Edward Thorne did not spare the trembling woman a glance. He kept his smile, which turned somewhat patronizing at the edges, on the magistrate.
"I did not say that there would not be women on board, your honour, only that there would not be slaves."
Thomas' eyes flashed heavenward before he could stop himself. Thankfully, the magistrate was frowning at the duke and did not notice.
"Explain," he ordered.
The duke once again dipped his head, dutifully following the magistrate's orders. "The vessel does transport women, your honour – even Spanish women, on occasion – but they are simply factory workers. They are not slaves."
The magistrate's fingers brushed across his velvet waistcoat. For the first time, his frown had passed from sceptical to thoughtful. To Thomas, that change did not bode well.
"An interesting argument, Lord Thorne." He cast an even look at his attendants. "Make a note of that."
"No!" Thomas leapt forward, his arm reaching out in the direction of the aides as if he could physically keep them from writing down the duke's lies. With the eyes of the deck on him, he gathered himself quickly and focussed on the magistrate. "Your honour, that is not true. I implore you to speak with the women and you will learn for yourself that they are held against their will."
He swallowed heavily, unable to prevent his gaze from darting to the duke. To his horror, his sire had seen the cracks in his composure and clearly revelled in them, his gaze narrowed in victory. Thomas tore his attention back to the magistrate, who acknowledged his request with a wave of his hand.
Thomas turned to the Spanish woman, who was watching them all with wide eyes. "Abrienda," he said gently, trying to keep the desperation out of his tone. "Are you here by choice?"
The woman, whose upper arm was still held tightly by the constable, stared back at him with the same intensity he felt. She knew, he was sure, the importance of this moment. "Lo siento, Tomás, no entiendo."
But importance did not implicitly convey understanding.
Thomas threw a gaze over his shoulder at Vincent, hoping he had some way forward.
"Does she speak English?"
The magistrate's tone sent a wave of irritation down Thomas' spine, but he reminded himself that he was the Spanish women's last hope. He bowed his head slightly as he replied, mostly to hide the anger in his eyes. "No, your honour, or at least not much."
The Duke of Thorne let out a sigh worthy of the greatest player. "Your honour, this is a ghastly waste of your time. If the woman cannot even communicate, how on earth can her testimony be taken?"
"Or perhaps you have intimidated her to silence," Thomas snapped, his fists clenching at his side. "It is difficult to believe anything you say given how your story keeps changing."
"A misunderstanding." The duke did not even look at him, his apologetic gaze fixed on the magistrate. "That I have already explained. There has been no crime committed here."
"And if that is true, I shall determine it in due course." The magistrate's fingers interlocked, settling on the swell of his belly. "Do you speak Spanish then?"
The question was directed at Thomas, though he'd never get a chance to answer it.
"I'm afraid I must protest, your honour!" Edward Thorne quickly fixed the crack in his composure, putting his calm, dukely façade back in place before he continued. "Thomas has already told such preposterous lies that I could not be guaranteed an honest translation. I do not think your honour could consider him... reliable."
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.
"No." she tore her gaze away from Edward quickly. "No, lo siento."
The magistrate let out a small sigh which Thomas might have almost called disappointed, and lowered his arm. His hands came back to rest on his stomach, as he addressed the group.
"And now, perhaps the most important question; does she consider herself a slave?" He turned to his aides, gesturing at their books. "Find me the best translation. Is it servus... mancipium?"
With his back to her, he did not see Abrienda's gaze flash up. "¿Mancipación?"
Magistrate Owens turned back quickly, his beard trailing behind his chin. "Yes, are you mancipated?" He winced slightly at the wording, but pushed through.
All eyes on the deck were on Abrienda. Some, such as the constables or the shipmates, watched in confusion, not having followed the multilingual conversation. The aides looked on with curiosity and academic angst, their quills poised above parchment. The Thornes had irritation hiding in their frowns, and the Humphreys' hope, and Thomas...
Thomas had no words as he watched Abrienda look the magistrate straight in the eye and say, "Sí."
There was nothing said for a long moment; just the scratch of quills on paper as the magistrate nodded slowly.
"Well, Thorne?" he asked eventually, turned to the man. His dropping of the duke's honorific was not lost on anyone there, and neither was his raised eyebrow. "What is your defence now?"
A muscle in the duke's jaw pulsed, but he otherwise managed to feign shock. "I am just as surprised as you, your honour, to learn that these women were not willing in this enterprise. I assure you, I had no knowledge that they were being held captive!"
