Degrees of Hope

by Catherine Winchester

  “I would now like to call my first witness, Lady Hope Beaumont.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Hope was shaking as she made her way to the front of the courtroom. Even before Malcolm's attack, she would have found this situation intimidating, and the fact that James' freedom could ride on her testimony, only added to the pressure she felt.

  She was sworn in and went to stand in the witness box.

  Edward first asked about her relationship with Honoria; when she had first suspected that her friend was being beaten, and when she had first had confirmation of her suspicions.

  The prosecution objected but the judge overruled him.

  “Now if you would, please tell us what happened on the 3rd of June?”

  Although initially Hope had wanted to keep her attack secret from Edward, the defence hinged upon the jury knowing what had happened to her. She wasn't surprised to hear that local gossip had finally reached him, but she also wasn't looking forward to reliving her ordeal on the witness stand.

  “I, um, I was walking in our garden, near to the woodland, when Mr Arundell attacked me.”

  “Which is how you sustained your wrist injury?” he pointed to her splinted wrist.

  She raised the arm a little so that people could see. “Yes, among other things.”

  “What other injuries did he cause?”

  “He twisted my ankle, hit me wherever he could and blackened one of my eyes.”

  “Did Mr Arundell say anything to you during the attack?”

  “He did.”

  “Can you tell us?”

  “I...” She swallowed and bowed her head.

  “Do you remember what he said?” Edward asked kindly.

  “I do.”

  “Can you tell us?”

  “I don't know the meaning of everything he said, but I know enough to say that it shouldn’t be repeated in polite company.”

  “Please, just repeat what he said.”

  Hope took a deep breath and recited his words, but her tone was flat and lifeless, nothing like the angry, menacing way that he had said them to her. “He said, 'Come on, you cheap little Judy, I'm going to show you what happens to a meddling little... harlot like you. You think you're better than me, don't you, you, you toffer? Did you think that I would let you get away with taking my wife from me? She's my wife, mine!'.”

  Gasps erupted throughout the court room as she spoke.

  “Did he say anything else?” Edward asked.

  “He, um, he said, 'I'm going to... to bloody your laycock so hard, that no one will ever marry you, even with your fortune. And I'm going to love every second'.” Her cheeks felt almost burnt from her deep blush.

  The gasps had turned into murmurings as people, mostly men who sat in the gallery, softly discussed what kind of vile man would say such things to a woman, a Lady no less. Pencils scribbled against paper as reporters did their best to capture her words.

  “Anything else?” Edward asked kindly.

  “He told me that he liked me fighting back and he, uh... he said... that... he would like it if I screamed.”

  “But the attack was a failure as he didn't succeed, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell me how you fought him off?”

  “My dog bit his arm, which allowed me to get free and I ran. He managed to hurt MacDuff and shake him off though, that's my dog's name, and he chased after me. He caught up and pushed me to the ground, landing on top of me. That's when I hurt my ankle and wrist.”

  “And then?”

  “I was winded and couldn't catch my breath, so he pulled me to my feet and put one hand over my mouth as the other grabbed me about my middle, and he tried to drag me into the bushes. I struggled and managed to bite his hand.”

  “How hard did you bite him?”

  “As hard as I could. I tasted blood.”

  “Please go on.”

  “We struggled, he hit me a few times, then MacDuff recovered enough to help me again and he bit into Malcolm's leg. Malcolm overbalanced and fell, then MacDuff tried to go for his throat. Malcolm tried to fight him off with his hands, which gave me the chance to kick him in the head until he lost consciousness.”

  “Did you cut his head?”

  “I believe so. I ran as soon as he fell limp, but I did see blood on his ear and in his hair.”

  “And you mentioned that your dog also bit him many times; did he draw blood?”

  “I would assume so; his jacket sleeve and trouser leg were both badly torn.”

  “And how did this senseless attack affect you?”

  “Badly at first. As well as needing to heal, it crushed my confidence. In fact, I didn't leave my room for well over a week.”

  “And when you did, you had to use a wheeled chair, is that correct?”

  “Yes, my ankle was splinted and I wasn't allowed to put any weight on it.”

  “Thank you, Lady Beaumont.” A subtle reminded of her status, and how heinous an act attacking a noble lady was. “Just one final question, if I may.”

  “Of course.”

  “I'd like to ask you about James Ashdown and what sort of man you think he is?”

  “A good man,” she admitted, her eyes drifting over to his where he sat in the dock. “When we first met, I confess, I did not like him very much but since his sister disappeared and the duel, I have come to know him much better. He cares very deeply for both his sister and his church, and I know that he regrets his actions that day. James is a very devout man and to have taken a life, no matter how justified, pains him. I believe that he was deeply hurt by Honoria's disappearance and to then learn of the indignities thrust upon her, by the man who was supposed to love and protect her...” Her eyes actually filled with tears, and she paused to regain her composure. “I do not condone what Mr Ashdown did, but I do understand it and I cannot condemn him for it.”

