The Wedding Night Affair--An Historical Mystery L.C. Sharp (i read books .TXT) 📖

too few people ready to cope with these situations. Sometimes we can do nothing but sit back and watch. Remember last year when they stormed Bedlam? The nearby breweries supplied the fortification, and the mob rioted for days.”

As always, Juliana arranged her skirts and took her seat gracefully, although her fingers trembled as she smoothed her skirts. Sir Edmund said nothing, but his left eyebrow rose fractionally. A comment, or appreciation? She did not know him well enough to interpret his movements yet. Might as well start with her statement.

“I did not kill my husband.”

“Tell me more,” Mr. Fielding said, taking his own seat once more, his expression of deep satisfaction.

Sir Edmund pulled a chair up to sit by her side. He appeared at home in this place that smelled of ink, paper and furniture polish, the room that must be reasonably spacious but was so full it now seemed cramped. She liked it. It was so full of life and living, not empty posturing.

Her surroundings calmed her, and she could tell her story without too much emotion. She skimmed past the more intimate parts of the description. Even so, she had been afraid of bursting into tears again, but she kept herself free of that.

She thought through the events, and recited them again. This time nobody interrupted her, except the ever-present shouts from outside which were her new normality.

But when a shout of “Kill the bitch!” floated up to them, Sir Edmund got to his feet and went to the window.

“Oh dear.” Careful not to turn his back on the glass, he stepped to the side of a bookcase, where he could still see what was going on outside, and keep clear of becoming a target. “The mob has followed us here. At least some people have. Fifty or so, by my reckoning.”

Mr. Fielding shrugged. “It happens on a fairly regular basis. Could you call my clerk, please?”

Sir Edmund demonstrated his familiarity with the place by going to the door, opening it and yelling, “Harry! He wants you!”

A small man scuttled in, and shot them both curious glances. “They’re gathering, sir,” he said, with an air of world weariness.

“I know,” Mr. Fielding said. “I’ve been listening to them for the last quarter hour, along with her ladyship’s story.” Folding his hands on the desk before him, he leaned forward and addressed Sir Edmund. “I am disinclined to release Lady Uppingham to the custody of her father. The mob knows where to find her, and they will not desist. Also, I do not trust him. He may well try to spirit her abroad. And earl or not, justice must be done.”

He clasped his hands, twining his fingers together. “It will take his lordship some time to put his house in order. Naturally, I have to formally arrest you, your ladyship. However, I will not require you to spend the time before your trial in gaol. I do not believe you are a danger to public safety.”

He looked at her as if he could really see her, but his eyes were sightless, the pupils white, the faint scars testament to the long-ago accident that had caused his blindness. He was substantially built. Strands of graying hair escaped from under his neat bob wig.

A clever man who had intelligence and presence. Although she had never visited the courts, Juliana could easily imagine how he dominated proceedings there.

He turned to Sir Edmund as if he could see him. “Will you be taking the case, sir?”

“I have already said so to her ladyship,” he replied. “I see a few justifications, but I wish to explore the possibility that she did not commit this atrocity, or that she acted in self-defense. Her husband used her cruelly. Her body is covered in bruises, and for all I know, more.”

Juliana gasped. Shame suffused her. To have people know about her condition—that would be humiliating in the extreme.

He turned his head and smiled reassuringly. Surprisingly, she did feel reassured. With the trapdoor at her feet, she could still believe in something. Herself, and now this man’s ability to discover what had happened that night. “I am prepared to question the theory.” He turned back to Fielding. “I am also ready to give Lady Uppingham shelter at my house.”

“Hmm.” Mr. Fielding raised his bushy brows. “You have never done that before, sir. I understood that you preferred to keep your residence to yourself. Aren’t you afraid the mob will follow you there?”

Sir Edmund shook his head. “No. I will give out that a friend from the country has come to visit my sister if anyone asks. Besides, it is well known that Lady Uppingham never appears in public without fine clothes and cosmetics effectively disguising her true appearance.”

He smiled when Juliana turned an astonished look on him.

“Yes, I do my research. I did what little I could once Mr. Fielding asked me if I was interested in this case. You are always depicted in caricatures as a white-faced marionette.”

Juliana winced, but she couldn’t deny the truth. She had ignored the cruel drawings as much as she could. Other people had far worse. Besides, she had other things to think about now.

Sir Edmund continued smoothly. “This means nobody knows what she truly looks like, except her body servants and her parents. Nobody in London, at any rate. If she dresses as she is now and leaves off the cosmetics, I see little danger in her residing with me.” His mouth pursed. “And as you know, I keep my house well provisioned against attack. Just in case.”

That sounded grim. But staying anywhere else was better than Newgate Prison, or even the cells here.

“I would offer her the hospitality of this house,” Mr. Fielding said, “but I fear the mob is relentless. If we can say in truth that she is not here, they will lose interest in a few days.”

“Until the trial,” Sir Edmund added.

“Ah yes.” Mr. Fielding turned his head to her. “Lady Uppingham, I have to ask, but I