The Cogspeare Conspiracy (The Cogspeare Chronicles Book 1) (31 page)

              “All rise, the Honourable Mr. Justice St. George.” And with a dramatic opening of the door to the left of the high bench, the judge entered.

              Bedecked in fine red silks, the long white wig contrasted with the soft mocha of his skin. But while his skin colour was lately kissed by the Barbadian sun, his features were clearly built from sharp, English genetic blueprints.

              He sat, and the court noisily followed suit. And there was silence.

              “Lord Clinton, Mr. Cogspeare, Mr. Dolt,” He nodded at each of them in turn, his voice almost completely English, but with a charming lilt. “I have read over the case, and I am…intrigued, and frankly disturbed by it. Disturbed equally by the morality and legality of it, which seem to be diametrically opposed. And that is a very worrying state of affairs. For if the legal system, whose purpose is ostensibly to promote moral actions, is in fact immoral yet legal, then we have not come far enough in our pursuit of a truly civilized society.

              “But despite my objections, and at the behest of colleagues, I have decided to hear this case with an open mind. But I shall go on record as being conflicted by the legality and the morality of this endeavour.

              “Now, Mr. Dolt, I see that you have applied for a last minute additional witness,” he held a crumpled scroll in his hand. “Why was this Mr. Jepsum not brought to our attention earlier? And Miss…” he unfurled the scroll and glanced at it, “Lily Pruit, unmarried and of uncertain profession. What has she to do with all of this.” Tittering at the implication of Lily’s unsavoury work, the crowd began to giggle. But St. George gave them all a stern glance, and no more was said. Dolt slowly, unsteadily, got to his feet and said in a cracking voice,

              “Th-they were just f-found, sir. That is, My Lord.” St. George pursed his lips but nodded.

              “Very well. Mr. Cogspeare, do you have any objections?” Magnus didn’t even bother to look at Grimsby, who was sure that his protégé would protest and try to drag out the proceedings. Instead, Magnus said simply,

              “No, Your Lordship.” He sat down and ignored Grimsby’s sputtering, and even St. George seemed somewhat surprised.

              “Very well, then. Mr. Dolt, proceed.”

              Dolt leaned forward and began to read from the scroll that Minerva had given him some hours before. She trained him so that he wouldn’t stammer as much, but that meant he didn’t take his eyes off the paper once.

              His opening speech came out in one, long monotone steam.

              “Your Lordship ladies and gentlemen the events of March 17, 1874 have been reported to have been a horrible accident yet it was anything but that.” Breath.

“It was instead the last in a series of negligent events that the upper echelons of the South West Spesium Mining Company were well aware of and not only did nothing to stop but also actively aggravated leading to the deaths of sixty-five miners and the close of the main source of income for the town of Port Prudence in Cornwall.” Breath.

“I will call upon Mr. Percival Jepsum the company’s aetherologist and Miss. Lily Pruit a maid both of whom will testify that Lord Edgar Clinton did knowingly proceed without caution in his mining endeavours and did order the eternal silencing of inquisitive reporter George Talliburn.” Breath.

“Therefore, My Lord,” he went to further unroll his scroll but it jumped out of his hands and rolled under the bench. Dolt dove after it.

The court erupted into laughter as he scrounged around, finally holding up the scroll triumphantly even as his wig flopped down. St. George began to hammer with his gavel for silence.

“I think that’s quite enough, Mr. Dolt,” he quickly announced before Dolt continued. “Mr. Cogspeare, you may rebut.”

Dolt sat and Cogspeare stood. It was impossible for him to fail.

“Mr Lord, ladies and gentlemen. We Englishmen pride ourselves on being at the forefront of technology, leading the soldiers of invention into the breach of progress and arriving victorious at the goal of civilization. And yes, profit. Profits are the fruits of our labour. Now, not only has Lord Clinton acted lawfully, but he has also acted like any good Englishman should…” Magnus’s voice trailed off as he turned at a sudden commotion at the side of the room. A woman burst through the  door that Magnus had come through earlier, Addison tugging her back.

“Sir, she was in the bolt hole and we didn’t see her! I’m trying to pull her back, but-”

The woman suddenly whipped out an antique gun; a powerful, trumpeted blunderbuss with six large chambers filled with gun powder and bullets attached.

Screams and shouts filled the court room, but just as pandemonium was about to fully blossom, the woman shot one massive shot into the air. There was silence as plaster rained down around them.

“Mary? Mary Craggs?” Wondered Magnus out loud. Minerva made to get out of her seat but Eramus and Amadeus held her down between them.

“Yes!” She cried. She looked very little like the young woman Magnus had met some days ago. Instead of rosy-cheeked and strong, she looked pale and unhinged, her ragged clothes dirty from the early train. And she was very, very dangerous.

“Mary, what are you doing here? With the gun?” Magnus began to edge closer to her.

“Not another step, you bastard. You intruded on the last days I had with my brother, you caused my father’s death, and all because of him?” She pointed the gun to Clinton. “That firedamp-prig!”

“Mary, we are giving him a fair trial. So if you’ll just-”

“I won’t ‘just anything’ Mr. Cogspeare,” she sneered. “And there is no such thing as a fair trial, or justice, for the likes of us. Us common folk, who you all” she turned to the spectators, “prey on, rely on, look down on, tread on, spit on and shit on!” she cackled.

Edwina grabbed her husband’s hand and whispered, “Cornelius,
do
something.”

“I don’t see how I might do anything right now!”

