Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

22: Magistrate Slavery Search

Behind his back, the duke's hands clenched into fists.

"If I recall correctly," the magistrate said slowly, one hand tapping thoughtfully against the side of his stomach, "Then the young sir is correct. According to article..." He held his hand to the side, snapping his fingers. His aides behind him leapt into action, rustling through the papers they held and awkwardly juggling briefcases and books between them. It was a spectacle in the middle of a tense standoff, made worse still by the quiet whispers they exchanged as they searched for whatever their employer required.

"The Trade Act, article 6-19: Foreign entities are subject to the laws and regulations of Great Britain."

Once again, those gathered turned to Vincent. This time, his back was straight. He ran his gaze over his brothers, the Thornes, the magistrate, and eventually came to rest on Thomas. There, he paused, looking for a sign he was making a mistake or worsening the already precarious situation. He received no look of encouragement, no verbal support; Thomas merely held his gaze. And raised his chin a fraction.

Vincent cleared his throat as his eyes darted back to the floorboards in front of him. "Entities found to be in violation of these laws and regulations may be investigated, held accountable and penalised accordingly." He was quiet and monotone, but there was no hint of waver.

The magistrate was already nodding. "Exactly right, exactly right. Despite this being a Spanish ship, there have been allegations of misconduct, I am well within my rights and duties to board." He waved a hand at the closest aide. "Write that down."

Thomas couldn't help but look to his father. Lord Thorne offered a brittle smile and a sharp dip of his head. "As you wish, your honour." He crossed the deck slightly, separating himself from the ship's crew and earning grunts of disapproval from the constables. "May I ask what the allegations are exactly?"

Magistrate Owens was clearly a man unused to being questioned. He turned a stern gaze to Edward, somehow looking down his nose at the man despite their considerable height difference. "What business is it of yours?" he demanded. "This is, as you say, a..."

He threw a hand out to his side, fingers snapping. One aide read off the sheaf of paper in front of him. "Spanish."

"A Spanish ship," the magistrate continued as if he'd not needed prompting, "and you are British, are you not?"

It was possible that Edward's eye twitched before he ducked his head, but no one could say with any certainty. "Indeed, your honour, but this ship is a joint business venture. I believe I am entitled to know what this vessel has been accused of?"

Thomas thought he could have stopped at 'entitled'.

"The Duke of Germaine," the magistrate inclined his head at Simon, "informs me that there may be women being held against their will aboard this ship, and they may have been brought here from Spain by false promises. These accusations, I'm sure you'll agree, amount to charges of slave-trading."

This last was said with the slightest of flourishes, the magistrate's chest puffed out and his chin held high. It would surely have been more impressive in a courtroom, or at least in the light of day where anyone would have noticed.

The Duke of Thorne, for instance, did not seem impressed. His head tilted slightly to the side, he said, "It's my understanding that the courts have not yet made an official ruling on slavery." It was said softly, phrased as a comment rather than an argument in his favour.

"Do you consider slavery moral, Lord Thorne?"

This time, Edward's eye definitely twitched. "I was speaking only of the law, your honour."