An Unspeakable Crime

by Theresa Lorella

  Henry nodded. “Obviously, the only problem with well-reasoned testimony is that it is all the harder to counter if it is reasonable and against Richard’s favor.” Marshall agreed as the men drew out their respective notes and case files to review for a few hours before calling it a night.

  ******

  The next morning dawned bright as Henry drew up to the courthouse. The crowds outside had only increased upon hearing that one of the Monticello Jeffersons would appear. This was one of the more exciting events at the Cumberland County courthouse in its entire existence. Henry nodded his head at those members of the crowd he recognized, primarily from their daily posts at the court itself. He fended off the Gazette’s Dickson—he was in no mood to give another statement to the press, at least not until he knew what would happen that day—and put his head down as he pushed through the crowd to the courthouse door. In his entire practice, Henry could not remember a day when he felt so physically ill entering a courthouse. He had lost control completely, and it was an alarming feeling.

  “Mr. Henry,” Dickson called out. Henry ignored the reporter and pushed past a group of rough-looking men standing in a group smoking pipes and laughing like this was a national holiday. This short walk required several deep breaths for Henry to get through. The most difficult part of his day should have been a crafty cross-examination of a Founding Father’s daughter, not entry to the building itself.

  Henry was just about to make his displeasure—to Dickson, to the men, to the crowd—when a hush went through the surrounding throngs. Something was happening. People began to whisper and point in the same general direction, the direction of some place on the street just behind Henry. When he turned, he saw the crowds slowly part, as the sound of desperate whispers grew in intensity. “It’s her,” Henry overheard. Patsy he thought, demanding the entrance of a queen.

  Henry turned to the space that was being created in front of him expecting to see the redheaded progeny of Jefferson. It was with great surprise then, that instead of the ginger matron of Monticello, a fresh-faced brunette appeared before Henry’s eyes, a vision from a chapter that Henry had hoped to close. He was a perfect mix of fascinated and infuriated. For a moment he thought he may, in fact, be dreaming. Perhaps he would wake to discover that he was still in his bed at home and the day was still well under control.

  As she grew close Henry reached out and grabbed her by the arm. He smiled to the crowds as if this was all planned, but as he pulled the young woman through the crowd to the door, he whispered under his breath, “Nancy, this is probably the worst place on the planet that you could have put yourself.”

  “I just…”

  “Enough. Not another word until we have privacy. Just smile and keep your head down. We can’t undo this now.”

  Marshall was waiting for Henry in the small conference room when Henry dragged in a visibly shaken Nancy Randolph. Marshall sprung to his feet. “What is this?”

  “Don’t ask me, John. She came marching through the crowd like a warrior queen. I couldn’t very well ask her if she had lost her senses in front of the crowd. So now that we are alone, Nancy, what in the hell are you doing here?”

  He hadn’t meant to curse at the young woman, but it fit the situation. Despite his strong language, Nancy did not seem offended. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “Nancy, for the love of God, of course you shouldn’t be here. Don’t even answer the question. You are here to help, here to clear your name, Richard’s name. We’ve heard it before. Why you think this is helpful that I can’t tell you. You may find that they do not allow you to leave this building, did you think of that?”

  As Nancy spoke, Henry held up his hand. “No, don’t even say anything. You are here now and you may not leave of your own accord when the day is over. The court may bring you in on charges of murder. I just don’t know what to say.” Henry stopped talking and began breathing. Marshall and Nancy looked at him for a moment, expecting more that did not come.

  After a pause, Marshall turned to Nancy. “My dear. If I may presume to interpret Mr. Henry’s sentiments, we are very worried to see you here. You know the risks as Mr. Henry reminded you. Is there a reason you are here today, of all days?”

  Nancy herself took a deep breath and looked to both men. “Gentlemen, I assure that I understand everything you have said, I really do. I am not supposed to be here, but you are right that I am here to clear Richard’s name. Mine too, but I can see now that too much has been revealed. It is too late for me, in a certain respect.” If he hadn’t felt so sorry for himself, Henry may have conceded a bit of sympathy for this well-meaning, misguided, parentless girl. “I have something to tell you.” And then Henry’s world spun.

  ******

  “I must tell you something so you better understand what is going wrong.”

  “Nancy,” Marshall answered, “nothing has gone ‘wrong,’ thank you kindly. We worry about every single thing the Commonwealth argues or presents. There is so very much at stake.”

  Henry was more than tempted to break into this little pep talk and tell Nancy that while he and John Marshall had every intention of finding a path to victory, it appeared everyone else in this matter was intent upon the opposite. It was just too interesting to assume the worst, to presume guilt. If the public was salivating for such details, likely so too were the justices. And yes, it would be very nice to catch a break in favor of Richard.

  “That is very much why I feel I must tell you the truth.”

  Oh no, thought Henry. From this moment there is no going back.

  “Mr. Marshall, you overheard Richard and I speaking and so you heard thing already that must have made you wonder all this time. Please let me explain.” Henry noticed that Marshall didn’t seem to look surprised about anything that Nancy was about to say. That said, he too had perhaps gone a shade or two more pale. Everything that Henry was surveying had dimmed as he felt lightheaded himself so he was in no position to judge Marshall’s reaction to Nancy’s proclamation.

