Page 25 of Give Him a Chance

Chapter Five

May 8, 1841

Dear Judge Bonner,

I am writing to you on behalf of a Mrs. John Marithorpe, née Augusta Smith, a woman of Brighton, who was been unjustly accused of a theft that she could not possibly have perpetrated. I presume this is a simple case of mistaken identity, and that you will immediately release the woman into—

Lucy swallowed. Was she really about to do this?

—and that you will immediately release the woman into my custody, as you did with Mr. Bernard Dixon.

Mrs. Marithorpe is a woman of good repute who has fallen on hard times. I myself have known her for a twelvemonth and have found her in that time to be honest, forthright to the point of directness, and hardworking. The very idea that she would pilfer a bolt of red silk—

The letter was not a difficult one. Outside of the mention of taking accused criminals into her personal custody, it was the sort of thing Lucy had written before, after all, and it was very comfortable here in her father’s study. The room faced west,which meant in the mornings, like now, it was lovely and cool. The seat by his desk was very cozy too.

Lucy looked down at her progress and bit her lip. It was always difficult to know precisely how thick to lay it on, but as Judge Bonner had proven himself to be utterly heartless, that probably meant it was not possible to lay it on enough.

Poor Mrs. Marithorpe has seven children, all of whom rely upon her, as their father died in a fishing accident last winter. I beg of you, Judge Bonner, to find it within your heart not to orphan these poor defenseless children and to give them back their mother, who is entirely innocent.

I remain, your respectful servant,

Lucy Chance

She had prevaricated over respectful servant because she had a great deal of strong emotions directed at Judge Bonner and none of them were that respectful.

Still, Lucy had not attended that finishing school for nothing, and she knew the appropriate way to end a letter.

Blotting it carefully, then folding the two sheets of paper into the envelope, Lucy smiled and picked up her pen once more to consider her list.

Mr. John Acres

Mr. Gareth Forthright

Miss Esme Prickle

Mrs. John Marithorpe (Augusta Smith)

Mr. Charles Hedges

Miss Mildred Sharpe

There. Another soul hopefully saved.

Lucy picked up a fresh sheet of paper, glanced once more at her list, and started to write.

Dear Judge Bonner,

I am writing to you on behalf of a Mr. Charles Hedges, a man of Hove, who was been unjustly accused of a burglary that he could not possibly have perpetrated. I presume this is a simple case of mistaken identity, and you will immediately release the man into my custody.

Maybe she should not have made her letters so similar, but truly, Lucy was starting to run out of ways to write ‘They’re innocent, you fools!’ without insulting the intended reader.

Honestly, it was enough to make one’s blood boil. How on earth could Mrs. Marithorpe have stolen that fabric? She had been working in the poorhouse on that very afternoon, and the modiste was at least a mile away. No one had seen the woman there on the day of the theft—but she had been seen admiring the bolt the day before.

It was preposterous!

And Mr. Charles Hedges—to be sure, he had once committed a burglary, but that had been five years ago and he had been almost a child then. The man had married since and had a child of his own. Lucy had met them both in the room they rented, and Mrs. Hedges had been half-sick with worry.

Fury burned through her veins as she thought of them. Here she sat, in one of the many rooms in the Lindow Chance townhouse in Brighton, one of their many homes, and they hardly used this one!