Chapter 25

25

T he matter of Bertram Robson’s punishment proved to be more complicated than anyone imagined. By law, the magistrate could sentence him to death by hanging. Transport to the penal colonies was another option. Some in town felt he deserved the worst the law could throw at him.

Roland, however, was less sure. After listening to his logic, Grace found herself in agreement with his position.

Robson had done wrong in kidnapping the children. Of that, there was no doubt. But he had not ended up mired in the mud of misdeeds without a little help from the Percy family.

Grace had counselled her husband to speak with Ellesmere about the matter. And so he had gone off and come home a scant hour later, with a hangdog expression marring his handsome face.

“Ellesmere says it is out of his hands. If he lets Robson get away with such a high crime, the people in Northumberland would rise up in arms. Nevermind that the children returned home in good condition. Their families went through hell and back during their absence.”

Ellesmere’s reply gave Grace the start of an idea. She sat behind Roland’s desk, helped herself to a fresh piece of foolscap and a sharpened quill, and penned a note to the magistrate with a suggestion. Roland raised his eyebrows, but he had nothing to lose.

Ellesmere agreed.

On the afternoon before the longest night, the castle gates opened wide, allowing a half-dozen local families inside. Withers showed them to the drawing room, where a toasty fire and Lord and Lady Percy awaited their guests.

Garlands of fir and holly hung around the doorways and across the mantles, while beeswax candles made up for the weak light of the winter day. The castle smelled of a warm and inviting blend of fresh evergreens, wood smoke, and spices, all mingling with the subtle sweetness of candles and dried fruits. Grace adored the rich, layered scent that brought to mind the cosy festive seasons of her childhood.

In preparation for the event, the drawing room furniture had been rearranged into a concert salon of the style Grace remembered from her days among the London ton. Settees and chairs sat in short lines in one half of the grand room, while tables of food and drink beckoned from the other. Grace and Roland plied their guests with tea, hot chocolate, and fresh baked goods, doing their best to bring everyone into good humour.

As for the guests, they were the parents of the six children Robson had kidnapped in the dead of the night. Grace took time to speak with each one of them, inquiring about how their children fared, and commiserating about how difficult it had been to live with the fear of their absence. On any other day and at any other occasion, those farmers and labourers would have never dared to speak so openly to the Lord and Lady of the castle. But somehow, the shared experience of the missing children had bridged the gap between their stations.

After a while, the magistrate invited everyone to take a seat, so that they might discuss the fate of Bertram Robson.

The parents, dressed in what passed for their Sunday best, took the places in the front three rows. Roland and Grace did the opposite of what was expected, waiting until last to sit down at the back.

Colonel Ellesmere gave a polite cough into his fist to call the attention of the room. “Good afternoon, lord, ladies, and gentlemen. As magistrate, it is my duty to ensure peace is kept, and to uphold the law against those who dare to break it. You are all here on the matter of Bertram Robson’s crimes.”

A few people grumbled under their breath, but none so loud as to interrupt him.

“Had he hurt, or killed, any of the children, I would have already seen him swing for his crime. Because he did not, I have some latitude in my verdict. Lord and Lady Percy have suggested that you, the wronged, have a voice in his punishment. Though this is certainly unusual, I am of the mind to abide by their suggestion. Before I ask your opinions, Lord Percy begs a moment of your time. Lord Percy?”

Colonel Ellesmere waved Roland to the front of the room. Grace watched, along with their guests, as her husband crossed the floor. She had to give Briggs credit for choosing Roland’s clothing well. His suit was made of the finest brushed wool and in the latest cut, but his cravat was tied simply and his hair mussed from running his fingers through it too often. The dark colour of the fabric and lack of other adornment allowed Roland to almost blend in with the others.

At the front of the room, Roland grabbed a wooden chair from against the wall and placed it so he could face their guests. He sat down and surveyed the room.

“Before you decide Robson’s punishment, I want to give you all my apology.”

“You?” a woman said, her voice heavy with confusion. “You did your best, my lord, and brought ‘em all home, you did.”

“True though that may be, your children might never have been taken in the first instance had the Percy family—my family—not done the first wrong. Some of you may know the story. Others will not. Bertram Robson’s mother was Hannah Percy, the sister of the duke. When she was barely seventeen, and not long after her father passed, she fell in love with a man below her station. My grandfather cast her out. He struck her name from the family records and considered her dead, despite knowing she was heavy with child.” Roland stopped to clear his throat. “Both the duke and my father made many decisions with which I do not agree. My grandfather believed strength and power came from eradicating flaws. In doing so, they failed in their duty to all of you.”

Finally, a burly man with a thick black beard raised his voice from the back row. “So it’s true, eh? I heard tales but I didn’t put no ken to it. What do you want from us now? To save his neck?”

“The colonel has asked for your opinions, and I will not stand against you, should hanging be what you demand. But I want you all to know the full truth. Robson did not set out with the intent to kidnap children. He invested in the materials for the millwork, expecting approval from my father during his tenure as steward. After my father’s ill-timed death, Robson had no choice but to press on with his request. His petition landed in a growing mountain of items needing approval from my grandfather. Like many other projects in Alnwick, that approval did not come.

