The Barrister


He got the message and immediately, he left the courthouse. She stood there across the street. Heart racing, he hurried across. “Hello,” he said. “I got your message.”

She smiled. “I hope I didn’t come at a bad time.”

“No, no. You didn’t.”

“I came because I wanted to thank you for all that you have done for my brother,” she said.

“You’re welcome. In addition to his innocence, it was a matter of mistakes made by the real culprit, Rolly Carson and faulty eye-witness accounts which strengthened our case and led to the not guilty verdict.”

“I’ll always be grateful to you for taking my brother’s case.”

I did it for you, he thought. “I couldn’t let an innocent man go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit.”

“Aside from your exemplary record as an barrister, I wanted you to take his case because you’re a Christian.”

“Yes. I am. God said in His Word that He loves justice and that He delights in it. He is a God of justice. Your brother’s faith in God helped him through this ordeal. Even when things seemed bleak, he held on to his faith and the knowledge that a man’s justice comes from the LORD.”

She stood there, hands in the pockets of her skirt. How she longed to hug him. “I can’t help feeling that thanking you isn’t enough. I wish I could do more to show you how much I appreciate what you have done for my brother and for our family.”

“Have dinner with me,” he blurted out. It was something he had wanted to ask her from the moment they met. He had fought hard for her brother not only because he believed in his innocence but because he had fallen in love with her.

Her heart skipped a beat. “When?” she asked.

“This evening at 8, that is if you don’t already have plans.” He prayed that she didn’t.

“I don’t have any plans for this evening. Where would you like us to go for dinner?”

“The Feathered Nest in Nether Westcote, Oxon. It’s about an hour and forty-four minutes drive from London. I hope you don’t mind if we dined outside of the city.”

African young woman with hands in pockets

“No, I don’t mind at all.” I’m just so happy that I’m going to be having dinner with you. “You have my address, right?”

“Yes. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“All right. I’ll see you then. Goodbye, Mr. Chambers.”

“Please call me, Godfrey.”

“Goodbye, Godfrey.”

“Goodbye, Rochelle.”

They parted ways, each excited about the evening ahead. He arrived at her place promptly at six and the drive to the restaurant was a very pleasant one. It was a lovely evening. They got a table in the corner which was perfect. They made a toast to justice. Over Roasted Halibut and Roasted Saddle of Lamb, they talked about the case, his family, her job as editor of Damsel, a magazine for young women.

It was such a wonderful evening and neither wanted it to end. On the drive back, he asked her to have dinner again with him but this time at his house in Oxfordshire. She readily accepted.

His house in Oxfordshire was absolutely magnificent and the surrounding area breathtaking. It was early evening so he took her for a tour of the place and a walk on the grounds before they had dinner in the enormous and very elegant dining-room.

“Do you like my home?” he asked later when they were in the drawing-room relaxing and having after dinner drinks.

She nodded. “It’s beautiful. I know that you have staff but isn’t it still too big for one person?”

“Well, I’m hoping to share it with someone very special.”

She turned away so that he wouldn’t see the expression on her face. “I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding a woman to share this with you.”

He sat down on the sofa, his eyes studying her as she stood there in front of the fireplace. “What’s the matter?” he asked, wondering why she didn’t join him on the sofa.

“Nothing,” she denied. There were other more suitable women out there. Why did she think he would want to share his life with her–the little sister of the man whom he got off? Was it because he was attracted to her? So, what? That could change.

“I know that you’re grateful to me because I’m the barrister who got your brother off but is gratitude all you feel towards me, Rochelle?”

She moved closer, shaking her head. “No,” she said. “Gratitude isn’t all I feel for you. I love you, Godfrey.”

“And I love you,” he muttered thickly before he reached up and pulled her down onto his lap. “Marry me, Rochelle…”

She gawked at him. “Marry you?” she exclaimed.

“Yes. I want all of this to be yours too.”

“You’re serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

“Yes,” she murmured huskily.


“Yes, I’ll marry you–“

The rest of her words were smothered in a kiss.

Posted for October 2020 Writing Prompts – #24 – A matter of mistakes

Sources: Sarata; The Feathered Nest Inn; Luxury Travel Advisor;

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