The Cogspeare Conspiracy (The Cogspeare Chronicles Book 1) (32 page)

              “I was rather counting on the fact that they never go to services of any kind, let alone Catholic ones,” he mumbled. “And what of your proclivities, Declan?” his brother blushed, but as he was about to reply Edwina rushed in.

              “What proclivities?” she looked from one son to the others. “Oh, that Declan has no interest in ladies? Well, that’s been perfectly obvious to your father and I since we gave those books on architecture.”

              The brothers looked confused.

              “Well, it was evident when you ignored carvings of naked women and folded the pages devoted to the ancient Greek nude male. I must say, they did know how to carve them. Now do hurry along, Magnus has returned.” They had no time to be fully horrified or amused, and instead followed their mother into the parlour.

              Magnus had returned, but aside from perfunctory greetings, he ignored them all and instead took Minerva’s hand and pulled her out onto the terrace and into the garden.

              The whole family crowded the windows.

              “What do you think he’s doing?” Edwina gasped, practically leaning out the window trying to listen. Cornelius pulled out a small hearing augmenter and extended it.

              “Something about the case…something about her being a help and a hindrance.”

              “Your device needs some adjustments, father” Declan observed as everyone leaned out further.

              “Look, he’s giving her something!”

              “What is it?” asked the three little girls in unison.

              “Can’t quite make it out,” replied Twym.

              “Is it a box? Is it a ring?” Cornelius grabbed his wife before she fell out of the window.

              “It’s…a scroll. And a sheaf of papers,” sighed Amadeus. They all visibly deflated.

              “Good Lord,” Erasmus groaned. “No wonder he’s still single.” They all sighed, but a moment later Sebastian grinned.

              “Not for long.” They all leaned out again and saw Minerva throw herself at Magnus, and soom they were both entwined in a deep embrace.

              “Might I suggest some privacy for Master Magnus,” Steamins entered silently and got just close enough that everyone gave him a dirty look for his obstruction.

              But before they could argue, Magnus and Minerva extricated themselves, albeit rather befuddled, and began walking slowly back to the terrace, arm in arm.

              When they finally re-entered, Edwina was of course the first to exclaim,

              “Congratulations!” They blushed and looked confused.

              “Thank you?” Minerva replied, unsure.

              “When is the date? What will you wear?”

              “Um, it’s tomorrow-”

              “Tomorrow?” they all gasped.

              “-And I have to wear black.”

              Edwina wrapped her arm around Minerva’s shoulders, saying “Oh, my dear! They’re no need to wear black, even if you are
enceinte
.”

              She gasped. “I’m not pregnant! Do I look pregnant?”

              “No!”

              “But why else would you marry this one?” Erasmus dug his elbow into Magnus.

              “The more pressing question is how would he get her in that state!” Quintus guffawed.

              “Boys!” exclaimed Cornelius, “That’s enough.”

              “Minerva is not with child, and we are not together!” Magnus clarified.

              “But then what did you give her? And what was that kissing business?” Sebastian finally asked what everyone was too embarrassed to put into words.

              The not-involved couple sat on the loveseat, the others finding other places to sit around the room, and Magnus explained,

              “After Justice St. George gave his ruling on the case, he asked me, as a newly-unemployed barrister, to consult on the sentence for Clinton. Though we can’t actually hang or imprison him, he’s been fined so heavily that he’ll have no choice but to liquidate most of his assets. I believe that this will not only force him out of the country in disgrace, but it will also send a strong message to other dubious financiers and magnates. We then discussed my future.”

              “I’m so sorry for your job, Magnus my boy,” Cornelius said, “I know how much that meant to you.”

              “Not at all, Father. Or rather, not anymore. This case brought the injustice of the justice system to light for me, and I’m determined to be a part of changing it from the inside out. That’s what St. George wanted to talk to me about. He and a number of other men high up in the system want to change it, and so are in the process of creating something called the Crown Prosecution Office. In essence, it will choose to prosecute on behalf of the people. For the people. And he has asked me to be in charge of it!”

              “But Magnus, that’s wonderful” exclaimed his mother as Cornelius clapped him on the back.

              “Good show!” said some of his brothers, and Twym got out his notebook. After all, this was
news.

             
“But I agreed with the proviso that I could choose my associates based on their merit. Addison, of course, will be my primary secretary,” the young man almost toppled over with pride, “Dolt will be the head researcher, and Minerva,” he took her hand, “will be my head counsel. I can think of no one better to be an ally, since she was such a formidable opponent, even with Dolt.” For once, Minerva was speechless and merely smiled.

              “And that kiss?” Quintus reminded him.

              “Well, I’ve heard it said that sometimes feelings have a tendency to…erupt uncontrollably.”

              “That’s one word for it,” Erasmus whispered into his whiskey glass, Amadeus smacking him on the back of his head.

              “Well, would you look at that. Our Magnus with feelings. Good Lord, that calls for drinks all ‘round,” Cornelius exclaimed.

              As Steamins began to distribute the libations, he asked, “Master Magnus, do you know if the pulse you had me send to Cornwall was successful?”

              “Yes, Steamins, it was,” he replied with a smirk.

              “What Pulse?” asked Minerva. But instead of answering, he turned to his mother and asked,

              “Mary Craggs is in need of a job, and I do believe we need a new maid.”

