Becoming Belle

by Nuala O'Connor

  “Protection is the duty of the husband,” he said, “and in his absence, it is the duty of his family.”

  Belle squirmed in her seat and Flo put a steadying hand on her.

  “It will not do,” Flo said sotto voce, “to look fidgety directly before you are called. You know this.”

  But Belle could not help it; nerves had choked off her airways and she pulled wayward breaths through her lungs to try to calm herself. She lifted her veil and dropped it again; she pulled off her gloves and wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. Her head bent, she examined her nails and began to push back the cuticles with each thumbnail. Flo was pucking her; Belle lifted her head to see all eyes on her. Mr. Lockwood looked expectantly in her direction. He lifted his hand and indicated the box. Belle turned to Flo.

  “Look sharp,” her sister whispered. “It’s your turn.”

  Belle pulled on her gloves, rose and walked across the room, the only sound the clack of her heels upon the parquet. She stepped up into the box and looked around. Belle had been in courtrooms before but only as a watcher, never the watched. Her heart trounced in her chest—surely its terrible pummeling was audible? She stood and looked around at the faces that seemed to gloat from the public gallery. One man was scarred so badly that he had a clown’s lips and he seemed to permanently sneer. A woman in a flounce-bodiced dress was like a remnant from a long-ago ball. When the woman saw Belle’s eyes on her, she grinned to reveal a gumful of mossy teeth. Was this what loving William had come to? Was her marriage to be rendered to nought with these indigents as witnesses?

  Flo had urged her that morning to keep her eyes on Mr. Lockwood alone.

  “Don’t look at William, Belle, or you might falter. Or worse, cry.” She spooned Pepper’s Quinine and Iron Tonic into her sister’s mouth. “Don’t look at Wertheimer or you may appear guilty.” Belle began to protest, but Flo shushed her. “Certainly don’t look at Mother if she deigns to turn up. Or at Clancarty. Keep your eyes on Mr. Lockwood and he will help you along.”

  “And when Mr. Russell is upon me?”

  “Keep your head, darling.”

  Mr. Lockwood flicked open his watch and studied the dial, then put it away. He cleared his throat and began.

  “The petitioner is the son of a peer of the realm. And although my learned friend Mr. Russell is indirectly representing Lord Dunlo, he is, in fact, directly representing his father, the Earl of Clancarty. There is considerable intimacy between Lady Dunlo and Mr. Isidor Wertheimer, it is true, but I will prove by evidence that she has never been his mistress.

  “I ask you, gentlemen of the jury, to listen well to my client and believe her, when she will state under oath the real facts of this case. I ask you not for charity, gentlemen, but for justice. As you have seen, little charity or mercy were shown to Lady Dunlo by those who sought to have her marriage dissolved.”

  Mr. Lockwood turned to Belle and had her state her names, before and after marriage. “And how long have you been on the stage, Lady Dunlo?”

  “Since I was fourteen years old; I performed on occasion at Aldershot and in Farnborough. My sister and I—that is Flo, or Mrs. Seymour—have a double act: the Sisters Bilton.”

  “And when you were enceinte with the child of Mr. Weston, did you perform then?”

  “No, after a time, I could not. And because my engagements ceased, my sister’s were much reduced.”

  “I see. And when did you first make the acquaintance of the co-respondent, Mr. Isidor Wertheimer?”

  “I believe it was spring 1888.”

  “And he took the house at Maidenhead for you shortly after meeting you, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you were still attached to Mr. Weston, were you not?”

  “I was. Somewhat.”

  “And I believe you refused to engage yourself to Mr. Wertheimer?”

  Belle glanced at Isidor; he smiled, a small push of encouragement. “Isidor—Mr. Wertheimer, that is—he was not serious about marrying me. He said it as a lark. We both knew it was not something that would happen.”

  Mr. Lockwood frowned. “I have not asked you the question before, Lady Dunlo, but was there any intimacy between Mr. Wertheimer and yourself?”

  “No, there couldn’t be. I . . . he . . . No.” Belle stopped herself from saying more and kept her eyes on Mr. Lockwood.

  “When you lived at Turnagain Lane was there intimacy between you then?”

  “No.”

  “And Conduit Street?”

  “No.”

  Judge Hannen waved his hand with impatience and Belle looked over at him: “Have you ever been his mistress?” the judge said.

  Though alarmed by the gruffness of His Lordship’s intrusion Belle answered clearly: “I have not.”

  Mr. Lockwood nodded to the judge and resumed. “Did Lord Dunlo know that Mr. Wertheimer had offered to marry you?”

  “Yes, I told him so.”

  “Let us move, now, to the days following your marriage to Lord Dunlo. Where did you reside?”

  “William and I took a room at the Victoria Hotel.”

  “And how long were you there?”

  “A few days—until my husband left for the antipodes.”

  “Did you know he was leaving you?”