Henry shook his head emphatically, but no one spared him a glance.
"I believe my stance on slavery has been made clear; I order these women released immediately," The magistrate said.
He flicked his fingers at the constable who still held Abrienda, and she almost collapsed when she was suddenly released. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around herself, throwing Thomas a confused look.
"You're free, Abrienda." The words were barely audible, escaping on a breath he'd been holding for months. He couldn't name the bubbling in his chest, but it was joyous and he wanted Abrienda to understand. He'd barely turned in search of Vincent, when the man offered a translation from behind him.
"Liberatus."
Abrienda froze in place. "¿Liberado? ¿Todos somos libres?" Her legs finally gave way, and she collapsed to the deck in a heap of bones and ragged clothing.
Thomas took one step to go to her before he heard the duke's answer to the magistrate.
"Even without your order, your honour, I would have released them. I will not have my reputable dealings tarnished by these... illegalities!"
Thomas felt his eye twitch. Even now, the duke was trying to charm his way out of the situation. It was ridiculous!
"You will give me and my men access to every document you have relating to this ship," the magistrate said, glaring at an aide until he started writing.
"Of course, your honour. But I assure you..." In the pause, the duke's gaze sought out Thomas. He smiled. "Everything will be in order. I had no knowledge of these terrible events."
The magistrate acknowledged that with a noise. "I'm sure it will... Lord Thorne."
There was a silence that followed that felt heavier than all that had come before it. Edward and Henry Thorne were not smiling – that would have revealed them – but they were clearly pleased. As an aide approached them, asking for access to the promised papers, the duke's brow was completely un-furrowed. He was unconcerned. There was nothing on board that would condemn them...
Thomas wanted to scream. How had their journey led here? How was the duke standing before them, proclaiming his innocence whilst standing beside his crime? And why – why – was victory somehow beyond their grasp? Edward and Henry needed to be punished, to bear the weight of their crimes, and to suffer for them as much as h-
He swallowed heavily. As much as he had suffered at their hands.
This time he let his thoughts turn to Vincent, and to the questions the man had asked him on their picnic. Was seeing his family punished, he'd asked, as important as protecting the people they'd hurt. He'd said not, but that was an easy answer when he'd thought of the two as mutually guaranteed. Now, these women were safe but what of the duke's next victims? They would not benefit from his quest for vindication.
His chin – the Thorne family chin – lifted, and with it a weight from his shoulders.
"I agree," he said, looking the magistrate squarely in the eye. "I apologise, your honour, if it has appeared than my f-," the hitch was small, but he covered it with a broad, charming smile, "my father and I are anything less than on the same side this evening."
Of those who listened to him, the magistrate seemed the least confused. The duke in particular was staring at him in surprised, horrified, contempt – a difficult mix of emotions that he somehow to pull off with a sneer.
Thomas forged ahead. "The duke was unwilling to believe that he had been unwittingly drawn into such abominable business, and this was the only way I could think to convince him of its truth."
With that, he released his father from all responsibility. There would be no punishment for the Thornes, not now, and as he finally admitted that to himself, he felt an uncomfortable hollowness open up in him, replacing the rage that had flamed there for as long as he could remember.
But he would not let the hollowness alone for long.
"But I know that now, his eyes – all of our eyes –" he indicated the group with sweeping arms, "have been opened to these atrocities, right... father?"
The only part that made addressing the duke by that word better was the twitch it set off in the man's eye.
But Edward Thorne would not slip up simply because of that. He nodded his head slowly, fixing a deeply furrowed frown on the magistrate. "Indeed! I cannot convey my disgust at these illegalities forcefully enough."
Thomas nodded along with him. "And we would not want our name connected with anything similar in the future, right father?"
The duke's eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no option for him but to offer another emphatic denial. "Of course not."
His younger son maintained his earnest expression just barely, a grin desperately trying to fight its way to the surface. "Accordingly, your honour, I think I speak for all of the Thorne Family when I ask that you open an investigation into every business endeavour we have invested in. We would hate to discover that we have been accidentally involved in further illicit activities." This time when he addressed the duke, he turned his body fully away from the magistrate and let a smirk rise to the surface, just for him. "Right, father?"
He savoured the tension that rippled through every aspect of the duke; his taut shoulders, his twitching lip, his clenched fists – it was glorious! The man wet his lower lip as he hesitated, his chin dipping down and his slick black hair obstructing any further view of his face.
