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“Please, do not do this!” the old man cried. “I have a daughter! She needs me!” Fergus only glanced over his shoulder to see Simon gently guiding the old man back into the house. Still shaking with anger, he stormed back into the house, back up to the library. He raked his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of the window. Downstairs, he could hear Simon talking to the old man.
Am I really a monster?Fergus thought to himself, looking back down over his mother’s grave. He could hardly tell where the flowers had been cut, but he could feel the insult in his heart.
The door opened, and Fergus turned. “Your Grace,” Simon said gently, “may I have a word?”
“My mind is made up,” Fergus told him sternly.
“I think you should reconsider.”
“He touched the last thing that I have of her!” Fergus shouted. “He took something that I can never get back!”
Simon approached him with a gentle expression on his face. The wrinkles around his eyes looked deeper in the dark shadows of the dim library. “Your Grace, may I remind you that if that man is convicted of theft, if you press for a conviction, he could be sentenced to death? You are a duke, and the constable is likely to do whatever you say.”
Fergus did not respond, clenching his jaw tightly.
Simon drew closer, pleading, “Even if he does not hang, he would be branded a thief for the rest of his days. He would be an outcast from society. His daughter likely would too.”
“He should have considered that before he cut those flowers.”
“It was an honest mistake!” Simon cried. “Your Grace, I have served you since you were a boy. I knew your father, and I knew your mother. I do not think –”
“Do not try to tell me what you think my parents would have wanted,” Fergus warned, his voice cold.
“They would have wanted you to exercise kindness, sympathy, and understanding. Not cold, calculating revenge.”
“Simon,” Fergus said threateningly.
Simon knew Fergus too well and did not back down from his threats. “Your Grace, I beg you. I know you are angry and hurt but consider the person.”
Fergus shook his head. “Send someone for the constable.”
“Johnny has already gone out,” Simon told him begrudgingly.
“Let me know when he arrives,” Fergus instructed then turned his back to Simon. Simon left him alone in the library until the constable arrived, staring out the window. As Fergus waited, his anger began to fade, and he wondered if Simon was right to encourage him to have mercy on the poor old man. However, each time he looked down on his mother’s flowers, the rage would flare up again.
Fergus heard the butler answer the door and met Simon at the door of the library. “He would like you to tell him what happened,” Simon informed him.
Fergus pushed past Simon, his mind resolved. By the time he got down to the parlor, the constable had put irons on the old man’s wrists. In the lamplight of the parlor, the old man looked tired. The constable bowed to Fergus.
“Your Grace,” he greeted then nodded toward the old man. “I understand this man has stolen from you?”
“He has,” Fergus affirmed, not daring to look at Simon’s expression.
“Theft is a serious offense,” the constable said. He turned to the old man. “What is your name?”
“Jonathan Haverton,” the old man said, his voice shaking in fear.
“Any relationship to Lord Haverton?” the constable asked.
“I am the Baron of Haverton,” the old man said feebly. Turning from Fergus to the constable, he continued “Please, Your Grace. I have a daughter at home. Edwina. She is just two and twenty and unmarried. She relies on me. She will be ruined if word of this got out.”
Fergus tried not to look at Lord Haverton as he continued to plead for his life. The man hardly looked like a Baron, even if Fergus had guessed him to be of a high station from his dress. A baron would not quake in fear nor introduce himself by his common name. Fergus turned to the constable, saying, “I would like to see him tried for his crimes.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” the constable said, bowing and taking hold of the chain of the irons on Lord Haverton’s wrists. “This way, My Lord.”
The old man continued to plead, crying out for Fergus to spare him. Fergus turned, hardening his heart, and stormed up to his room, leaving Simon shaking his head in disappointment.
