“Justin!” exclaimed Elizabeth.
His face softened slightly when he looked at her. “Poor Bess. Did you truly think I wouldn’t care if you left?”
“I—I—” she began in confusion.
“Later, my love. Thomas apprised me of the problem when I arrived.” He turned to Pfoffler. “You must be the magistrate.”
“Yes, the name’s Pfoffler, William Pfoffler.”
“Thank you for coming to investigate this sorry situation. It would not do at all for a miscarriage of justice to occur from undue haste.”
“Yes, yes, quite right, my lord.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll understand when I suggest you allow me to investigate the charges before we haul young Gerry here off to prison to stand trial. I’m sure later today or tomorrow will be just as timely.”
“In—investigate!” sputtered Tunning. “My lord, I don’t know what that groom told you, but I caught him with the goods in hand! There isn’t anything to investigate.”
St. Ryne eyed him coldly. “You seem overly anxious to prosecute, Mr. Tunning. May I remind you that the property from which he allegedly poached was mine, and on my property, I decide if the law has been broken or not.”
“Of course, my lord, but I tell you?—”
“Enough! We will discuss it later.” He turned back to the magistrate. “Now, sir, as we were discussing, I’d like a little time.”
“That’s all well and good, my lord, but what do we do with this miscreant? We can’t let him go—he may run off, and then where would I be? No, no, my lord, can’t have that. It would look bad in the county.”
St. Ryne smiled congenially. “You’re a shrewd magistrate. I can see we are lucky in your services. Why don’t you take him into temporary custody then. Yes, just the ticket, and of course, anyone in temporary custody is well fed and cared for, to say nothing of dispensing with shackles.”
Mr. Pfoffler scratched his head. “I suppose I could do that?—”
St. Ryne drew the magistrate aside to whisper in his ear. “Between us, Mr. Pfoffler, I would appreciate it. I will admit I was in my cups last night, and this morning have a devil of a head. I plead time to recover before I can think property.”
Mr. Pfoffler laughed heartily and clapped St. Ryne on the back. “In that case, I’m happy to oblige. It’s nice to see we have people who care to see justice properly executed. Under the circumstances, a little time will be all right.” He leaned closer to the Viscount. “I tell you, my lord, it’s not a pretty coil, and I’m obliged in your interest. In truth, I don’t know who to believe.” He crossed to Gerry standing by his grandmother. “Come along, Humphries.”
Mary grabbed Gerry’s hand to hold him to her. “Oh, no, please,” she pleaded, looking from the magistrate to the Viscount.
Embarrassed, the magistrate gruffly cleared his throat. “Here, here, now. None of that.”
Mary dropped her grandson’s hand and fled to the Viscount’s side, dropping down on her knees before him. “Please, milord, please don’t let him take my Gerry.”
St. Ryne pulled her to her feet. “It’s all right, Mrs. Geddy. The magistrate will take good care of Gerry. I do not mean to seem unfeeling; we just need time to sort everything out. Now run along to the kitchen and see if you can get me some coffee. I would like to begin to sort through the situation.”
Mary looked anxiously at Elizabeth who, after casting a speculative glance at her husband, nodded her reassurance.
Mary murmured acquiescence and thanks, then bobbed a little curtsy before dejectedly leaving for the kitchen. The magistrate and Gerry followed behind her.
When the door closed on them, Tunning harrumphed and turned to St. Ryne. “You had me worried there for a while, my lord. I thought you might be too soft, listening to those women. Now I see the right of it, though. Clever to get the magistrate to take Humphries away as he did—got that Geddy witch out of here right enough. Don’t worry about her in the future, I’ll see she doesn’t bother you again.”
“Mr. Tunning—” began St. Ryne.
“How dare you,” seethed Elizabeth interrupting him. Her fingers curled around the inkstand on the desk, her knuckles white. “Before you harm anyone in that family, I’ll see you in Hell!”
She picked up the inkstand to hurl at him.
“No, Bess!” St. Ryne yelled, rushing to wrest it from her grasp.
He turned to the estate agent. “I have had enough of you. For too long I’ve put up with your sly behavior and your unwarranted maligning of people thinking to uncover the problem. No longer will I do so. You’re fired! Clear your things out of the estate manager’s cottage and get off our property.”
Tunning’s face became mottled with rage. “You’ll regret this!” he stormed, clenching and unclenching his fists. “It’sall your fault, you hell-spawned Jade!” he snarled, lunging for Elizabeth.
