Chapter 22

22

The next afternoon, Andrew found himself in a small chamber, surrounded by lords.

Technically, he wasn't surrounded. The lords were in the front in somber browns and blues, seated at a long table that was flanked by dark velvet curtains. Someone who was going to be an earl would have had to memorize their names. Andrew didn't know a single one, an ignorance he dearly hoped to keep.

Andrew waited in the chairs to the side, alongside some of the people he had met on his journey. Lily was there, as was the vicar who had witnessed the change in the Earl of Arsell's guardianship. Captain Jeremiah Lund had arrived to testify to the accuracy of the book they would present. Beside them sat Mr. Callum, sacred keeper of the Bristol logs. Further away sat a witness that Andrew was very proud to have found over the last week: the elusive and much maligned Kenneth, unfairly accused of log fire perfidy. On the other side of the room stood two men: presumably Alan's uncle and solicitor. They'd brought witnesses as well—the nurse Andrew had seen the night he'd visited his father and two men that Andrew didn't know.

"Lord Muncing?" A man asked. "Are we ready to begin?"

The lord in the middle nodded. "I can't imagine this will take too long. I'm Lord Muncing, chair of the Committee for Privileges. Today we have the task of hearing a man's right to join the House of Lords."

Alan's uncle and solicitor were whispering together, looking at Andrew's side of the room in confusion.

Lord Muncing cleared his throat. "Silence is required."

"A point," Alan's uncle started to say, but Lord Muncing placed his palm flat on the table—not quite a slap, but hard enough to be heard.

"The witness list has been provided by the representative for young Mr. Tisbitt. It shall be followed to the letter. Of that I assure you. Any other point is untimely."

Alan's uncle subsided with a sigh.

Lord Muncing turned to Alan. "Alan Jacobus Woodrow Tisbitt, this is a mere formality, an introduction to the functioning of this august body. You will be called to participate in the workings of the House of Lords for many decades."

Andrew, seated in the middle, shrank into his chair.

"There's no need to worry. We will hear evidence that you are your father's eldest, legal son." He nodded at Andrew's group. "I assume this group, added to the list yesterday, will be testifying to that effect as well. Mr. Tisbitt, you are old enough to be a peer of England. Simply answer my questions truthfully and all will be well."

Alan swallowed. "Yes, Lord Muncing. I can do that."

"Can you give us your name?"

"I was named Alan Jacobus Woodrow Tisbitt at my birth," Alan said.

"To your knowledge, are you your father's eldest and legitimate son?"

"No," Alan said.

Lord Muncing looked up sharply. "No?"

"Alan!" his uncle growled. "This is no time for your juvenile humor!"

"Silence." Lord Muncing glowered at them both. "The witness will speak, and the witness alone. I remind you of the seriousness of these proceedings."

"I am not my father's legitimate son," Alan said. His voice was high and reedy, but brave. "My father was already married when he married my mother."

The silence seemed to ring indefinitely.

Alan's uncle stood. "This is no time to jest like this. Boy, behave yourself."

Alan looked at Lord Muncing. "This is no jest. My father married another woman before he married my mother. The woman he married was alive when he married a second time. My father told me this when he believed himself to be on his deathbed."

The lords arrayed before Alan looked taken aback.

"He could…" This was another man, white-haired and frowning at the end of the table. "He could have been raving, I suppose?"

"It was not raving. My representative has additional evidence proving the marriage."

Alan's uncle looked at the man to his right. "I've heard nothing of this. Mr. Wells, what is the boy talking about?"

"Not him." Alan gestured to the man next to Andrew. " He's not working for me. My guardian has hired Mr. Linny to present the evidence."

"Your guardian?" Alan's uncle sputtered. " I did not authorize this."

"The chair does not recognize the gentleman speaking out of turn." Lord Muncing scowled at them. "We were appraised of the substitution yesterday."

"But I tell you," Alan's uncle said, "I had nothing to do with it."

"You didn't submit proof you were Lord—" Lord Muncing looked at Alan, then shook his head. "Mr. Tisbitt's guardian, either. You are not a part of this proceeding. Mr. Linny? You may start."

Mr. Linny stood. "The late Earl's personal vicar will testify that the earl told him he was indeed married, and on his deathbed, did sign the guardianship of his natural son over to a person known to his true wife."

Lord Muncing blew out a rumbling breath. "This is not going to be a normal proceeding, is it?"

