At the prestigious boarding school the Duke of Thorne had paid handsomely for his sons to attend, Thomas had spent more time than he would have liked in the headmaster's office. As a result, he became very used to looks of weary disappointment tinged with the threat of corporal punishment. It was very like how the magistrate was looking at them now.
The Magistrate, a man by the name of Owens, was a rotund man a good few inches shorter than Thomas himself. He stood with his hands resting on his belly, fingertips occasionally stroking his finery, and cast contemplative looks at those gathered before him. Thomas wondered briefly in the beard was a personal or professional choice, as it made him overall more difficult to read.
His aides on the other hand were terrible at hiding their thoughts. Four young men, all lanky and bespectacled and carrying so many books and papers it looked as if their arms might snap, huddled around him with panicked looks on their face. One in particular kept casting a horrified expression at the Spanish flag that flapped limply above their heads and then swallowing heavily as he buried his nose back in the text before him.
It was not a comforting sight.
The rest of those gathered were split down the middle. To the stern of the ship were the Humphrey brothers, Thomas standing at the front of their cluster. Across from them, Edward Thorne was shadowed by the now disarmed crew of the ship and his sneering eldest son. Surrounding them all, at the magistrate's request, was a ring of constables whose hands twitched on their sabres whenever someone on the ship took too deep of a breath.
"Your honour..." Edward Thorne's voice, which had carried so much disgust only minutes earlier, was now laced with honey as he approached the magistrate slowly. "I'm afraid I must inform you that this ship is the property of Spaniards. We should all remove ourselves, for fear of breaching international law." He held out a hand, gesturing the man to the gangway.
The deeply concerned aide had already taken two steps before his superior answered. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me off the boat, Thorne." His head snapped to the side, startling his attendants. "Make a note of that."
Henry, standing behind his father, shook his head emphatically.
"If it were in my power to grant you time here, I would, sir," Edward replied, his expression even, "but alas..."
Magistrate Owens issued a grunt. "International law is clear; foreign vessels may not be boarded without express consent." His fingers drummed on his belly.
Thomas was frustrated beyond measure; they were already on the boat! Why were they discussing whether they could board the boat they had already boarded when they could be looking for the women? His mouth opened...
... but another spoke. "Unless there is evidence of illegal activity."
Thankfully, the men on deck had been waiting for the Magistrate's next words with bated breath, otherwise they may not have heard Vincent at all. He stood at the back of the group, hands clasped and head bowed slightly. In the silence that followed, he glanced up and froze.
"You there," the magistrate pointed one thick finger at him and Vincent visibly balked, "what did you say?"
Vincent returned his stare with wide eyes. His mouth moved slightly as he searched for words.
The duke stepped forward into the magistrate's line of sight, blocking Vincent. "Your honour, the boy is not all there in the head. He-"
"Foreign vessels may be boarded with cause." It was difficult to miss the snap in Vincent's tone, even if his gaze was deliberately focussed on the magistrate.
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."
Magistrate Owens' lips curled at the edges. "Make a note of that."
Dutifully, his aides scribbled something down.
"You are correct, however, that there has been no ironclad decision made." His fingers drummed against his stomach as he frowned. "Each magistrate has been allowed to make his own determination."
"To the superb benefit of Great Britain, I'm sure," Edward said. He approached the magistrate slowly, his hands caught in front of him. His smile – in Thomas' opinion, at least – was smarmy. "But then again, what other decision could be upheld? If it is not against the law, then it is not illegal."
Thomas had had enough. "It is amoral!" he snapped.
His father did not spare him a look, simply retorting from between clenched teeth, "but not illegal. The honourable magistrate cannot make slapdash decisions."
Behind Thomas, Vincent cleared his throat. "There... the...P-"
Lord Thorne all but growled. "The men are speaking."
Vincent let out his own huff of air. He stepped up beside Thomas, his hands clenched and held behind his back. "There is precedent." This time his words were clear, with no hint of a stutter. "'The air of England is too pure for any slave to breathe.'"
"What are you-"
"Lord Mansfield..." The magistrate interrupted Edward easily, without so much as a glance. Instead, he watched Vincent, one eyebrow cocked with interest. "Somersett's case, in..."
He clicked his fingers at his attendants, but they had barely turned to their documents when Vincent answered. "In 1772."
"Hmm yes, indeed. Make a note of that. He is correct though; the vote has been laid against slavery before, and it is mine to do so again if I wish. And I for one," This time he did set his eyes firmly on the duke, "find slavery both legally and morally repugnant."
Thomas could have kissed the man! Well, perhaps not – his beard was rather scruffy – but still this was a moment worth celebrating! Magistrate Owens had condemned slavery. It only followed that he was moments away from condemning the Thornes!
