CHAPTER 23

James' arrogance was needed at that moment. While everyone else was tucked up safely in bed, we walked across town to a nice little house on a nice little street. I watched as James knocked at the door and an annoyed man answered in his nightgown.

"Hello Mr Grayson, remember me?" James said, adding a grin for good measure.

Grayson didn't look impressed. "What do you want?"

"Need to call in a favour."

"At this hour of the night? Have you no sense of propriety?"

"I think you'll find it will be worth the disturbance," James replied.

Grayson considered it for a moment before he opened the door and ushered us inside. Once settled on chairs in an office, he sat down on the other side of the desk.

"Come on then, what leads you to wake the dead at this hour?"

I slid the papers over to him and allowed him time to read them over.

"Papers can be forged, though if they are, I'd like the name of the man who did it." He looked over his spectacles. "Anything more that could be used to support this?"

"Susan Hale, the wife of the carriage driver. I don't think Peg will be of much use since her mind is gone. Maggie the maid."

Grayson sat back in his leather chair. "The word of a gentleman would go further. We have many pieces here that could prove your case, but more is always beneficial when it's such a serious accusation," he said. "But I believe you. I've known Lady Catherine for years. She's a cold, calculating woman, the kind who always gets what she wants. A good businesswoman, some say, but even in business there are lines that shouldn't be crossed, especially by a lady." He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "But proving this…it won't be easy. She's a powerful woman with friends in high places."

"And you're a smart man with a way about the law," James said.

"I agree the attack tonight gives weight to motive. If this were some made-up story and papers, she could easily have you brought before the magistrate herself." Grayson took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. "If there are men watching your house, we'll need to send a constable there as well, but for that, we're going to need a magistrate that's a bit sympathetic."

"You have someone in mind. I can see it written on your face." I smiled at James' words. He couldn't read any more than I could.

"Larson."

"The mill owner?" I asked.

"And magistrate. Worked his way out of poverty and to owning a mill. If any will listen, it will be him. I'll send you with a letter, James. You go and fetch him. I have a horse you can ride out the back—you can ride?"

"Just hang on and don't fall off it, right?" James said.

"Oh dear. Brennan, Brennan!" A young boy entered the room, rubbing his eyes. "Take the horse and fetch Larson from the mill over on Rosewood. Give him this." He gave the boy an envelope. "Go on, quick as you can, and don't leave until he's on a horse himself."

"Yes, sir." The boy disappeared from view.

"Now," the solicitor said, settling back in his chair and steepling his fingers, "we wait for the magistrate. And we pray that justice will prevail. If this works out, John, I'll be the toast of the club for a while."

Larson arrived within the hour. A thin, severe man with a perpetually pinched expression. He listened with barely concealed impatience as Grayson laid out the details of Lady Catherine's crimes - the will, the stolen inheritance, the illegal confinement of Maggie, the attack on Peg, and worst of all, her role in the deaths of three people.

"A wild tale, Mr Ingham," he said at last, his voice sharp and dismissive. "Hard to believe, isn't it? A woman like Lady Catherine, a pillar of society, capable of such heinous acts?"

Grayson leaned forward. "With all due respect, sir, the evidence speaks for itself. We have the documents, the names of witnesses…"

"And the confession," I added.

The magistrate arched a sceptical eyebrow. "Confession? Lady Catherine confessed?"

"She did. To me, and to John," Hannah's voice startled us all. She stood at the door with a constable, her face flushed. "We confronted her. She admitted to everything. She said she'd make it right, involve the law, and instead there were men lurking on corners and breaking down the door."

Larson hesitated. "Even with a confession, this is a difficult case, Miss Hannah. Lady Catherine is a respected member of the community. Her word against yours."

"But the papers, the letter, the…everything," I said.

The magistrate held up a hand, silencing me. "I understand, Mr Ingham. And I assure you, I will investigate this matter thoroughly. But I'll need more than just your word and some crumpled papers to bring formal charges against Lady Catherine. I need tangible proof, corroborating evidence. First though, since it's now day I'll head there to talk with her myself." He paused, his gaze sweeping over us. "In the meantime, I advise all of you to remain here with a constable."

"You're planning on talking to her about this?" Hannah asked.

"I must give her a chance to tell her side, Miss Sheppard." Larson turned to me. "A right afforded to every citizen."

I wanted to punch the magistrate, the way he said citizen like it was a dirty word. Like we were less than him. He said he would investigate, but what if he went straight to Lady Catherine, giving her a chance to manipulate the situation to her advantage?

"We'll provide you with names and addresses of people to speak to," Grayson said.

The magistrate nodded. "Do that. While I'm gone, I advise you all to be careful. The truth can be a dangerous thing, especially when it threatens to topple those in power."

With that, he took his leave, accompanied by a second constable. We all watched him go, then Grayson turned back to us, a grim smile on his face.

"Where is Ma?" I asked Hannah.

