A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(15)
The next gentleman to march up to the desk was one Verity took an instant dislike to. He strode in pulling a comely woman by her wrist.
“Theft,” he said in a loud, important voice. “I’ve come to report outright theft.”
The woman twisted out of his grasp and plumped herself down on the bench next to Verity. “It is not theft,” she called forcefully, rubbing her wrist. “I’ll sit here while you say your piece, then I’ll stand up like a Christian and say mine.”
“Are you quite well?” asked Verity with concern. “Your wrist seems very sore.”
“It’s been better, that’s for sure.” The woman adjusted a shawl which wasn’t doing much to cover her generous décolletage, and glanced at her in a frank, friendly fashion. “Here to watch the proceedings, are you? I’ve done that in my time. Near as good as the theatre. Warm, dry and entertaining, and without the shilling you pay on the Sans Pareil door. Not so many laughs though. Molly Turner’s my name. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Verity shook the proffered hand. “Verity Bowman. Why has that gentleman brought you here?”
Molly snorted. “Gentleman? He’s no gentleman. He stops me in the street and offers me a shilling to eat with him. Said he likes to have company. Well, some of them are like that and who am I to turn down a free meal? So we eat, he puts a shilling on table, I picks it up, he cries thief.”
“No, that’s despicable,” said Verity, feeling her eyes grow wide.
“True as I’m sitting here, and so I shall tell the magistrate. He then says if I’m nice to him, he won’t press charges. Nice. Ha, I know what that means. His sort like the power, see? Well, I’m not having that. Not that I’m above it, you understand, but as a proper business transaction, not a threat, and for more’n a shilling too. Oh, I could jump in the river for being so taken in. Now I have to defend myself against theft.”
“This is shocking. Will the judge believe you?”
“Pray he does. If I’m sent for trial and convicted, it’s transportation.” She gave a harsh laugh. “And if I’m acquitted, I’ll no doubt face a charge of prostitution and then I’m for the Bridewell. What will Ma and the kiddies do then? Pity I don’t talk nice like you. Then the magistrate would think I was respectable all right.”
Verity’s sense of justice was stung by the story. She gave Molly a candid inspection. Her clothes were not propitious, but... “I wonder, could you sit more upright, perhaps? I have noticed that the straighter one’s back is, the less people are inclined to believe you may be plotting mischief. And - oh, I know - I cannot give you my pelisse for respectability, but if you can shield me for a moment...”
Molly obligingly angled her body around, saying, “Here, miss, you’ve a smut on your brow. Let me wipe it off for you.”
“Splendid,” said Verity breathlessly, having wrestled her lawn fichu off inside her clothing. “Now, tuck this around your neck inside your bodice, pull the ribbon around your neckline tighter, and wear your shawl higher on your shoulders. There. I hope it helps.”
“You’re a treasure and no mistake.” Molly swiftly effected the transformation, then went to the desk to give her version of events to the clerk while a different official escorted Verity to a bench inside the courthouse to watch the cases and to wait for Charles.
The proceedings were fast and bewildering, the magistrate seeming to listen to the charge, absorb the statements and decide whether or not to send the accused person for trial almost in the same breath. Verity’s head was spinning by the time Molly and her accuser were brought in.
A flicker of recognition crossed the magistrate’s features. After listening to the gentleman repeating his confident charge of theft, he said, “My dear sir, you seem sadly unlucky in your choice of eating companions. I believe this to be the third time in five weeks you have brought a similar charge. Mrs Turner is plainly a respectable woman. The case is dismissed.”
Verity smiled with relief and was startled when Charles tapped her on the shoulder.
“Have you seen enough? Are you ready to leave now?”
“Yes, but it is bewildering. You must explain it properly to me. What does commit for trial mean?”
“That the victim and the accused must repeat the charge and the defence in front of judge and jury at the Old Bailey. They may also call witnesses to their character, or to the theft or whatever crime the victim claims has been committed.”
“I see. How does the magistrate decide so fast what to do?”
“He has many years experience. Certain crimes are considered minor, such as breaking the peace, others are more serious and must go for trial. Theft, murder, fraud, treason, arson... There are many more.”
They had reached the door and were descending the steps to the street, when a boy ran up to Charles and pulled on his sleeve.
“Thomas? What is it?”
“It’s Pa.”
Charles muttered under his breath. “Already? Where and when?”
“Old Bailey, sir. Now.”
Charles cursed and looked down the street to wave energetically at a hackney carriage. “Very well. Find Jenkins and bring him, if you can. I beg your pardon, Verity, but your education is about to take a further turn. In you get. To the Old Bailey, if you please.”