Chapter Eleven: Confrontation

A/N: And the clock is winding down...only two more chapters after this...It's so sad!

A/N2: OH! And I just thought I'd point this out since it was mentioned, but Samuel Barlow is not a true historical figure. Neither is Jackson Parley. I wish I could say they were...that'd be cool. Most of the prominent figures in this story are factual though like Gonson, Wild, Hitchen, the Molly House victims, the Duc, etc.

Men were chatting excitedly in the hall leading up to the main trial room of the Old Bailey. They were dressed in coats and discussing plans for the holidays – Christmas was a mere week away.

Arthur had secured a seat for himself and Francis through his law advisor, Samuel Barlow. Barlow was given charge of acting for the prosecutors, who no doubt made a deal with the Society for Reformation of Manners to confess for written innocence.

When the doors opened the two made their way inside. They had seats in the front row of the middle section on the upper level where the observers sat. At first Arthur found it suspiciously convenient but dismissed his feelings knowing Barlow was an influential man and could easily attain good seats for his guests. The only thing higher up (in terms of status) was a spot beside the judge – something already reserved for Gonson and his wife.

They sat down comfortably glancing around at the other faces. Arthur cringed when he noticed Jackson Parley and his wild grin as he wooed the few women present with his stories about capturing dangerous criminals.

The announcer issued everyone to rise as the jury, barristers and judge made their way in. They sat down listening to the list of accusations against Charles Hitchen as he was dragged into court and placed on the stand.

"Charles Hitchen, you stand before the court on two charges: the first is sodomy and the second is assault with sodomitical intent." The Judge's voice rang out into the tight fitted room, "How do you plead, sir?"

"Not guilty." Hitchen glared towards Gonson, who was making a face back.

The prosecutor, Samuel Barlow, called his first and most important witness to the stand, his client. The young man, William Richardson, gave a detailed account of how Hitchen had invited him for a drink, got him intoxicated, and proceeded to take him to an inn where he was forced upon. Hitchen scoffed at the entire thing, point by point.

A few of the servants working at the inn also paraded in and gave testimony against Hitchen and his actions.

The defense then called on their witnesses. Arthur and Francis were alarmed at the number of people willing to speak on behalf of Hitchen's character. The first was a constable that admitted he saw Hitchen and Richardson go into the inn but did not hear anything regarding a physical relation between the two. The next was a well-known shopkeeper and a blacksmith. The last of them, Michael Gray, shocked Arthur the most. He was a former member of the Society for Reformation of Manners and was now acting as a freelance "justice enforcer".

"He's a good and honest man, sir." Gray, with a white mustache poking out under his nose said to the judge, "He was a key member in starting and building the Reformation of Manners. He gave his service to cleaning the streets of profanity and sin."

Francis looked over to Arthur with concern. What Gray had said couldn't really be true. Arthur glanced back with a similar look of uneasiness.

Gonson, sitting directly beside the Judge, cast an annoyed face at Gray, as if he were the evilest of men in the room.

After a quick recess a decision by the judge was made. The jury found no evidence to convict Charles of sodomy, but found him guilty of assault. His sentence was handed down as spending a day in the pillory on Catherine's Street, a twenty pound fine and six months imprisonment.

Francis sighed having hoped for more, but still satisfied that Hitchen would be committed to laying low for a while. In addition to his sentence a three year probation in which he would be watched for character was deemed necessary.

Exiting the Old Bailey, Arthur and Francis turned up the street to get a late dinner. It was already close to 5 p.m. and they were starving. Before they could get past the gate they were stopped by an aging gentleman.

"Hello Gonson." Arthur nodded walking up to his former associate.

"Arthur," Gonson nodded back, "My apologies for being abrupt, but tonight the Society is celebrating the capture and sentencing of Hitchen. We know you had trouble with him and would like to invite you to the party."

Arthur was about to decline when Gonson added, "…and I won't take no for an answer. We've been missing your presence."

Arthur looked troubled as Gonson's face was stone hard; not the soft, kind face you'd expect from someone who was truly missing the company of another. Despite the terrible feeling in his gut he agreed to attend.

As the two walked past the robust old man Francis whispered to Arthur, "Are you sure you want to go?"

"Not really," was Arthur's only reply as he looked away not wanting to discuss the issue further.

)()()()()(

Throwing on his gray, woolen frock coat, Arthur made his way to door of his flat to attend the party he'd been invited to. As he reached for the door with his right hand, he felt himself being tugged back by the left. Looking backwards his eyes caught the gaze of Francis'.

