The Prince of Eden (79 page)

Sir Cedric nodded.

Then, "Fetch Mr. Eden," he commanded in a gruff voice. "You'll find him in the garden smelling the flowers. Tell him the proceedings won't take long and if he wishes to be present for the judgment, he'd better come."

Now as Sir Cedric moved toward the door which led to the inner chamber, he called back over his shoulder, "I'll need a recorder. Decide which idiot among you can hold a pen and follow after."

Then he pushed open the door and stood in the doorway, well aware of his awesome appearance and the effect it seemed to be having on the small group of people who now turned toward him with varying expressions of surprise and apprehension.

At the table nearest the door, he saw a gentleman in black, half rising from his chair where apparently he'd been in conversation with a man and a woman seated behind him. A strange pair. Sir Cedric determined, garbed similarly in black, a matched duo.

Seated to one side of the gentleman, Sir Cedric saw a young woman. She too was dressed in black. My God, was it a hearing or a funeral?

Then Sir Claudius was upon him. "Milord," he murmured, extending a bejeweled hand. Under the best of conditions. Sir Cedric was not a social man. Now he glowered at the outstretched hand and fell into a

satisfying loathing of the little weasel who had burrowed his way into one of the greatest fortunes in England.

Brushing past the extended hand, Sir Cedric surveyed his chambers. Usually neat and ordered, it was now cluttered with two large tables, his own massive desk before the window, and— He looked closer. On a low table directly before his desk sat a strange object, a heavy leather case of some sort, elegantly finished with hand-tooling in a floral design.

"What is this?" Sir Cedric demanded, pointing toward the strange object.

Then Sir Claudius was behind him, whispering, "A symbol, milord, I beg your indulgence. All will become clear.'*

All was clear now, thought Sir Cedric, as he drew away from the man. Obviously it was to be another of Sir Claudius's theatricals. The man did not practice law as much as he "performed" it.

As Sir Cedric took his seat behind his desk, he glanced out at the waiting faces. Why the plethora of black? They resembled vultures.

"Well, then?" Sir Cedric pronounced, seating himself just in time to endure as best he could a slow seepage of air from his bowels. "What are we waiting for?"

"The—defendant," Sir Claudius simpered. "We can't proceed without-"

At that moment, the chamber door opened. One of the clerks appeared, his face flushed. "Mr. Edward Eden," he announced, and stepped quickly back from the door.

From where Sir Cedric sat, he noticed all faces at the table lift, save one. The veiled young woman continued to sit with her head bowed.

But all other faces turned toward the door where now a young boy appeared, a handsome lad of about ten or twelve, followed by the man himself.

As he appeared in the doorway, his eyes immediately fell on the near table. His inclination seemed to be to greet the persons seated there, but before he had a chance to do so, Sir Claudius was at his elbow, steering him toward the opposite table, his whispered scolding of, "You're late," clearly audible to all in the room.

From his position behind the desk. Sir Cedric watched the proceedings with growing interest. The room seemed full of tensions. In a very real, though unworthy way, Sir Cedric enjoyed the sufferings of others, and now the bulk of the suffering seemed to be coming from the table to his left.

If there was suffering coming from the table to his right, he could not discern it. The young boy seated himself and seemed to fall into a

close and curious examination of his surroundings. Who he was and what he was doing here, Sir Cedric had no idea. Undoubtedly one of Mr. Eden's abandoned waifs.

As for the other, the "Prince of Eden," Sir Cedric had heard him called, he seemed content merely to sit erect in his chair, concentrating on the large leather case.

Now Sir Cedric saw Sir Claudius align himself at a position midpoint between the two tables. How foolish of Edward Eden, Sir Cedric thought, not to have engaged his own counsel. No wonder the Eden fortune had dwindled. An idiot would have known that one man cannot fairly represent two opposing clients.

"Milord," Sir Claudius commenced, and was immediately interrupted by the door opening again, one of the young clerks appearing, tablet in hand. Quickly he took a seat near the rear of the room.

"Milord," Sir Claudius began again.

Sir Cedric nodded. "Proceed, Sir Claudius, though I'm forced to inquire, for whom are you speaking? The plaintiff or the defendant?"