"It's alright John. The housekeeper here took the ladies to a room upstairs. They're quite safe."

"She'll enjoy having ladies to fuss over for a change. Well," Grayson said, "now we wait and see what Larson uncovers. In the meantime, we should prepare for the worst. If Lady Catherine gets wind of this before Larson can make an arrest, she may try to flee or cover her tracks."

Hannah nodded. "We need to keep Peg safe too, if we can find her."

"Agreed," Grayson said. "I'll arrange for them to be remain under protective custody. Constables outside the door, round the clock in case they should return. Though, if Lady Catherine hasn't paid those men yet, they may also become key evidence against her. When faced with hanging, many a man will turn on those in power."

"What about us?" I asked, my hand finding Hannah's as she came to stand beside me. "What do we do?"

"You'll stay here with me," Grayson said firmly. "I have spare rooms and the house is secure. It's the safest place for you both right now and as you are my client, I insist on providing this to you. Hopefully, James will return home. Your company, I may tolerate, his would likely lead me to need my own legal counsel."

"I am still here, you know," James said.

"More's the pity," Grayson replied.

"Thank you," Hannah said to Grayson, squeezing my hand. "For everything you're doing. I know the risk you're taking, going against my moth—going against Lady Catherine."

Grayson shrugged. "Risk is part of the job, my dear. Though I do confess, this is one of the most intriguing cases I've ever had. Mark my word, this one will be recorded for history to look back on and with it will be my name. A risk, therefore, that will have many rewards once John is in his rightful place. Besides, Lady Catherine once slighted my wife. She felt we were too common to be present at one ball in London and made her feelings known. With that level of arrogance and cruelty… It's high time she faced some consequences."

James cleared his throat. "What about me? What can I do to help?"

Grayson considered him for a moment. "I'm not sure they would know who you are in connection to John, you can here for the night, be best if you are all in one place."

"If I stay, my ma will tan my hide, especially with Millie gone. Best not give her any more worries. I'll take my chances and head home. I think I'll take my chances and head home." James turned to me. "Got pretty good at going over fences tonight, anyway."

"Just make sure you are discreet, young man. Last thing you need is to get yourself arrested by the constables." James nodded. "If you hear any rumblings, any whispers about Lady Catherine or who she might have hired, you come straight to me, understand?"

James nodded. "Got it. I'll ask around, casual like, on the way home."

"Just aim to get home in one piece," Grayson said. He stood, stretching his back with a groan. "Now, let's all try to get some rest before I have any other unexpected knocks at the door."

"John." James nodded to the entryway outside the office. "You certainly landed yourself in a mess."

"Not one I made."

"You know, this means you're my boss. You're actually your own boss, too."

"A bit to sort out before any of that will be true." A smile played on James' mouth. "Don't go stopping for a pint."

"Sure thing, Boss-man."

I watched as he left the house, ensuring the doors were locked.

Sleep proved elusive, despite the comfortable bed and the constable Grayson posted outside the door. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. Everything had happened so fast - the revelations about my birth, Hannah's true parentage, the confrontation with Lady Catherine, the attack by her thugs. It felt like a lifetime had passed in the span of a few short days. A fairytale fit for the Grimm brother's next book.

And now, here I was, hiding out, waiting for justice to be served. Justice. The word tasted strange to my tongue. What did I know of justice? A mill worker, a commoner, daring to stand up to the likes of Lady Catherine?

But I wasn't just a mill worker anymore, was I? I was Oliver Nicholson. Heir to Frogmere Manor. A lord in my own right. The thought continued to make my head spin. Me, a lord? Living in a grand manor house, with servants, fine clothes, and more money than I could ever hope to spend? It seemed absurd.

I thought of Hannah, sleeping just down the hall. My heart ached for her. Tomorrow, I would ask her to be my wife. I would stand by her no matter what lay ahead. I loved her. I wanted to spend my life with her, even if I never got the titles or land.

It was near dawn when I finally drifted off, my dreams a jumble of shadowed figures and accusing whispers. I woke with a start to sunlight streaming through the curtains and a knock at the door. I fumbled out of bed, still half asleep, and opened it to find Grayson standing there, his face grave.

"Mr Ingham. You'd best come downstairs. The magistrate has returned and I'm afraid the news is not good."

My heart tightened in my chest. Not good? What did that mean? Had Lady Catherine somehow slipped away? Bribed the magistrate into silence? Worse?

I followed Grayson down to his study with leaden steps, fear coiling in my gut. Hannah waited there, in her rumpled dress from the day before. She reached for my hand as I entered, clinging to it like a lifeline.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Magistrate Larson stood in front of the fireplace. He turned as we entered; his expression unreadable.

"What did you find?" Grayson asked without preamble. "What did Lady Catherine have to say for herself?"

Larson sighed heavily. "I'm afraid Lady Catherine won't be saying anything ever again. She's dead."