"I'm sure the honourable magistrate has far more pressing matters to deal with." Low and steely, the duke hid his fury well.
"Not at all, Lord Thorne," the magistrate called from behind Thomas. "If illegal entities are taking advantage of our trade practices, then it is of utmost importance to me!" As an aside to his aides: "Make a note of that."
"But-" Thomas didn't even glance at Henry when he let out the stuttered protest; he was enjoying the pulse he could see thrumming in his sire's neck.
Edward finally raised his chin, his glare sneaking out from beneath his brow to scorch Thomas' smile. "Your honour is too kind."
Thomas could have laughed in relief. The magistrate said more, but he did not hear it. The only word he heard came from within and echoed in his mind; victory! The magistrate's investigation would send the Thornes' into a flurry as they ceased and hid their illegal behaviours, and – judging by the man's thoroughness thus far and the anger in the duke's eyes – it was likely that investigation would take many months and deeply inconvenience them. Not even the Duke of Thorne was daring enough to commit crimes with the eyes of a magistrate on him.
He doubted there would be any true repercussions, which still irked Thomas deep in his soul, but there would be potential victims spared. Vincent had asked him what mattered more, and he had finally chosen.
As if summoned, that particularly Humphrey brother stepped forward, catching Thomas' eye in his periphery.
"The... I... Perhaps your honour could also organise for one of your aides to assist the Thornes' in drawing up some paperwork for renumeration for those affected here." His hand drifted slightly from his side, indicating Abrienda. "That is, of course, if the Thorne generosity extends that far?"
For the thunder that flashed in Edward's eyes alone, Thomas could have kissed him.
With an emotionless mask, the Duke of Thorne agreed quickly to that suggestion, his words clipped as he also arranged to meet with the magistrate in the coming days to hand over his ledgers and provide further details of his business dealings. The magistrate's aides scribbled furiously, looking more harried by the moment, and when they finally set their quills aside, the barest hint of the sun on the horizon meant that everyone on board was slightly more visible.
As was the irritation on Edward Thorne's face.
The magistrate patted himself on the belly, frowning slightly as he thought. "I do believe that is all that needs to be discussed this morning. You should all return home and make yourselves available to be over the coming days." He moved towards his aides, head bent, but they could still hear his instruction ring out; "Make a note of that."
For the first time in many hours, the Thornes and the Humphreys were left nearly alone.
"I hope you're happy with yourself!" Henry stepped up close to Thomas, spittle flying from his mouth as he hissed.
Not even that could detract from Thomas' glee, and he withdrew all restraint to let it show. His brother looked as if he might hit him.
"I think we are due a conversation," Edward said, reaching out to grip his older son by the upper arm and drag him away. Thomas was sure his fingers would leave bruises. "Alone." He spared a glance at the Humphrey siblings without any effort to hide his scorn. "Now." He jerked his head to the side, indicating that Thomas should follow him off the ship.
That was not going to happen.
Thomas' snarky refusal was on his lips, very prepared to abandon the illusion of cordiality now that the magistrate had sided in their favour.
"I don't think there is anything further for you to discuss."
Thomas' head whipped to the side, staring at Vincent's profile in surprise.
Lord Thorne's lip twitched, but he didn't spare Vincent a look. "This has nothing to do with you. This is between Thomas and his family." The word dripped with disdain, and Thomas almost laughed.
Once again, he prepared his quippy response, but was interrupted.
"He is with his family."
"But-"
"You heard our brother." Bart stepped up beside Thomas, arms folded unflinchingly across his chest. "I think it's best you depart."
Lord Thorne could only splutter his indignation.
"Thomas," It was Simon who addressed him. "Would you like to speak with them?"
Of course it was the eldest Humphrey who remembered Thomas' autonomy – the others glanced at him in surprise, as if they hadn't thought to ask – and for a moment he was speechless. "No. No, I don't think I would," he said slowly. This was unexpected territory; he wondered how his father would react now that he had... family?
Matt let out a low groan designed to masquerade as sympathy and stepped up in line with his brothers. He shook his head gently at the Duke and his heir. "Rejection can be difficult for the best of us," he said. He feigned a frown, head tilting to the side. "And the rest of us."
They stood in stalemate for a long moment.
The Thornes were the ones to break it.