The vain little man smiled. "Both, milord."

"And how is that possible?"

"It's a family matter, milord. We are all friends here. This is why we are most appreciative of your kind consideration in making the privacy of your chambers available to us."

"Then get on with the matter," Sir Cedric ordered, "although I feel compelled to warn Mr. Eden that he is not availing himself of the full measure or protection of the law."

At this, Mr. Eden looked up. "If I need defense, milord, I'm prepared, with your permission, to offer it myself."

The softly spoken announcement caused a slight rustle in the chambers.

Sir Claudius stepped forward to a position directly in front of the large leather case, and at last proceeded. "We are gathered here today, milord, with your kind permission to discuss the management of what once was one of the largest and most impressive fortunes in England. While still adequate, it has dwindled tragically under mismanagement, and unless legal steps are taken, we fear that in time it will simply— vanish."

With glazed eyes. Sir Cedric looked out over the proceedings. Sir Claudius now gesturing toward the leather case, the theatrical unfolding.

"The Eden wealth," Sir Claudius announced, "symbolically speaking, of course. Thirty years ago it was an awesome array of property, stocks, investments, net worth, inestimable. Yet no more."

In an attempt to distract himself from his bowel discomfort, Sir

Cedric turned his attention from what he already knew, the facts which Sir Claudius was subtly coloring, to what he didn't know and what was beginning to hold a fascination for him—the man himself—Edward Eden. Throughout Sir Claudius's interminable monologue, Eden seemed content merely to sit erect, his eyes lifting now and then to the symbolic representation of his own wealth. Was it arrogance that Sir Cedric discerned in that strong face? Certain harsh epithets were being hurled his way—irresponsible, misguided—yet as far as Sir Cedric could discern, nothing was registering.

The entire presentation lasted nearly twenty-five minutes. The history of the Eden family was being laid out in boring detail, the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the birth of the defendant, though the word bastard was never openly pronounced. There was no need. The condition thereof had been described. Still, as far as Sir Cedric could tell, the man himself continued to sit, unmoved.

Then, thank God, at last, the tone and timbre of a conclusion. "So it is, milord," Sir Claudius smiled, "that we come before you today to seek your judgment on the matter of passing control of the Eden estates from one pair of hands to another in the hope that under new and prudent management, the fortunes of this great and noble family will once again flourish and stand as an effective example of—"

Dear God, he simply couldn't listen to any more. "Enough, Potter," he commanded at last, and blessedly, within the instant, the fulsome old man fell silent and bowed as though receiving a curtain call.

Now Sir Cedric raised his head. "Sir Claudius," he began, "one simple question, if you will."

"Of course, milord, anything."

"Do you have the deed of ownership, the original document signed by Lord Thomas Eden?"

While the question seemed relevant to Sir Cedric, he could see clearly the look of surprise and suspicion washing over the faces before him. The young boy was whispering something to Edward Eden, at last jarring that peculiar man out of his remoteness.

"I do indeed, milord," Sir Claudius was saying, "although I fail to see what—"

"May I examine it?" Sir Cedric cut in, not giving a damn what Potter saw or failed to see.

He watched as Sir Claudius approached the leather case and to his surprise saw the man withdraw a folded, faded parchment. Apparently the box was not as symbolic as all had been led to believe.

Then Sir Claudius placed the parchment on his desk and continued to hover close as though only too willing to help with his interpretation of it.

"Stand back," Sir Cedric ordered with a wave of his hand. With an innate respect for old documents, he loosened the cord and gently flattened the deed of ownership upon his desk. He studied it for a moment, found everything in order, the deed signed, dated by Lord Thomas Eden, 1798, in the presence of witnesses, the Eden seal intact, the message clear. The good lord had signed everything he owned over to one Edward Hartlow Eden, then age two.

Slowly Sir Cedric lifted his eyes to where Edward Eden sat. "Do you have anything to say in your own defense, sir?" he inquired.

The man looked up at him. "I'm not absolutely certain of what IVe been accused, milord. The property is mine," he added softly, "or at least I had been told so. I did not realize there were conditions to the deed of ownership."

"There are none, sir," Sir Cedric replied.

