War or Peace

Oh, how George wished he was back in the feudal era where any infraction could merit war. While on his way to Newberry, the Duke could clearly see himself, clad in armor made with thick steel plates, a helmet under his arm and his grandfather’s sword at his side, one he would gladly run through Newberry–the glorious pretender.

Sadly, it was him and five of his best men.

George didn’t care about the reprisal he would get from the Crown for an unlawful attack on a fellow peer, as this was a matter of honor.

“Your Grace,” one of the men said beside him while squinting into the distance. “Is that the Duke of Newberry coming towards us?”

“If it is him coming towards us without men, he is a fool.” George stated, “But order the men to halt.”

With the order given and the marching men paused in place, George sat and waited for the man on horseback to approach him; indeed, it was Newberry.

The other Duke came to a stop, thirty feet away from George and shouted, “This is madness, Leverton. Why would you attack me when we had peace?”

“That was before I found out how much of a treacherous dog you are, Newberry,” George roared, “You paid to have my sister killed! I saw the truth!”

“The truth is subjective to what we all perceive it to be,” Newberry shouted back, not noticing that he had just parroted his mother’s words, “And your hatred of me has surely tainted you to think so, but I had no hand in her death, Leverton.”

“The words do not lie.” George snapped. “There was no sign of duplicity on either your mother’s or your grandmother’s statements.”

This time Newberry urged his horse to walk forward and the man at George’s side pulled out his pistol but the Duke stalled him. “He isn’t armed.”

Newberry's eyes were tortured but George wasn’t going to fall for the act anymore. “I didn’t make that transaction, Leverton. No matter what the report says.”

“You are a skilled liar and master manipulator,” George said stridently. “Why would I trust anything you say? I’ve learned my lesson for trusting degenerates like you.”

Newberry’s jaw tightened, “Didn’t the man say something about the Newberry witch? Do I look like a witch to you?”

“The man was paid by her for a smokescreen,” George returned while controlling his horse. “Your reasoning was clever, Newberry, but duplicity always falls into itself, to expose your actions.”

“Again,” Newberry’s tone was ragged and torn while still hard, “I had nothing to do with that transaction. Give me three days to prove it to you, and then you can have leave to obliterate all you want, but I can promise you, my truth will prevail.”

The words ran over George’s mind and then in a leisurely manner asked the man, “Should I?”

The man’s eyes darted to his Duke and then to the other. “I cannot decide, Your Grace, your judgment is best.”

Tuning back to Newberry, George said, “You have one day to prove your innocence, Newberry, and after that, I will take action.”

“One day?” Newberry’s tone was appalled, “One day?”

“Take it, Newberry,” George replied, “And be thankful I didn’t say one hour.”

The Duke’s face was tight and his jaw stiff but he nodded. “One day then. George didn’t move his eyes from his opponent, “If you fail this time, Newberry, the hounds of hell will be tame compared to my fury.”

With the man’s lips pressed, George directed his mount to turn back. To many, turning his back to his opponent looked like a foolish move but to George, who was confident that nothing would happen, it was a strategic move. Newberry would never dare harm him if he wanted to live.

Noah returned home and packed his clothes swiftly. “Cole, summon my valet.”

“Immediately, Your Grace,” The butler nodded and then summoned the valet to assist the Duke in his preparations and after that notified the coachman.

“Your Grace,” Cole said tentatively, “I understand about the gravity if the situation, but how will it be taken by the authorities if they come and you’re not here?”

“I will take all punishment if one does occur,” Noah replied, “But be it far from me to not use this time to clear my name and prevent the bloodshed of my people.”

“Understood, my best wishes, Your Grace.” Cole bowed.

Noah took the felicitations with a nod and entered the carriage with grim determination and a heaviness in his chest. He prayed for divine providence, though he felt like the odds were stacked against him.

Noah had arrived at Threadneedle Street in London mere moments after the bank closed its door. Angered, frustrated and fearful, Noah had cursed a blue streak, knowing that he was losing time in finding out who had taken the money out of his account.

The Duke had a suspicion but how and why would that person do such a thing like that to him? And now facing the doors of the bank his suspicion wouldn’t be actualized for long torturous hours.

With his heart pumping, and mind spinning in circles of anger, Noah went back into his carriage and ordered the coachman to his townhouse in Mayfair. There he instantly called for a magistrate to summon the bank manager for him, pressing on the man to tell him it was an urgent matter and to bring all the records of his account with him.

Noah didn’t care that it was the afternoon was steadily growing steadily to evening. He didn’t have much time to flitter away.

It was nearly four o’clock when the butler admitted to his study, the flustered bank manager who was clutching his valise with bloodless fingers.

“G–good evening, Your G–grace,” the manager stuttered, “I came as soon as I was told. How may I help you?”

