The Spells of Paradise

Chapter 19: Same Game, Different Pawns

And now he couldn't get those words out of his mind. 

"The Magistrate knows as much as I allow him to know, which is not much," Bertha had said. "Even so, I would not underestimate him, he hates the Quincys and the hold they still seem to have over this town. He wants his family to be the ruling power in Lanfore now, and that cannot be the case with the legend of Magistrate John Quincy hanging over his head."

The gall of the man! To think that he could honorably elevate his family by wrongfully defaming the name of another. James knew that no manner of coin could get him out of the consequences, but he wished he could beat the impudence right out of that miserable, viscous old fart! 

"Is any of it true?" James had asked her. "Is anything he said about Abigail Quincy true?"

Bertha sighed and nodded, though she hardly looked sympathetic. James would not have been surprised if the idea of Abigail Quincy's downfall brought more joy to her than to the Magistrate. "It is. All of it. Every word. And I had a letter to prove it, only I gave it away."

"Why?" James thundered. "Why would you do such a thing, foolish woman? Whom did you give it to?"

"The right person, don't worry," she grinned. "I gave it to someone who won't dare talk if they know what's good for them. But now you know that your precious love's family is a sham if at all. The Magistrate may have leverage over you yet, Mr. Boatwright. I think a wedding to his daughter is the best way out of this."

"No!" James snapped. "No, there must be another way!"

"If there is, I am not sure of it."

"I am," he pointed to her. "I am willing to pay you a hefty sum to be my eyes and ears in the Magistrate's home. If he is going to do anything in the form of acting on that blackmail, stall him. Destroy whatever evidence he has against Lucy's family. Buy me time."

"To do what, exactly?" Bertha raised a curious eyebrow.

"To find Lucy, of course, and confirm this once and for all!"

Bertha laughed. "You want me to spy for you on the Magistrate, of all men? How suicidal do you think I am?"

"From the looks of it, you seem to have led quite the double life without him knowing," James replied stiffly. "Now use it for some good for once and help me!"

Bertha looked like she was actually considering it. "Perhaps for the right price, you might be able to convince me."

"Name it," James said, meaning it.

"I want passage," Bertha said, "out of Lanfore, Hertfordshire, England... All of it. I want to go to France. Secure me a home in the south, with a steady allowance, and I will do whatever you want short of sticking a knife in the Magistrate's throat. I will be your eyes and your ears, I will know his actions before he knows them and will relay the information to you before he can act on it. I will help you ensure that he does not make good on his threat."

James felt the slightest glimmer of hope now. "Thank you, really! You don't—"

"Save it," she held up a hand, "because I have more to say."

James paused. "Such as?"

"A threat of my own," she lowered her hand. "And that is this: the moment you dare to go against your end of the bargain, I will release a storm the likes of which the Magistrate could never dream of releasing, and destroy Lucy forever. I will make sure there is nothing you can do to stop it, no matter how noble your efforts and, if the allowance is not so steady, you will be hearing from me. I know things about the Quincy family that aren't in those papers that Lucy gave the Magistrate, and I will make sure their name burns. After all," she chuckled, "I have a legitimate reason outside the realms of class and the classless to hate them."