The Cogspeare Conspiracy (The Cogspeare Chronicles Book 1) (21 page)

              Magnus saw the moment when Philodendrington decided to allow the change. He slammed his gavel down a few times for attention.

              “After very, very careful consideration of your request, Mr. Dolt, and careful consultation of past precedents, I am allowing the change. Do you have any objections to this Mr. Cogspeare?”

              Now
this
was his chance. He could object on the grounds of Hunter v. Hunter, or Malcinus v. Redrick, or two other cases that he could think of. In a pinch, he could even appeal to the judge’s well-known feelings of segregated justice for the peerage.

              He could feel Minerva’s gaze boring into the back of his wig. He resisted the urge to reach back and check if it was marked.

              “No, milord, no objections.”

              He could hear the gasps from the clerks behind the panelled wall, and saw the look of mild surprise on Philodendrington’s flabby face.

              “Well, then, harrumph, if there’s nothing else, you and your clients will be hearing from a representative from the Exchequer. Quite soon, I should wager, given the unusual nature of this case.” He rose, and then added,

              “And would someone pick up Mr. Dolt from the floor; he’s scuffed the woodwork.”

              The room erupted into chaotic chatter, entirely ignoring Dolt’s fainting fit.

              Magnus turned, and saw that his boss and client were glowering at him, while his family were chatting away happily.

              He dashed out of the room.

Chapter 42

“But what does it mean?” Declan asked for the third time. Minerva tried not to roll her eyes.

              “Is this a good thing, dear?” added Edwina.

              “Yes,” Minerva replied, trying to be patient, “This is a very good thing. It means that Clinton is more likely to be treated like any other person, not above the law as he was here. It also means that we’ll- that is, the miners- will get a more sympathetic judge. But most importantly, it’s easier in this case to prove conspiracy to fraud than to prove murder, since Clinton was nowhere near the mines that day. It means they might have a fighting chance at winning!”

              “But why didn’t Magnus object? Was he supposed to?” This was from a thoughtful Amadeus.

              “I don’t know,” Minerva answered truthfully. Indeed, she had been very surprised at his acquiescence.

              “Any quote from you, Miss McFlynt?” Twymn had been scribbling eagerly throughout the whole event and was now working with a severely blunted quill.

              “Well, a precedent might be old, but it’s never outdated or irrelevant, as shown but Mr. Dolt’s use of
de Vernis v. Predragoon
, 1672.”

              “Studious yet catchy,” Twym commented, clamping his bulging notebook shut. “I’ll quote you as my legal counsel. I’m off to show this piece to Mr. Frisket. Maybe he’ll actually take a look at it!”

              He dashed away, pushing his slight form through the crowds while the Cogspeares and Minerva followed at a more sedate pace.

              “That was very odd of Magnus, wasn’t it, dear? Do you think he’s alright?”

Chapter 43:

“Take deep breaths, sir, deep breaths,” Addison said in soothing tones as he fanned Magnus with a deposition.

              Magnus had run out of the courtroom and into the back room. Just as he was taking off his wig, it had dawned on him just what damage he had done, to the case and his career, by not objecting to the change in venue.

              Addison had found him trying to rip off his robes as he sat in the fetal position underneath the table that held the wigs.

              “Deep breaths, sir, in and out. Mum sometimes has these turns, sir, and there’s nothing wrong with them. Just too much excitement an’all.”

              That hadn’t been what he had said behind the partition with the other clerks. His words been more along the lines of a series of four-letter words with some creative adjectives as only nineteen-year-olds can make them.

              Now, whether it was Addison’s fanning and the deep breathing, or the comparison with Addison’s hysterical mother, Magnus snapped himself out of the panic attack and pushed himself up. Divesting himself of the robes and shoving them at his secretary, he took a final deep breath, gathered up his things, and said,

              “We need to get back to the office because we have a hell of a lot of work to do if we’re going to win this case in the Exchequer. It’s not impossible, but they must have gotten more information if they feel confident enough to change the charge.”

Chapter 44:

“But we have nothing!” cried Dolt frantically, slamming his fists on his desk. Minerva handed him her handkerchief and tried not to be disgusted by the sweating blob she had for a co-conspirator and colleague.

Really, if this is what barristers were like, they certainly were in dire need of an infusion of feminine common sense!

“Now, Mr. Dolt, everything will be fine. Just let me get the information and all you have to do is present it to the courts on Monday. By the end of next week, all this will be over and done with.”

He snivelled and tried to hand the handkerchief back to her. She declined, and decided that she would really have to go shopping now, as she had claimed to Edwina at luncheon. Supplying Dolt with handkerchiefs might well be a full time affair.

“B-but M-miss M-McFlynt, I can’t do it anymore! The pressure- it’s too much!”

“Pull yourself together, Mr. Dolt. The miners, even all of Port Prudence, is counting on you!” Unfortunately, that didn’t have the bolstering effect Minerva had hoped. Dolt turned and threw up into his abused trash bin.

“Mr. Dolt,” she patted him on the back, “if this is your reaction to presenting a court case, then why on earth did you become a barrister?” After his retching ended with a cough, he answered,

“Because my father was a barrister, and he wouldn’t hear of me being a mere solicitor.” He sighed, clearly miserable. “Is there a rope handy to hang myself? I think I’ve finally decided on that method of departure.”

