Chapter 173

"It is clear to me that there may be some unresolved issues between you and your father." Harland continued. "Perhaps you might consider whether this matter would be better resolved privately. Lord Ashford is still your father, after all. There are grievances within families that need not be carried into the courts, where they may cause lasting damage to everyone concerned."

For several seconds, Cassandra could scarcely believe what she was hearing.

A private settlement. He spoke of the innocent miners’ deaths as though they were a trivial matter, as though the devastation wrought upon countless lives could be weighed against the inconvenience of a public scandal. As though the entire affair were nothing more than a series of unfortunate misunderstandings that could be settled with a civil discussion.

Cassandra remained baffled by the things that came out of that man’s mouth. It took a remarkable lack of empathy to speak so callously about the suffering of others.

"My father’s conduct was not a family disagreement," she said. It took everything she had in her to keep from shaking in rage. "He ignored several warnings about the mine’s safety multiple times. When it collapsed, he concealed his negligence and paid people to protect him from the consequences. Those men had families. They had lives beyond the hours they spent working for him. What would you have me tell them? That they should accept their losses because the man responsible is my father?"

"I did not say that." He was quick to amend his statement.

"You suggested that I settle the matter privately." Her eyes had turned to slits.

"I merely suggested that you consider the consequences of pursuing this matter any further. Your father will not be the only one affected; you will be as well, along with the rest of your family and your husband’s relations. They will all be subjected to harsh public scrutiny should you choose to proceed." He steepled his fingers together. "I say this because I worry for you."

"I might have been more inclined to believe in your concern had you made even the slightest effort to sound less condescending." Cassandra shot back. "Men like my father do terrible things because they believe their wealth will shield them from the law. They make that calculation because men in your position allow them to."

She rose from her chair. Anger had sharpened her voice, but beneath it lay something colder: the certainty that she had wasted too much of her time with this man when he never had any intention of helping the case along.

"He is a criminal. Every piece of evidence I have presented thus far points to his guilt. But he is also a coward, a man too afraid to face the consequences of his own actions. Now, I would like to ask you something, sir. Having seen the extent of his wrongdoing, if you still refuse to hold him accountable, what does that make you?"

Harland’s face hardened.

"I would advise you to be careful with your accusations, Your Grace."

"I would advise you not to bring disgrace upon the position you currently hold. You are a man of the law. I suggest you start behaving like one." She turned towards the door. "Good day, Magistrate."

Sebastian gathered the remaining papers and followed her out, offering Harland a brief, formal farewell that Cassandra did not bother to repeat.

The courthouse corridor was quieter than the street outside. She walked through it without slowing, the heel of her shoes striking the stone floor with a sharp, steady rhythm. Only after they had passed through the entrance and reached the pavement did she allow herself to speak.

"He has no intention of pursuing this case."

Sebastian cast a final glance at the courthouse they just exited, looking grim. "We cannot be certain of that."

"Three meetings, Sebastian. Three. Each time, he finds another reason to delay necessary proceedings required to shut down my father’s mine. He isn’t even trying to hide it anymore."

"I heard him." Sebastian said.

"And you still believe we should give him the benefit of the doubt?"

"No, I think we already have our answer" His voice remained even. "His conduct is troubling, but unless we can establish that he is deliberately obstructing the case, accusing him of corruption will only give him an excuse to dismiss us."

Cassandra adjusted her gloves. She knew Sebastian was right, which made his caution no less frustrating.

"We should keep a close watch on Mr Harland. I fear he knows more than he is saying," Cassandra murmured as they made their way towards their waiting carriage. "I suspect he is attempting to shield my father by deliberately obstructing our efforts. I can only hope I am mistaken, though my instincts have rarely failed me in matters like these."

---

Edmund imagined that his introduction to Whitmore’s business would involve accounts, negotiations, perhaps a lecture on how the right investments could transform a modest fortune into something far more substantial and how to spot such opportunities.

He had not expected to be taken to a disused textile manufactory out the capital.

The building stood behind a neglected stretch of land, its brick exterior darkened by years of weather and disuse. Weeds had begun to sprout between cracks and crevices, while the great doors bore the marks of age and neglect.

It was the remains of a failed enterprise, abandoned when its owners could no longer afford to keep it operating.

Edmund glanced at Whitmore as their carriage drew to a halt. His gaze was filled with silent questions he didn’t have the courage to voice just yet.

"Is this one of your properties?" He asked after careful deliberation.

"In a manner of speaking." Whitmore offered nothing further. He stepped down from the carriage, adjusted his coat, and waited while Edmund climbed down as well.

Since Whitmore had agreed to take him under his wing, Edmund had begun to notice some of the man’s habits. One of them was his tendency to give only partial answers, often deflecting questions he had no intention of answering and addressing only those he considered necessary.

It was a habit Edmund had quickly learned to recognise, though he had yet to determine whether it stemmed from caution or simple unwillingness to share more than he deemed appropriate.

Edmund had spent the journey trying to discover what sort of business required a visit to a place like this, but Whitmore had remained occupied with his own thoughts, leaving his companion to speculate.

Still, Edmund had no intention of complaining. He asked Whitmore to give him another chance, and had gotten his wish. He would be damned if he allowed a mild inconvenience to ruin this opportunity of a lifetime.

Whitmore produced a key which he used to unlock the larger doors. Beyond it lay a vast, empty workroom. The remnants of the manufactory’s former trade were scattered about the space: rusted frames, broken wooden fittings, and machinery that had not been used in years. Dust covered the floor, and the tall windows admitted only a weak stream of light.

Their footsteps echoed the deeper they went.

Edmund had expected the building to smell of damp and decay, but a more unpleasant odour lingered farther inside, faint enough that he could not immediately identify it.

He glanced towards a dark passage branching off in the opposite direction, with little desire to venture there. He had not been keen on coming here in the first place, but refusing had never been an option. Instead, he stayed close to Whitmore, falling into step beside him as they continued on their way.

"What is this place used for now?"

Whitmore didn’t pause to answer. "It is no longer a manufactory, if that is what you are asking."

"I can see that."

"Then there is little need to explain its former purpose." He said tersely and that was that.

Edmund pressed his lips together.

They passed through a narrow corridor, then paused in front of a smaller room with a heavy door. Whitmore unlocked it and entered without a word.

Edmund followed suit, oblivious to what waited for him inside.