  Belle glanced at William, but he kept his chin dipped to his chest. She looked at Mr. Lockwood. “The night before my husband went away he was strange in his manner. After we had dined he told me to go to bed and said he wanted to take a walk alone to think. I was not alarmed—everyone likes to be solitary at times, myself included. But still, I asked him not to go; his demeanor had unsettled me. He went out to walk anyway and returned at about half past five in the morning. He woke me to tell me he would not go abroad; he complained about his father.”

  “Was he agitated?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “I asked him what was I to do if he did go away and he inquired if I could keep myself. I was then earning five guineas a week at the Empire Theatre, so I said I could. He kept repeating that his father wanted him to go; he seemed unwell. Unhappy and disturbed. I fell asleep and when I woke William was sitting on the bed in outdoor clothes. ‘I’m going,’ he said. I begged him to take me with him, but he said he could not. He showed me two letters from his father, one of which contained money. He said he had to leave or his father would cut him off. My husband promised he would come back in December, when he was of age. Then, he said, his father would give him an allowance with which to keep me. But if he stayed, his father would give him nothing and have nothing to do with him.” Belle gulped, her voice losing itself as she swallowed. “I implored him not to go and again he said he would not; he said he loved me and could not stand to be apart from me. He got back into bed beside me and we slept. When I woke, about nine o’clock, he was gone.”

  Belle winced to recall the exquisite stab of opening her eyes to find William absent, of searching the Victoria for him before flying to his rooms in the Burlington to sit in the hollowed-out atmosphere there. Why, she wondered, did the pain of that memory have a sweet tinge to it? Surely that should not be the case. Perhaps it was William’s lengthy prevarications that night, the fact that she knew he was confused and sad; that his reason had been tampered with by his father. She could not, somehow, think of those conversations without compassion; his father’s grip on him was so strong William did not know his own mind when pressured by the earl.

  Mr. Lockwood strode on. “Lord Dunlo left you—his wife—at the Victoria Hotel in Hampstead without money and without a marital home. He simply sailed away.”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I left the Victoria Hotel and returned to my room in Conduit Street, but the landlady had begun to object to me staying because she did not care for the singing of my canary.”

  Titters f
rom the gallery.

  “How came you to go to Sixty-three Avenue Road, to live there?”

  “Mr. Wertheimer offered me his house as a friend. He wished to help me.”

  “Mr. Clarke, the detective, says he saw Mr. Wertheimer in your bedroom, at the window, on the sixteenth of September. Is there any truth in that?”

  “None whatever.”

  “There is no truth in the suggestion that Mr. Wertheimer was in your room or that he struggled with you or that he kissed you?”

  “None.”

  He went over the fact that Wertheimer had come to Manchester at Christmas to see the pantomime, making sure to point out they had stayed at separate hotels, but also saying a Mr. Lumsden, a hotel employee, reported witnessing “certain familiarities” between Belle and Wertheimer. Piano playing, close conversation and so forth.

  “We played the piano together, but there it ends.”

  “You told us that no provision of any sort was made for you when Lord Dunlo went away. Have you had from your husband, since that time, a single halfpenny?”

  “No.”

  “Since your marriage has Mr. Wertheimer ever kissed you?”

  “He has not.”

  “Has he kissed you before?”

  “On one occasion at the Corinthian Club. He thought he might go to live in America and said he intended never to return. The kiss was meant as a good-bye. He had been drinking.”

  A man at the back of the court guffawed. Judge Hannen rose in his seat and roared, “Get that man out of this court. I will not have any signs of amusement exhibited here. I wish this to be distinctly understood: certain feelings are manifested by amusement at the indecent which cannot but affect those who observe it. An opinion outside the jury is sought to be created. I will not have it.”

  An officer of the Crown removed the laughing man and Belle took the opportunity to look to Flo. Her sister’s vigorous smile told Belle she was acquitting herself acceptably. She would surely be permitted to step down soon.

  Mr. Lockwood looked to Judge Hannen and when he nodded, he turned once more to Belle.

  “Lady Dunlo, since your marriage has Mr. Wertheimer always treated you with respect?”

  “Always.”

  “He has expressed a stronger affection for you than yours for him. That is, you did not return his feelings about the prospect of marrying him, for example?”

  “That is so.”

  “Has there ever been familiarity of any description between you, besides that which you have alluded to just now?”

  “Never.”

  “No further questions, my lord.”

  Belle watched Mr. Lockwood retreat with regret for she knew that Mr. Russell was about to step up and he would not gentle her as Lockwood had done. Mr. Russell began by going over everything about Belle’s acting history, right back to her start performing for the militia. He asked about Weston, of course, and Belle answered succinctly.

  “How did you make the acquaintance of Mr. Wertheimer?”

  “Major Noah asked me to dinner after Mr. Weston’s trial—that was February 1888—and Mr. Wertheimer was there. We were seated together at table and we talked all evening.” Belle paused. “Shortly after that meeting, realizing my predicament, Mr. Wertheimer said he would do anything he could to help me. But I was not on intimate terms with him; we became solid friends very swiftly, that is all. He had taken the house at Maidenhead and by May I had moved there.”

  “So there was a certain amount of intimacy?”