"What are you doing? I need to go."

Francis frowned, "Then I'm going with you."

"Don't be foolish," Arthur rolled his eyes, "You can't go, they'd never allow it."

"But I promised you," the Frenchman looked emotionally wounded, "that I would always be with you."

"That was before Hitchen was caught." Arthur laughed pulling his arm out of Francis' grasp, "You don't have to worry about me anymore."

"But," The Parisian carried on, "I saw the look on his face. He did not seem happy with you."

The Brit shrugged, "Perhaps he was just unhappy about what that fellow said…you know about Hitchen being in the Society. Speaking of which, I'd like to ask him about that."

Francis continued his long stare for a moment before straightening up and catching Arthur's face in the palms of his hands.

"If you're going to go," He gaped into the eyes of his lover, "than promise to be careful and come back."

Arthur was about to tell him how ridiculous that sounded when his lips were captured in a solid kiss. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sweet taste. His heart rose as Francis moved from those lips down the jaw and onto every inch of skin covering his neck.

The Englishman wanted to fall numb and let the Frenchman pleasure him but remembering the party he gently pushed back, "Not now, I really need to get going."

Francis pouted as Arthur flipped open the door. He exited the room exclaiming, "Maybe when I get back."

)()()()()(

Arthur marched past the gates of the giant manor belonging to Sir John Gonson. He was surprised he had remembered the way there since it had been more or less a month since he'd last been to the household.

Climbing the three wide, half-circle steps he stopped at the pure white double doors to warm his freezing hands before pounding the door knocker.

Shortly after the echoing thump the door to his right was opened. A portly old lady dressed in a brown servant's gown answered and directed Arthur up the grand staircase.

The whole house shimmered in red and gold, a popular colour scheme it seemed. White was a prominent shade as all the wooden room linings were painted in the silky colour and the floor was a whitish gray marble.

He reached the top of the stairs where a blue and silver pattern took over, silver being the heavier of the two as to not clash completely with the red and gold scheme downstairs. Remembering the maid's instructions he turned left and headed down the hall towards the open door with light pouring out of it. When he reached the door he poked his head inside and knocked.

"Ah Arthur," Gonson turned, a glass of red wine in his hands, "how good of you to join us."

"Well, well," Parley threw his arms open, putting on a happy face. He wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulder, "Kirkland, my friend, we've been waiting for you."

"Y-you have?" Arthur seemed a little unsure of the atmosphere. There was something troubling about this particular meeting but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Have some wine!" An old man handed him a glass with ruby red wine in it.

"N-no, thank you." The Brit nodded politely.

The party commenced with roasted pig, fine white bread, wine and ale and exotic fruits imported from the Americas – something only the rich could afford to enjoy. It was all sprawled out on a long, twenty person table with a satin red cloth. It made him nauseous. It was the same colour and style as the cloth he had tried to steal from the old lady at Hitchen's request.

After the group, no more than fifteen, had eaten their fill they moved to another room beside the upstairs dining room. It was much smaller and darker – save the white wooden planks covering the lower one-quarter of the walls. The wallpaper was a dark green and it emphasized the gray rocks making up the fireplace on the right side of the room.

Entering the small room Arthur noticed only one chair. It was large and plush, a grayish blue colour, which would have stood out had there been more light other than the tiny flashes coming from the heated logs of the fireplace. He figured the seat was meant for Gonson as it was one that was clearly for someone who commanded respect.

Gonson looked at Arthur and gestured his hand toward the chair, "Why don't you take a seat, Arthur."

The Englishman was baffled. He didn't belong in such a fancy chair, "No, thank you. I'm not worthy of such a grand place."

Parley laughed, "Don't be such a fool you bugger, he offered it to you."

"Parley!" Gonson snapped at the young man. Parley shrunk back and tended to his ego's wound.

Arthur was now more worried than before. He slowly made his way towards the chair, glancing back once more before he came to a complete stop in front of the furniture.

"Well," Gonson's voice had a certain demanding tone, "Sit down."

Arthur turned around and rested himself into the chair. For a moment he felt greatly satisfied as it was a very comfortable seat. His few seconds of peace were shattered when he heard the clicking of a pistol. Looking up he noticed one of the members with a small handgun.

"Um," He squeaked out, "Is…is something the matter, Gonson? I mean…Sir John…or…Sir Gonson?"

