List barked a laugh. “Listen to him—he parrots what she feeds him! He’s a boy. A frightened boy!”
John flushed but didn’t look away. “One day,” he pressed on, louder now, “I’d like to visit Vienna. The place Maisie Morgenscheincame from.” He glanced up toward Maisie in the gallery, eyes bright with both fear and defiance. “She protected me. She taught me about the nails that hold a family together—trust, and love. She held when nothing else did.”
“Enough,” List snapped, stepping forward. “This is sentiment, not testimony. He has been deceived by a woman who isn’t even his kin—”
John’s voice cut sharp over him. “She is my kin! She is my family. And she loves a man like Dr. Leafley—and I want to find a love like that one day.”
The words hung in the chamber like a bell struck true. Gasps rippled through the gallery. The boy’s shoulders heaved, but he didn’t sit down. He stood there, shaking, a child in front of men who had mocked him—and he did not yield.
Maisie’s throat closed. Tears burned, but she held them back. He was defending himself, defending her. And she knew in that moment: John was not only her charge. He was her son.
The doors banged open.
Alfie Collins strode in, coat dripping, hair plastered to his forehead as he removed his hat. “Pardon the delay,” he enunciated each syllable, his voice carrying through the large hall. “I am here to vouch for Lady Spencer—and for the boy.”
“You?” a Lord exclaimed.
“A peer by marriage,” Alfie said. He turned toward Maisie deliberately. “And a witness. I know her. I know her character. I stand for her.”
List leapt to his feet. “You were deceived! She is a fraud!”
The gavel cracked. “Order!”
Alfie’s voice rang stronger. “I met Maisie Morgenschein in Vienna when I studied. She worked beside her father, Professor Ephraim Morgenschein. And with Dr. Faivish Blattner—now Dr. Felix Leafley. They saved me when I was refused care. Without rights, without recognition—only kindness.”
Gasps, whispers. Names that could not be ignored.
Alfie opened his case. “Here. Proof of our degrees. Diplomas. Records. Leafley had better marks than I did.”
He looked straight at the Lords. “Her only crime was compassion. She took another woman’s name to protect this boy. And in so doing, she gave England back its marquess.”
List’s shout cracked the air. “She’s a liar! Didn’t flinch to take the name of a woman who’d been cast out of Society by scandal and—”
The chancellor raised a hand. “Then let us hear from her.”
Maisie rose. Slowly, trembling, she lifted her veil. And it wasn’t just a veil but Lady Eleanor Spencer who came off like the skin she’d be ready to shed now, just as the late marquess’ letter had predicted the night Father died.
Gasps rippled through the chamber.
“I am Maisie Morgenschein,” she said. “I confirm it all. I have protected him. I have taught him. I have loved him. But he did the same for me.”
“You are not noble,” the chancellor replied. “And you are a woman, thus unfit to manage his estate even if we grant you control over his person.”
“Yes,” Maisie said, her voice breaking but firm. “A woman. A Jew. And yet I gave him a home, when no one else would. Not his title. Not his wealth. Only love. And I wish to give him a family to protect him for all time.”
John rose from his bench, climbed the steps to her side, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Maisie’s knees nearly gave out. He had chosen her—openly, before them all.
The chancellor cleared his throat, gaze sweeping the room. “Mr. Collins. You claim close knowledge of Miss Morgenschein—of Lady Spencer, as she has lived. Tell me—who is your wife?”
Alfie lifted his chin. “Lady Beatrice Wetherby.”
A murmur rippled. Recognition sparked across several faces.
The chancellor nodded slowly. “I know her father. A man of principle.”
“Indeed,” Alfie said softly. “A man I try daily to be worthy of.”
“And your connection to Miss Morgenschein is known to your wife?” the chancellor pressed.
