Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

23: English Mancipación Punishment

Thomas stifled a snort, his gaze dipping down to rest on the boards beneath his feet. He understood now why Vincent had interrupted him – anything they said in Spanish, however limited their vocabulary, could bring into question everything that Abrienda said. His father might play games, but Vincent was always two moves ahead.

"Magistrate Williams." Once again, the voice from behind him was soft and unexpected, but no part of him wanted to urge Vincent to silence. If they won this battle, it would be on his shoulders. "The... If..." A quick breath and he continued. "As I'm sure you are aware, Spanish is derived from Latin. I know that between yourself and your aides, a reasonable translation might be procured from Abrienda."

The duke's mouth opened, but this time it was he who was interrupted.

"And your integrity could never be called into question," Vincent said, his eyes unblinking as they stared not quite at the magistrate, "your honour."

The man considered that for a moment, before issuing a slow nod. He crossed the deck slowly, his aides trailing like ducklings after their mother, and circled Abrienda slowly. She tried to twist, but was held in place by the constable's grip. The magistrate clicked his tongue.

"Whether or not she's a slave, she's not very well kept. Are the servant's transported by this vessel not provided with food?" he sniffed. "Or baths?"

Thomas pressed his lips together firmly to keep from interrupting.

The Duke of Thorne simply shrugged. "I'm afraid I would not know, your honour. It is not my shi-"

"Not your ship, yes, yes, we are aware." The Magistrate finished assessing Abrienda, coming to a stop in front of her once more. "You are Spanish? Spanish es?"

Abrienda's focus drifted over his shoulder to Thomas, who offered an encouraging nod. When she looked back at the magistrate, it was with a straight spine.

"Si soy Española."

The magistrate nodded. "What do you do for work? Officium?" At Abrienda's blank expression, his hand drifted up to stroke his beard whilst his brow creased in concentration. "How else can I..."

Vincent cleared his throat. "Labor?"

That earned him a quick look from the Spanish woman. "Labor," she repeated. "Sí, nosotras laboramos en las factorías."

Thomas took a few slow steps to the side, trying to watch the magistrate's face. As far as he could tell, the man frowned as he remembered his Latin, not at anything Abrienda was saying.

"And how much are you paid?" At the blank look he received from Abrienda, Magistrate Owens clicked at his aids.

"Err, money?"

"Pecunia?"

"Argentum!"

As Abrienda grew more confused, and perhaps a little startled by the ferocity of the pale men's suggestions, Thomas felt irony well as an unamused laugh in the back of his throat. He swallowed it down quickly.

"Compensation," he said, just loudly enough so that Abrienda could hear him.

The Magistrate might have turned his frown to Thomas if Abrienda hadn't smiled. "La compensación? No." For the first time that night, her gaze shifted to the Thorne's, coming to rest on Edward with fire dancing in her eyes. "No compensación."

The man in front of her noticed the change in her attention. He moved slowly to the right, pointing at Edward Thorne with a stubby finger. "Do you know this man?"

Thomas could not help the hope that swelled, despite the lump in his throat that said he knew Abrienda's answer. He'd seen the women's fear with his own eyes, he'd seen what they'd do to protect themselves... he'd held that protection in his arms whilst she slept... But still he hoped that Abrienda would incriminate the duke right then.