was a mystery to everyone except John. He always walked to the courthouse on such occasions as he was needed; mainly for the sake of exercising out frayed nerves and listening to the general sentiment of the public to determine the nature of their sympathies. Today he was finding them in Mary's favor for the majority and it bolstered his sense of rightness in the situation and the belief that what he had done on the girl's behalf had been justified.
Margaret, who walked quietly beside him suddenly remembered Mary's predicament and paused for words. She could not tell him out in public where anyone might hear, but it was too late now to duck into some dark room of an ail house and tell him. She would have to wait until they reached the Birdcage and invent some reason to pull him away. He would be justifiably angry with her for not telling him sooner, but late was better than never.
Perhaps he sensed her anxiety, and with gloved fingers he took her hand giving it a light squeeze. She returned it with a faint press of her own, and they did not speak until almost at their destination, a bubbling, excitable crowd lying in wait for their unsuspecting quarry. Luckily for the Thorntons however, Head Constable Gills was there to usher them past the hissing, shouting, laughing and mostly supportive rabble.
Within, Margaret felt such a pang of worry she again forgot to tell John about Mary, and paled when John left her speak to Judge Hardesty and Slater approached.
"I am sorry for the impropriety of this request," he began before Margaret could properly greet him, "but in this case you may be required to testify. I advise you to tell the truth and be open about what you saw and heard. They will try to confuse you and lead you to other conclusions, but you must stay firm. I no doubt you are possessed of stronger mettle than the typical man believes a woman to be capable of, and you must prove this. Do not cry, but do show enough emotion to make them believe in your distress at Mary's state."
Margaret, not taking kindly to Slater's coaching but understanding the gravity of the situation and nodded dumbly.
"They will ask you things you would rather not answer, but you need to speak up if you wish to prove yourself a worthy witness. I have it on good account that the barrister defending Mr. Slickson is one Mr. Geraad. He is one nasty customer, I assure you, but with the defense we have prepared you should be well above any sort of impropriety on his part."
"My husband is this city's magistrate," Margaret could hear her voice echoing cold and small in her head. It was less of statement and more of a question. Cold sweat began to form at the nape of her neck and suddenly the high collar of her lace and linen gown chaffed. Rubbing it distractedly, she looked back at Slater who stared back, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly.
"Mrs. Thornton, I am advising you to the best of my ability, and have assured your husband the loyalty I can only say I have given to one person before him. If there is anything you wish to tell me now, please do so or be blindsided by the court."
"There is nothing," Margaret lied.
Slater shrugged and bowed, his powdered wig bobbing like an absurd little hat.
"Come along then," he said with a frown, "the trial begins."
Nervous and heart fluttering like a trapped bird against a great gilded cage, Margaret settled down beside John and stared forward. Her eyes immediately snapped on the Slicksons, all four of them. The daughter Mable was sitting a little aside from her mother and father, wearing a silly extravagant linen day dress and looking as pretty as a summer daisy. She glanced about the room with fevered embarrassment, her eyes darting through the crowd and down to the judge's podium. She was clearly nervous by all the attention her brother had drawn and had worn that delicate wastage of a dress to prove that while her family might not be in the good graces of Lady Law, she was still worth a look and too pretty therefore to be tangled up in any unpleasantness. Her kin, after all, was still rather rich and a pretty face among the gentry counted for something in Victoria's Modern Age.
Her parents too dressed formally but not as ostentatiously as their daughter. Their heads were held high and proud, their scorn practically radiating off them in waves. Their son wore a similar mask of haughty indignation, his handsome figure straight and angry on the other side of the stand. Margaret wondered at how he could be so calm and self-assured, but then reminded herself that in his circle, he was a tiny God and probably assumed raping a serving girl was akin to kicking the dog in punishment. He was related to some far away lords, and perhaps his time in their gracious company had taught him the natural contempt of those supposedly beneath him. As it was, beside him sat the aforementioned Mr. Geraad, looking as pompous and puffed up as a baronet. Even his barrister's wig was taller and fuller than normal, in Margaret's opinion a statement to his appalling idiocy.