Gonson spoke over the babbling, "I just need you to answer a few questions for me."

"Pardon?" Arthur looked up at the buff old man with white facial hair.

Gonson didn't hesitate. He started right away with the harshest question, "Are you a sodomite?"

Kirkland's eyes grew wide. Filled with terror he concluded that Hitchen must have ratted on him. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

"Well?" Gonson raised his voice, loud and clear, "Out with it boy! Are you?"

Parley peaked over the broad shoulder of the leader squawking out, "I don't think he's going to answer you, Gonson."

Arthur trembled as the group ganged up on him, staring him down. His eyes darted around for an escape, but found none. Taking a deep breath he decided he'd have to talk his way out. But how to get around the questions without lying?

"Why do you ask such a thing?" Arthur returned with his own question, "What evidence do you have to make such an accusation? Do you not trust me?"

"Clearly not." Parley puffed, "I always knew there was something suspicious about you; you and that Frenchman."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, still clearly uneasy, "Francis is just a guest of mine."

"A guest that has long overstayed his welcome, wouldn't you say?" Gonson shrugged, "Visitors normally only stay a week or two, but this Parisian has been with you for what? A month now?"

Arthur declined to answer by staying silent. It had been nearly a month, if not more, since the two had begun cohabitating, but it felt more like a lifetime.

"Should I assume he'll be leaving soon?" Gonson cocked a brow.

"I don't know," Arthur answered, "He has been thinking of permanently settling here."

"With you?" Parley smirked, his voice mocking and sarcastic.

"Of course not," Gonson hissed. He looked back to Arthur, "Arthur is a good boy, isn't he? He'll send the French fellow to the Duc D'Aumont."

Arthur again refused to speak, opting to remain silent and listen.

"Arthur," Gonson's voice softened, like that of a father telling a story to his son, "I'm going to tell you something. Something I'm sure you'll be interested in hearing. You know Charles Hitchen…I'm sure you do…he was once a member of this society as well."

Arthur nodded. He had actually wanted to ask Gonson about this.

Gonson continued, "He was one of our founders but it seemed the more he chased sodomites, the more they intrigued him. One day, we found him in a tavern buggering up some young lad."

So that's why Gonson was angry with Parley, Arthur thought to himself, because he used the word 'bugger' and Gonson feared it would expose their plan.

"He assured us it was nothing to be concerned over, but growing suspicions left us with no choice but to exile him from our community. Hoping he'd find a way to redeem himself we allowed him to keep his legal position as Upper City Marshal, but he seems to have used it for his own personal ambitions instead of for the greater good."

"I see…" Arthur acknowledged their contempt of Hitchen.

"So you can understand why we must ask you to give up this sinful lifestyle."

Arthur looked up, "What do you mean? You actually believe I'm a sodomite?"

"We have sufficient evidence based on testimonies by your neighbours. They've heard you engaging in physical activities." Gonson frowned.

Arthur hissed lowly towards the floor, "Damn bastards…"

"It's bad enough we had one member go astray," Gonson's face continued to droop downward, "but imaging the press we'd get if two of our members turned."

"We'd lose support and funding!" Another member entered the conversation.

"Psh," An old man, whom Arthur recognized as being the impatient man from the night Wild was caught, spat, "Just torch him now and throw the Frenchman into the river."

Everyone ignored the old coot and kept their pleading eyes on Arthur.

After a moment Gonson patted him on the head, "Do the right thing, son. Do what God intended."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, "What, exactly, would you have me do?"

"You must cast him aside; if he insists on staying with you then…you may be forced to send him to the pillars."

Kirkland stared up, wide-eyed. He could never send Francis to the pillars, "I can't."

"Public humiliation!" Parley cheered.

"Nonsense!" Gonson shouted at the young, dark haired man.

"If you don't," Gonson looked down on Arthur sternly, "then the two of you could face a jail sentence or possible hanging. There will be no Old Bailey trial…just a straight sentence."

"But you can't!" Arthur bellowed out, "It's against the law! There must be a trial!"

"We ARE the law." Gonson turned on his heels, leaving Arthur to decide his fate.

Historical References:

1)The trial of Hitchen in this chapter is based on documentation of his actual trial. You can find more information about it on the Old Bailey website and Rictor Norton's site. Just remember that "Hitchen" is actually spelt "Hitchin".

2) More on Hitchen's connection with the Society for Reformations of Manners coming soon...dun, dun, dun...