Page 60 of The Artisan and the Duke
“You did not seem pitiable in your wealth,” Gregory said gently. “Was there more?”
Maxwell agreed with a flip of his hand. “So much and so little,” he said quietly. “I have debts, the kind that could disgrace my family.”
“Ah,” Gregory said softly. “I hope you come to me, not for a loan, I am most vexed at this time, and I do not even know what day it is.”
Maxwell shook his head fervently. “No. I would never ask that of a friend.” He sighed, “It is quite the opposite. I ask only your forgiveness. I am not the man you think I am. There is no pillar of righteousness within me or any guiding light. I am blown by the winds of fortune, and I am sickened by it.”
“You, noble Chapman, you are saying that you have taken bribes?” Gregory did not find this that unusual. He knew for a fact that many judges took bribes, but Maxwell seemed pitiably sorrowful over his faulty decisions. “Does this have anything to do with my uncle?”
Maxwell shook his head. “I know not of any of that. I have let others choose what I decreed, though, and for that, I am most humbled. I do not know that I should continue to sit upon that bench. I do not know that I should have such sway.”
“Seems to me that you are the right man,” Gregory said softly. “Only a righteous man would grieve so for such a wrong. You may have debts, Lord Chapman, but it is not a deficit of the heart.”
Maxwell wiped away moisture from his eyes. “I tell you that I know nothing of righteousness. Your kindness brings me only sorrow.”
“I apologize for causing you such grief, but I do feel that you need to hear that you are a good man, Maxwell. If you must prove it to yourself, then stand against those that would sway you. Do what you feel is right,” Gregory said truthfully.
Maxwell said, “I have. I let those masons go when they were to be hanged. I did not see the truth in it. You were right. There was no sense in the accusations. I was very afraid for you that you would run afoul of those who wanted things different.”
“I think perhaps I did,” Gregory said honestly. “And my wife is paying the consequence for that.”
Maxwell frowned. “Your wife? I heard from one of the Lords that your wife was guilty of adultery. Is this not the case?”
“Who said such a thing?” Gregory asked indignantly.
Maxwell held up his hands to plead mercy. “It was Boris. I thought him being your cousin that he would know. Is that not the case?”
“It is not,” Gregory said hotly. “Although I can guess where he heard the rumour from,” Gregory snarled. “If you can tell me who these men were that ordered the masons to be hanged, then I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to help you, Maxwell.”
Maxwell’s eyes brightened, but he shook his head. “I have already said more than I should. I do not want to bring danger to my family because of my loose tongue. I could not just leave it with our friendship.”
“Please, Maxwell,” Gregory begged. “If we are friends, then please tell me. It might mean the difference. It could help us find my wife.”
Gregory could see Maxwell waver, and finally, the man nodded reluctantly. “I will tell you that your cousin is one. I think he is just doing as he is told by older Lords, but he is a force to be reckoned with.”
“I will handle my cousin,” Gregory said quietly. He looked at Maxwell and said earnestly, “Thank you, old friend.”
***
Jules wore a dirty dress that had faded blue flowers on it. It hung on her loosely as its last owner was clearly more substantial than Jules. Her small frame was engulfed by the fabric of the dress, and it often got caught under her feet.
“Please sit down,” a tall man said.
Jules did not trust him. She had no idea why she was here, or where here was exactly. She had been moved from the last workhouse, only to end up in a house that seemed occupied by the tall man, a woman, and several children that came and went.
“Where am I?” Jules asked the question hesitantly. She did not really expect an answer out of the man, and after the last few experiences at the workhouses, it had taken most of her courage to simply ask the question. However, no blows came from her speaking, and she waited.
The tall man gave her a smile, “You are in a house of the Lord. We take in wayward souls and try to help them along their way. What’s your name, Child?”
“Jules St Claire,” Jules said softly. She had almost said Kelley, but then she remembered that she had indeed gotten married and that was not some delirious fever dream. No, she thought, Gregory was very real.
The tall man squinted and gave her a curious look. “That’s an odd name,” he commented but did not give Jules a chance to expand upon her surname. He continued, “We have breakfast at sunrise, and we are to bed at dusk. We believe in a good hard day’s work. You seem a fine healthy young woman, so I don’t think that employment will be hard to come by for you.”
Jules shook her head. “Can I ask why I am here? I was in a workhouse.”
“Yes, and you were transferred here last night at the request of our patron. He seemed very concerned about your well-being,” the tall man said. “I have enquired about jobs for you at several places. As soon as I have something secured, then I will let you know. For now, go give thanks that you are safe at last and wash up.”
Jules stood up as she tried to wrap her head around what the man had said. He pointed her up the stairs and told her which door to go in.