When he spoke however, his voice was as sharp as a tack and as dangerous as Margaret had ever heard. Judge Darin had come down from his house in the country and peered owlishly over his spectacles. He was an ancient creature, but in his deliberations he was still clever and nimble minded, a fact he continually proved to both the court and the smart-mouthed Geraad.
Judge Darin called the session to order, and though it was just the beginning of the whole legal process, he took it as seriously as well, a judge. Margaret watched the whole proceedings with strained attention and he spoke with cool and professional authority. The charges had been laid out; Mary and Georgia's rapes, indecent exposure and Fleeing from the Law on account of James' escape from the city. As they were being read and explained, James maintained his haughty stance, his hand curling and uncurling on the smooth oak of the box. Geraad whispered something conspiratorially in his ear and the boy stopped fidgeting, looking for all the world a stubborn child. Barely past eighteen, his youth and ignorance shone like a badge. Mary was called to testify, and she stood, her pale face terrified and footing unsteady. When she made her way down to the witness box she stumbled a bit, and Head Constable Gills offered an arm of support.
When at long last she was sworn in however, she stood straight and tall, avoiding the eyes of both James and Barrister Geraad. It did not take long for the questioning to begin, and Slater approached Mary with all the kindness of a man approaching a startled fawn.
"Please, Miss Higgins, explain what happened to you on the night of December twenty first. You needn't be afraid."
And so Mary launched into her story. After leaving the Thornton residence, she made her way to the dance hall as she had promised and met her friend Vera Lawson. There they danced for… How long? Slater asked. About an hour, Mary replied. After they were rather tired, and Eddy Burns, Vera's beau offered to take them for a walk along the river to cool off. Before they reached the bank however, they met up with Kal Painter and James Slickson. Mary commented on how odd she thought it was that a master's son was hanging around the butcher's delivery boy, but had a couple of drinks in her and figured there must be some logical reason. Were the newcomers also drunk? Slater asked. Oh yes, Mary answered. She was not so drunk however to miss the way James and Kal stood next to each other, exchanging small words and looking nervous. Eddy suggested they go to the bank and tell ghost stories where the old man Boucher killed himself, and James jumped on the opportunity, nudging Kal along with him.
Together they all went to the edge of the river and Kal said something to James, and James smiled at the group, his face utterly sober. You just said he was drunk? Interceded Geraad. At the time I thought so, but when he looked at me his eyes were clear, Mary answered. Geraad said something Margaret did not catch and the Judge made an angry motion to silence him. Mary continued. James claimed to be a training Mystic, he told the group, and for his latest project he needed the blood of a virgin.
There was an outcry from the stand, and James stood up, spitting and snarling like a mad dog.
"You little whore!" he shouted before Geraad could calm him, "You snivelling, stupid little chit!"
"That's enough," Judge Darin tapped his gavel. All fell silent again and Geraad swept up beside Mary, his hawk eyes glittering in the gaslight.
"You said he needed the blood of a virgin," this was said with thinly veiled mockery, "Were you one such virgin, Miss Higgins?"
Mary's face went scarlet and she clutched at her chest as if protecting herself from attack.
"I…I was…" Mary's voice wavered and tears spilled down her cheeks.
"…until?" Geraad goaded her.
"For Christ's sake Geraad you know until when!" Slater snapped. The gavel came down and the argument ceased, but Geraad wasn't finished.
"If he had this blood, what do you suppose he would do with it, and why would he not just cut your arm? It would be much simpler and less trouble than all this," Geraad spread his fingers and waved around the courtroom. Margaret felt her stomach clench in fury and John held her down.
"He didn't need regular blood," Mary blushed hard again, biting her quivering bottom lip.
