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O n the Monday morning after the soirée, Silas arrived at Barrister Pemberton’s office to find the door locked. That was curious, because Cyril Alderton was usually already there, at his desk with a mug of tea. Fortunately, Silas had his own key, and he opened the door, turned on a lamp, and sat down at his own desk to work.

Robb the errand boy arrived a few minutes later, and in Cyril’s absence Silas sent him out to pick up various papers that Pemberton would need for ongoing cases.

When nine o’clock arrived with no sign of Cyril, Silas was worried. He reviewed Pemberton’s calendar and discovered that the barrister had an early session at court, so there was nothing Silas could do.

After Robb returned with the papers, Silas took it on himself to send the boy to Cyril’s address to see what had delayed him. Pemberton returned to the office at eleven. “Where is everyone?” he asked, as he took off his robe.

“Cyril did not appear this morning, so I sent Robb to his home to fetch him.”

Pemberton turned to face Silas. He was a handsome man in his forties, his bulky frame made even more impressive by the robe and wig. He had to return to court that afternoon so he left his wig in place. “What is on my calendar?”

Silas had already reviewed it, so he reminded Pemberton of his court appearance and then a new client appointment later that day. “Robb fetched these papers for you,” Silas said, as he handed the mover. “Shall I make you a cup of tea?”

“Yes, please,” Pemberton said, and walked into his office.

Silas had just finished preparing the tea when Robb burst into the office, out of breath. “What is it, boy?” Silas asked.

“It’s Mr. Cyril,” Robb said. “His legs began to swell up like a whale on Friday night. Mrs. Cyril called for the doctor Saturday who tried some treatments for the dropsy, but they did not take, and Mr. Cyril passed away last night.”

Pemberton appeared from his doorway. “What is that? Cyril has died?”

Silas handed him the mug of tea. “So it appears, sir.”

“We must look after the family,” Pemberton said. “Figure out Cyril’s last pay and prepare an envelope of cash. You and I shall visit his widow after the close of business today.”

“Yes, sir,” Silas said.

“And in the interim, I want you to assume the duties of chief clerk. You have been doing excellent work, Silas, and I like to reward that in men. We will have to advertise for a junior to assist you.”

He went back into his office, leaving Silas with his jaw open. A promotion to senior clerk? After only two years in the office? It was quite remarkable. He felt terrible that it had come at the cost of Cyril’s life, but at the same time he was honored by Pemberton’s words and eager at the thought of a pay rise.

He did not expect to make as much as Cyril; the man was twenty years older and had a wife and two children. But surely there would be something extra.

He had to banish thoughts of a new cloak or other finery because there was work to be done. A great deal of it, as a matter of fact, because it became clear that Cyril had been ailing for some time and had not kept up with his own work.

There was the calendar to be reviewed and outstanding invoices to be prepared. Normally Cyril would sit in on the first meeting with a new client and later advise Pemberton on how much work would be involved in the case, with a view toward the proper fee to be charged.

Silas plowed through the calendar, noting places where Pemberton was free and new clients could be scheduled. Pemberton left to return to court as Silas worked.

Then he began preparing invoices, something that Cyril had let slide. He was very careful in writing each invoice, using his best penmanship to describe the work the office had done and the hours taken. The invoices were directed to the solicitor who had brought Pemberton the case.

He was surprised at how Cyril had let the work slide, and how he had been so caught up in his own work that he had not noticed the chief clerk’s illness. He had a stack of invoices prepared by the time Pemberton returned, ready for the barrister’s review before Robb would deliver them.

Pemberton strode into the office, bringing a gust of cold December air with him. He removed his robe and placed his wig on a stand, then turned to Silas. “What is on our docket for the afternoon?” He rubbed his hands to warm them against the chill air.

“Mr. Wigton should be here shortly with a case for you to pursue,” Silas said. Antony Wigton was a solicitor who often brought cases to Pemberton. Solicitors dealt directly with clients, and barristers depended on them to learn everything necessary to carry out the case.

Wigton was the son of a landowner and had read law for seven yearsat the Inns of Court and then spent two years “reading in chambers.” That meant he spent time with a barrister to whom he paid a fee for the privilege. He had spent one year of that time with Pemberton so he was well known to the office. Once he had been “called to the bar,” he joined a firm of solicitors, where he spoke with clients and drew up proper forms and did deeds, wills, and contracts.

Fortunately, Silas had taken a few moments out of invoice preparation to review the case. It was a simple one; a retailer charged that a factory hadn’t delivered the agreed-upon goods by the expiration of the contract. Silas relayed those details to Pemberton, who nodded.

“If you could review these invoices, sir, I’ll have Robb deliver them,” Silas said, handing the sheets of paper to Pemberton.

“But these cases were adjudicated weeks ago,” Pemberton said, as he scanned through them. “Why weren’t they already prepared?”

“The best I can guess is that Cyril was ailing and didn’t want to reveal it.”

Pemberton shook his head. “I have been remiss. I should have kept up with these details.”

“You had cases to pursue,” Silas said. “It’s not as if you sat around your office with your feet up.”

Pemberton laughed. “I can see things will run more smoothly with you at the helm,” he said. “And I am grateful for a sense of humor as well.”

He went into his office to review the invoices. Antony Wigton arrived soon after. He was in his late twenties, barely older than Silas himself, though he carried himself with the air of a much older man, probably the result of all those years of study.