“The rest of the locals waited patiently for my grandfather to do his duty and arrange for repairs and approvals. Bertram misunderstood the silence. He believed the duke was punishing him, just as the old man had punished his mother all those years ago. In utter desperation, facing ruin, Robson made a horrible, foolish, wicked decision. But his was not the first error. That honour belongs to my grandfather.”

Grace laced her hands together and squeezed to keep from rushing to Roland’s side. Silence stretched tauter than her nerves.

“Colonel Ellesmere asked me what punishment did I believe Mr Robson merited for his crimes. I told this dark chapter of my family’s history, because I believe we cannot pass judgement on Mr Robson without considering the whole story. To pass judgement without it—that would show no compassion. It would not be an execution of justice. Only retribution.

“For this reason,” Roland said in a soft tone, “I wish to propose another path for your consideration. That is, if you all will give me the opportunity to do so.”

Grace watched as the couples leaned their heads together, first with their spouses and then with their neighbours. She caught a couple of the women glancing her way, but she took care not to influence them one way or another.

The bearded man kept shaking his head. He had his mind made up, and was not interested in hearing any of Roland’s pleas, no matter what the reason. Most of the rest of the parents seemed unsure, until a tall man with a lean frame spoke from the other side of the drawing room.

“Lord and Lady Percy suffered the same as the rest of us, even if for a shorter time. None of our children would be home if it weren’t for their efforts, which started, I remind you, before their ward went missing. I can’t see any harm in letting the lord speak. Anyone who disagrees is a fool.”

Grace braced herself for a battle, but the bearded man held his tongue.

Colonel Ellesmere, choking back a laugh, stood again. “I will give you the first two options—death by hanging, or transport to a penal colony for a term of no less than seven years. Now, Lord Percy, what do you have to add?”

Again, Roland remained seated. On this, he had taken counsel from Thorne. Appearances went a long way. If Roland rose, some might see it as him lording his station over the rest of them. By staying in his chair, he positioned himself as, perhaps not their equal, but at least as someone who had shared in their experiences.

“Robson’s original intention was to build a mill and hire local hands. None will work for him now, no matter what I say. So I propose we allow him to serve his sentence in a different manner. First, there is the matter of the mill where your children laboured. Regardless of what sentence you choose for him, the mill will become yours. What income it brings will go toward providing a future for those children.”

“Even if he swings?” the bearded man asked.

Roland swallowed but gave a nod of confirmation. “The land belongs to the Percy family. I give you my word that this will be so. Let us move on to Robson’s punishment. The Old Testament speaks of an eye for an eye, but the New Testament cautions us to forgive and allow he who did wrong to make amends. If we load Robson onto a boat bound for the penal colonies, we achieve eye for an eye. But what if we sent him to America instead?”

“To America? How is that fair?” This time it was the level-headed man who spoke up.

“Robson has a head for business, and my father clearly agreed. Things might have been very different if he had not died with this business unresolved. For everyone. That mill would have brought jobs and income to families like you.

“It is our error that kept it from happening, and our error that nearly ruined Robson financially as a result. I do not absolve him for his choices. But I would argue that hanging him might also be unfair, when in the context of the entire story. The Percy family needs to make amends. We would send him there to oversee an investment. He would have enough money to cover room and board, but nothing else. Like our children, he would be torn away from all he knows and all those he holds dear. And in the meantime, the yield from our investment would come back to the people of Northumberland. It would pay for a proper lawman, to make sure something like this cannot happen again. This, I think, might be justice done.

“Before I let you decide, there is a last matter to be discussed. During our searches, I promised a reward to whoever found the children. All of you and many others set aside urgent tasks to lend a hand. In recognition of your efforts, I will make good on my promise. A portion of next year’s sheep shearing will be donated to the village school. Let there never be a moment’s doubt as to whether Castle Alnwick treasures the children of Northumberland.”

Having said his piece, Roland stood and walked back to where Grace sat. She laid her hand in his, and together, they exited the drawing room, leaving the magistrate to oversee the final discussions and announce his verdict.

“Do you think they will hang him?” Roland asked, holding Grace tight against him in the quiet of his study.

Grace did not have time to reply. A footman knocked on the door, calling them to return almost immediately.

Colonel Ellesmere’s expression gave no hint as to Robson’s fate. Grace clung tight to Roland’s arm, her legs shaking with fear for the man she both despised and understood. Wrong upon wrong upon wrong would never make things right. But would these parents, those most hurt, find their way to forgive?

“Robson will go to America, my lord,” Ellesmere announced in a gravelled tone. “The good people here ask that you put all your commitments in writing, so there can be no question about them in the future. If you do all you have said, they will give Robson a second chance.”

Roland squeezed Grace’s arm against his side, but took great care to keep a solemn expression on his face. “I had the documents drawn up on the chance you would accept my proposal. With your permission, I will bring them here, so that you may all witness their signing and sealing.”

With that, for the first time in weeks, Grace felt at peace.