Page 57 of Dead Beside the Thames
The marquess caught Stokes’s eye. “Inspector. I arrived in time to hear the entirety of Weatherspoon’s confession. As per my earlier reservations regarding this case, I have spoken with the Law Lords”—his gaze shifted to Barnaby, and he inclined his head—“and also with those peers charged with overseeing Scotland Yard, and all have agreed that whatever charges might be laid in relation to Sedbury’s death should take into full account any and all mitigating circumstances.”
Calmly, the marquess went on, “From what you told me of the evidence previously amassed and what we’ve heard explained and confirmed by Weatherspoon here, it seems that Sedbury was undoubtedly the aggressor and that in more ways than one. It was Sedbury who caused harm to others, not the reverse, and while that fact fills me with no joy whatsoever, it will come as no surprise to all who were even distantly acquainted with the man he had become. In considering the incident on the Cole Stairs, it was Sedbury who struck the first blow, with his whip no less. In my eyes, and I respectfully suggest in the eyes of any judge and jury of sensible men, Weatherspoon was present because he was driven to put right a manifest wrong—a wrong the authorities should have seen and acted on themselves, but for a multitude of reasons had not—and in the face of Sedbury’s attack, Weatherspoon was forced to defend himself.”
The marquess paused, then, in the same even tone, said, “There are any number of people who will testify that Sedbury wasn’t one to stand down. He it was who pushed Weatherspoon and prolonged the fight, until Weatherspoon had to act to save his own life.” The marquess looked at Barnaby, Stokes, and Penelope. “That is my reading of the essentials of this case. Do you agree?”
Stokes studied the marquess, then allowed, “I see no reason not to agree, but I’m left unsure as to what, in such circumstances, my next actions should be.”
The marquess smiled faintly and inclined his head. “In that respect, in light of the circumstances of this particular case, the Law Lords suggested, and the commissioner and the relevant peers agreed, that should matters fall out as in fact they have, then while Scotland Yard should, indeed, trumpet their success in having taken up Sedbury’s murderer, possibly mentioning that said murderer was a denizen of the docks, as the victim, namely Sedbury, was the true villain in this case, the charge should be manslaughter in self-defense and that Weatherspoon be left free pending further legal action, which, of course, will never eventuate. The charges will evaporate due to the lack of any willingness to pursue them, and the entire matter will be allowed to fade away. Along with, as far as possible, all memory of Sedbury.”
Penelope had to restrain herself from applauding, but, it transpired, the marquess hadn’t finished.
He turned to Weatherspoon. “You spoke of seeking retribution for all the suffering Sedbury caused to those in this area. Can I ask you to please consult with those around about and gather the details of all the harms perpetrated by Sedbury that you judge to have truly occurred, then bring the list tome? In gratitude for what you had the courage to do, I will pay all appropriate restitution and gladly. I should have reined the devil in long ago, but I could never work out how to manage it.” The marquess held Weatherspoon’s gaze, then half bowed. “Thank you. From the bottom of our hearts, my family thanks you. In removing Sedbury from this world, you have acted as the Hand of Justice. By your action, you have freed countless people from the depredations of the monster Sedbury had become. You have removed a millstone from around the neck of my family, one that threatened to sink us all. Never doubt that you have my”—the marquess glanced at his sons and daughter—“and my family’s genuine thanks. If beyond this time, you have need of help, know you have only to ask.”
Weatherspoon blinked, then in a faintly bewildered tone, replied, “That’s very nice of you to say, m’lord, but…” He looked at Stokes.
Stokes faintly smiled. “Those Law Lords the marquess mentioned are the lords who oversee the country’s laws. They are the ultimate authority regarding the way the courts and the police operate. If they decree that we should not put you in jail, then we won’t. Indeed, I suspect we can’t.”
Barnaby sensed Stokes had thought the case would end this way for a while and was inwardly pleased it had.
“Good Lord.” Weatherspoon blinked, then blinked again as the realization that he would remain a free man sank in.
After a moment during which the others present shared Weatherspoon’s relief, the marquess ran his gaze around the company, then stated, “Let us all be clear. Sedbury received nothing more than what he deserved. Weatherspoon and all like him who Sedbury exploited, including my family and many others throughout the ton, were Sedbury’s victims. In this case, true justice—not blind but clear-eyed—has been served.” He looked around again, then his gaze deflected to the front door,through which the murmurings of a gathering crowd could be heard. The marquess returned his attention to the company. “I suggest the right path for all of us is to accept that and feel vindicated. And now, we should head home to Mayfair and Scotland Yard and allow Weatherspoon here to open his business for the day.”
Weatherspoon glanced toward the door, then returned his gaze to the marquess and bobbed his head. “Thank ye, m’lord.” He looked around the circle. “I’m thinking them out there will be curious as all get-out. You sure you don’t want to leave through the back?”
The prospect was discussed, but in the end, more than anything else to underscore Weatherspoon’s continued good standing with the authorities, they elected to depart via the front door and rose to do so.
As they milled, trying to decide on an order of departure, Penelope was heartened to see Jonathon and Bryan shake Weatherspoon’s hand and hear Jonathon swear with considerable feeling that if he’d known what would come from it years later, he would never have even looked at Millie.
To his credit, Weatherspoon gruffly conceded that Jonathon could not have known how black-hearted his brother would become.
“Half brother,” Jonathon stressed. He glanced at Bryan, then looked at Weatherspoon. “If you hear of any other woman Sedbury abused, will you please let us know? We’d like to make what amends we can, in Millie’s memory as it were, but if we advertise…”
Weatherspoon was touched, but managed a chuckle. “Aye. You’d be paying ’til kingdom come and never knowing the rights of it. Leave it with me, and I’ll send word of those I know of once I check with them.”
Jonathon and Bryan readily agreed, and Jonathon gave Weatherspoon his address.
Penelope smiled and, happy and content with how matters had played out, took the arm Barnaby, also smiling, offered, and following Stokes, they walked out of the Drunken Duck.
In procession, their company, each smiling and genuinely and openly pleased, emerged through the inn’s open doorway. Among the considerable crowd watching, their expressions and attitudes caused some consternation and puzzled whispers, but when Weatherspoon, also smiling, appeared in the doorway and waved them on their way, the brittle tension gripping the onlookers evaporated.
Their party reached the corner of the lane, and from behind them, they heard a barrage of eager questions hurled at Weatherspoon. His rumbling replies were greeted with exclamations of amazement tinged with incredulous disbelief.
As they walked on to where they’d left the carriage, Penelope mused, “Somewhat unexpectedly, I feel deeply content. Despite having a veritable army of suspects, we managed to find our way to the truth.”
“And”—Barnaby tipped his head closer to hers—“despite there being no one charged, it was rather uplifting to see justice—as the marquess labeled it, true justice—delivered in such a comprehensive way.”
“Exactly! And we were a part of it.” Looking ahead, she smiled. “True justice is rare, and we should applaud and savor the experience.”
Barnaby grinned. “Hear, hear!”
EPILOGUE
Quite by chance and somewhat unexpectedly, those who had accompanied Penelope and Barnaby from Mayfair to the Drunken Duck to witness the culmination of the search for Viscount Sedbury’s murderer reconvened that evening in Lady Conningham’s ballroom.
Stokes, of course, wasn’t present, but her ladyship’s ball was a select affair, and attendance by the likes of the Hales and the Adairs was virtually compulsory.
When, having reached the ballroom’s foyer, Penelope and Barnaby approached their host and hostess, Lady Conningham welcomed them with near-rapturous delight. “My dears! We are allsorelieved!”