Silas advised him of the death of Mr. Alderton and his own promotion.

“Sorry to hear about old Cyril,” Wigton said. “But good show, you, to be promoted. I’m sure you will do a capital job.”

Silas carried a copybook with him and settled in a corner of Pemberton’s office as Wigton presented the case. “My client, Mr. Adams, owns a haberdashery in Hammersmith. He contracted with a factory in Leeds to deliver one hundred pairs of men’s wool gloves by the thirty-first of October. The factory was unable to deliver the full order. Only fifty pairs by the deadline, and another twelve pairs thus far. Mr. Adams has no alternative but to sue.”

“He has the alternative of waiting for the order to be fulfilled,” Pemberton said. “Has the factory owner provided any excuse?”

“He says that local authorities raided his factory in early October, forcing him to release twenty percent of his work force.”

“Forced him?”

“The workers in question were under the age of twelve. Under the terms of the 1833 Factory Act they could not be employed.”

“So the manufacturer could not complete the contract due to the reduction in his work force,” Pemberton said.

Silas wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak, but there was no time like the present to test the waters. “And presumably this manufacturer was aware that he was breaking the law by hiring children,” Silas said. “Which means, does it not, that upon signing the contract he knew there was a chance he would not be able to fulfill it.”

“Excellent point, Silas,” Pemberton said. “Please make a note of that, and research the appropriate law for me to quote from.”

“Yes, sir,” Silas said. He still worried about his ability to do everything in the office, particularly without the support of a junior clerk, but Pemberton’s words reassured him.

After Wigton left, Pemberton said, “Take some money from the cash drawer and purchase a basket of foodstuff for the Aldertons. We will carry it with us tonight as we pay our condolence call.”

Silas felt a small thrill when he set out for the local grocer’s. It was another step up in the office. He knew something of Cyril’s tastes from seeing the man eat lunch every day—thick bread, slices of ham and cheese with pickle. He was careful to buy items that he thought would last, because back home in Sheffield he had seen neighbors prepare all manner of food to deliver to the bereaved. He wanted his basket to still be usable when the other dishes were finished.

That evening at the close of work, he accompanied Pemberton in a carriage to Cyril’s home on Denbigh Street in Pimlico. It was a simple apartment of three rooms, and Mrs. Alderton was in the parlor, being comforted by neighbors, while her three children were sequestered in the back room with an aunt.

Silas admired Pemberton’s grace as he spoke with Mrs. Alderton and presented her with Cyril’s last pay, as well as some extra to help in the coming weeks. “How will you manage?” he asked her gently.

“My sister lives in Battersea, and she cleans an office building at night,” she said. “She has said that the children and I can come live with her for a while, and she will get me a similar kind of job.” She dabbed at her eye. “It’s nowt what Cyril would have wanted for us, but he’s gone and I must make the best of it.”

“You must feel free to contact us if you need help,” Pemberton said. “You have heard Cyril speak of Silas, I am sure. He will look after you.”

“Cyril always said you were a kind man, Mr. Pemberton,” Mrs. Alderton said. “In spite of the things people said about you.”

She raised her hand to her mouth and her eyes opened wide. “I shouldn’t have repeated that.”

“It’s all right,” Pemberton said. “Ours is a difficult business sometimes, and people will complain.”

Silas knew the things Mrs. Alderton referred to, and they had nothing to do with business, but Pemberton smoothed things with her. They left soon after, and Pemberton hailed a carriage.

“I can have the driver drop you at your lodgings,” Pemberton said. “You are still at Bryanston Mews West?”

“I am, but I can walk, sir,” Silas said. “There is no need.”

“I would like to speak with you privately,” Pemberton said, and Silas followed him into the carriage. The driver, outside on his seat, could not hear them.

“With regard to what Mrs. Alderton said,” Pemberton began.

Silas interrupted him. “With all due respect sir, I heard those rumors myself. If you will recall, I first met you at a soirée at the home of Lord Magnus Dawson and Mr. Toby Marsh, who have become close friends of mine.”

Pemberton cocked his head. “Usually I have a good recollection of events,” he said. “I must have consumed a great deal of gin that night.”

“Nothing untoward happened,” Silas hurried to say. “I introduced myself and asked about the position of junior clerk, and you invited me to come by the office on the Monday and apply directly.”

“That I recall,” Pemberton said. “So you have no problem working for a man of my disposition?”

“It would be hypocritical if I did,” Silas said. “Since I share the same disposition.”

“Well, then, that is fine. And a handsome young man like you, you must have many lovers.”

Silas blushed. “Only one at present. He is a boxer, and though he is married to a woman, we have become quite close to each other.”

“That is very good,” Pemberton said. “I was too devoted to the development of my career to lock myself down with someone when I was young, and now I am old and corpulent, and too accustomed to my own ways. There are men who find me attractive, I admit, but I am only interested in them for momentary pleasure.”

They talked of Dawson and Marsh, and then the carriage arrived at Bryanston Mews West. “I shall see you tomorrow morning,” Pemberton said. “I am glad we had this conversation.”

“I am as well, sir,” Silas said. He was excited to tell Ezra about his new position. He wanted to tell Raoul, too. He knew that his friend was worried about his relationship with Ezra, and hoped that this news would be a diversion.