Betina Krahn (45 page)

 … until the doors at the rear of the courtroom banged open and a crowd of people came pouring down the center aisle. Everyone at both counsel tables turned; Sir Henry frantically pounded for attention and ordered his bailiffs to remove them. The interlopers put up a hue and cry, demanding to be heard, and put up something of a scuffle as well.

Madeline sat stunned and speechless as Roscoe and Algy wrestled two burly bailiffs to a standstill while begging Sir Henry for “a hearin’.”

Suddenly Cole was on his feet and before the bench, identifying the motley group as workers from the Ideal Garment Company and asking Sir Henry for a moment to confer with them. Rubbing his face, looking to be at wit’s end, Sir Henry permitted it.

“Since their treatment and welfare has been made a central issue of this suit, I submit that they should be heard,” Cole said moments later. “They have traveled a long way to see justice done.”

Madeline stared at them, her eyes stinging as they smiled and waved and whispered eager greetings to her. It was clear they had not come to complain. She had never seen anything quite so beautiful as the determination shining in their faces.

There were Tattersall and Emily, Daniel and Priscilla Steadman, Ben and Alva Murtry, Maple and Charlotte Thoroughgood … and, of course, all four Ketchum offspring. Endicott was languishing near the back, and Fritz was bringing up the rear. But in front, asking permission to speak, were Roscoe and Algy. And while Roscoe spoke for the group, Algy waved at Madeline and gave her a gap-toothed grin that tugged at her heart and caused it to overflow.

“Yer Worship …” Roscoe bowed from the waist and Algy awkwardly followed suit. “We’re Miz Duncan’s workers. We come because we heard they been sayin’ things what ain’t true in here. We been there at th’ factr’y from the first. We know the truth and we want t’ set things right.”

Sir Henry closed his eyes, struggling for self-control or wisdom, or both. He dragged his hands down his face and sighed. “Very well. Proceed, counsel.”

“I object,” Farnsworth declared. “Your Honor, we have not finished our case.”

Sir Henry glowered at him. “Unless I’ve lost all touch with reality, Sir Harvey, these people
are
your case. And I for one intend to hear what they have to say.”

After some pushing and coaxing at the back of the court—a sort of democracy in the rough—Roscoe Turner
was elected to take the stand first and explain how they came to be there. He stood, hat in hands, looking a bit dwarfed by the machinery of the law, but little daunted by it.

“Don’t be nervous, Mr Turner,” Cole said. “Just tell the court in your own words, how you came to be here.”

“Me an’ Alg—that’s Alger-non Bates, Yer Worship”—he addressed the justice and pointed to the grinning Algy at the back—“we seen old Rupert Fitch on th’ street a day or two ago, not far from here. We had us a right cozy little chat—on account of he worked wi’ us out in St. Crispin. He told us about Miz Duncan’s troubles and we decided somethin’ had to be done. It weren’t fair that somebody as goodhearted as Miz Duncan has so much trouble. So … we shanked it straight out to old St. Crispie to tell th’ others. But … honest Miz Duncan … we never meant t’blow out yer windows like that.

“We helped clean up th’ glass. Them Ketchums and their pa, they carried out all the wreckage and boarded up the holes. And then we hauled off some parts o’ that old rock and buried the rest.” He grinned and looked at Madeline. “Old Cussed won’t bake yer roots, now, miz. Everythin’s nice an’ level now. Ready for plantin’ yer garden.”

Tattersall took the stand next, carrying his precious ledgers under his arm. He detailed the sort of accounting that he had employed in setting up Ideal’s books, and related the incident involving the mix-up over the cloth.

“It turned out to be a wonderful mischance,” he said. “We had a great deal of dark blue jersey on our hands and a lot of children who were calling each other names … partly because they were dressed so differently. Miss Duncan designed them some ‘reformed’ clothes and our designer, Jessup Endicott, made up some patterns. The women loved working on the children’s clothes … showed quite a bit of initiative in making them up.

“Then some were included by mistake when samples were sent to Liberty. The store clerks put them on display and they’ve created a good bit of excitement. Mothers seem
to love them.” He looked at Madeline, grinning, and raised an envelope. “Apparently two wrongs
can
make a right. We have our first official order … for dozens and dozens of children’s garments.”

