The Sins of the Father (The Clifton Chronicles, #2)(102)

‘What about a moral judgment?’ said Lord Preston, loud enough to be heard on the bishops’ benches. Lord Harvey had at last found something on which the two of them were in agreement.

Another speech that took the House by surprise was delivered by Lord Hughes, a cross-bencher and a former president of the British Medical Association.

‘My lords, I must inform the House that recent medical research, carried out at the Moorfields Hospital, has shown that colour-blindness can only be passed down through the female line.’

The Lord Chancellor opened his red folder and made an emendation to his notes.

‘And therefore, for Lord Preston to suggest that because Sir Hugo Barrington was colour-blind, it is more likely that Harry Clifton is his son, is bogus, and should be dismissed as nothing more than a coincidence.’

When Big Ben struck ten times, there were still several members who wished to catch the Lord Chancellor’s eye. In his wisdom, he decided to allow the debate to run its natural course. The final speaker sat down a few minutes after three the following morning.

When the division bell finally rang, rows of dishevelled and exhausted members trooped out of the chamber and into the voting lobby. Harry, still seated in the gallery, noticed that Lord Harvey was fast asleep. No one commented. After all, he hadn’t left his place for the past thirteen hours.

‘Let’s hope he wakes up in time to vote,’ said Giles with a chuckle, which he stifled as his grandfather slumped further down on to the bench.

A badge messenger quickly left the chamber and called for an ambulance, while two ushers rushed on to the floor of the House and gently lowered the noble lord on to a stretcher.

Harry, Giles and Emma left the visitors’ gallery and ran down the stairs, and reached the peers’ lobby just as the stretcher bearers came out of the chamber. The three of them accompanied Lord Harvey out of the building and into a waiting ambulance.

Once members had cast their votes in the lobby of their choice, they slowly made their way back into the chamber. No one wanted to leave before they’d heard the result of the count. Members on both sides of the House were puzzled not to see Lord Harvey in his place on the front bench.

Rumours began to circulate around the chamber, and when Lord Preston was told the news, he turned ashen-white.

It was several more minutes before the four whips on duty returned to the chamber to inform the House of the result of the division. They marched up the centre aisle in step, like the guards officers they had been, and came to a halt in front of the Lord Chancellor.

A hush descended on the House.

The chief whip raised the voting slip and declared in a loud voice, ‘Contents to the right, two hundred and seventy-three votes. Non-contents to the left, two hundred and seventy-three votes.’

Pandemonium broke out in the chamber and in the gallery above, as members and visitors sought guidance as to what would happen next. Old hands realized that the Lord Chancellor would have the casting vote. He sat alone on the Woolsack, inscrutable and unmoved by the noise and clamour all around him as he waited patiently for the House to come to order.

Once the last whisper had died away, the Lord Chancellor rose slowly from the Woolsack, adjusted his full-bottomed wig and tugged the lapels of his black and gold-braided robe, before he addressed the House. Every eye in the chamber was fixed upon him. In the packed gallery overlooking the chamber, those who had been fortunate enough to acquire a ticket leant over the railings in anticipation. There were three empty seats in the distinguished guests’ gallery: those of the three people whose future the Lord Chancellor held in his gift.

‘My lords,’ he began. ‘I have listened with interest to each and every contribution your lordships have made during this long and fascinating debate. I have considered the arguments so eloquently and so passionately delivered from all parts of the House and find myself facing something of a dilemma. I would like to share my concerns with you all.

‘In normal circumstances, being presented with a tied vote, I would not hesitate to support the Law Lords in their earlier judgment, when they came down in favour by four votes to three, of Harry Clifton inheriting the Barrington title. Indeed, it would have been irresponsible of me not to do so. However, your lordships may not be aware that just after the division was called, Lord Harvey, the proposer of the motion, was taken ill, and therefore unable to cast his vote. None of us can be in any doubt which corridor he would have entered, ensuring that he would have won the day even if it was by the slimmest of margins, and the title would therefore have passed to his grandson Giles Barrington.

‘My lords, I am sure the House will agree that given these circumstances, my final judgment will require the wisdom of Solomon.’

Muffled ‘hear, hear’s could be heard from both sides of the House.

‘However, I have to tell the House,’ the Lord Chancellor continued, ‘that I have not yet decided which son I should cut in half, and which son I should restore to his birthright.’

A ripple of laughter followed these remarks, which helped break the tension in the chamber.

‘Therefore, my lords,’ he said, once he had again captured the attention of the whole House, ‘I will announce my judgment in the case of Barrington versus Clifton at ten o’clock this morning.’ He resumed his seat on the Woolsack without uttering another word. The chief usher banged his rod on the ground three times, but could barely be heard above the clamour.