MASTERS, MAGISTRATES, MUTINEERS & MEN
Chapter 3: The Note
Mrs. Thornton watched her son enter the dining room, freshened up after the day's work and intent on his purpose. Slowly, she set down her sewing in expectation of what she knew was coming.
"I received a note," John said, tapping the pocket of his coat in explanation. "Mr. Bell and Mr. Lennox arrived this afternoon by train and Mr. Lennox will appraise us of young Hale's case this evening. I expect to be out late. Do not wait up for me."
"I have no intention to wait up for you, John," she answered simply. Then she rose, reached for her shawl and gloves, and followed him to the door.
John's eyebrows arched in surprise at her obvious intent and before he could put his question into words, she spoke.
"Just who do you think brought that note of yours back from Crampton?"
He deflated slightly, as if releasing a breath he had been holding and his demeanor softened. "You have been to the Hales, then?"
"A better part of the afternoon was spent with Miss Hale preparing for their visitors."
"She is… I should say… they are well, then? How does Mr. Hale and Miss Hale bear up today?"
Mrs. Thornton scoffed at his poor attempt at polite indifference. "Their incoming visitors bolster their spirits, I think."
"Did you meet them, then?"
She shook her head. "They arrived some time after I returned home."
John nodded his head and then his expression turned curious again. "Yet, you still wish to return with me tonight? I can stand in for both of us and bring you a full account tomorrow. There's no need to over exert yourself this night."
Mrs. Thornton gruffly harumphed and gave her son a knowing, haughty expression, one such as used to make him confess to stealing tarts as a child. "I may not be as learned as this Mr. Lennox but I've lived enough years to hear things. I know unless there's a miracle the likes of what felled Sennacherib's army, young Hale will meet his maker on the end of a gallows' rope. Whatever frippery her fine London cousin may spout out tonight, I won't hold out for hope. More likely than not, Miss Hale will lose her brother by month's end."
At John's quick intake of breath and downcast eyes, she reached out to place a hand on his arm and continued. "I am familiar enough with the young lady to know she cares deeply for her brother. If this Mr. Lennox is honest enough to speak the truth to the Hales, it will come as quite the blow. There Miss Hale is, surrounded by the lot of you men, with none but that spoiled, self-important maid to attend her. Mrs. Dixon's as like to fall into hysterics herself as to make herself useful to her mistress. Then, what will happen? All the efforts to comfort Mr. Hale and tend the guests will fall on Miss Hale. What of Miss Hale? Forgive me if I doubt the combined skills of Mr. Bell, Mr. Lennox, and yourself to give comfort to a young girl in such a time as this. You know no more about the hardships placed upon a grieving woman than you do suckling an infant."
At John's expression, Mrs. Thornton arched one eyebrow, amused defiance in her eyes. "Do not you give me that look John Edward Thornton. I know precisely the manner of comfort you wish to give and it is not in the same manner as you would bestow upon your sister in her grief. God forbid I leave that poor, suffering creature to such great consolation. You're liable to do more harm than good with all your ideas of just how you wish to give comfort.
"Lest you prove not to be alone in your desire to be of particular use to the young woman, it is vital she has a proper guardian present to support her. I intend to stand by Miss Hale tonight and give her what poor consolation I can. I warn you, John Thornton, if the girl is overcome and I take her away for a time, you are not to come searching for us or to inquire into what we spoke of after the matter. No, John, you save all your great sympathy for the father and leave the daughter to me."
He still looked as though he was about to protest, his features torn between embarrassment at her frankness and irritation at her perceptiveness. After a moment's consideration, his expression opened and he offered a conciliatory arm to escort her out the door.
"You are wise, Mother. Miss Hale cannot but benefit by the presence of another woman and I can think of no better to offer comfort in difficult circumstances."
Mrs. Thornton nodded sharply, though she was forced to turn her head to hide the smile she could not keep from creeping across her lips.
"Do you believe there to be some sort of attachment or expectation between Mr. Lennox and Mar… Miss Hale?" He asked.
"I do not know, nor do I find it pertinent," Mrs. Thornton spoke, more harshly than she intended. She waited a moment or two until she felt equal to speaking again. Then, she gently squeezed her son's arm. "John, this cousin may have intentions. He may not. It does not figure into the matter at hand. Miss Hale's mother has died. Her brother is facing the gallows. Her father is doing little better. Possible marriage partners will hardly be her most pressing concern. Give her time, John. Do not crush her with your own wishes. Most of all, do not fly into a jealous temper over this Lennox. He's here to assist the Hales, as are we. Let that be enough."