“Let me see that,” Sir Henry said, holding out his hand. The letter was duly passed to the clerk, then to the justice, who read it with some interest. When Farnsworth cross-examined, there was little to do but demand the books. Tattersall turned them over, beaming a smile at his former employers.

Daniel Steadman testified next, relating the story of Madeline’s meeting to introduce Ideal’s workers to their product. “…  all a bit skeptical at first. She could see that, but she wanted us to understand. So she did a lesson for us. Brought in a balance scale and put old style women’s clothes on one side … and reform clothes on the other. When we saw how much less buying and washing and ironing and wearing—well, it seemed to make sense. To most of us, anyway.”

“There were those who didn’t like the clothes?” Cole asked.

Daniel shifted uncomfortably. “There was some that didn’t like the idea … like that Thomas Clark and his wife, Bess. All they did was complain … about everything. The cottage Miss Duncan gave ’em was too drafty, they said. The stove was too small, the bed was too hard, and the ham she gave them was too salty. Hardly ever struck a tap of work. They were the first to pack up and go, after Miss Duncan left.” He reddened a bit as he looked at Madeline. “Odd thing, about that … after them and a couple of others left, the rest of us—we started feeling better. We got together and talked and realized what his lordship said was right. We never had it so good. Miss Duncan was nothing but good to us. We all wanted to stay and make a go of it. So we got busy and cleaned it up and started to fix things.” He turned to Madeline. “You’d be right proud if you could see it, miss.”

Madeline was “right proud” right here, right now. As she watched her workers coming forward, braving the imposing
majesty of the royal courts and speaking before a packed courtroom, both her heart and her eyes began to fill. They did care. They did understand what she had tried to do for them. And now that she needed help, they wanted to do something for her in return. They had made her dream theirs … and were willing to defend it. She looked up to find Cole looking at her with emotion working in his face. It was all she could do to hold the tears back.

Emily Farrow was next. She had brought with her a stack of letters … responses to the sample garments Madeline had sent to a number of leading women. Several had pledged her their support and written to endorse and encourage her efforts.

“And I just want to say that … I don’t know what I would have done if Miss Duncan hadn’t offered me a post with her. I was a widow with two small boys and no income. She didn’t give me charity, she gave me a chance to learn and work and do for myself She’s done that for each of her employees … training us, teaching us, tolerating our mistakes, even when they’re big ones.” She looked at Madeline. “Thank you Miss Duncan.”

She slipped down from the witness box and Priscilla Steadman testified next.

“I was skeptical, like the rest, about the women’s … unmentionables. When Miss Duncan gave them to us to try, none of us did, at first. Then, just before she left … I broke a bone in my stays and I didn’t have another. So I put on the Ideal garments. And you know …” she brightened with artless surprise, “they worked!”

Laughter broke out in the courtroom and she flushed crimson.

“Well … I wear them all the time now … and they’re really comfortable and easy to care for …” She caught Alva Murtry’s eye and nodded. Alva hurried forward with a large box in her arms. When she got to the front, she climbed the steps to the dais to thrust a bust bodice and a pair of flounced knickers into Sir Henry’s hands.

“Here ye are, Yer Worship. ’At’s what we make. Part of it anyway,” she said.

Sir Henry stammered and flushed and behaved as if he didn’t know whether to examine them or drop them as if they were a contagion. The courtroom sat in shocked silence for a moment, then erupted in noise when Alva invaded the ranks of the opposition counsel and the gallery itself … handing out bodices and knickers to everyone in sight!

“Your Honor!”—Farnsworth was on his feet in a flash—“This is an outrage!”

“Stop it! Stop it at once! Order—order!” Sir Henry pounded his gavel ferociously, and ordered the bailiffs to intervene. But he had to threaten to clear the court before the gallery settled down. He rubbed his now-blotchy face, wondering where he lost control of the proceedings, and what grudge Sir Gerald Penobscott-Holmes bore him, in assigning him this case. He called Cole and Farnsworth before the bench and demanded that they maintain order and decorum amongst their witnesses, or face contempt charges.

Then Maple Thoroughgood took the stand to speak to issues of worker satisfaction and the quality of the garments. But when she produced a pair of knickers to demonstrate a point, Sir Henry looked as if he were choking and dismissed her before she finished.