              “Why, Magnus! Did you conspire for her to come and deliberately collapse the court case?”

              “But she brandished a blunderbuss in court! Won’t she be hanged, or at the very least, imprisoned?” asked Quintus incredulously.

              Given that I control what cases will be prosecuted, I don’t anticipate any problems. Prosecuting Mary Craggs, and obviously distraught woman, would be a waste of the Court’s time,” he smiled.

              “Magnus, that’s positively devious,” grinned Declan.

              “I learned from the best,” and he raised his glass to his entire family.

Epilogue:

Lord Edgar Clinton, sitting on his desk above a pile of furniture he had decimated in a rage, screamed for his henchman James.

              “Sir?” appeared the ever-placid servant. His employer’s chest heaved as he tried to get control of himself, eyes bulging and face florid with hatred.

              “Tell me about the Cogspeare family. Let’s begin with his parents.”

Author’s Note

Steampunk can be a difficult term to explain to the uninitiated, and it often means different things to different people. It is most often seen as an aesthetic that combines the nostalgia of the Victorian past with the innovations of the twentieth century, re-imagining what life could have been like if the Victorians had, say, steam-powered computers. In this story, I wanted to use the steampunk genre to highlight some of the issues that the Victorians faced with equal perturbation as do modern-day heroes.

              Mining, and coal mining in particular, was the foundation upon which British industry and commerce was built. Without coal, there could have been no steam engine, no trains, no industrial revolution, and no way for the small European island to become the most powerful nation of its era. But the cost of producing coal was a high one. Along with seams of coal, the miners would also dig into pockets of highly flammable gas, mostly methane, which would ignite in the high pressure conditions of the pits. Known as “firedamp”, the primary explosion would often lead to a second, most violent one by igniting the coal dust in the air. It seems as though every year there were mining accidents due to inhumane working conditions. Some of the worst accidents were at Bedford Colliery, Lancashire (1886- 38 fatalities); Blantyre Mine in Scotland (1877, 1878, 1879- 207 fatalities); Astley Pit in Cheshire (1855, 1857, 1870, 1874- 72 fatalities); The Great Western Mine in Wales (1893- 63 fatalities); Hartley Colliery in Northumberland (1862- 204 fatalities); Mauricewood Colliery in Scotland (1889-63 fatalities); Oaks Colliery in Yorkshire (1866- 380 fatalities); Penygraig in Wales (1880, 1884- 115 fatalities); Seaham Colliery in Durham (1880-160 fatalities); Udston Colliery in Scotland (1887- 73 fatalities); Llanerch Colliery (1890- 176 fatalities). After the 1882 Trimdon Grange Colliery explosion that lead to the deaths of 69 men and boys, T.W. Snagge, the local coroner, reported to both Houses of Parliament on the issue of mining losses.  Albion Colliery in Wales seemed to be particularly prone to mining accidents; two in 1886, with a total of six men killed, and in 1894 when 290 men and boys, and 123 horses were killed. This latter accident prompted an inquest and a report was filed to the Home Secretary. But though the report stated that the explosion was due to an unsafe working environment and that it was recommended that the Albion Coal Company be prosecuted for negligence, in total only a £12 fine was imposed against the manager and chargeman. 

              The figure Issy Rhealm, mentioned in passing by Minerva, was inspired by Isambard Kingdom Brunel (1806-1859), inventor and designer of the Great Western Railway and one of the great industrialists of the nineteenth century.

Edwina Cogspeare is, if nothing else, a staunch suffragette. Historically in the British Isles, only noblemen could participate in the government. With the Reform Act of 1832, this was extended to all men who owned a certain amount of property, and was further extended to all men by 1884. From 1866, the increasingly-cohesive female suffrage, or suffragette, movement pushed for women’s rights, which they saw embodied by the right to vote. In 1872, the movement became united with the formation of the National Society for Women’s Suffrage. But by 1905, frustrated by their lack of progress, the female protestors became more militant; vandalism and violent demonstrations were some of their tactics, for which they were harshly punished. Many women were imprisoned under horrendous conditions, and when many when on hunger strikes, they were brutally force-fed. Emmeline (1857-1928) and Christabel Pankhurst (1880-1958) are the two most well-known British suffragettes, but there were thousands of others who worked tirelessly for women’s suffrage, which was finally extended to women over the age of 30 in 1918, which was extended to all women ten years later.

Magnus’s new job is very much in keeping with the times as well. The body that is now in charge of public prosecutions is the Crown Prosecutor’s Office. Though a bailiff has worked on behalf of the monarch since the Middle Ages, the first prosecutor to work on behalf of the public was Sir John Maule. He was made the first Director of Public Prosecutions in 1880, working under the auspices of the Home Office. Though it was a step in the right direction, the powers of the Public Prosecutions remained very limited and second to that of the police force well into the twentieth century.

By the final chapter, Minerva is well on her way to becoming the first female barrister in Cogspearian London. In reality, it took another forty years for the first woman to be called to the bar. This was due in great part to the fact that, while women could attend some university classes, they were not granted university degrees equal to men until 1920. Two years later, Dr. Ivy Williams (1877-1966) became the first female barrister in the UK.