  “Thank you, Lady Beaumont.”

  Edward handed questioning over to the prosecution but he had no questions for Hope, so with a sigh of relief, she returned to her family in the gallery.

  Next Edward called Barry, the steward to the stand, to attest to having seen the end of the attack and Malcolm’s injuries. Then Alf, the head groom and her uncle, testified to Malcolm's wounds on his leg, arm and both hands, having been given the responsibility of watching him until the police arrived.

  Two servants had helped Alf carry Malcolm inside, and they too testified to the injuries that Malcolm had suffered.

  Usually trials were much faster than this but time was ticking on and Sir John's stomach was starting to protest, so he recessed the court for lunch.

  James had been escorted to the cells below the court for lunch, but the Beaumonts were allowed to visit him down there, although they couldn’t go into the cell. James sat on the wooden bunk, his head held in his hands, though he looked up when they came and managed a weak smile.

  Before they could ask any questions, they were joined by Edward Klein.

  “I think that went very well,” he said, smiling as he approached.

  “What do you think our chances are?” Lucien asked, wrapping a comforting arm around his wife's shoulders.

  “Very good. They already sympathise with James, now we just need to give them an excuse to let him off, which we will do after lunch.”

  “And you think that will be enough?”

  “I do. Did you not see their faces when Hope spoke of her attack? They believe Malcolm to be a scoundrel and after Hope's testimony, James to be a saint.”

  As they talked, Hope drifted closer to the bars of the cell.

  “How are you?” she asked softly.

  James smiled. “I'm all right. Thank you for what you said up there, it means the world to me.”

  “I only spoke the truth.”

  “And that warms my heart even more.”

  Hope blushed a little.

  “It will be over soon now, James, just keep the faith for a little longer.”

  J
ames stood up and came over to the bars. “Do you honestly believe that they will find me not guilty?” he asked.

  “I do.” She nodded, and finally she understood why he had insisted on a trial by his peers and not by the Lords. The Lords would certainly have let him off, despite his guilt or innocence. His fellow man on the other hand, would judge him fairly. If they deemed him not guilty, then perhaps he might start to believe them.

  Hope reached through the bars and took James' hand.

  Edward observed the interactions between Hope and James, even although he was busy talking with Hope's parents.

  When they first met, he had thought that Hope might like him, and he still believed that he was right, at that time. Now though, he could see that he had missed his opportunity. James and Hope had both suffered traumas and obviously helped each other to recover.

  Edward realised that he was too late.

  When the trial resumed, Edward Klein called Nicholas Shaw, who was sworn in, then took his stance in the witness box.

  “Mr Shaw, would you tell the court your line of work and speciality, please?”

  “I am a Biology Fellow at Cambridge and my speciality is the transmission of disease via germs.”

  “And what are germs?”

  “Germs are tiny organisms, invisible to the naked eye, which cause disease and infection, among other things.”

  “Are you familiar with the mechanics of pistols, Mr Shaw?”

  “I am familiar with them in vague terms but I have never studied them.”

  “But you are aware that the bullet is ejected from the gun by using a small amount of explosives, yes?”

  “Correct.”

  “Explosions are very hot, are they not?”

  “They are indeed.”

  “And how does heat affect germs?”

  “While I myself have not done any experiments into this, I have read the experiments of Louis Pasteur.”

  “Can you explain those experiments for us?”

  “Of course. Between 1860 and 1864 he did a number of experiments on nutrient broths and spontaneous germ generation. He boiled the broth, then sealed one portion off from the air, a second he exposed to only filtered air, which allowed no dust to get to the broth, and the third he left open to the air. No micro-organisms grew in the first and second broths, only in the third broth.”

  “And what conclusions did he reach from these experiments?”

  “That heating a broth to boiling point, 212 degrees Fahrenheit, kills the germs present and micro-organisms would have to be reintroduced to the broth in order to grow there.”

  “Objection, Your Honour,” the prosecution lawyer stood up. “How is this relevant to the case?”

  “Your whole prosecution case relies upon the introduction of infection,” Sir John answered. “I would say that this was most relevant. Please continue, Mr Klein.”

  “Mr Shaw, how hot does a bullet get when it is fired?”

  “Personally I do not know but I have spoken with some colleagues who study explosions. They tell me that the temperature of the gunpowder is likely between 200 and 400 degrees Fahrenheit.”

  “In which case, any germs or micro-organisms on the bullet would be killed, would they not?”

  “Yes.”

  “So Mr Arundell's wound could not have been infected by the bullet then?”

  “Most certainly not, although infection could have been introduced at a later date.”

  “Of course. Now, in studying the transmission of infection, what has the scientific community learned?”

  “Well, much disease seems to be spread through bodily fluids.”

  “Could you explain that, please?”

