Henry had to breathe deeply before responding. “Mr. Randolph, are you suggesting that I have done you a disservice by quote ‘sacrificing myself’ only once? You and Nancy have created a situation here and I have a strong sense that you are not telling me the full story. Yet you say that you are upset with me?” Henry did not give pause for any responses. “Because by my calculation, I—along with Mr. Marshall—are racking our brains to get you out of a situation that you and Nancy rather stupidly and selfishly put yourselves into, thus causing a monumental fission in your own family, a riotous curiosity with the public at large and, dare I say it, God only knows what you did to the poor baby in question if in fact there was one. But, as you said, I should have sacrificed myself today so that I was the one who looked like a jackass at the end of testimony.”
“All right gentlemen,” the marshal interrupted. “I need to take Mr. Randolph back now, if you can wrap this up, please.”
“Just take him,” Henry said, waving Richard away, as Marshall said, “Just one moment, please.”
“Well, which is it, gentlemen? Take him or leave him.”
“Just a moment, please,” Marshall responded shortly, and the marshal backed up a pace or two.
“Just a moment is all you got, sir.”
Marshall took hold of Richard by one hand and Henry by the other. Under his breath, but with an intensity that belied his volume, he said, “That is enough, gentlemen. We are all on the same side here. Richard, you neither need to second-guess or worry about Mr. Henry’s dedication to this matter. You are not the only person lying awake thinking of this case. Now, let us do our jobs and let’s try not to show a division in our ranks tomorrow, if that is agreed.”
“Yes, sir,” Richard answered like a chastised child. Henry realized again that the young man was scared, but it wasn’t enough to bring about any sudden forgiveness for the anxiety the young man was causing to Henry. This is not my problem, this is not my life, Henry had taken to saying to himself throughout the day. He wasn’t certain it pleased him that Marshall had revealed that he didn’t sleep through the night, but at that moment in time, Henry didn’t really feel that things could get much worse in this case. (Except for the fact that he still hadn’t been paid for his work.) Now, feeling like he wanted to be his own client’s executioner, Henry had to go back to his stuffy, uncomfortable rented rooms to wrack his brain about how to best discredit the one eyewitness who had perhaps seen the truth at Bizarre, whatever the truth even was.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“WHAT ARE YOU GOING to do, Patrick?” Marshall’s question was innocent enough, but irritated Henry. How had he ended up as the sole savior of Richard Randolph? It had been the plan that he would cross-examine the witnesses, so it was technically on his shoulders. It was just the nonchalance of Marshall that was irritating Henry. Likely John would have no problem sleeping through the night since the next day in court would be all on Patrick. Well, Henry thought, Marshall would get his long nights when it was time for closing arguments.
“I will do very little, I think. She was a bad witness overall.”
Marshall put down the piece of paper he had been reviewing and looked at Henry square in the eye. “Patrick, she testified that she saw Nancy’s naked body and that said body was clearly pregnant. If that is a ‘bad’ witness, you and I have different definitions of the meaning of that phrase.”
“I suppose we must, John. While I would agree that a certain portion of the aunt’s testimony was damaging…”
“As in the part where she confirmed that she felt Nancy was pregnant, a fact that our client has publically denied,” Marshall interrupted. “And that he noticeably avoided yesterday, I might add.” A fact that had not escaped Henry’s notice.
“Yes, that’s the damaging portion, John. But think of the rest. She was a doddering fool half the time. You can just imagine an old woman with nothing of her own going on, latching onto a scandalous idea—an idea that involves far more, shall we say, intimate details than the aunt has likely experienced in her own life—and then more or less harassing the targets of her fantasies. Honestly, her testimony is that she watched a young girl disrobe and get into the bath. It is very strange and, if you take out the salacious details, very unlikeable. That’s what I’m aiming for tomorrow, John.”
