Betina Krahn Read Online Free PDF Page B

particular female unmentionable and the fashions that require it.”
    “And how, pray, does she mean to do this? Petition Parliament? Revive the clerical courts? Accost women in the streets and rip the lacer-uppers from them?”
    “Nothing quite so public, Your Honor … yet,” Townshend put in, rising. “She intends to convince women to abandon their ‘smalls and propers’—along with their good sense—by enticing them to wear ‘reformed garments.’ ”
    “Reformed garments? As opposed to what?” Sir William’s mouth twitched at the corner. “Incorrigible garments?”
    “As opposed to
regular
clothing, Your Honor. Time-honored and traditional garments. Decent and commonly accepted raiment. There is a small but vocal group of malcontents in our society agitating for reform in clothing. Lunatic fringe, mostly. They would have us all dress in peasant shirts and wooden shoes—”
    “Pssst!”
An audible hiss came from across the way, and when Cole looked up he found a woman in black bending over the railing, trying to get the attention of the plaintiff’s counsel. “Sir Richard!” she whispered loudly. “Say something!” When he didn’t respond, she tried again.
“Pssst!”
    Sir William heard her and looked toward her and the old man. “Dickie! Dickie Pendergast!” he thundered. The old man started and jerked his head up from his chest. “I believe your client wishes you to wake up and attend the proceedings.” He pointed to the gallery, and the old man turned to see the woman making furious hand motions.
    The aged barrister turned back and raised a gnarled finger into the air.
    “I object!”
    “Do you indeed?” Sir William said dryly. “On what grounds?”
    Old Sir Richard rose unsteadily and scratched beneath his wig. With a scowl of confusion, he again consulted the woman at the railing.
    Miss Duncan, no doubt. Cole shook his head. Whatever the woman’s case, with such representation her cause is hopeless.
    The unlucky Miss Duncan whispered something the old boy was apparently at a loss to hear. Exasperated, she finally said loudly: “Tell him you wish to call a witness!”
    The plaintiff’s counsel teetered forward to face the bench and raised that arthritic finger once again. “I wish to call a witness.”
    “Outrageous, Your Honor!” Farnsworth stalked forward. “We have not yet concluded our opening arguments, much less entered into eviden—”
    “Stuff the outrage, Fartsworth. I’ve heard all I need from you for now.” Sir William glowered, then turned pointedly to the other side of the court, leaving Farnsworth with his chin on his chest, gasping like a beached whale.
    “Proceed, Dickie.”
    The old barrister teetered around to face the gallery, where the woman was growing steadily more frustrated by her failure to communicate. She finally demanded aloud: “Call
me
to give testimony!”
    Sir Richard’s head bobbed. He turned to Sir William and steadied himself on the table. “Your Honor, I wish to call Miss Madeline Duncan to give testimony.”
    Without waiting for the bailiff to summon her, the woman hurried down the side stairs, her long black cloak billowing around her. Cole watched in bemusement as she took the stand by her barrister and began to speak without being sworn in.
    He winced.
Hopeless
.
    Sir William halted her with a raised hand and ordered the oath administered. She had old Dickie object on the basis that her solicitors had spoken in court without being sworn in. Sir William glowered, then had the lot of them sworn in by his beleaguered bailiff. As soon as the others were seated she began to speak, but was again stopped by an objection from Farnsworth, who was mightily affronted by her addressing the court from the floor, a privilege afforded only to members of the legal profession. He was instantly overruled.
    “Your Honor, I simply cannot allow these charges to go unanswered,” Miss Duncan said in a clear, steady voice that had nothing of the