The antiquated pulse machine then began to type out information on its globe-like keyboard, chucking it out onto a flimsy piece of yellow paper. She quickly went over and read it, and smiled.

“No need for your early demise, Mr. Dolt. This should make you feel much better…”

Chapter 45:

It took Magnus and Addison well over an hour to return to the office, fending off the virulent reporters who had descended on the Grimsby & Associates building, catching the whiff of a brewing story like an alcoholic near a pub. But Magnus did notice that Twym wasn’t among them.

Pushing their way forward, they finally made it past the doors and into the relative placidity of the foyer. But as they went upstairs, barristers and clerks turned to look at them whispering amongst themselves.

“Sir, I don’t like this very much. Something seems…wrong.”

“Indeed it does,” Magnus murmured as they entered their office suite. As Addison hung up Magnus’s robes and wig and generally settled in again, Magnus quickly sought the sanctuary of his inner office and rotational chair.

Which was currently being occupied by a livid Lord Clinton.

“What the hell happened out there, Cogspeare?” he sputtered, slamming his fist down on the blotter, the inkwells trembling.

“Now, Lord Clinton, I’m sure that Mr. Cogspeare has an explanation, don’t you?” Grimsby was at the window and slowly walked to stand next to Clinton.

Magnus’s mind raced as he thought of some way out of this predicament. Though at this point his promotion was going to be delayed, probably indefinitely, he didn’t want to lose his job, his career, over a momentary lapse in judgment.

“Indeed I do, Your Lordship, Sir Grimsby. Yes” he turned and strolled over the window and looked down on the swarm of reporters.
Think fast!
His mind screamed. 

“You see, sirs, if the trial had proceeded in the House of Lords, though it was guaranteed that we would have won, the damage to your reputation and that of the SWSMC would have been grave, perhaps un-repairable.”

The men looked at each other, Clinton inclining his head for further elaboration.

“But I am a peer and deserve to be tried as one. How could that affect my reputation adversely?”

“Because since the miners are not peers, it is generally assumed that they would have been at a disadvantage in the House of Lords.”

“That is what we were counting on, Cogspeare!”
              “But think how much better it would be, that is-“he quickly corrected himself, “will be, when you win the case in a lower, common court. The public will see it, not as class
in
justice, but British
justice
, and will see you as the greater man for it. A man of the people, so to speak.” He paused for breath: false flattery was exhausting.

Clinton stared hard at him for two pulse-pounding minutes, and finally said,

“Interesting strategy, Mr. Cogspeare. Very interesting. So the prosecutors have played into our hands, have they? Very good.” He rose and Magnus was about the breathe a sigh of relief, when Clinton grabbed him by the lapel and pulled him close, so close that Magnus felt his  breath, acrid with stale liquor and smoke.

“Now win the Goddamn case!” he growled, letting go and giving Magnus a push. Grimsby looked equal parts furious and nervous as he followed in Clinton’s wake.

Magnus sighed and staggered back against the wall.

Finally, after a few moments of deep breathing, he went back out to Addison’s room.

“I’d send a message to your mother that you won’t be coming home for dinner, and you’ll probably breakfast tomorrow too.

“Sir?” The look on Jim’s face made his boss feel like he’d just kicked a puppy.

“We have to restructure this case entirely, and it will probably take all night and tomorrow as well.”

“Yes, sir,” replied his infinitely loyal and enthusiastic secretary. Just as he was going back to his office, the
whoosh
of the intra-office pneumatic tube sounded.

“Sir!” Addison called out.

“Yes?” Addison stood and waved the piece of paper.

“The Pulse station downstairs just received this message. It’s the new information for the trial.”

“And?”

“It’s been rescheduled for Monday morning at ten o’clock, at the central chambers of the Exchequer” he read and then looked up, adding, “they must be expecting a large crowd for the central chamber, sir.”

“Why wouldn’t they expect one, Addison?” he ran his hand through his hair agitatedly. “A lord is being tried as a commoner by a bunch of spesium miners, and his lawyer just made an ass of himself in court.” He waved off Addison’s reassurance, and instead asked.

“Does it say who the judge is?”

“Ye-es,” Addison replied slowly.

“An-nd?” he mimicked Addison’s drawn-out admission.

“It’s Justice George St. George, sir.”

“Oh, Christ!” he exclaimed. “The newest judge from Barbados? He’s practically a communist. This is just bloody perfect!” Then, to Addison’s horror, he slid down into the chair in front of him. “St. George will do everything he can to give the miners a fair whack at us.”

Of course, what he left unsaid but felt reflected from his eyes to Addison’s was the question,
And was that really a bad thing?

Chapter 46:

“Well, that was certainly an interesting day,” said Edwina to Cornelius later that evening. “Though I was rather surprised when Mr. Globes disappeared on us like that.”

“It’s Glyndwr,” Cornelius corrected her, kissing her gently. “And I’m sure that he ran off to get his story to his editor as soon as possible. What concerns me more deeply is why Magnus would, as you say, let the prosecution change the game?”