Page 64 of The Secret Word
“Don’t let him do it,” Arthur commanded. “He must not be allowed.”
Something important was being said.
“What has my father done?” Clem said, in the gentlest voice she could manage. Arthur burst into tears and fell to his knees, burying his face against her gown so that she could only hear his story in mumbled words.
She could hear enough, however.
*
Chris, with Billyand his lawyer, met with Wright at the magistrate’s chambers. The magistrate had refused to allow Clem into the room, but had reluctantly agreed that she could sit in the next room with Will, Bel, and their nursemaids.
Also, Tiny and several of the guards Chris had hired. Chris was confident that he had the knowledge to make Wright—and if not him, the magistrate—back down, but he was taking no chances.
“Hand over the boy,” Wright growled.
“I have new evidence to present,” said Chris. “Evidence that counters your claims against us, and evidence that you are not a fit guardian for my son. I am prepared to negotiate to put things back the way they were, Wright, with you having supervised access to your grandson. Or, I can present my evidence.”
“I’ll have the boy, and you shall have nothing,” Wright insisted. “I’m taking Morton’s son in to learn the company, and you are out on your ear. And I’ll break you, boy, for defying me. You, and the earls who supported you.”
“Very well,” said Chris. “Here is what I have… What I am prepared to make public if you continue to demand my child. I have evidence that you cheated your first partner, Caleb Horner, and stole his share of the business.”
Wright sneered. “Horner’s family has tried to prove that in court before. They’ve failed.”
“You also short debtors and creditors alike in your business. For example, of ten large sacks of coal weighed at your Limehouse depot, marked as being two hundredweight, all were short by at least twenty pounds. And barge owners can attest you regularly underpay them for what they deliver.”
“All nonsense. I am a careful businessman. That is all.”
“I have one more,” Chris said.
Wright sneered. “You have nothing.”
“Let me whisper it to you. One word, Wright. You don’t want your solicitor or the magistrate to hear this, I assure you. But the whole world will hear if I walk out of here without the agreement I am seeking.”
For the first time, Wright looked alarmed. “Perhaps I won’t let you walk out of here,” he said.
“Mr. Wright!” the magistrate admonished.
“I could have him arrested, could I not? For maligning my good name?” Wright asked.
The magistrate pressed his lips together.
Chris ignored the by-play, and continued to address Wright. “If I do not cancel my instructions to a man I will not name, the information I have will be delivered to Bow Street and to all the major newsletters. One word, Wright.”
He stepped closer and leaned to whisper in the man’s ear. As promised, it was one word, and then he stepped back to see the effect.
The older man rose to his feet. He had turned white. “Nonsense. It is a lie. Hearsay.”
Chris was inexorable. “I have witnesses. Names. Dates. Places. One of your victims.”
“No. It isn’t possible.” Wright was shaking his head, his eyes wild.
“Give the man a drink,” Billy suggested to the magistrate. “He has had a shock.”
Indeed, Wright looked as if he had suffered a blow with something heavy. A mallet, perhaps. His knees buckled and he fell back into his chair. He was still shaking his head. His face was white.
The magistrate nodded to Wright’s solicitor, who hurried to the decanters on a sideboard across the room.
“It will have to stop, of course. As part of our new agreement.”
