Mrs. Kettle smiled: "Already sent for. He lives in Dover and has a fondness for payment."
The hearing arrived with rain, mud, and fourteen umbrellas dripping in the entrance hall. The magistrate, Sir Lionel Briggs, was a square man with tired eyes and the patient misery of someone who had heard too many family disputes disguised as concern. He brought a clerk, two witnesses, and a cough.
Lady Portia wore dove-gray silk and sadness like jewelry; Lord Edmund wore navy and impatience; Dr. Mowbray wore confidence; Sebastian wore black and said nothing. I stood near the sideboard with Mrs. Kettle, ostensibly present to serve tea. My hands were calm; my stomach was not.
Sir Lionel addressed Sebastian directly, which I liked him for: "Your Grace, this inquiry concerns your capacity to manage your estate. Do you understand?"
Sebastian looked at him, then at the slate. He wrote one word: Yes.
Dr. Mowbray sighed gently. "You see the limitation, Sir Lionel. Written responses only, and even those are sparse."
Lady Portia dabbed her eye; no tear appeared. I admired the confidence.
Lord Edmund spoke with practiced sorrow: "My cousin has declined sharply. He cannot follow ordinary conversation. He does not react to danger, insult, music—even affection. He sits for hours. We fear servants may influence him without his understanding."
Sir Lionel looked toward Sebastian. "Is that so, Your Grace?"
Sebastian wrote: No.
Lord Edmund spread his hands. "This is precisely the difficulty: he denies what he cannot grasp."
My grip tightened on the teapot. Mrs. Kettle murmured without moving her face: "Do not baptize him in Earl Grey."
Dr. Mowbray presented his certificate: "The Duke's deafness is profound. More troubling is his emotional blankness and failure to respond. I recommend temporary guardianship under Lady Portia and Lord Edmund Vale."
Sir Lionel read the paper. "You examined him only twice."
Dr. Mowbray answered, "His condition was obvious."
Sebastian did not move.
Lady Portia leaned forward: "Sir Lionel, we love him. Ravensmere suffers while he remains trapped in silence."
Sebastian's fingers moved once against the arm of his chair. I knew the sign: Liar. I bit the inside of my cheek.
Sir Lionel asked, "Does anyone oppose the certificate?"
Mrs. Kettle stepped forward: "I do."
The room turned. Lord Edmund laughed: "The housekeeper?"
Mrs. Kettle looked at him. "Yes, my lord. The person who knows where everything is kept."
"A perilous opponent." Sir Lionel's mouth twitched. "State your concern."
Mrs. Kettle placed the old ledger on the table. "These accounts show irregular purchases before the glasshouse explosion six years ago. They include ignition powder and altered gas valves authorized by Lord Edmund."
Lord Edmund shot to his feet. "Absurd!"
Lady Portia went pale; Dr. Mowbray closed his bag.