"Then while I find this meeting stimulating, I must also confess that it baffles me."

Slowly now Sir Cedric rerolled the parchment, retied the cord, though he continued to hold it in his hand. The tension was building. He could feel it. "It has been my experience," he began slowly, "that one of the most offensive acts that a man can commit is to turn his back on the wishes and desires of the dead." He stopped abruptly, not for dramatic emphasis. He needed none. But rather he wanted to avail himself of a moment's pause for judicial reconsideration. Had he been truly objective? No, of course not. Tortured by the pain in his gut and the consciousness of his own secret, how could he be? The conception that a man had of himself was all he had, and in that conception was both his curse and his salvation. Encountering contradictions along the way, all he could do was learn to live with them. And that, Edward Eden had learned to do masterfully.

Again Sir Cedric looked at him. Apparently the stigma was meaningless to him, bastard, that designation that had haunted men since the beginning of time, had indeed haunted Sir Cedric. For that was his secret, his own bastardy, the awareness of which had driven him all his life, had tied his gut into a knot, had caused him to deny himself all love, all softness, all hope of redemption.

Quickly he lowered his head for fear the secret was visible on his face. "The dead man's wishes are plain," he pronounced, holding up the deed of ownership. "For reasons unknown, the Eden estates were signed over to a two-year-old child. The fact that that child has now grown to manhood does not alter the deed in anyway. Thus"—and here he lifted his head as he customarily did in order to make certain that all heard and no one misunderstood—"Thus I judge in favor of the defendant, Mr. Edward Eden. This hearing is adjourned."

The scraping of his chair covered the first angry gasps coming from the table on his left. Out of the corner of his eye he was aware of faint stirrings at the table on his right. The young boy was on his feet immediately, registering his pleasure at the decision with youthful abandonment. To his left, Sir Cedric saw Potter in close huddle with Lord Eden and the two who sat behind. The only one not stirring as far as Sir Cedric could tell was the victor himself.

Then just as Sir Cedric was rounding his desk, clutching at his burning gut beneath the black robe, he saw the man stand, his voice cutting through the confusion in the chamber.

"Milord," he began, "with your permission, may I speak? Briefly, milord, I promise."

Damn! He had his fortune back. What more did he want? Reluctantly Sir Cedric returned to his desk, motioned his clerk back down into the chair, and, making no attempt to hide his displeasure, shouted, "Order!" at the turmoil taking place before him.

Slowly they obeyed. Sir Claudius easing his outraged party back into their seats, then taking a chair himself, his prim features bearing the clear expression of defeat.

What was afoot now? Sir Cedric looked toward Edward Eden. "Well?" he commanded. "Speak!"

He came slowly forward, first whispering something to the young boy, whose earlier expression of triumph had now been replaced by one of bewilderment. Hesitantly he approached the low table on which the leather case rested, as though now that he had the attention of the room, he wasn't absolutely certain what to do with it.

"The Eden wealth," Sir Cedric heard the man muse, more to himself than anyone else. Then abruptly he looked directly up at Sir Cedric, a faint smile on his face. "I make bold to trouble your Lordship," he began, laying one hand atop the leather case. "Concerning this—wealth, milord," he went on, pausing in peculiar fashion before he pronounced the word wealth, as though he had been tempted to give it another designation. "I would be less than honest if I said anything but that I have enjoyed it and spent it, and it, in return, has enjoyed and spent me. It has preceded and followed and encircled me all my life. I go to bed with its weight and privilege, and I wake up with it. And my first remembrance in this life is a soft maternal voice giving me an assessment of this—wealth and its importance. I cannot remember one day when it did not influence my life, make my decisions for me, restore a false sense of well-being to all those around me."

Sir Cedric leaned forward, suddenly interested in spite of his discomfort. "What is it that you are saying, Mr. Eden?"

But Eden gave him no reply. Instead he continued to gaze upon the

leather case. The young boy, Sir Cedric noticed, was watching him in alarm and bewilderment.

Then slowly, Eden grasped the case and lifted it effortlessly into the air, as though he'd expected it to be an object of much greater weight. He stood a moment in the center of the chamber, then commenced walking slowly toward the table on the left.