The manager was nervous, as anyone who was summoned to a Duke’s abode should be, but his fear made no impression on the aristocrat. The anxiety inside Noah was bursting and he was sorely prodded to be discourteous to the man, but years of propriety training stalled him so he returned the greeting and ordered the man to sit.

“This,” Noah said stonily while brandishing the letter of his account, “is the matter why I have summoned you. I requested a review of my account and saw that someone took over a thousand pounds from it. Why wasn’t I notified the instant it was done?”

“Let me get examine the files Your Grace,” the manager replied while pulling out a stack of ordered papers from his valise, “Just a moment.”

Noah sat back in his chair with tempered patience, while the man flicked through the records. The lamplight highlighted the beading sweat on his forehead and frantic eyes as he read over the information. His fingers fumbled but none fell off the desk and then he alighted on a page and his nervousness seemed to calm.

“This is why we allowed the funds to be pulled, Your Grace. It was a withdrawal request signed by yourself.” The manager replied while handing him a paper.

Taking the sheet, Noah ran his eyes over his signature that authorized the bearer of the note to take the money from his account and recognized the small inaccuracies on the signature.

“And the bearer…” Noah said evenly, “It was my Mother, the Duchess of Newberry, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the man replied, his words affirming Noah’s suspicions, “Wasn’t she authorized to take the money?”

Decidedly not Noah reasoned.

“Don’t worry about that,” Noah said while handing the note back, “But you need to send the Duke of Leverton a message, since he had already gotten a second statement of my accounts by courtesy of your hand, I assume.”

The manager’s face when pale, “Your Grace, this–”

“Is corruption at the highest level.” Noah filled in for him, with a hard voice and even flintier eyes, “But I will ignore this transgression if you formally notify Leverton of your coincidental oversight.”

“My sincere apologies, Your Grace,” the man was cowering under Noah’s abrasive gaze. “I will do so immediately.”

Casually taking a seat, Noah waved, “Get on with it, then.”

Half an hour later, Noah oversaw the letter being sealed and sent with a carrier to Leverton and the manager stood.

“My sincere apologies, Your Grace,” the man squirmed, “I assure you that nothing of this nature will happen again.”

“Make sure of it, good evening to you.” Noah replied while he sagged into his seat with his head pounding like the beat of an African drum.

He didn’t even have the energy to wonder why his mother had taken the money from his account instead of hers. He’d find that out later, right then, he just needed some rest.

“You went to attack the Duke of Newberry!” Miss Benwick’s appalled tone, though soft, felt like a slap to George's face. “George!”

“I found proof of his duplicity, Ann,” George defended.

“But George,” Ann shook her head with a tight frown in the middle of her forehead, “Don’t you think this revenge is going too far? Don’t you think that this is the farthest thing from what Em would have wanted?”

The Duke felt a little guilt settle in his stomach, “This has nothing to do with what Emmeline would have wanted, Ann. She was blinded by Newberry’s machinations and I had to prove that the man is not what you, my mother, and dearly-departed Emmeline thought him to be.”

Her look enhanced the guilt in George’s chest and, sighing, the Duke framed his beloved’s cheek, “Ann, my love, this is a matter of honor. If Newberry is truly guilty, nothing will stop me from wreaking vengeance on him.”

Ann still looked dismayed. “But–”

“Excuse my interruption, Your Grace.” Hudgins said from the doorway, “but a letter has arrived for you–a special messenger from London.”

Removing his hand and looking up to his manservant, Leverton took the sealed letter and nodded his thanks to the man, who bowed out.

Flipping the letter over, George read over the name–it was from the bank on Threadneedle Street and curious, George opened it. It was short but the words ran a heated lance through George’s core. “My God…I was wrong.”

Noah arrived at the Newberry Mansion on the downside of ten o’clock the next morning. It was the middle of the day but he still felt drained.

“Good morning Your Grace,” Mr. Cole said as he took the traveling bag from the coachman, “I hope the visit was productive one?”

“In all respects, yes,” Noah replied, “Is my mother here?”

“My apologies, Your Grace, The Duchess, and the Dowager Duchess haven’t returned from their jaunt to London as yet,” the butler replied.

“Very well,” Noah sighed, “Please bring the strongest brew of coffee to my study in an hour.”

Still exhausted, the Duke went about his bookkeeping, met with a visiting magistrate, spoke to his proxy, Mr. Brown, and then when evening was come, forced himself to dine on a meal of choice roasted beef.

His mother and his grandmother had still not returned, but Noah didn’t give much thought to it. Instead, he prayed that Emmeline smiled down upon him from heaven.

“I will join you there, my love,” Noah whispered under his breath as his eyes closed, “Wherever you are, there I will be.”