"Ah! Such an imagination," Geraad laughed scornfully, "and what would he do with that, tell me?"
"I don't know!" Mary cried, "He never told me. He never told anyone except Sydney Hamper!"
There was a hush at this, but Geraad plowed on.
"If that was what he wanted, why did he invite the others to witness the event?" Geraad quizzed her. "Wouldn't it have been easier to find you himself and trap you in a corner somewhere?"
"He said time was running out," Mary answered in a sob, "said something to Kal and he grabbed me. Eddy and Vera ran off when James told them to."
"And then what happened?" Slater's calm water over stones voice broke the onslaught. "You can tell the truth here, no one will bother you."
"K…Kal held me d…down," Mary stuttered, "and I was so scared I tried to scream but nothing came out. I was getting dizzy and then he…and then James…" Mary broke down into full hysterics at this and rocked helplessly in her seat. Slater, taking this as the allegation of rape, turned to the jury and crossed his hands in front of him.
"You said you were dizzy and Kalum Painter held you down," Geraad said once her sobbing had slowed, "do you know who attacked you? Can you remember his face?
"Well n…no," Mary said, "b…but Kal held me down so it had to be James. I was so scared I didn't want to look."
"Then there is a chance that Kalum Painter raped you?" Geraad asked.
"Your honor, Barrister Geraad is leading the witness!" Slater shouted in outrage.
"I'll allow it," Darin shrugged.
Geraad gave Slater a venomous smile. "I ask you again, Miss Higgins," he said.
"I'm sure it was James," Mary said in a stronger voice now, "I know it was. I slashed the one who was on top of me."
"Ah, but you said you had been drinking. How would you have known, being an innocent virgin as you were? Besides, no injuries on James Slickson match those you described." Geraad replied. "The defense rests, your honor."
Slater did not reply or question Mary again, and so the prosecution settled.
Next came James. He stood when called, made his oath, and sat in the witness box, face cool.
Slater took this opportunity to move, standing just under the judge's box.
"Where were you the night of December twenty first, just past midnight?" he asked.
"I was at the river with Edward Burns, Kalum Painter, Vera Lawson and Mary Higgins," came to measured reply.
"And what was your purpose to be so close the water at that hour? Did you not know a man had drowned there some time ago?"
"Tha…that's what made it a good spot," James stuttered slightly, his composure cracked, "We wanted to go for a walk and Eddy was telling ghost stories." The excuse seemed feeble at best, and many raised eyebrows at the rehearsed way he said it.
"I see," Slater measured his voice, "there was no other reason you had lured the young girls down there? Perhaps you were planning to have a late night tryst with them where you were sure no one would go?"
"Objection," Geraad cut in with a deep frown, "your honor, he is leading the witness."
"I agree Geraad. Question dismissed."
"Then what were you planning on doing down there where people are too afraid to go, after you told your ghost stories of course?" Slater bowled through.
"We thought we would sit a while before going home. It wasn't very cold, and our homes would be too stuffy to sleep in anyways. Mary had brought a bottle of gin from home, she said, and we all drank heavily. Edward decided that when Vera had had enough he would take her home and Kal said he would take Mary back if she liked. Mary said it would be alright and when Edward and Vera left, he and Mary started getting really close. It was uncomfortable for me, and I went off for a smoke. When I came back he was on top of her and she slashed at him with that knife of hers. I grabbed her to stop her killing him, and we ran off. She looked mad enough to murder us both at that time, and when I asked Kal what happened, he told me she told him she wanted it. Why she tried to slit his throat I don't know. She must have gone a little mad."
"So you rushed in and saved your friend from a vicious drunk vixen?" Geraad said in a placating tone, "some say you're a hero for saving his life." James tipped his head in acknowledgment.
Things were no going well.
"How do you respond to the allegation that Kalum Painter held her down and you raped her?" Slater asked, his eyes narrowed.
"She might have thought it was me, but I only grabbed her to take the knife away. I wouldn't touch her."