  “No, not intimacy, friendship. We lunched, dined and supped together frequently. Invariably we saw each other every day. But my sister Flo was often there and her husband, Mr. Seymour.”

  “Miss Bilton, did Mr. Wertheimer buy your clothing?”

  Belle answered indignantly. “He did not.”

  “Did he buy clothing of any sort?”

  “He bought things for the child. And he paid the household expenses.”

  “Let us move forward now to August of last year, to Sixty-three Avenue Road, another house taken by Mr. Wertheimer and occupied by you. Mr. Wertheimer had a bedroom in this house?”

  “That is correct. He kept evening dress there.”

  “He, in fact, lived there?”

  “No, he did not.”

  “But he told you when the arrangement was made that he would require a room there?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “What did you think your position was there?”

  “Everyone knew what my position was.”

  “Everyone? Did your father and mother know?”

  “No.”

  Mr. Russell shook the paper in his hand and glanced at the jury. “Now, you are a woman of the world. You have heard of men keeping mistresses?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know how they live?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you not think it strange that Mr. Wertheimer should spend so much money on you? Did you not think it looked as if you were living as his mistress? Particularly in a place such as St. John’s Wood?”

  “No, I had nothing to do with him in that way.” How much simpler it would be to say he would want nothing to do with me in that way. Yes, sir, Mr. Wertheimer loves women but when it comes to it, he would rather lie with a man. Belle searched for the right words. “We know the ways we conducted ourselves, Mr. Russell; we know there’s no stain on our own behavior.”

  Mr. Russell moved on and began to ask about her first meeting with William, about his many proposals, about Belle’s caution because of the Le Poer Trench family’s likely feelings on the matter.

  “So, at the time you were entertaining Viscount Dunlo, you were still on intimate terms with Mr. Wertheimer?”

  “Isidor Wertheimer and I were firm friends; we saw each other a lot; there was no intimacy. Mr. Wertheimer has been good to me since the day I met him. Better than any other.”

  “And after your marriage, when your husband had gone abroad, it was true you lived under the protection of Mr. Wertheimer. You say that?”

  Belle flexed her fingers. Why does he keep repeating himself? Is he trying to trick me? “Yes, I agree with that.”

  “You mean you were living as his mistress.”

  “Certainly not.”

  “You mean to say that stating that you were living under his protection doesn’t convey to your mind that you were living as this man’s mistress?”

  “No, Mr. Russell, it does not. Mr. Wertheimer was protecting me.”

  “While Lord Dunlo was away, Mr. Wertheimer proposed marriage to you, did he not?”

  Belle was growing weary. “Mr. Wertheimer loved to talk about marriage, but he never meant it.” If only it were possible to explain, without retribution, that Isidor only spoke of it because it would be a way to save him, to shield him from the world’s castigation, from prosecution.

  “Did Mr. Wertheimer at one stage cable a proposal of marriage to you, Lady Dunlo?”

  Why, Belle had forgotten about that. It was a joke—one of Isidor’s silly drunken gags. “Yes.”

  “Did you cable back?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That I would not marry him; I reminded him I was already married. We were sporting with each other.”

  “Do you have this cable?”

  “No, I do not keep letters or cables.”

  “But you kept Lord Dunlo’s letters?”

  “Yes, all of them.”

  What Belle did not say was that most envelopes and letters she received were cut up for privy fodder. She squashed the thought in case it brought forth a smile.

  Mr. Russell pushed on. “You spoke to Lord Dunlo about Mr. Wertheimer?”

  “Yes.”

  “And about Mr. Weston?”

  “Yes
. William knew everything.”

  “Mr. Wertheimer came to you on the day your husband went away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Once ensconced in Sixty-three Avenue Road, you became aware you were being watched?”

  “Yes.”

  On and on he went, outlining dates and meetings. Belle did not deny any of what Mr. Clarke had reportedly seen of her walking or talking with Wertheimer. She had nothing to conceal.

  “Was Mr. Wertheimer on sufficiently familiar terms with you to abuse your husband?”

  “Abuse him?”

  “Did he approve of him, like him? Or was there disapproval in his attitude?”

  “He seemed to like William well enough. But as the months wore on, when Lord Dunlo stayed away, Mr. Wertheimer raised doubts about my husband’s constancy.”

  “Did he make you cry when he spoke of him?”

  “Yes.” Belle glanced at Wertheimer. “But once only.”

  “Why did you not go to live at your sister’s house instead of Sixty-three Avenue Road, at the end of August last year?”

  “Flo had no room for me—her lodgings were small.”

  “You wrote to Lord Dunlo and said you would be staying with your sister, did you not?”

  “I thought I might go there, but Flo was unable to accommodate me. I also wanted my husband to see that he had put me in a sorry position. Flo’s quarters were small and he knew that.”

  “You also wrote to Lord Dunlo that ‘W’ had called on you, but you did not see him as you were alone.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet this was the man in whose house you were living and with whom you were constantly going about.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did your sister urge you to come stay with her?”

  “She asked me to stay once she had found a larger house.”

  “And you intended to do that?”