“Thirty,” the gentleman barked. “And bring us a table and two chairs.”
To Henry’s astonishment, the guard bowed his head and answered, “Yes sir,” before backing out of the cell and locking the door again.
“Charles Upwey, barrister,” the man extended his hand, and Henry sprang to his feet.
“Thank goodness, I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, shaking the man’s hand.
The jangle of keys again drew Henry’s attention toward the prison door as the guard reopened the cell, and three men marched inside. Two carried a square table, and one hauled a chair in each hand. They set the furniture down and promptly left.
“Thirty minutes starting now,” Mr. Upwey said, checking his pocket watch as the cell door closed with a bang.
The guard nodded.
“Right,” said Mr. Upwey, tucking his watch back into his vest before taking a seat on one end of the small table, “let’s discuss your case.”
“My case?” Henry sat down. “Don’t they realize they have the wrong man yet? I’ve been in this bloody cell since yesterday, and you’re the first person I have seen who isn’t a policeman, or a prison guard.”
“I’m sorry about that. I’ve arranged for these imbeciles to transfer you to the Tower after your indictment later today.”
“My indictment? But I’m innocent!”
“That may be, but there’s still enough evidence against you to warrant an indictment. You’ll be tried by your peers, of course. The Lord Chancellor will issue a writ of certiorari to remove the indictment from the inferior court and have it transferred to the superior court.
“And when will that be?” Henry asked exasperated. “Parliament isn’t even in session. Am I to rot in jail for months?”
“The public interest in this young lady’s murder is high, so they likely won’t want to wait until parliament goes back into session. In that case, you will be tried in the Lord High Steward’s Court. He will act as judge and your jury will consist of those peers who are available to attend.”
“Well, that’s a bit of good news, I suppose,” Henry said, “I don’t relish the idea of being maligned in front of the entire House of Lords.”
“Oh, I imagine every peer in the realm will race back to London to participate in this case. A nobleman hasn’t been tried in the House of Lords since 1841.
Henry sprang out of his chair and paced the small cell. “This is outrageous! I do not evenknowMiss Leonard. I told the police her murderer is no doubt Lord Craventhorp.”
Regardless, the only way out of this mess is for you to plead ‘not guilty’ and for me to prove your innocence.”
Mr. Upwey opened his work bag and withdrew a stack of papers. Then he fished a pair of spectacles from a pocket inside of his jacket, put them on, and consulted the documents. “According to the police, on the night of 23 July, two witnesses saw you harass Miss Annabel Leonard at the Mayfair home of Lady Dawley. According to their witness statements—” he lifted the papers and peered at them—“the young lady freed herself from Lord Hudsyn and fled inside the house, passing the witnesses who saw a look of fear inscribed on the victim’s face.” He put the papers back onto the table.
“She ran into my arms.” Henry sat down and looked his lawyer in the eye. “But she was fleeing Craventhorp. I tried to help her, but she was so frightened that she ran off.”
“Is that why you attacked Lord Craventhorp—” he peered again at the document—“‘in a murderous, drunken rage for the second time that night’?”
“No!” Henry shook his head. “I mean, I was enraged, and I did lunge at him on a separate occasion that night, but only to stop him from badly injuring another young woman.”
“Are you referring to Miss Smith in the employ of Madame Katrina?”
“I am. Lord Craventhorp snapped her wrist in front of me, Hobsworth, Burdington, and a roomful of others.”
“Police interviewed the young lady in question. I shall read you her statement.” Mr. Upwey cleared his throat. “After serving Lord Craventhorp and his friends their drinks, I slipped—the floor being wet from a spill—and Lord Craventhorp reached out and grabbed my wrist. Thereby saving me from falling to the ground and cracking open my skull.”
The barrister lowered the paper and peered at Henry. “No one has come forward to contradict this statement.”
“Have you asked Hobsworth?”
“The police have taken statements from all witnesses. Mr. Hobsworth claims to be an unreliable witness because he was concentrating on the cards and didn’t see precisely what unfolded. He does, however, remember holding you at bay after you”—again, he referred to his notes—“leapt to your feet and took a swing at Lord Craventhorp. The viscount then clipped your jaw with his fist in self-defense.”
Henry gritted his teeth. “That’s Hobsworth’s statement?”
“Corroborated by your friend Burdington, I’m afraid.”