  “The first thing you must know is that I had been pregnant.”

  It is possible that the floor shifted a foot or two at that moment under Henry’s feet. This was not wonderful news.

  “I think you may have already suspected that.” Henry saw that Marshall had adopted that kindly father affectation he had around Nancy to prompt her to continue. He himself found he had to breathe deeply to avoid swooning—a very uncharacteristic reaction to the seasoned attorney. He had cultivated his straight face reaction when faced with surprising news or admissions from his clients or others close to his cases. Showing shock or surprise was unprofessional.

  “Nancy,” Marshall seemed to struggle for the words, “if you ‘had been’ pregnant, there would have been a child?” Henry knew the question itself was a challenge for Marshall, just as it would be for him. Now, despite all of their attempts otherwise, Henry and Marshall were on the cusp of learning things about their own client they could never un-hear. And even if what Nancy said did somehow exonerate Richard, neither attorney could ignore that Richard had likely been lying to them all along. About something. It didn’t really matter anymore what the lie had been—how could Henry ever trust a client who had lied about anything at all? Even the smallest most inane detail, when lied about, became a glaring statement about one’s character.

  “Yes, Mr. Marshall, there would have been a child. But that child never was.”

  Oh God, help me now, Henry pleaded silently. Nancy’s words were both mysterious and unhelpful. “Come on, woman! Stop speaking as if this is a game. If you want to tell us something helpful, then spit it out. But don’t tell us that there was a child that never was. That you can tell to the executioner when you give your scaffold confession. Tell us what happened.”

  To her credit—and Henry’s surprise—these harsh words did not result in the storm of tears he had expected. Something was different in this young woman, she wasn’t the same girl who had preened over Richard at Bizarre and she wa
sn’t the same young woman who had cried over the pettiness that her reputation had been ruined. This was a woman who had been thinking about where she found herself in life. She was resigned, but seemed to understand the import of the situation. It was a mature young lady who looked Henry in the eye when she answered.

  “You are correct, Mr. Henry. I haven’t been honest and I haven’t been helpful by trying to skirt the truth. The fact is that I was ashamed. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what would help Richard, and the truth will not win either of us any friends, I’m afraid. Now I see that I have no friends left but one—Richard—and he has me. Because of that, you must know that I was pregnant that night we arrived at Glentivar.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  PATRICK HENRY HAD HEARD many stories in his life, in his practice. He often knew immediately when a client was telling the truth and when they were lying. Sometimes they were telling their truth, which was a mix of the two, but heartily believed by the teller. Nancy Randolph had told him and John Marshall at least one true thing: She had been pregnant after all. Henry wasn’t sure if it had been a relief or a disaster to hear it spoken out loud. It certainly helped to put the pieces of the puzzle together. It was the rest of the story that still caused concern for Henry.

  Nancy’s story was that she had been madly in love with a Randolph man and yes, she had succumbed to that man’s charms. She found herself pregnant only after it was clear that her beloved, Richard’s brother Theodorick, fell fatally ill. He was dead before the Randolphs could perform a shotgun wedding and save Nancy’s honor. And so Nancy didn’t know what to do to save herself.

  Nor did Richard. He was Nancy’s guardian while she lived in his home, his wife’s little sister. So too was Theodorick in Richard’s care as the three Randolph boys of Bizarre had lost both of their parents. It was a disaster for both Nancy and Richard.

  Not knowing what to do—and being young and somewhat isolated—they did nothing. They kept Nancy’s pregnancy a secret. They did not tell a single person but for Judith and that seems to be only because they figured she would discover Nancy’s condition soon enough. They did not tell John Randolph or any other family members close to Bizarre.

  There was no plan about what to do. They simply aimed to keep the pregnancy under wraps as long as possible. They did not think ahead to the day that Nancy would give birth and what they would do with the child. Nancy swore that she had no intention ever of terminating the life of the baby (Henry did ask, just to make sure that stone didn’t get left unturned), but she did not think about the particulars of giving birth or what that would entail. In fact, she told Henry and Marshall that she was so adept at not speaking of the pregnancy that she had almost forgotten all about it herself. She lost track of how much time had passed and when she might expect the birth. She was grieving; she did not care what life without Theodorick looked like and so she stopped paying attention.

  She hadn’t been feeling well when the family loaded into their carriage to spend a few days with their cousins at Glentivar. Since Theo’s death Nancy claimed she had suffered from a variety of physical pains and ailments so she didn’t think twice about staying at Bizarre instead of traveling with the rest of the family traveled to the Harrison’s home. It was only once she arrived at Glentivar that she realized something was wrong.

  Although she was getting close—she was probably about seven months along at that point—it was too early for a healthy delivery. Nancy could tell that something was not right almost immediately. She retired to her room and hoped that resting would ease the problem. When it did not, she hoped that she could at least make it through the visit before anything happened. When she realized that all of these options were unrealistic, she summoned Judith.