"But, you will tell me, if you discover that he… that she…"
"John, did you hear a word I said? No, I can see you heard without listening."
"You will tell me, though, Mother?"
"No, John. If I am sworn to secrecy or told in confidence, I will not tell you."
"Mother!" He protested.
She shook her head. She could see the insecurity and painful hope flitting across her son's features and her heart ached for him. However, his own heartbreak was not the most pressing concern and the Hales required the presence of a friend and not the attentions of a lover. If he could do the former, in time, it could make the way for the latter. John would learn. If only he would learn to apply the same patience to matters of the heart that he did to matters of the mill. In the meantime, she would do her best to keep him from pressing Miss Hale too hard or taking advantage, during this time of emotional vulnerability.
She had spent the better part of the day considering the Hales and their situation, far longer than she would have ever imagined giving the family only a few days before. During her hours of solitude that morning, long before anyone else was awake, she had stared into the unseeing darkness and lost herself in her thoughts.
She had misjudged Mrs. Hale; she had been forced to admit. For all her fine airs and discomforting delicacy, Mrs. Hale was a woman familiar with sorrows. How much of her illness was borne of grief and a heavy, longsuffering heart? The loss of a son was more than any mother could bear.
Mrs. Thornton could not help but reflect inward- what should she have done if she was forever separated from her son? There had been those long, dark days. John, hardly more than a boy, had taken upon himself the responsibility of a man- the burden his own father had been incapable of bearing. He took the burden willingly, without complaint, as if it was his honor to take up his father's oversized footsteps. He worked himself to the bone, day and night, to provide for his mother and sister. Yet, there came a time when his young body gave way. The fever burned hot and fierce and Mrs. Thornton feared her son would join his father.
How she had prayed! How she had wept! How bleak her future had seemed- one without her beloved son! Those dark imaginings were more than her heart could bear.
Please, take me instead! Do what you may with me, but spare my son! She had cried out into those desperate nights.
Gradually, the boy had mended and been returned to her and how her soul had rejoiced! Not so for poor Mrs. Hale. To be forever separated from her son – how Mrs. Hale must have suffered! Well, God rest her, the poor woman was beyond suffering any longer. And Mrs. Thornton could not even begrudge her the foolhardy deathbed wish that led to Frederick Hale's capture. She understood far too well the longing to be reunited with one's child, whether in this life or the next, and could imagine what peace she had in its fulfillment.
In similar circumstances, would she have wished John to come to her side? Would it be wrong to summon him, knowing it could lead to his death? Yet, to leave this earth without seeing him, one more time! Oh, it was hard! No, she blessed Providence again that she woke each day to see the face of her son, now strong and grown and her own.
It was not only the promise to write to her son that Mrs. Hale extracted from her deathbed. She had extracted a promise from Mrs. Thornton as well and one on behalf of her daughter. How poorly she had fulfilled it! She had inwardly delighted in using such a promise as an excuse to chastise the haughty wench, calling her conduct and character into question and gloating over Miss Hale's inferiority to her son.
She had been wrong. She had been remiss in her duty and she would make it right, now. As far as it depended on her, she would stand by Miss Hale as a mother ought, and properly this time. She had made a promise to a dying woman and she would fulfill it – but not only for the sake of Mrs. Hale.
Margaret Hale had spirit. She was steel and iron under those layers of lace and silk. She was no wilting flower and she would bear up better than likely. Yet, Mrs. Thornton was determined to help hold her hands aloft, when they bore too heavy a weight for her to carry alone.
For most of the afternoon, Miss Hale had regaled her with stories about her brother. She had laughed when she told her about his penchant for stealing apples and she had cried when she spoke of the day he arrived on their doorstep to see their mother. She told Mrs. Thornton everything she knew about the mutiny and all Mrs. Hale had told her. She poured out words as if from a glass pitcher into an empty basin and Mrs. Thornton listened to it all.
Of course, they believed Frederick Hale to be innocent. Mrs. Thornton understood. She was a mother, after all. All potential errors could be explained away as products of the errors of others- but not John, never John. It was the purview of a mother to believe wholeheartedly in the justice of the actions of their son. Of course, Frederick Hale must have done what is right, even if all the world says otherwise. Let all the world eat their words, for as mother, her son could do no wrong.
Was it right or wrong? This staunch, unwavering support - edging precariously close to willful blindness. She did not know. She understood why Mrs. Hale believed her son's innocence- but Mrs. Thornton, from her view as an outside party, was not sure she agreed.