"Really?" Slater shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "you have never considered touching a serving girl or draper's daughter? Not once in your life?"
There was a quiver of fury in James's eyes and he glared daggers at Slater.
"No." he said.
"Not even if doing so would help your friend Sydney Hamper with his magic?" Slater continued.
"Sydney can get his own supplies," James spat, bitterness in his voice.
"But you would do anything for him wouldn't you?" Slater carried on, "I have it on good authority you two are like brothers. Would you also rape an innocent girl for him if he asked?"
"Objection!" Geraad shouted, pounding his fist on the desk, "Badgering! What does Sydney Hamper have to do with this trial?"
"Everything, if Mr. Slickson cannot explain. The testimony of one Georgia Richards places both Mr. Hamper and Mr. Slickson together at the time of her brutal assault."
"What is this?" Judge Darin asked roughly, glancing between the two lawyers. Slater produced Georgia's statement from an inside pocket of his blazer and handed it to the judge like a royal proclamation. He read it quickly and nodded.
"May I continue?" Slater asked. Judge Darin grunted in compliance.
"As I was saying," Slater looked grimly at James, "Your friend Sydney Hamper is part of the London Mystics Society and considers himself quite the wizard. I put it to you that he asked for a sacrifice, and you got it for him. Miss Richard's testimony claims that it was you who brutalized her, and while she screamed you took her maidenhead with a cloth." There was a disgusted outcry from the stands, and the jurors looked uncomfortably between them. No one knew how to react to such open talk of sex or ill treatment, and they were properly scandalized.
James' face grew red at this allegation and he leaned over the box as if to spit on Slater.
"If that's what we wanted, we wouldn't go to her," James shook his head, "she was as much a virgin as a city whore." There was a cry from the crowd, and most of the women, including his sister, were shuffled out lest they hear more of his profane talk.
"How did you know that, I thought you weren't familiar with the common girls?" Slater cocked an eyebrow.
"Sydney liked them," James said dismissively.
"And you, did you not?" Slater bated him, waiting in perfect calm.
"I have my sights set somewhat higher," James replied loftily, brushing stray curls from his eyes.
"Yes, perhaps. But it does not change the fact that one of you assaulted and left Miss Richards for dead and put a gram in a cat's mouth beside her. Mr. Hamper was there for one assault, and you for the other. Does that not seem suspicious?" Slater turned towards the jury.
"You do not have to answer that," Geraad called to James. James shook his head and spoke, unsteady at first.
"I can see how one would draw those conclusions, but as I have said, I do not consort with common women. My father would back up my courtship of a noble lady from London if you wish."
"Ah, you say that," Slater walked closer, "and I have no doubt that is true…for the most part. I put it you, the jury," he turned on his heel to look them in the eye, "that James Slickson, under the advice of Sydney Hamper did assault and rape two women for the purpose of dubious and irresponsible magic."
"And I put it to the jury, that this is all malicious conjecture, and that our dear James was not the assailant but the defendant of his friend in the event of a drunk, deliberate attack. As for Georgia's statement, we cannot prove it true as she is not here to stand witness. Her testimony, spotty and inconsistent as it is, cannot be admissible as evidence. The woman is cracked and better suited for Bedlam than a place as a witness for the court."
Judge Darin called the session to pause, and the jurors went away to deliberate. For three hours they sat and argued, and for three hours Margaret paced the floor, angry and agitated. John did not bother to calm her down, and went away to speak to Slater. When he came back the jury had made their decision and everyone settled back into their seats.
"We, the Jury find James Slickson guilty of conspiracy to commit rape and ask that Kalum Painter be called the stand."
James' face went pale as chalk.
John swore loudly under his breath.
Kal stood and walked slowly towards the witness box.
AN: Ok so a longer one this time, enjoy! Reviews and suggestions are loved and appreciated! Speculate what you will about James and Sydney…I'd love to hear what you think! Cheers!