Free The Soldier's Curse by Meg Keneally

those who practised it disappeared altogether the day one of the younger lawyers, worse for wear after a night of carousing, asked Monsarrat to write a brief in his stead: ‘There’s a good fellow.’ And it turned into something altogether darker when he heard the young man accept praise on the brief from Mr Fairburn, the taciturn senior barrister who viewed praise as a finite resource which needed to be used sparingly.
    Monsarrat earned enough to live in the normal London squalor for men without a fortune in a one-room lodging in Cursitor Street. The walls were discoloured by damp, but they were the only walls he saw save for the mahogany panelling of the law offices. By then he was thoroughly sick of the sight of both sets of walls.
    If he left London for a provincial town, he thought, he might be able to live better and more cheaply. He had a notion of becoming a schoolmaster, and believed he could churn out better minds than those which currently inhabited the legal chambers. He had Exeter in his sights because, though it was a long way from London, he had relatives around on his mother’s side and had lived there as a boy. He knew that if he stayed in the law office, he would be a clerk for life, or until his health failed.
    So he sought an appointment with Mr Fairburn, knocking gently on the older lawyer’s door the following week.
    â€˜Come,’ said Fairburn, who was sitting at his desk with papers spread in front of him. He didn’t look up as Monsarrat entered, deeming the papers of more importance. Nor did he offer Monsarrat a seat.
    â€˜Mr Fairburn, thank you for seeing me,’ said Monsarrat. He noticed that the crystal decanter which sat on the older man’s desk was relatively empty today. He often tried to gauge the lawyer’s mood by the amount of liquid in the vessel. Empty, or close to it, was either very good or very bad, as old Fairburn had either been celebrating or commiserating the night before.
    Fairburn didn’t respond to Monsarrat now, knowing the young man would state his business and seeing no point wasting breath asking.
    â€˜Mr Fairburn, I would like to inform you that I have decided to leave London, and my employment with you. I am grateful for your generosity over the past two years, and I would like to respectfully ask for a letter of reference.’
    â€˜Mr Monsarrat,’ said Fairburn, finally looking up. ‘Be so kind as to locate the contract of employment you signed when you commenced here.’
    Monsarrat went to fetch it, but he could have told Fairburn what it said: he had two years left to work for the lawyers. He had nourished a faint hope that Fairburn would overlook it, but knew Fairburn overlooked very little.
    When Monsarrat laid the contract in front of the lawyer, he examined it only briefly. He too, Monsarrat realised, already knew what it said.
    â€˜Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘You see, you have two years left to serve here. You could of course depart without our permission, but you would have no letter of reference, and I would make it my business to ensure any prospective employer knew of your tendency to break your word.’
    â€˜I am sorry, sir, but I was hoping you would forgive the additional two years.’
    â€˜Out of the question. You are far too good a clerk. We would not be able to find one of similar quality for the same wages. That will be all for now. But see you bring the Harkness documentation to me by the end of the day.’
    So Monsarrat worked on. He decided that if his usefulness was not to be reflected in his wages, he would make sure he was compensated in other ways.
    His intelligence and discretion were relied on by the lawyers, even Fairburn, and if he was found in possession of a file which wasn’t directly relevant to the task at hand, it was assumed it was being used in the service of one of the other lawyers, and Monsarrat’s silence on the matter was seen as