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On the other side of the tower of black silk that was the Dowager, the slim, cloaked and hooded form of Mademoiselle Petit rose. She and Ellie followed the Dowager from their bench and down the aisle, closer and closer to Samuel.
It was all Ellie could do not to reach for him as she passed, the gentlemen permitting the ladies to go first.
They followed the judge, who appeared much shorter and stouter now that he’d descended from his stand. He led them to a grand looking door, which a liveried servant opened. They all filed into a room resplendent with dark wood and books, green upholstered couches, and gold embroidered chairs, and one massive desk with several wig stands on the shelves behind it.
While the judge marched around the desk and removed his wig, the prosecutor gestured Richard Carmichael over to one side of the room. They took a set of armchairs, the attorney looking strained and Richard’s face downturned, his stooped shoulders betraying misery.
As well they should, Ellie thought as she followed the Dowager to the other side of the room and a long couch there. In fact, more than Richard Carmichael’s shoulders should stoop. He ought to be so miserable, his whole body should sink right to the floor to be closer to hell, where he belonged.
The Dowager sat. Her giant skirt filled most of the couch and Yvette perched beside her, hood drawn forward. Ellie elected to stand next to the couch, and nearer to Samuel, who came to a halt in the middle of the room, his attorney beside him. The liveried servant pulled the door closed.
“Now,” the judge said, turning back to them.
“What is this matter of the Crown, Your Grace?”
The Dowager lifted her chin to look down her nose at the little judge.
“I have the means by which you may return the Earl’s journal to him, the remainder intact. As you will have noted, none of the pages yet distributed contain anything of an overly sensitive nature. This is not because the person in possession of the journal does not read English well enough to select such pages, but rather because she wished to torment her lover only, not to compromise England or Safonhouss.”
The judge’s gaze snapped to Ellie, where she still stood, inching closer to Samuel.
“She?” the judge emphasised.
Ellie gasped, stilling.
“Not me. I do not have, and have never possessed, the Earl of Safonhouss’ journal.”
“Then what have you, Miss Ellsworth, that will serve the Crown and change the outcome of the proceedings you so disrespectfully interrupted?” the judge asked in a much less cowed voice than the one with which he addressed the Dowager.
Stung, Ellie tipped up her chin.
“I have the truth, Your Honour. Something in which I assume you’re interested?”
The little man huffed. “I will have you escorted out, Miss Ellsworth, if you do not modulate your tone.”
Ellie struggled against the mingled needs to shout and cry.
Why must the judge be such a pompous arrogant obnoxious gentleman? Ellie had convinced Yvette of her plan. Convinced the Dowager. Run away from Lizzy May, an absence her sister had surely noted at some point yesterday. Everything Ellie cared about rested on this silly, stuffy, pretentious little man and his row of wigs.
To her right, Samuel shifted. Ellie dared a glance. He studied her with concern and affection and, she felt, hope.
She squared her shoulders, drew in a long breath, and said, “Your Honour, I know precisely where Mademoiselle Petit and the missing journal are, and I have the means by which they may be recovered quite quickly. Thus, we may clear up which Mr. Carmichael is her lover, and prevent any more of the Earl’s journal entries being sent to France.”
Seated behind his desk, hands steepled before him, the judge turned to the Dowager.
“Is this true, Your Grace?”
“The girl can speak for herself, Christopher.”
With a scowl, the judge turned back to Ellie.
“Well?”
Struggling to ignore his disdain, Ellie said, “All we need do is—”
“Wait.” Richard Carmichael surged to his feet, his attorney rising as well. “This is ludicrous. You’ve permitted this girl to disrupt your entire courtroom. All those people out there, they saw a little country miss order you into your chambers. What will they think if you come out and tell them her will has been granted?”
Ellie turned to face him, incapable of hiding her anger at the source of Samuel’s troubles. The brother who would so readily sacrifice him.