The duke's smile was terse. He dipped his head at the magistrate. "As do I, your honour, as do I." He turned on one heel, and his expression fell to irritation – and then further to a twitching sneer when he caught Thomas' smirk – as he put some distance between himself and the law man who was making his life so very difficult at that moment. He reached the centre of the ship when he turned back suddenly. "But I assure you it is irrelevant; I do not invest in slavery."
He stood there, the picture of innocence with his arms spread wide.
There was a snort, probably from Matt.
Magistrate Owens ignored that. He gestured over two of the constables. "Then you won't mind if we search your ve-" He held up a hand when Edward made to protest. "Yes, yes – your business partner's vessel."
The ease with which the duke acquiesced gave Thomas pause. The man bowed, his black hair shielding his eyes, and magnanimously stepped to the side. There were no protests or attempts at bribery... Henry's wide eyes and furrowed brow gave him some comfort, but above everything it was clear; the Duke of Thorne had a plan.
The constables gave the magistrate firm nods, before turning and disappearing into the ship's hold, leaving behind them the unholiest of triangles. On Thomas' right, closest to the gangway, the Magistrate stood with a mask of neutrality, flanked by his aides. Several of them appeared quite green, knuckles blanching as they gripped the railing with one hand and their many papers with the other. For his part, the Magistrate did not appear to mind the gentle roiling of the ocean, his keen gaze sweeping the ship evenly. For the life of him, Thomas could not have guessed what was happening in that man's mind.
And then to his left stood the duke. Lord Thorne's hand were clasped behind his back, his posture rigid and his expression verging on bored. He did not appear the least concerned with these proceedings. As Thomas studied his profile, fighting to keep his own expression light, the man's gaze flicked to him. All so suddenly, his eyes flooded with fire, unadulterated disgust trying to burn a path through Thomas' face. There had been a time when that revulsion would have bothered him, but now he absorbed it with a grin. He relished in the man's fury; that's how he knew he was doing the right thing.
Thomas felt movement behind him, but did not dare look. The Humphreys offered stoic, unfailing support with their presence, but it he turned and saw his own doubts and fears echoed back at him, he might crumble. This was their last chance to save the women. The duke knew everything they did now, and if they were not removed from his clutches that very day, then Thomas was sure they would never be found again.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, he offered up a prayer to whatever deity might be listening; Please let them be here. Please let them be safe.
It was not a Spanish woman who stepped up next to him, however, but a frowning Englishman. Despite himself, Thomas glanced at Vincent, and the man's grey eyes caught and held his own. There was none of the worry that he had expected. Instead, Vincent's furrowed brow sat above cautious determination. To Thomas, he simply raised an eyebrow.
He had to remind himself that firstly, they were in a very public setting, and secondly, he was very angry with Vincent, otherwise he might have kissed him then and there.
Finally, there was movement below deck. The thump of footsteps grew slowly louder until one of the constables emerged, scowling, into the early morning light. Thomas did not dare breathe until he saw the woman he pulled along behind him. She was filthier, and somehow thinner, but she was recognisable: Abrienda.
She was frightened, visibly trembling, but her spine was straight and her eyes bright. She scanned the crowd of men waiting for her, pulling back against the policeman's unyielding grip, and it was clear the moment she spotted Thomas. She stumbled, held upright only by the man's hold on her. Her knee still hit the deck, and she muffled a wince as she called to him.
"¿Tomás? ¿Lo que está sucediendo?"
Thomas took only half a step before the magistrate waved him to stillness. He clenched his jaw, answering her through his teeth. "It's alright Abrienda. We're here to help. Seg-"
"You're safe now," Vincent interrupted, the words so quick on his tongue they were almost one. A muscle in Thomas' cheek throbbed, and he threw what he was sure was an unforgiving look over his shoulder. Vincent was ready for it, however, and did not shy away. Instead he offered a deliberate shake of his head.
Abrienda recognised his voice, her attention thrown in his direction. "¡Vincente!"
The magistrate was unimpressed by the reunion. His fingers drummed on his stomach, and he raised a haughty grey eyebrow at the Duke of Thorne. "Well, Lord Thorne. What do you have to say for yourself?"
~~~
Hello Lovely Readers!
Chapter 22 was stretching into a problematically l o n g chapter, so I decided to split it up! Not to worry, however; part 2 (hereafter known as chapter 23) will follow very shortly!
I am writing all of these bits in a pretty random order at the moment, so please let me know if there are any continuity issues or things don't make sense!
Please remember to vote and comment to let me know what you're thinking!
xx Flo