It was one of the greatest moments of Thomas' life when his father turned abruptly, pushing Henry ahead of him as he stalked away from them, muttering furious insults under his breath. At the same time, it broke his heart a little. Was this what it felt like to have a family at your back? He had wanted that for as long as he could remember – love, support, compassion – and now it was within reach yet permanently unattainable. It was unconditional love with a life-shattering condition; Vincent.
He was quite literally shaken from his thoughts as Matt leapt on him from behind, slinging an arm around his shoulders and laughing loudly in his ear.
"My god, man – you did it!" He pushed himself away, dancing to Thomas' front to grin at him broadly. "That was magnificent! I thought it was slipping away from us completely for a minute there, but by god, you got them! The investigation will prove a right headache, I'm sure."
He swivelled in place, his grin now fixed on Vincent. "And you, brother-mine! Who knew those law studies of yours would prove so useful!"
Vincent blinked, both bemused and affronted, and as Matt set about assuring him that he was kidding, Simon stepped closer.
"You look exhausted," he said, clapping a hand on Thomas' shoulder. "It has been a long night."
Thomas' mouth twitched into a semblance of a smile. "For all of us."
Simon allowed that with a shrug of one shoulder. "I will go speak with the constable about how we shall take care of the women. You and Vincent should go and explain the good news."
He gave his shoulder a squeeze, and then moved off towards the constable with Bart in his wake.
Matt's laughter rang out once more, and he dragged Vincent back closer to Thomas. If he noticed at all the rigidity that filled his brother's body, he made no sign of it.
"I'll go have a chat with Abrienda," he said, "you two deserve a moment to celebrate your victory. It's been a long time coming!" Neither man noticed his small smile as he quickly darted off.
Vincent stared at Thomas who stared back at him.
Vincent's mouth opened and closed a few times, but Thomas refused to interject.
"The...uh... I'm sorry you did not see the punishment you sought."
Vincent could normally see something of Thomas' true feelings in his eyes, but now he saw nothing.
"As am I," he said, before inclining his chin slightly, "though not as sorry as I thought."
Vincent nodded: that was to be expected. Thomas had surprised him tonight with his pragmatism, yet at the same time he was wholly unsurprised. Thomas was a protector, and he chose, once again, to protect.
"Thank you for your help," the man continued, one hand finding the back of his neck. "It was only possible because of you."
Vincent was so thoroughly confused by the total lack of emotion in his voice. Thomas was not one to shy away from an argument, and Vincent was reasonably sure they were still in the middle of one. Now the women were safe, the Thornes were distracted for their illicit activities, and they could discuss... Them.
"Thomas, I-"
A clicking interrupted him.
The magistrate leaned towards them from the other side of the ship, his gaze trained on Vincent as he frowned lightly and snapped his fingers. "You, boy. Come here."
He hesitated – partly because he was unused to being referred to as 'boy' – and looked back at Thomas. The other man's face was neutral, which in itself was alarming. There was no humour, no mischief, not even anger. And yet it was gut-wrenching when he took a step back.
"It's fine," Thomas said softly. "I'll go speak with Abrienda." He shrugged slightly. "Or at least try."
Without waiting for a response, the man turned on his heel and stalked quickly across the bridge. For the first time, the Spanish women received him with open arms.
To his surprise, Vincent wanted to follow. He wanted to hear Thomas' atrocious attempts at Spanish-English translation and assist with his own poor Latin where he could, but there was another loud click, followed by a cough, and a glance at the magistrate suggested he was not a man used to waiting.
So Vincent turned away from Thomas.
The magistrate had no time for pleasantries. "You have studied the law. Where?" he asked as soon as Vincent entered ear shot.
For every question he asked, Vincent stuttered out an answer. The magistrate's frown deepened with every reconsidered word or fragmented sentence, until he began to ask about the law. Vincent recalled every bit of evidence easily and quickly, and at the end of the long and unusual chat he received a thump on the back and a slip of paper shoved into his hand.
When he was eventually released, Thomas was long gone.
~~~
Hello Lovely Readers,
My goodness - we are almost done! :O I cannot believe it!!
My question for you: How do we feel that all of these boat scenes were told from Thomas' perspective? It wasn't part of my initial plan, but I felt like Thomas was the one who needed to face the Duke of Thorne and I wanted to go along for the ride!
And then the REAL question: How do we feel about the Thornes getting off easy? Are you as devastated as I am that they aren't arrested already?
As always, please vote and comment if you're enjoying <3
xx Flo