“I understand very much what you are saying, Patrick and I tend to agree. But you heard the courtroom erupt when that woman confirmed an alleged pregnancy and I suspect the justices were simply waiting to get home to have their own excited outbursts. I am worried that the damage is done.”
“Well, it likely is, really. I cannot promise a miracle, but I can promise to do my best.” Henry felt a welcome sense of calm as he made this admission.
“You know, John,” Henry said after a pause, “a big part of me wants to win simply to beat Smith.”
“You aren’t alone there, my friend.”
“I appreciate that. But I am sure you would agree that wanting to beat the opposing counsel is actually a terrible strategy for your client. I need to stay focused on the actual case and not on the histrionics of Smith. For all I know, he is actually a mastermind rather than an idiot and this is all his plan to distract me from the case. No, as much as I dislike him, I shall not focus on him going forward. Hold me to it, John.”
“I am uncertain if I can, Patrick, when I can barely handle looking at the man’s face.” The two men laughed. “All right, my friend. I am off for the night. I have no doubt that you will do a splendid job tomorrow with the charming Miss Page. I wouldn’t want any other counsel on the matter myself.”
Marshall’s words of confidence were touching. He may act with bluster in the court, but Henry often second guessed himself and worried about his performance once he was alone with no one to witness his anxiety. “I will do my best tomorrow, John.”
“There is no doubt of that. Ah, well, we do what we can.”
“And maybe just a little more every once in a while, if we can.”
******
Henry slept well that night after countless restless nights. He didn’t even have Tom prepare him a drink before bed. He was up early and felt invigorated as he gathered his notes and set out for the courthouse with John Marshall in tow. As his carriage drew near that sense of lightness gradually turned to anxiety and dread; Henry’s performance that day would affect the entire outcome of this case. If he was too flippant, he wouldn’t reach the ears of the audience—both on the bench and in the pews—and it would look like he was obnoxiously trying to deflect away from the nosy aunt’s testimony. But if he hit the right tone, he could win over the listeners and then gently pass their friendly ears over to Marshall to make his closing arguments when the time came.
It did not appease Henry’s growing worries to see an even larger than normal number of people streaming into the little courthouse’s doors. As the carriage drew up to the door, Henry noticed that there were people huddled about in small groupings, not even going into the building, but standing with friends and acquaintances just to talk about the case. “Good God,” Henry whispered as he and Marshall stepped into the crowd and made their way to the door of the court.
“This is crazy, Patrick,” Marshall whispered back in response. Henry just nodded; he had never seen anything like it.
"Mr. Henry, Mr. Marshall" a disembodied voice called. Henry scanned the crowd and found a young man holding a small notepad and a pencil. "Mr. Henry, Mr. Marshall, I am Matthew Dickson with the Gazette. May I speak to you a moment?"
Henry’s first reaction was, no, leave me alone. What in the hell was a reporter doing at the courthouse as if this were a three-ring circus to report on? Still, Henry took a keep breath and considered that the whole point of the day was to reach as many people as possible. Perhaps this was a gift from the publicity gods. And that name… it was the author of the Sally Adams story. This gave Henry pause, both positively and negatively. This would be very helpful or detrimental. “We are in a hurry Mr. Dickson. How
can we help you?” Henry smiled as he drew to a stop. Marshall, looking surprised, stopped as well, peering questioningly at his colleague.
To his credit, even Dickson looked momentarily surprised that Patrick Henry and John Marshall had stopped and addressed him in return. “Well, sirs, I uh, thank you. Sirs, do you expect to have the jury acquit Mr. Randolph once this case is over or are you planning on an indictment?”
“Mister, what was it again?” Marshall glared. Or perhaps “glared” wasn’t exactly correct, but Henry saw a distinct look of distaste on the face of his co-counsel.
“Dickson, sir” the reporter responded politely.
“Mr. Dickson, you are asking for what we attorneys call speculation,” Marshall responded. “While we hope to provide evidence and argument that will result in an acquittal, we can’t even know…”
“Mr. Dickson,” Henry interrupted. “We will get an acquittal. Did you even hear what the Harrisons had to say? It was nothing. Nothing. And those were the people in the house on the night in question. Everything else they have is hearsay. You can’t convict on hearsay.”
