<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/74/Marguerite_Tuerny_14.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Marguerite Tuerny<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 4, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Courthouse: Judge Warwick's office<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Judge Warwick, Closed<br/><hr/>Marguerite woke tired and groggy.  She hadn't slept well at all.  Every time she relaxed the feeling of being watched would loom, disrupting her mood and throwing her into fitful tosses and turns.  She wasn't sure just how much sleep she got, but it couldn't have been much.  And the sense of a malevolent watcher was with her even now.<br/><br/>It wasn't bad in the small cafe-like dining room of the hotel, where the morning light shone in bright and cheery.  But even in the cheery light of day the presence was there, prying into her life and spying on her every action.  She turned a dozen times, sure she'd catch the voyeur in the act, always to find no one there.  Sipping at her coffee, she again read Nathan's letter.  The Judge was expecting her, but she wasn't sure she wanted to talk to him while this sense of a silent observer weighed on her.<br/><br/>She was certain however, that she did not want to go to confession while plagued by this feeling of being watched.  Every word she told the priest might well be broadcast to a spy, and... No.  Confession could wait.  At least for a day.  If the feeling persisted perhaps the priest could help her shake it.  It was certainly just her imagination - perhaps her under-conscious mind was reluctant to confess, to tell the good priest all her myriad sin.<br/><br/>So then...  If not confession, then the Judge.  What he might tell her was important to her future.  Any future she had depended on her claim.  And if Alfred had pressed that claim, then her own claim was part of public record.  She wondered if she should solicit an attorney before talking to the Judge?  The Senior Deputy spoke highly of the man, but his interest was with the community, and not with her.  She did not think those interests conflicted, but it would be best to protect herself.  Considering her assets, fifty dollars wouldn't go far in this place.<br/><br/>She didn't wonder where the money came from.  Hunter had probably given her all the cash he could scrape together.  She would have to be frugal with it, only paying the porter his tip and buying the bare essentials.  She could read.  She could write.  She knew Latin.  And Nathan was a lawyer.  She could draft her own petitions and ask him to proof them for her.  Some day, she would have to repay all his kindnesses.<br/><br/>Her coffee had grown cold as she thought over the day's plan.  When the waiter offered to warm it, she thanked him but declined.<strong>"How do I find the Courthouse?"</strong>She asked.  The directions were simple, and in fact the town was easy to navigate in daylight.  She saw easily how she missed her route to the Chapel - and after brief inspection from the hub, she thought she could find her way anywhere in town, even after dark.  Though until she found a suitable escort she did not think she'd be going out after dark anymore.<br/><br/>The courthouse wasn't very elaborate - the front door opened directly into the large courtroom.  She was passably familiar with the layout after months of legal battles involving her father's estate.  The room was empty at the moment, save for a young blond man standing near the door.<strong>"Hello."</strong>She greeted the guard.  There was a word for a court guard...  she couldn't think of it.<strong>"Could you direct me to Judge Warwick's office please?"</strong>She asked politely, flashing a brief and politely proforma smile.<br/>