There remained the question of the protesters, who were now alternating their attention between Government House and the jail. If Billy were to be driven up King Street or any other thoroughfare tomorrow, was there not the risk of a rescue attempt or some unseemly demonstration? To avoid this, Marc suggested that Billy be smuggled out of the rear doors of the Court House after being brought there through the connecting tunnel, and put in disguise for the trip to Chepstow. Robert offered his third-best wool coat, an unfashionable top hat, and a pair of his brother-in-law’s suede boots. Calfskin gloves and a silk scarf would complete the ensemble. Meanwhile, Magistrate Thorpe himself would go up to Chepstow to apprise Colonel Stanhope of these arrangements, with no mention of the Sunday-morning prisoner transfer.
Stanhope was furious enough at the notion of another visit by McNair. He had apparently been told of Coltrane’s desire to meet Billy on the morrow and had not objected because he assumed Sir George would put the kibosh on it. But when Thorpe explained patiently that Sir George now wished the visit to take place “in the best interests of the province,” the colonel had no choice but to agree. But he did not do so gracefully. Instead, he fired off a note to Sir George in which he asserted that he would take no personal responsibility for anything that might happen as a result of “this unwarranted interference in my sworn duty to protect the prisoner and deliver him holus-bolus to the court.” The consequences, he declaimed, would be on the governor’s head.
Next morning, Beth and Marc rode in their cutter to Smallman’s, just two blocks above Baldwin House. The weather remained clear and cold. To Marc’s annoyance, Beth insisted that she drive (“I’m pullin’ on the reins, not the baby!”) while he gave an account (slightly censored) of the day’s hopes for Billy McNair. Just as they reached Yonge and swung south to enter the service lane behind the shops on King Street, Beth remarked, “That’s a coincidence, then.”
“In what way?”
“Almeda Stanhope and her daughter Patricia came into the shop Monday afternoon and again yesterday.”
“To have a dress refitted, I presume.”
“Now how did you know about that?”
Marc laughed, pleased to have their daily disagreement about Beth’s working forgotten for the moment. “I heard the two women discussing it at Chepstow yesterday.”
“I don’t think they get on all that well.”
“That was my impression. The daughter didn’t want to wear Momma’s hand-me-down.”
Beth whistled, either at Marc’s comment or at Dobbin, who had decided not to stop outside the rear entrance to Smallman’s. “Some hand-me-down! They brought in a fifty-dollar gown that Almeda wore to Lord Durham’s gala last June.”
“I think their disagreement was more likely about Miss Stanhope not wishing to be trotted out as a trophy in her papa’s collection.”
Beth smiled, then-to Marc’s horror-hopped to the ground. She gave the bulge in her coat a proprietorial pat, waved good-bye, and skipped up the steps to her place of business.
Marc spent the morning at Baldwin and Sullivan, trying to be useful in order to keep his mind off what was to come. He realized that he had been adamant in his assurance to all concerned that Billy McNair would behave and carry out every one of the necessary commitments. He did know Billy, had watched as he and Mel Curry worked at Smallman’s, had admired his respectful courting of Dolly Putnam, and had been impressed with his efforts during the training period with the colonel’s regiment last summer. However, combat and its inevitable calamities could, and usually did, change a man.
Just before noon, Dr. Baldwin came into chambers to inform them that the chief justice had agreed to let Doubtful Dick Dougherty serve as Coltrane’s counsel. Smiling broadly, he waved an official-looking paper at them. It was a letter from Justice Robinson authorizing Dougherty to practise as a barrister in Upper Canada on a temporary license until such time as the benchers of the Law Society could convene to review his application and grant him permanent status. Dr. Baldwin then went off to deliver the license and the good news in person.
“Do you think Dick will invite him to lunch?” Robert grinned at the thought.
Billy, of course, had been informed of their success with the magistrate and the governor on the previous evening, along with the gist of Marc’s encounter with Coltrane. He seemed, Robert told Marc, genuinely contrite and eager to resolve the situation as soon as possible. When the jailer brought him through to the police quarters at twelve-thirty to meet his escort, Marc quickly learned why: Dolly had visited late Wednesday afternoon. Jailer Strangway, who sympathized with the marchers out front, had been extremely indulgent and the lovers’ tryst had lasted more than an hour. During those intimate minutes, the couple had not only reconciled but had agreed to a date for their wedding.
“May the first, sir,” Billy said to Marc and the walls behind him. “She doesn’t know about this meetin’, of course, but she said she’d marry me even if she had to drag the preacher into prison!”
“That’s wonderful news,” Marc said, helping Strangway remove the shackles. “But the most important thing you can do for both of you is to make a positive impression on Caleb Coltrane. He was truly affected by the revelation that you put the tourniquet on his arm and saved his life.”
“And I can tell him every detail that’s on that kerchief. I spent many a lonely night down there in Essex with it in my hands.” He blushed in saying this, but Marc, who well knew the pangs and abashments of romantic love, recognized the emotions here as genuine and heartfelt and was encouraged. Billy would cooperate, even humble himself, despite the anger he must still harbour against Coltrane, because he now had a reason: Dolly and a shared future. Like Marc’s friend Rick Hilliard, Mel would become a gradually receding tableau of fixed memories, painful and pleasant in equal measure.
“What are those?” Billy asked, pointing to the clothes Robert had brought along.
“Your disguise,” Marc explained, offering the topcoat.
It was decided that Marc and Billy would ride together in one sleigh, as two gentlemen out for an airing, to be followed by another within hailing distance, carrying Chief Sturges and Constable Cobb. Marc’s view was that the less conspicuous the entourage, the better. (Sir George had wanted a regimental escort.) The “gentlemen” slipped out the rear door of the Court House, climbed aboard, and made their way to Newgate Street, which they followed westward towards Brock Street at the edge of town. However, near John Street, Billy begged Marc to let him stop at his house for one minute to reassure his mother, whom Dolly had reported as sick with worry. Marc could see no reason not to. He waited in the front room of the cottage while Billy talked quietly to his mother in the kitchen. Billy then went into the bedroom briefly, “to fetch a rabbit’s foot Mel gave me in grade three.” Chief Sturges was visibly relieved to see Marc and Billy emerge intact a minute later. The rest of the journey to Chepstow was uneventful.
Colonel Stanhope was not on hand to prescreen the visitors. It was a maid who answered the bell, looking decidedly nervous.
“Please, wait here, sir, while I fetch Mr. Shad,” she said, but instead of going down the hall to the butler’s room, she went to the head of the stairs and called down, “They’re here, Mr. Shad!”
Moments later, Absalom Shad came padding up from the anteroom below. “Ah, right on time, gentlemen,” he said without making eye contact. Then, as if out of long habit, he reached for their hats and coats and moved to arrange them on the hall tree. “I’ll follow you down,” he said.
As Marc and Billy started down the stairs, Cobb and Sturges came in and were likewise relieved of their coats. Cobb was stationed at the top of the stairwell, while the chief thought he ought to make contact with Stanhope and utter helpful noises of reassurance.