As soon as she sat, she conjured Thomas from the previous night, with his astonished face when told he was going to Newgate, and, on his behalf, her words came out more smoothly.
“I apologize for coming without an appointment,” she said, feeling empowered at having made it this far on her own.
He smiled at her. “I would never dissuade a visit from a lady,” he said, and she didn’t mind his flattery, since he had not a trace of lasciviousness, but merely a grandfatherly smile.
“Without preamble, sir, my brother, the Earl of Dunford, has been taken into custody at Newgate. He will be charged with murder.”
With each statement she made, the man’s expression became graver.
“You know I am not a barrister, my lady. I cannot defend your brother in court.”
“I understand, but Lady Jane Westing sent me to you, believing you would know the best barrister to handle my brother’s case. He is innocent.”
She was relieved when he did not look instantly doubtful.
“As you will find out, my lady, many lawyers, and judges for that matter, do not care about the true guilt or innocence of the accused. The barrister’s job is to put forth a reasonable, believable, and most of all persuasive defense, precisely as the prosecuting lawyer will be offering a sound prosecution. The judge will decide who is the better lawyer.”
She felt sick in the pit of her stomach. “Surely, innocence means something.”
He gave her another kindly look. “In the hands of a good barrister, it can mean all the difference. I believe we must get your case in front of Mr. Jaggers, Esquire.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brassel. I am grateful for your counsel and your assistance.”
He waved it away. “As I said, I am happy for the interruption. The days can be long and tedious, especially when I am called to the Court of Chancery, as I will be for the rest of the week.”
He shuffled the papers around on his desk until he uncovered a pen. Next, he opened a drawer and withdrew a piece of stationery printed with his name printed on top.
He wrote a few lines before asking, “Your brother’s name again, please.”
“Lord Thomas Smythe, Earl of Dunford.”
He wrote that down, then looked at her. “He is undoubtedly not enjoying the facilities at the jail. May I advise you to go there, coin in hand, and liberally spread it around to anyone who asks. He’ll get better food and clean bedding if you do.”
“I am going to Newgate next.” Adelia had a heavy bag of coins weighing down her reticule, and frankly, she was terrified. She would take her driver inside with her.
“I have half an hour until I must head over to court. If you wish to tell me what you know rather than wait for a clerk, I’ll jot down the particulars and send them along to Mr. Jaggers directly. Perhaps he will say not to worry as they may not have much of a case.”
“I fear they do. There is most puzzling evidence that ties my brother to the murder.” She spent the next few minutes telling him what she knew.
“Strange indeed,” he muttered. “I am not a trial lawyer, but this seems too easy for the prosecution. I’m surprised the murderer did not simply write ‘Lord Smythe killed me’and pin it to the poor lady’s coat.”
“So, you believe my brother is innocent?” she asked.
“Would a guilty man have given you the perfume, knowing you are keeping company with the deceased’s brother?”
She shook her head. “Thomas gave it to me without guile, that is certain.”
“Lastly, we need to question your brother and find out where he was on the night Lady Burnley was killed. Hopefully, he was at an intimate dinner party and not a ball.”
“Why, sir?”
“One can always leave a ball unnoticed, slip away for any purpose, and return. It is hardly a secure alibi.”
She thought Thomas might have been with Miss Moore when Sophia was killed, but he could speak for himself on that account.
“Shall we go?” he said at last.
“We, sir?”