"I'm afraid not, your lordship. The first marriage was not properly recorded, but it was valid. We have the personal log of the captain who performed the marriage aboard his ship; the captain who performed that marriage is here to testify. We have records obtained from Mr. Wells's office demonstrating that Mr. Wells, in concert with Mr. Sallet arranged for fire to be set to the official logs, before the marriage was properly recorded. We have?—"

"Kenneth!" came the shriek. "Kenneth, was it really not you? I have wronged you!" Mr. Callum stood, clutching his heart.

"This is slander!" Mr. Sallet roared.

Lord Muncing cleared his throat. "Will those present recall that this is a body that demands decorum?"

Despite the silence that fell, Mr. Callum dashed between the seats and knelt next to his former friend.

"Finally," Mr. Linny said, "we have documents attesting to the life of the late earl's wife—her birth and date of death. She was a woman of the Orient; the earl's family did not approve, which is why proof of the marriage was hidden. Because she was from the Orient, we have also brought a professor of oriental languages, who will testify as to the authenticity and accuracy of the documents we will show you."

The chair looked stunned. "I suppose we must proceed to hear the evidence."

Mr. Linny gestured. "First, Mr. Tisbitt's guardian will speak to you."

Andrew stood up. Now was the most important part. He knew what was about to happen; he had merely to play his part.

He introduced himself to the listening lords, waited until the solicitor handed him the captain's log, where the place was marked with a ribbon.

He had only one thing to do, and he had to do it well.

"Here," Mr. Linny told him. "Can you tell us what names are here?"

"The husband's name is Jacobus Phineas Beauregard Tisbitt," Andrew said. "The name of the person he is marrying is written in an Asian script."

An Asian script—that was all Captain Jeremiah Lund would have known. He'd not been able to read it. That had been the key to it all. Captain Lund would attest to the validity of the document. And why wouldn't he? The page he would be shown would look almost exactly like the one he had recorded decades before.

It turned out, that if your friends knew how to duplicate a page, take a book apart to the binding, and then carefully reassemble the book…

Well, Captain Lund would not guess a change had occurred. He hadn't realized when he'd been shown the log earlier.

"Can you read that name?" Mr. Linny asked.

And if you could change a name, it turned out that your father could have married anyone.

"It says ‘Zhu Wei Na,'" Andrew said.

"And do you know who that is?"

"Of course." Andrew dropped his eyes. "She is the great-great-great-granddaughter of the Chongzhen Emperor. She was otherwise known to the few who knew the truth as the Princess in Exile." He tried not to look at Lily but could not help gathering an impression of her leaning forward, clutching her knees. "She spent her last years in Hong Kong translating Chinese poetry into English. And she is my fiancée's deceased godmother."

Everything fell into place after that. The evidence was given; it was unassailable, or more importantly, it wasn't assailed. The chair listened to the evidence somberly. The family book detailing the Zhu genealogy was consulted by the expert; he concluded that Zhu Wei Na had died without issue three years ago.

"Mr. Alan Tisbitt," Lord Muncing said sadly, "this committee concludes that you are not your father's legitimate child. This is a somber turn of events. We know you could have withheld this information. No matter the unfortunate truth of your birth, it speaks to your moral character that you did not."

"Right," Alan said. "Indeed. My moral character. If we have not moral character, what have we?"

"As there is no one else in line for the earldom," Lord Muncing explained, "there is no next Earl of Arsell."

For a second, Andrew's lip twitched into something that was almost a smile. He could feel his fist clench in delight. Free. Free. Nobody had to be the earl. Nobody, ever. They were both free!

"One last thing," Mr. Linney said. "It's not my lookout, but as the earldom will escheat to the state, there are serious questions as to spoliation of the estate under its caretakers while the prior earl was ill. I believe the Crown may have some interest in the matter."

"Oh?" Lord Muncing tilted his head. "Really?"

Alan's uncle and his solicitor glanced at each other, before Mr. Sallet took a step forward. "Really, really, there's no need to worry about such things. I'm the grandson of Baron Annice. I'm sure I can explain everything."

"The two sets of account books?" Mr. Linny smiled. "The payment to a solicitor for destroying records of the Crown through fire? The account at the Bank of England where the excess was all siphoned to? I'm sure the Crown will love to hear your explanation. I provided the basics to a prosecutor who specializes in fraud before this hearing; I've been told that there will be someone waiting outside to help you expedite the process."

"Abnormal." Lord Muncing just shook his head. "A very abnormal day indeed."