“What about the aunt, Mr. Henry?”
“Wait until later today,” Henry affected a confident air. “I have a few questions for the nosy aunt.”
“And what about the slave’s report, sir?”
Henry took a deep breath; he had to handle this question with special care, especially knowing Dickson had likely met the girl himself. Henry smiled at the reporter. “You are referring to the story that your own paper ran, correct? A story the court cannot consider. You may say that is a technicality, but one cannot help but ask if we can trust the words of a declarant who knows full well they can say whatever they want—they will never face a judge or jury or be held to laws of perjury. With all due respect to Miss Sally Adams, we have no idea what she is hoping to achieve and, since she doesn’t have to face me in a cross-examination, can only assume that she is saying whatever she may want, for what goal we cannot determine. And now, we really must get going, Mr. Dickson.”
“Are you suggesting that the slave girl is lying, sir?”
“My colleague is suggesting that we need to get into the court, Mr. Dickson,” Marshall had grabbed Henry by the elbow and was steering him towards the door. “Have a good day.”
The men were silent as they made their way through the crowd, into the court, and to the defense table; they didn’t have time to get their thoughts together in the conference room. As they settled in, Marshall whispered, “What was that?”
“That was good, don’t you think?” Henry was rather proud of his work with the reporter. “I’ve been waiting for a way to get control of the slave story. I can’t believe he himself brought it up.” Henry beamed.
“I suppose you did well, but the whole thing was so odd. I have never seen such a thing.”
“I think we can’t underestimate the power of the public on this case, John,” Henry whispered. “They are just as important as the jury.”
“But the jury are the only people who can indict or not, Patrick,” Marshall retorted.
“The jury are the only people who can convict, but not the only people who can find Richard guilty. We need to consider that.” This made perfect sense to Henry as he said it. The more he thought about it, the more poetic he thought it was.
“Patrick, I am a lawyer not an expert on the will of the public at large. I hardly see how I can effect that outcome of the case with everyone in Virginia.”
Henry put his arm on Marshall’s shoulder. “You leave that to me, my friend. You work on getting Richard off the hook with the justices and I’ll see that the public knows exactly what they should be thinking.”
Marshall sighed. “I don’t remember learning about any such things in school. But I’m fine with that division of labor if your plan to affect public opinion has no negative effects on the legal case.”
“Ye of little faith.” The two men laughed as the prosecutors took their seats and a marshal brought Richard into the courtroom.
“Is there really any reason for laughter, gentlemen?” Richard was sullen as he settled in. “I hardly see how we can recover from yesterday. Perhaps now is the time to tell them about…”
“Enough,” Henry hissed. Good God, he thought, this young man is going to announce in front of Smith, Jones, and the already full court all of his secrets. All that work he and Marshall had put in—not to mention the anxiety and worry—would be for nothing in one fell swoop. “We will be honest, but we will not be overly generous with details. Now, keep your mouth quiet unless you would like to stand up when the justices enter and offer yourself up for the gallows today.” Henry smiled to remind Richard of their previous conversations. This was serious and shutting his mouth should be easy.
“Yes, sir, I understand. I just don’t know what we say to Aunt Mary.” Henry wanted to ask his client what he meant by "we" since the only person doing the talking was Henry, but the justices were ready and had called the witness back to the stand. Henry's time had come.
Unlike Randolph Harrison, Mary Cary Page seemed ebullient to be called back to court for another round of questioning. She looked like she might skip to the witness stand if that wouldn’t be so unseemly for a woman her age. As it was, she beamed, saying hello to acquaintances as she made her way up the center aisle of the courtroom. As she approached the defense and prosecution tables, she turned to each side and said her good mornings. Making eye contact with Richard she sighed loudly, “Oh Dickie,” loud enough for the entire room to hear. Henry wasn’t certain if it was an exclamation of love or disappointment. He would welcome the chance to meet at least one member of the Randolph clan who seemed normal.
