sigh was in reality a prayer for a favorable verdict. Without one, she might well find herself in the poor-house before long. In the last three months she had spent herself into something of a financial fix.
Anticipating the release of her money, she had begun work on the factory in St. Crispin, recruiting workers and resettling them in the deserted village. There were a thousand details to attend—endless renovations, hiring, purchase of equipment, transportation, permits, agreements with suppliers—and every one of them seemed to require crossing someone’s palm with silver. Soon she had spent both her first year’s income and the wardrobe money her solicitors had provided, hoping to pacify her. When they learned she had gone ahead with her plans despite their disapproval, they stopped releasing the funds they held in trust, and she had been forced to use her last personal funds—a small legacy from her deceased parents.
Now her financial resources were depleted. Work on her factory had come to a dismal halt, and things would stay halted and dismal unless she prevailed in this proceeding. She caught a glimpse of scarlet at the door and her heart began to pound; Sir William was thudding back into the courtroom. Rising with the rest of the court, she tried in vain to read some sign of her fate in the old man’s countenance as he maneuvered into the great chair behind the bench.
“Beauty,” Sir William declared after a lengthy pause, dropping each word as if it were a pearl, “is said to reside in the eye of the beholder. The same might also be said of pomposity, vulgarity, absurdity … decency, generosity, and idealism. All are judgments that depend upon the viewer’s values and standards. No doubt, at each of the great advancements of mankind there were people present who labeled the proceedingsreckless, ridiculous, or even profane. And yet, miraculously, there have always been those courageous few who were willing to risk much to give something beyond the ordinary to their fellow humans. We have them to thank for our continued progress as a species.”
He leaned forward on the bench to stare at Madeline, and she tried not to flinch under his piercing examination. “I have no way of knowing whether Madeline Duncan is a great visionary, a garden-variety prodigal with a novel approach to wasting a fortune, or a most peculiar species of lunatic.” He turned to glare at the defendants. “But I do know that idealism—however naive or out of fashion—is most assuredly
not
the same as incompetence or irresponsibility.”
Ecklesbery, Townshend, and Dunwoody cast looks of alarm at barrister Farnsworth as, before their eyes, Sir William’s fleshy face transformed into a mask of judicial hauteur.
“It is the judgment of this court that Miss Olivia Duncan was perfectly clear with regard to her final wishes. There is no need for protracted examination, interpretation, or elaboration of the documents. The funds and properties belong fully and irrevocably to Madeline Duncan. However, mindful of the responsibilities of Ecklesbery, Townshend, and Dumwoody as trustees, it is the ruling of this court that Messrs. Ecklesbery, Townshend, and et ceteras release up to one quarter of the estate for Miss Duncan’s use.”
Stunned silence greeted his decree. Savoring the drama of the moment, he turned to Madeline with a smile. “I’ve a mind to see Miss Duncan’s ‘reformed garments.’ God knows, there must be
something
better to garb the human form than torturous lacer-uppers and strangulating collars.” He gave his own neckpiece a restive tug. “I am giving her the chance to construct both her clothing and her factory.…”
Madeline gasped and reached for Sir Richard’s hands, squeezing them. The first flush of jubilation at having won the right to the money was so heady that it took her a moment to realize there was a codicil to Sir William’s approval.
“… under reasonable and prudent constraint,” he
Anticipating the release of her money, she had begun work on the factory in St. Crispin, recruiting workers and resettling them in the deserted village. There were a thousand details to attend—endless renovations, hiring, purchase of equipment, transportation, permits, agreements with suppliers—and every one of them seemed to require crossing someone’s palm with silver. Soon she had spent both her first year’s income and the wardrobe money her solicitors had provided, hoping to pacify her. When they learned she had gone ahead with her plans despite their disapproval, they stopped releasing the funds they held in trust, and she had been forced to use her last personal funds—a small legacy from her deceased parents.
Now her financial resources were depleted. Work on her factory had come to a dismal halt, and things would stay halted and dismal unless she prevailed in this proceeding. She caught a glimpse of scarlet at the door and her heart began to pound; Sir William was thudding back into the courtroom. Rising with the rest of the court, she tried in vain to read some sign of her fate in the old man’s countenance as he maneuvered into the great chair behind the bench.
“Beauty,” Sir William declared after a lengthy pause, dropping each word as if it were a pearl, “is said to reside in the eye of the beholder. The same might also be said of pomposity, vulgarity, absurdity … decency, generosity, and idealism. All are judgments that depend upon the viewer’s values and standards. No doubt, at each of the great advancements of mankind there were people present who labeled the proceedingsreckless, ridiculous, or even profane. And yet, miraculously, there have always been those courageous few who were willing to risk much to give something beyond the ordinary to their fellow humans. We have them to thank for our continued progress as a species.”
He leaned forward on the bench to stare at Madeline, and she tried not to flinch under his piercing examination. “I have no way of knowing whether Madeline Duncan is a great visionary, a garden-variety prodigal with a novel approach to wasting a fortune, or a most peculiar species of lunatic.” He turned to glare at the defendants. “But I do know that idealism—however naive or out of fashion—is most assuredly
not
the same as incompetence or irresponsibility.”
Ecklesbery, Townshend, and Dunwoody cast looks of alarm at barrister Farnsworth as, before their eyes, Sir William’s fleshy face transformed into a mask of judicial hauteur.
“It is the judgment of this court that Miss Olivia Duncan was perfectly clear with regard to her final wishes. There is no need for protracted examination, interpretation, or elaboration of the documents. The funds and properties belong fully and irrevocably to Madeline Duncan. However, mindful of the responsibilities of Ecklesbery, Townshend, and Dumwoody as trustees, it is the ruling of this court that Messrs. Ecklesbery, Townshend, and et ceteras release up to one quarter of the estate for Miss Duncan’s use.”
Stunned silence greeted his decree. Savoring the drama of the moment, he turned to Madeline with a smile. “I’ve a mind to see Miss Duncan’s ‘reformed garments.’ God knows, there must be
something
better to garb the human form than torturous lacer-uppers and strangulating collars.” He gave his own neckpiece a restive tug. “I am giving her the chance to construct both her clothing and her factory.…”
Madeline gasped and reached for Sir Richard’s hands, squeezing them. The first flush of jubilation at having won the right to the money was so heady that it took her a moment to realize there was a codicil to Sir William’s approval.
“… under reasonable and prudent constraint,” he
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