|His Honour Lord Augustus Julius Burnbridge (finaljudgement) wrote in toujoursliberer,|
@ 2008-08-31 20:17:00
|Entry tags:||augustus_burnbridge, georgina_rochester, plot|
At The Old Bailey
Subject: A Luncheon Recess
Who: His Honour Judge Augustus Burnbridge, KC
Where: The Old Bailey
Warnings: None as yet
Open to: Georgina Rochester, and any others who may like to jump in.
THE TRIALS AT LARGE OF THE CAPITAL and other CONVICTS, ON THE KING'S Commission of the Peace, Oyer and Burnbridge, and Gaol Delivery for the CITY of LONDON; AND ALSO The Gaol Delivery for the County of Middlesex, HELD AT JUSTICE HALL in the OLD BAILEY, On Monday, the 2nd of SEPTEMBER, 1792, and the following Days...
Burnbridge read silently, before letting the sheets of paper fall back to his desk, bringing his hands to his face to rub his tired eyes. He had been at the Bailey since nine 'o'clock that morning hearing trials, delivering sentences, and probably not leave until past eight 'o'clock that night. He hardly had time for Fabian, never mind Georgina or any of his other acquaintances, but at least today he could make time.
The notes could wait. He would hear them all read this afternoon anyway, and so there was no need for him to read them ahead of time. They would not tell him anything he did not know already about the case, what he had heard and what he had already heard from the papers. The trial was set to last several days, if not a week or more, with a representative of the King's Court set to oversee proceedings at every turn. Theft of the Mail was a serious, treasonable crime, especially with the threat from across the channel predicted to spread. Any crime against the King was serious, and would be dealt like as such. Carefully, of course. Appearing to simply sentence those accused would be like putting a match to kindling; it had to be seen that the due processes of the law were observed. Justice always prevailed, although he hoped it would not be mob justice.
He looked to the clock on the mantle piece, at the hands almost signalling one 'o'clock, and Georgina would soon be arriving. He had promised her luncheon, not at one of the fashionable cafés or coffee houses which had sprung up all over the city, but at the Bailey itself, in a dining room there he had secured for them. A conversation away from wagging tongues and peering eyes and gossip-mongers would be best; neither he nor Georgina had any desire to feature in the ever popular Littlebird column, not with Fabian's health and Katherine's marriage prospects to think about.
With that thought fresh in his mind, he tidied his appearance, neatened his cravat and his jacket, and left his offices to head to the foyer, nodding his head to one of the well-dressed attendants, who assured him the dining room was ready for his guest. Hopefully his day-dreaming would not have made him late, and Georgina would not already be waiting on the steps outside...