Page 4 of Baron in Check
“That’s another thing.” She would fire this solicitor as soon as she’d sorted out the mess her brother had left in his wake. “It’s on hold.”
CHAPTER 3
The next morning, when Westminster Abbey’s bells rang, Greg stood resolute on the cobblestones leading to the grandiose doors of the House of Lords. The ancient stones beneath his feet seemed to thrum with the weight of history, echoing the countless footsteps of those who had come before him. The chill London air made him draw his coat tighter around him, and his hope faltered as he prepared to make a lone Knight’s jump on a path nobody from his closest circle of friends could follow. His gaze lifted to the imposing structure, its gothic spires clawing at the grey sky above, a stark reminder of the gravity of the work unfolding within its walls—laws were passed by a few to be followed by the masses.
He’d first seen grand surroundings like this in Eton’s great halls, where the royals had come and gone. But even there, he had Fave and Arnold by his side. They’d hidden their Jewish identity, Greg had kept their secret, and he’d cherished their friendship at a time when his parents had sent him off to boarding school to get a gentleman’s education and prepare for a career in parliament.
On campus and in the lecture halls at Oxford, he felt as though he followed the footsteps of great thinkers whoseintellectual brilliance had shaped England, while most of his classmates had only women or liquor on their minds—with the exception of Fave and Arnold, who again remained by his side. Both Fave and Arnold had excelled at their studies and reveled in the intellectual stimulation at Oxford—clandestine Jews hiding in plain sight among the aristocrats. There, Greg cultivated the skill of staying two steps ahead of their opponents—suspicious classmates asking uncomfortable questions. He protected his friends, and in return, they became his family.
By the time Greg was in his second year of studies, his father’s health had taken a bad turn, and Greg knew he’d soon be a Baron. A few years later, even though Arnold’s bride had questioned Greg’s loyalty to the Jews, Arnold came with Greg on a fleet of schooners to establish a trade route for gem roughs and pearls from America. After they’d returned, Greg’s friendship with the Klonimuses, the other Jewish family of Crown Jewelers in London, a diamond dynasty of amazing people, had blossomed. Even when he visited India, Ben Klonimus had not left him. The lure of his home country called, unmuted by his distance from the great island where his Jewish friends, his only and best friends, lived. Thus, every time Greg stepped up toward the large double doors to Westminster, his stomach churned for the Jews were not allowed there.
As he entered, the murmurs of hushed conversations enveloped him like a cloak, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of old wood and ink on paper. He moved through the corridors with a purposeful stride trying to convince himself he belonged there as much as the others around him, whose ancestors’ portraits lined the walls. But the doubt he’d harbored resonated with the soft tap of his shoes against the marble floors.
The sounds grew louder as he neared the chamber, a cacophony of voices clashing in heated debate. Greg cringed when a particularly harsh accent rose above the others,enunciating the open vowels with devilish malice. List was there, his Prussian accent slicing through the noise like rolling thunder announcing a storm.
Entering the fray, Greg’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, where sunlight through the stained-glass windows painted the room in a muted array of colors. He could feel the eyes of the assembly upon him, a mix of scrutiny and expectation that sent a shiver down his spine. Some of the other parliamentary members nodded in his direction, pausing mid-sentence. The tension was palpable, an almost physical force pressing against him as he made his way to the front.
“There he is!” the Lord Chancellor bellowed as he thrust his hammer on the podium. “Silence!”
“Am I late?” Greg asked one of the white-haired lords he usually sat beside.
“We started as soon as the international representative of the matter arrived. Sit, Stone.”
As the Lord Chancellor gestured to Greg, a tall figure appeared.
Greg’s heart plummeted with a thud so loud the disappointment was probably audible.
“Baron von List has come with the diplomatic question of the Jewish Emancipation on the Continent,” the Lord Chancellor informed Greg.
Sure he has.
“He’s shared his reservations about the bill introduced…” But Stone didn’t hear the rest when he realized that disaster was already underway.
His mind was a battlefield, torn between rage and panic as he stopped listening to the Lord Chancellor’s arguments against Jewish emancipation. People rustling in their seats echoed his unrest as if the room itself was shifting uncomfortably, mirroring the storm inside him. This tension made it hard forGreg to breathe, as if the very atmosphere was conspiring to suffocate him. The room’s sounds sharpened, each heightening his turmoil. Quills scratched on paper like taunts, mocking the fairness he craved, carving injustice directly into him with the pain of those being openly oppressed. It emphasized the futility of his family’s sacrifice—of his sacrifice, the relentless noise a stark reminder of the power in the hands of those opposing freedom.
Greg tuned in and out as he surveyed the room, trying to calm his mind and hide the fury bubbling within while the speeches continued.
In alignment with the diplomatic relations with the Prussian, Austrian, and Russian empires, Baron von List came to discuss a matter of grave import—the question of granting emancipation to the Jewish population within our realms. Let us not be led astray by the whims of modernity that seek to upend the very fabric of our society, which has long been established upon Christian principles.
List, with his smug grin, stoked the flames of Greg’s anger further. That grin was cruel, evidence of List’s enjoyment of the discomfort and pain of others. His icy blue eyes showed nothing but emptiness beneath, a complete lack of compassion or humanity. Staring into them sent a shiver down Greg’s spine, plunging him into a deeper despair.
As our Prussian friend pointed out, we must consider the precedent such an act would set. To offer full civic rights to those of the Jewish faith would invite a reevaluation of the roles and rights of all subjects under the Crown, potentially leading to unrest and instability within our borders.
Greg had hit a wall—not one made of bricks, for those could be torn down, but a wall within humanity’s limited ability to reason and listen to the heart. List didn’t have the latter, nor did his argument that the Lord Chancellor seemingly soaked up likea sponge in a muddy puddle, filthy with the propaganda List had imported from Prussia.
How then can we expect a harmonious integration of such disparate entities within the framework of our nation?
With every sense heightened and every emotion at its peak, Greg felt utterly alone in his fight. Yet, despite the chaos, a determined spark lit within him. He knew he couldn’t let the bleakness win. Despite the daunting path ahead, Greg resolved to stand against the tide of hate and bias. This wasn’t merely a moment of internal conflict; it was the start of his stand for justice.
Furthermore, the economic implications cannot be ignored. The admission of Jews to full citizenship could disrupt the current balance of trade and commerce, giving rise to competition that might disadvantage our established Christian merchants.
Aha! Competition and commerce, there was the problem. It always came down to money.
To drastically alter the composition of our Anglican society would risk unraveling it, introducing foreign elements that could weaken our national character.
It is also worth noting that such measures have not been adopted by our neighbors and allies, who recognize the dangers of too hastily embracing such radical change. We must not isolate ourselves by pursuing a course uncharted and unendorsed by our brethren nations.
Let us proceed with caution, lest we disturb the peace and prosperity we currently enjoy.