“Mrs. Page, you remain sworn in,” Justice Carrington announced. "That means you are still under oath. If you understand, and I see you nodding your assent, we shall proceed. Mr. Henry, your witness."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Cross-Examination of Mary Cary Page
PATRICK HENRY: MRS. PAGE, thank you for returning today. I have just a few questions to make sure I understand your testimony.
Mary Cary Page: I am here to assist, Mr. Henry. Please, let me know what information you don’t understand and I will be happy to make it plainly clear for you.
Henry smiled; there was nothing else you could do when dealing with a witness who thought they were smarter than the person who was questioning them.
PH: How very kind, Mrs. Page. I did want to clarify that you were not at Glentivar on October 1, 1792, is that correct?
MCP: That is correct, Mr. Henry. I never said I was at Glentivar at the time of the incident. As I mentioned, I have many nieces and nephews and they are all kind enough to host me, all around the country. I believe at the time…
PH: Thank you, Mrs. Page. I wanted confirmation that you were not at Glentivar with Richard, Judith, and Nancy on the days we have been talking about.
MCP: I was not there, sir.
PH: Correct. Now, when you were last at Bizarre, you mentioned that you had suspicions about Nancy, is that right?
MCP: Yes, something was very different, sir.
PH: And you based this suspicion solely on the fact that Nancy appeared to have gained a significant amount of weight, isn’t that right?
ER: She looked quite a bit larger than normal, Mr. Henry.
PH: A person can ‘look larger’ for reasons other than pregnancy, isn’t that right? Reasons such as injury, overeating, depression, or illness, perhaps?
MCP: I believe Nancy was pregnant.
PH: Ah, so you deny that there is any other way for a young woman to increase in girth, Mrs. Page? Certainly you know of people who have gained weight for other reasons. Have you ever gained weight, Mrs. Page?
MCP: Mr. Henry! I am not here to discuss my own physical body.
PH: Forgive me, Mrs. Page that is correct, we are here to talk about the physical body of Miss Nancy Randolph, a young woman who is not sitting here before the court to hear your tes
timony or defend herself. It is your testimony that this young woman could not have gained weight for any reason other than pregnancy, despite the fact that she was unmarried and was apparently suffering from a bad stomach.
MCP: Mr. Henry, I do not appreciate the insinuation that I am not wise enough to understand that there are other reasons that Nancy looked differently. Yes, people gain weight for reasons other than pregnancy. And yes, if you are intent upon embarrassing me, I myself have put on a few pounds in my dotage.
PH: Thank you, Mrs. Page. I, too, have gained weight in my life and as far as I know, I have never been pregnant. Thus, it is your belief that you might gain weight for reasons other than pregnancy.
ER: Mr. Henry, while I understand your point, I believe I was very clear about what I saw: Nancy could not hide that she was pregnant. Not fat, not ill, not anything else but pregnant. So you can make your clever argument about how people get fat, but that girl was with child. I saw it with my own eyes.
Henry had two routes to take. He was sorely tempted to ask Mary Cary Page how many naked, pregnant bodies she had seen through keyholes but it seemed risky. It was possible that Mrs. Page was an amateur midwife and had attended every female family member’s lying in for the past forty years. It was also mean-spirited and may distract from the argument he was establishing.
PH: Yes, Mrs. Page, your testimony is that you asked Nancy multiple times if you could see her in a state of undress, is that correct?
MCP: Correct, Mr. Henry. Once it became clear that Nancy would not open up willingly, I knew I would only discover her secret by being in a place where she was forced to tell me what was going on.
PH: But Nancy did not take you up on any of your offers, isn’t that right?
MCP: I offered many times to help her change, or otherwise be near when she would be in a state of undress. I had hoped that I could force a conversation that way.
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