“I shall have no more ladies’ undergarments flung, fondled, or flashed about in my courtroom!” he snapped, punctuating his order with a blistering smack of his gavel. And from the back of the gallery came a low, sympathetic rumble of a laugh. Everyone turned to find Sir William standing in the gallery door holding his sides.

Priscilla whispered to Cole and he frowned and whispered back. Looking a bit uneasy, he requested to approach the bench. “A demonstration?” Sir Henry said.
“Not another one.”

“Not that sort of demonstration,” Cole assured him. “There are some other products the court really must see to
understand.…” Taking Sir Henry’s indecision for permission, he turned and nodded to Priscilla Steadman, who opened the rear doors and led in a row of children.

“What on earth—Mandeville!” Sir Henry glowered and raised his gavel, but was somehow unable to lower it. His gaze and indeed the attention of the entire room were focused on the nine children holding hands and being led before the bench. They ranged in age from four to twelve … all with shining, freshly washed faces and neatly combed hair … and all wearing garments made of fine dark blue wool jersey.

Some of the children looked a bit uncertain, some were smiling broadly … all the picture of health and well-being.

“These are our children, yer lordship,” Priscilla said. “We brought them so you could see what we make … so you could see how good Ideal clothes work for children.”

“Can I now, Ma?” a boy of about seven pulled at her skirt. She gave him an affectionate nod. “Watch this—look what I can do in my clothes!” He proceeded to upend himself and walk on his hands for several steps. Cole plucked him off the floor and turned him right-side up again, fearing that if it continued, they would soon have a full scale outbreak of gymnastics on their hands. Then, holding the boy in his arms, Cole stepped into the midst of the children and drew the eyes of the entire courtroom.

“This is Madeline Duncan’s dream, Your Honor. Children free to play and move and grow … families whole and working and building something together.” Spectators and participants alike quieted and strained forward to catch his every word.

“Madeline Duncan is one of those unique people the world produces on its rarest and finest days. She is a dreamer … a woman with vision … a person who looks at things beyond and around and above them … one who sees possibilities not deficits. She embodies the creative spirit inherent in all humankind. For her the drive to create and build is as necessary as eating and breathing are to the rest of us.”

He turned to look at Madeline, whose face was wet and whose fullness of heart was visible in her eyes. He had never wanted anything in his life more than he did Madeline Duncan.

“Dreamers, even grand and visionary thinkers, are not especially rare. What makes Madeline so exceptional is that she is both a dreamer and a
doer
. She harnesses her creativity and yokes it to her boundless energy. She does what many dreamers never even attempt … she works to make her dreams come true. And in the process, she livens and brightens and betters the world for everyone around her.

“The vaunted reformers of this world descended on Madeline Duncan in the midst of the hardest work of her life … trying to create a factory, trying to revive a dead village. They came with their prejudices and their grand ideas … but without the slightest inkling of what a dream in action looks like. They found older facilities, and a few malcontents and a lot of work yet to be done, and—shortsighted—they quit looking. They didn’t bother to look for the dream taking shape inside the grit and dirt and sweat.” He smiled. “How many of the so-called experts who have testified these last two days would have seen Michelangelo at work and sniffed that he was just a dirty little Italian stonemason?”

He sat the boy down on the counsel table and went to stand by Madeline.

“The world needs to find and treasure and cultivate minds and hearts like hers … whether they come in the shape of men or women, young or old, rich or poor. Your Honor, we ask for a direct and favorable ruling against the defendants … to enable Miss Duncan and the workers of Ideal to get on with their dream.”

Sir Henry considered that, then said, “I believe I have heard quite enough. I am ready to make my ruling.”

“D-do something, Farnsworth!” Gilbert was fuming in the gallery.

“B-but, Your Honor!” Farnsworth blustered, fearing a repeat of the last ruling.

It wasn’t a repeat. It was worse.

“I hereby direct that the entirety of Miss Duncan’s fortune be turned over to her own keeping … with the stipulation that she continue to consult with and seek the advice of Lord Cole Mandeville for the foreseeable future.” He banged his gavel sealing it, and in the stunned silence, began collecting his papers. Then he looked up to see Madeline rising, sliding into Cole’s arms. “And Lord Mandeville …”