A Scandal By Any Other Name

The grand chamber of the House of Lords was filled with rows of wooden benches, where the most powerful men in England sat.

The benches were completely full today.

Dukes, marquesses, earls, viscounts and barons sat shoulder to shoulder. The air in the massive room was incredibly heavy. No one was smiling. No one was whispering casual gossip. They were gathered for the most serious matter a nobleman could face: a trial of their own peers.

Sitting in the front row, his posture perfectly straight, was Rowan, the Duke of Ford. Beside him sat Carcel, the Duke of Carleton. They wore dark, formal morning coats. Rowan’s eyes were fixed coldly on the center of the room. He had laid everything down, and now he was watching it unfold.

At the very front of the room sat the High Chancellor. He wore a long black robe and a curled white wig, the traditional dress of the highest judge in the land. He held a wooden gavel in his hand.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The High Chancellor struck his gavel against the wooden block. The sharp sound echoed loudly through the quiet room.

"Bring in the first accused," the High Chancellor commanded. His voice was deep, stern, and carried to every corner of the grand hall.

Two large Crown Guards opened a side door. They walked into the center of the room, leading a man between them.

It was Cole Kingsley.

Cole was standing, his hands held tightly together in front of him. He looked completely ragged. The wealthy, arrogant man who had ruled the Kingsley estate was gone. His dark brown coat was wrinkled and dirty from his night in the cold prison cell. His gray hair, usually combed perfectly, was messy and falling into his eyes. His face was pale, and he was shaking.

He looked around the room, seeing the cold, unfeeling faces of the powerful lords. He swallowed hard, his throat completely dry.

"Cole Kingsley," the High Chancellor spoke, looking down at the ragged man. "You stand before the House of Lords today accused of the most terrible crimes. You are accused of stealing a noble title. You are accused of stealing the wealth of a true Baron. And, most darkly, you are accused of the planned murder of your own brother, Baron Arthur Kingsley, and his innocent wife."

Cole’s knees knocked together. He opened his mouth, trying to speak.

"I... I am innocent, My Lord," Cole stammered. His voice was weak and pathetic. "It was a tragic carriage accident. The roads were muddy. It was raining. It was an accident!"

The High Chancellor did not look moved. He did not show a single ounce of pity.

"We shall see," the High Chancellor replied coldly. He looked toward a wooden door at the side of the room. "Bring in the witness."

The side door opened again. A single guard walked in, leading an older man. The man was dressed in plain, worn clothes. He held a simple cloth cap in his hands, twisting it nervously. He had a gray beard and sad, tired eyes.

Cole’s eyes widened in absolute shock. He stopped breathing.

It was the coachman. It was the man who had sabotaged Arthur Kingsley’s carriage on that terrible, rainy night twenty years ago. Cole had paid him to disappear forever.

The coachman walked to the wooden witness stand. He looked at the High Chancellor, and then he looked down at his own worn boots. He did not dare to look at Cole.

"State your name for the record," the High Chancellor ordered.

"Philip Cobb, Your Lordship," the coachman replied, his voice shaking.

"Mr. Cobb," the Chancellor said, leaning forward slightly. "You were the coachman who readied the carriage for Baron Arthur Kingsley and his family on the night of his death. Tell this House exactly what happened."

The coachman took a deep, shaky breath. He twisted his cloth cap tighter.

"It was no accident, Your Lordship," the coachman began, a single tear escaping his eye. "I... I sabotaged the carriage. I did it on purpose."

A loud, collective gasp echoed through the House of Lords. The noblemen leaned forward, their faces filled with shock and deep disgust.

Cole shook his head wildly. "Lies! He is a common liar! He wants my money!"

"Silence the accused!" the Chancellor shouted, hitting his gavel. He pointed a stern finger at Cole. "If you speak out of turn again, you will be gagged. Continue, Mr. Cobb."

The coachman wiped his eye with the back of his hand.

"A few days before the incident, that man came to me," the coachman said, finally pointing a shaking finger directly at Cole Kingsley. "He offered me a small bag of gold coins. He told me that his brother was going to ruin the family name by committing treason against the Crown. He said the Baron had to die for the good of the Kingsley name."

The room was completely silent. Every lord listened to the dark, ugly truth.

"He told me to take a knife to the harness of the carriage," the coachman confessed, his voice dropping into a shameful whisper. "He told me to cut it just enough so it would look whole, but it would snap under the weight of the carriage on a rough road. I did it. I cut the leather. And when the carriage hit the muddy path near the river, the harness broke completely."

The coachman began to sob quietly.

"The carriage rolled over," he wept. "The Baron and his family were trapped inside. The driver even died. When I heard what happened, I ran away. I have lived with that terrible guilt every single day for twenty years."

Cole could not stand it anymore. The absolute truth was destroying his entire life in front of his eyes.

"You fool!" Cole screamed at the coachman, losing his mind. "I gave you enough gold to leave the country. Even more than what Hawksley gave me! Why did you come back? Why did you betray me so?"

The moment the angry words left Cole’s mouth, he froze.

He realized exactly what he had just done. In his wild, desperate anger, he had just confessed to paying the man. He had confessed to the crime in front of the entire House of Lords.

The High Chancellor slowly sat back in his large, carved chair. He looked at Cole with an expression of pure, icy disgust.

"You have condemned yourself, Cole Kingsley," the High Chancellor stated. His voice was heavy with finality.

Cole fell to his knees on the hard stone floor. He raised his bound hands, tears streaming down his ragged face.

"Please!" Cole begged, looking wildly around the room. He looked at the faces of the lords he had played cards with. He looked at the men he had dined with. "Please, show mercy! I am a gentleman! I am your peer! I only did what I had to do!"

Not a single lord looked at him with pity. They all turned their faces away in complete disgust. He was a murderer who had killed his own blood.

The High Chancellor picked up his wooden gavel. He stood up from his chair.

"Cole Kingsley," the High Chancellor pronounced, his voice ringing like a funeral bell. "You are stripped of your stolen title. You are stripped of all your stolen wealth. For the cowardly and brutal murder of Arthur Kingsley and his wife, this House finds you guilty."

The Chancellor paused, ensuring the entire room heard the final sentence.

"You are sentenced to be taken from this place to the royal prison," the Chancellor declared. "And there, you shall be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May God have mercy on your dark soul."

He paused. " And as for Mr Cobbs," he continued. " Though was a key witness but still an accomplice to the crime will still serve his punishment. He would be spared the noose and is to be exiled to a penal colony in for seven years."

Bang!

The gavel struck the wood.

Cole let out a loud, miserable wail. "No! No! I cannot hang! Please!"

The two Crown Guards stepped forward. They grabbed Cole roughly by his arms and dragged him up from the floor. He kicked his feet and cried like a frightened child as they pulled him out of the grand chamber. The door closed behind him, cutting off his pathetic screams.

Rowan sat quietly in his seat. He did not smile, but a deep, profound sense of peace settled in his chest. Delaney’s parents had finally received justice. The first monster was gone. He wished she could be here to see it.

The High Chancellor sat back down. He took a sip of water from a silver cup. He looked at a long list of papers on his desk.

"The House will now hear the next case," the High Chancellor announced. "Bring in the Earl. Earl Farrington."