  Nancy’s sister was not particularly sympathetic. Judith had dealt with her own recent pregnancy and was having a difficult time with her young son who was physically healthy but unquestionably distant. Judith was tired and sad at all times. Nancy had come to her at a difficult time after being asked to leave their childhood home by the father’s new mother. Judith was not interested in taking care of her sister and her problems. Certainly not the huge and additional problem of Nancy’s pregnancy.

  Judith summoned Richard, who had become Nancy’s de facto protector, a bit too late Henry felt, during the process. Richard continued to check on Nancy throughout the evening and sat with her once it became plain that she was losing the baby she was carrying.

  Richard did his best to keep Nancy quiet, see to her needs, and clean up as he could. Nancy claimed, for the most part, she maintained her wits during the ordeal. She did what she could to minimize evidence of what was happening while half the house slept in blissful ignorance. Once the baby had passed—dead at birth—Richard took the body and bloody rags out to the shingle pile to dispose of discretely. Nancy was sore and sick the next day, but she didn’t need a doctor and so they did not ask for one. While she felt sad about the whole situation, neither she nor Richard felt there was any harm in disposing of the remains of a miscarriage in the way they did.

  And so that was it, Nancy said. The truth. Or, Henry thought, a lie. Or perhaps a little of both.

  “And, I know you are both angry, but I had to make sure you knew the truth before today. I know that you each are men of integrity and I apologize for causing you this much trouble,” Nancy finished her tale.

  Marshall was the first to speak, oddly, Henry thought, about something different from the massive confession they had just hear. “But how do you even know what is going on here, Nancy?”

  “Mr. Marshall, everyone in the Commonwealth of Virginia knows what is going on in this courtroom. It’s in all the papers; everyone is talking about it in their parlors. Their slaves are talking about me in the kitchens and fields. Word travels very, very fast in Cumberland County. I know what they are saying because it is getting back to me, even out at Bizarre.”

  Henry interjected. “And why, pray tell, are you not at Bizarre right now?” He could barely see straight he was so upset. It was one thing to know that they had been lied to all this time, but even worse that their own client apparently hadn’t felt the need to confide in his own counsel.

  “I heard what my aunt said so I know that people are talking about my… condition. It is out there now, even though you did a masterful job the other day, Mr. Henry.” Henry appreciated that even though the girl was trying to flatter herself into his good graces. “I heard Patsy would be here. I thought if she could see me, even if I may not talk to her—and I presume that I may not talk to her—but if she sees me, she may remember.”

  “Remember what, Nancy,” Marshall asked.

  “Remember that I was the little girl who came to her following the death of my mother. That I have no one to help me. That I was helpful to her. That we loved each other.”

  “But, Nancy. Even if that is all true—and I’m sure it is—what good does that do today, when Patsy takes the stand?” Henry asked. He remained skeptical of the entire situation, the entire Randolph clan. He had thought they were at each other’s throats before he knew all this—how could Patsy possibly make this any better?

  Nancy nodded. “I know, Mr. Henry. It doesn’t make much sense, does it? It’s just, Patsy is here today for the Commonwealth. I have to admit that she knows just enough of this mess to create a very significant problem for me. And please do not forget what is worse: She is married to my brother and my brother has developed a very strong hatred for Richard and the Bizarre Randolphs. She is technically testifying against Richard. But if she sees me, she might remember that she is also bearing witness about me as well. It may save me and Richard both.”

  Henry exhaled slowly and loudly. Why in the world would Nancy not come to see him or Marshall before just showing up at the courthouse? Well, that was actually an easy one to answer, Henry realized: If Nancy had talked to either attorney, they both would have vehemently told her to get back on her carriage and get back to Bizarre. And they would
have both been furious.

  "This is not how today should be starting," Henry muttered.

  Marshall smiled at Henry in sympathy. “Indeed. But it is starting this way, it seems. I have full confidence in you, Patrick. This will not change the main goal of the day, which is to listen to Patsy and cross her after. Nothing has changed. What we do have to decide is how to damage control that Nancy has determined to appear.” Marshall paused. “And has, with her appearance, brought a very heavy confession.”

  “Half the county saw her out front, John, so we can’t very pretend she didn’t show up. People will talk, speculate that we didn’t let her appear in the court because it worried us. Worried equals guilt, or opens the door, I think. Even without knowing what she has said, she has created a dilemma.”

  “I agree with that,” Marshall nodded. Nancy kept silent and looked from one man to the other as the men deliberated about her immediate fate. “They could arrest her if she goes into that courtroom, however.”

  “They should arrest her, I would say,” Henry responded.

  “Mr. Henry,” Nancy interjected. “I know you are upset with me, but really!”

  Henry looked long and hard at Nancy. “Young lady, do you not understand that I am not speaking my opinion but referring to the fact that there is an active request that you turn yourself into this court to stand trial? Under that order, they should detain you. There is a warrant.”

  “But I didn’t do what they accuse me of doing, Mr. Henry.”

  “Well, young lady, one thing you did do is lie. A second thing you did do is hide the truth. I could go on. If they arrest you today, perhaps you will deserve it on those points alone.”

  Nancy paled at the words. Honestly, Henry thought, how could she have not considered this risk? Were all members of this family completely out of touch with the consequences of their actions? He answered that one on his own: Yes, clearly.