Everyone was gathered in the drawing room when they arrived at the Crampton house sometime later. This night, though, the atmosphere in the drawing room was as quiet as a church yard. Mrs. Thornton had never seen Mr. Bell so somber or grave. For all the years they had been acquainted, the man was hardly ever serious and enjoyed amusing himself at everyone else's expense. This night, Mr. Bell did not so much as complain about the smoke of Milton or the quality of the food at the inn. Instead, he sat alongside his friend, as silent as a sentinel. He managed to greet the Thorntons when they arrived, though under any other circumstances, his manner would have bordered on impolite for its brevity.
Mrs. Thornton should have been surprised by the presence of the maid in the far corner of the room, however, the woman seemed to fancy herself as much of a part of the family as any of them and would only listen from the door if she was sent away. She did not look up when they entered but kept her red-rimmed eyes resolutely fixed on Mr. Lennox.
Mr. Lennox, on the other hand, welcomed the pair with all the cordiality and expensive fashion of the fine London gentleman he was supposed to be. He was not a handsome man, but his face was clever and his eyes intelligent. He appraised them both with a quick sweep of his gaze and then bid them both to sit in the chairs set aside for them. He did not miss the way Miss Hale's eyes brightened when she saw them or the warmth with which she reached out her hands to grasp each of theirs in turn. Mr. Lennox's curiosity was hidden under his professional demeanor as he explained it was time to begin.
After a few more moments of formalities, Mr. Lennox took a chair by the hearth, where all present could see him clearly. He pulled a table beside him and placed a stack of papers on top. These, he shuffled through twice while the room sank into an anxious silence. He cleared his throat and then nodded sharply.
"I saw Mr. Frederick Hale this morning, before he was transported to Portsmouth. Indeed, I have called upon him every day since he was taken into custody and gathered as much of an account of the facts as I can. Mr. Hale was in good health, when I saw him. He begged me to send you all his love and solicitude."
At the slight response he received from the Hales, he continued. "As you know, Mr. Hale came to call upon me at my lodgings on Monday last. We spoke at length about the particulars of his case and the possible avenues moving forward. He was to travel to Cadiz on a merchant ship departing from the Port of London that afternoon. Somewhere between my lodgings and the harbor, he was recognized and turned in. He has no knowledge of the identity of his betrayer, but he suspects it was an old acquaintance from the navy who crossed paths with him without gaining his attention. Whatever the methods of exposure, the evils of such recognition are indisputable. We cannot change the past and can only move forward, preparing as best as possible to face trial before the admiralty.
"Upon reviewing his case, I have determined it best to give it over to men with greater knowledge of such cases than myself. As a trusted confidante of the family, it was right for the Hales to avail themselves of our connection. I was honored by your trust and have done all I could in so short a time. However, such secrecy is no longer possible, or even necessary. Thus, I deemed it preferable to transfer Mr. Hale's case into far more capable, experienced hands than myself."
Margaret's cheeks flushed with emotion and she gasped in protest. "But to strangers! Henry, you are family!"
He gave her a reassuring, slightly indulgent smile. "Margaret, I deal with finance, inheritance, and other such legal matters. If your brother is to have any hope of clearing his name, he requires representation from the very best in the profession. It is my family connection which will bias my case and colour my interpretation of the law."
"Yet he sits before a court martial which may prove just as biased against him, coloured not by the law but by their relationship to the captain and their own experiences aboard ship," Margaret protested.
"All the more reason for his defense to be made by one familiar with the complexities of maritime law," Mr. Lennox answered.
"But he is alone!" Margaret protested, tears filling her eyes.
"At the risk of sounding unsympathetic," Mr. Bell interjected, "I have a few questions I would like answered. I believe we would all benefit from a summary of the case and your enlightenment on what Frederick has informed you about his affairs."
Mr. Lennox nodded his head in acquiescence and sent a sympathetic, apologetic glance towards Margaret before turning to gesture to the room-at-large.
"Let us begin."
Author's Notes:
-Indebted to conversations with Darkshirelass on Ao3 over the type of law Henry Lennox actually deals with and for helping me think through the historical events of the next chapter. (bravo to her for the incredible lengths she goes to for her research. The rest of us benefit from it).
-I made up the HMS Victory. It sounded like a good name. There's probably real ships with the same name. This one is not referring to any historical vessel but will simply be used as the site of the court martial. I liked the name HMS Sandwich too, but Richard Parker died there after the Nore Mutiny and so I'd better not use it here, but I still think it's an excellent name for a ship.