Magnus got halfway to Mary before she whipped and trained the gun on him again.

“Mary, you don’t want to do this. You’ll put a nail in the coffin of the trial. You’ll doom the case to failure.”

“It’s already a failure, with this moron at the helm of our case!” she cried, gesturing at Dolt. He promptly fainted and slid unobtrusively down to the floor. “And no one will ever know the truth.”

“You don’t think everyone knows the truth already?” he replied suddenly. “Don’t you think that the reporters know, that even the judge knows that Clinton is a morally-bankrupt criminal? He’s been raping the legal system through every loophole he could find, and making loopholes with the help of his bruiser Persuasion Jones. We know that he knew about the mine’s problems and did nothing to fix them, because letting mines die was cheaper than fixing the mine itself. That the profit of working through a storm outweighed the risks. And of course he had George Talliburn killed. He tried to have Lily Pruit killed. We all know, Mary.” He had been edging closer and closer to her, like a snake charmer towards an unstable cobra. And now he grabbed the gun.

“And now, they all know too.” He gestured at the audience as tears began to roll down her cheeks.

With the blunderbuss in Magnus’s safe but shaky hands, a quadrant of intensely uniformed guards burst through the door and unceremoniously picked up Mary and dragged her limp body away. The crowd began to cheer, though for whom it was unclear. The Cogspeare twins slapped each other on the back as their parents grasped each other in relief. Minerva, pushing other spectators out of the way, kicked a guard’s shins and pressed her way towards Magnus. But before she could get to him, Justice St. George bellowed,

“Order, now” And silence and order there was.

“Given these extraordinary circumstances, I will see Mr. Cogspeare, Sir Nicodemus, and Lord Clinton in my chambers, now. And do revive Mr. Dolt and bring him along.”

Magnus went over and, with Addison’s help, got Dolt groggily on his feet, and they followed the judge to his secret chambers.

Chapter 74:

Justice St. George’s chambers were small but tidy, with touches of the Caribbean tastefully placed around the inner sanctum. Even before he sat down at his teak desk, Grimsby began by saying,

              “My Lord, you must see how irregular this is. You must cause a mistrial, particularly since I am dismissing Clinton’s barrister from my firm.” Magnus swallowed, but had known that this was coming for some time. Still, it felt like a sword was plunged into his gut. He needed one of Erasmus’s drinks right about now.

              St. George held up his hand as he took off his wig and gown, revealing very short black hair and a neat suit. Finally, he said carefully,

              “Whether or not Mr. Cogspeare works for your firm is irrelevant. Until this moment, he was obviously the barrister in charge of the defence. And there will be no proceeding of this trial, as I reached my verdict before we were so rudely interrupted.”

              “But that’s impossible!” exclaimed Grimsby rather rudely. “You didn’t even hear the evidence!”

              “I should not need to remind you, Sir Nicodemus, that it is not impossible since this was not a trial by jury. I have already read all the testimonies, and the trial was merely a formality according to The Crown v. Taid.”

              “1579,” added Magnus. St. George nodded to him gracefully even as his former employed glared at him.

              “I rule in favour of the plaintives, the miners of Port Prudence.” At Dolt’s bank face, he added, “Congratulations Mr. Dolt.” Dolt smiled wanly, then slumped into a faint again.

              “But that’s absurd, you colonial!” Clinton barked, and Nicodemus held him back, suddenly worried about what else the heathen judge would do.

              The judge rose to his impressive height.

              “Her Majesty put the power and might of the crown behind me. Dispute that, and you will face charges of contempt and treason. Do you wish to continue?” They said nothing but quickly turned. As they left the room, Clinton hissed at Magnus,

              “Don’t think that this is over, Cogspeare. You will be ended, and your family will join you in hell soon.”

              “Don’t presume to threaten my family, Lord Clinton. They are far too experienced in the arts of mayhem and destruction to leave behind clues like you did.” Clinton flushed and flounced out of the room.

              Magnus turned back to the judge, waiting for his inevitable disbarment.

“I need to discuss some things with you, Mr. Cogspeare. But first, would you have someone come in to revive Mr. Dolt, again?”

Chapter 75:

The Cogspeare clan had waited another two hours for Magnus before Justice St. George had sent a messenger out, telling them to go home. And so they went, with Addison, Twym, Alis and even Mr. Dolt in tow. Jepsum and Lily had both declined- he to go home to his mother, and she to disappear into the ether of London, guilty conscience and reference letter in hand.

              Arriving back
en masse
, Steamins showed not a hint of perturbation, though Mrs. Bunsen was miffed that she hadn’t been warned about the extra guests. Bongout, though, was in his element, and at the thought of an even dozen for dinner, began cooking up a veritable feast of Gallic proportions.

              Though the day had cleared and the sun finally shone, the family stayed indoors, waiting for Magnus to return. Edwina amused herself with Alis’s three younger sisters (who had been in Mrs. Bunsen’s care during the trial), thoroughly spoiling them with treats and affection while Cornelius and Sebastian read in the wing chairs by the fireplace. Minerva paced.

              In the billiards room, the boys racked a few games.

              “So, have you told the parents yet?” asked Quintus, blowing out a plume of perfumed smoke as he chalked the end of his queue.

              “What an interesting change of topic,” Amadeus replied, “but no, I haven’t told mother and father that I’m becoming a priest,” he whispered.

              “Well, you had better do it soon,” Erasmus said, tipping back his third whiskey sour, “because they’ll be bound to figure it out when you preach them a sermon wearing the full regalia!”