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“Apparently, the Marquess of Walsrock rallied the masses together and started a protest when his bill was defeated in parliament. He is such a spoilt brat,” his father responded finally.
“No, Father. You have it all wrong. Lord Walsrock isn’t instigating any crowd.”
“So the newspapers are lying? It’s on every newspaper in town. Surely they can’t all be lying,” his father insisted.
“But they are. This isn’t news. This is just an agenda that they are trying to push. I was there when this is all started yesterday, remember? The Marquess is the one who needs to be seeking redress and not the other way around.”
“So what happened yesterday?” his father asked. “I wanted to talk to you about it when you got back.”
“What happened was that a man was mobbed by the elite few for having different political ideals and principles. He barely escaped unharmed with his cronies, myself included. And now he is being branded a criminal,” Noah said with disgust.
“Well, if he was attacked, wouldn’t that justify his grievance in getting the masses to protest against those who attacked him, since they have same enemies? Isn’t that what the newspapers are saying?”
“Dear Lord!” he said in frustration, losing the patience to continue explaining to his father. “You don’t know the Marquess, Father. I’m going to leave it at that. Whatever they are saying he did, he didn’t do it,” Noah said, slamming the newspaper on the table.
His mind began tuning in on some other important information he had just come across.
“There are protests in town?” he asked no one particular.
“Yes, there are. The masses feel cheated by the failure of Lord Walsrock’s bill in parliament. They have taken to the streets and in some cases, it has turned violent. Officials are having a hard time containing the situation,” his father responded.
“Oh my goodness!” Noah exclaimed softly as he brought his hand to his face.
If only his colleagues had seen the benefit of the bill as he had. Now they’d gone and stoked the fire in the hearts of the common folk, all because they were too greedy and entitled to consider other’s pain.
“Well, they are all mad for thinking they could get such privileges. Is it our fault we were born into the aristocracy and not they? Now they expect us to give up our rights from birth, all because they feel they are being oppressed? As far as I am concerned, they have too much time on their hands,” his father said dismissively.
His intense gaze came to rest on his father. It was thinking like this across Britain’s high society that had gotten them into this mess. And if they weren’t careful, they were going to end up like France.
Then we will see what the greed and entitlement gets us.
He simply shook his head at his father’s ignorance and kept quiet. He needed to start thinking of a way to help his friend the Marquess instead of getting into another needless argument with his father. The man was stuck in his way of thinking and that was fine. He didn’t need to be dragged alone for the ride.
If the Marquess had already been arrested with the news making the rounds, then the arrest must have happened at night or sometime this morning. There was still time to go down to the Bow Street Runners and sort this all out. After all, he was a witness to the initial assault in parliament and knew that Lord Walsrock couldn’t have done what he had been accused of doing.
I could also find Lord Calbrook.
If the Marquess had gone home with Lord Calbrook, that meant Lord Calbrook was also a viable witness to the fact that he’d taken the Marquess home. There was no way the Marquess could have then sneaked out and started a protest of such scale.
Lady Rose!
The thought of her flashed through his mind as soon as he’d made the decision to go and get the Marquess out of gaol. Obviously, Lord Walsrock was not going to be able to make it to the manor for their planned meeting.
Lady Rose, however, might not have been aware that things had changed. She could very well be on her way to manor at the moment. If the protests had truly started, she was definitely going to be in harm’s way throughout her journey.
He needed to get a message across to her to stay put.
As he stood to excuse himself from the table, a servant approached him with news that a message had come for him.
“Where from?” he said exasperatedly.
“From the manor of the Earl of Somerholm,” the servant responded.