  “Certainly. One example is outbreaks of Cholera, which have now been proven to be caused by the water supply becoming contaminated by sewage. Another is the research by Ignaz Semmelweis in Vienna. He noticed that many women giving birth in hospital were dying of puerperal fever, whilst mothers giving birth at home with a midwife, were not. Upon further investigation, he discovered that many of the women affected had been examined by doctors and further, that many of those doctors had come from autopsies. By getting the doctors to wash their hands in chlorinated lime water before performing examinations of pregnant women, deaths from puerperal fever were reduced from 18 percent to just 2 percent.”

  “Are you familiar with The Lancet, Mr Shaw?”

  “I am, it's a medical journal where doctors can present their findings to others in the profession.”

  “And have you read an article by a Dr Lister entitled 'On a new method of treating compound fracture, abscess, etc: with observation on the conditions of suppuration'?”

  “I have. Only four of five parts have been published but Dr Lister and I correspond on occasion, and I have had the opportunity to read the paper in its entirety.”

  “And what are Dr Lister's findings?”

  “That by spraying surgical instruments with Carbolic Acid before surgery, incidents of infection are greatly reduced. Further, by applying a solution of carbolic acid directly to a wound site, incidents of infection and gangrene were drastically reduced.”

  “And what do chlorinated lime water and carbolic acid have in common, doctor?”

  “Well, both chlorine and carbolic acid are destructive to tissue, so they kill these germs which can be transmitted through bodily fluids.”

  “And what of the miasmatic theory, which says that disease is spread through bad air, often from rotting matter?”

  “That's been debunked.” Nicholas asserted.

  “Has it?”

  “Yes. Perhaps you have heard of Reverend Henry Whitehead? He is a curate in London and well known for debunking bad science. As a believer in miasma theory, he worked hard to disprove John Snow's theory of contaminated water following the cholera outbreak in 1854. Unfortunately, he couldn't disprove it and actually joined Snow in searching for the source of the outbreak. It may take time for some to change their opinion but any reasonable man who examines the wealth of evidence, cannot help but disregard the miasma theory.”

  “Now, you have examined the findings of Mr Arundell's inquest, correct?”

  “I have.”

  “And what do you believe to be the source of his infection?”

  “Given the time lapse between the duel and the development of infection, the fact that the wounds were stitched closed, plus the fact that Mr Arundell received a number of dog bites that were deep enough to draw blood, I think it highly likely that the infection was introduced through a bite, rather than from the bullet.”

  “Thank you, Mr Shaw. Your Honour, I have no further questions for this witness.”

  Sir John looked to the prosecution, who stood up.

  “Mr Shaw, you said that you think it likely that infection was introduced through a bite, but you are not certain, correct?”

  “Correct. I did not examine the body and even if I had, I might not have been able to say for certain at what site infection was introduced.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because sepsis is a systemic illness. The micro-organisms are transported around the whole body by the blood, killing off healthy tissue all over, so a few days after the illness has spread, it's very difficult to tell exactly where the infection entered the body.”

  “So this is all just supposition, isn't it, Mr Shaw?”

  “No, it is my opinion, which is based on sound scientific fact.”

  The prosecutor frowned but couldn't argue with the scientist on a subject that he knew little about. “I have no further questions, Your Honour.”

  Next, Edward called James to the witness stand.

  It was painful to watch as Edward asked James about his sister, and even more painful to watch his eyes tear up, as Edward asked him to read a passage of Honoria's journal out. Many in the court were uncomfortable with what he read, even although Honoria was never too graphic in her descriptions.

  Although there were few women in the gallery, those t
hat had come did so because they knew Honoria, and most began to cry softly. Hope and Martha however, had heard the account first hand, so although they put their arms around each other as comfort, both managed to hold in their grief.

  Most of the men present just looked uncomfortable, although some were clearly upset by Honoria's first-hand account of her abuse.

  “She says that you told her to stick with the marriage,” Edward asked kindly.

  “I did. When she said that she was having problems, I didn't dream that... what kind of a monster does that to a young girl? She may have been married but she was just a girl, 17 when they married, just 18 when she disappeared.”

  “Her disappearance had also upset you, hadn't it?”

  “Very much, and when I first read the journals, I believed that Malcolm had finally gone too far and killed her.”

  “That's why you challenged him to a duel?”

  “Yes... and guilt. I hadn't protected her in life, I felt that the least I could do was avenge her in...” he couldn't lie under oath, not even to save himself, and he now knew that she was alive. “Once she was gone,” he finished. Most people believed that he couldn't bring himself to say 'dead'.

  “Do you still believe that Mr Arundell killed Honoria?”

  “No. He wasn't in Marchwood that day and the police have confirmed that he was in London at the time, so he couldn't have.”

  “But you weren't thinking clearly then?”

  “No.”

  “And now, do you regret your actions?”

  “Yes, I regret that a man died at my hand, even a truly awful human being like Mr Arundell.”

  “Thank you, Mr Ashdown. No further questions, Your Honour.”

  The prosecution counsel stood up but he didn't seem keen to cross examine James. He took a few moments to compose himself.

  “You challenged Malcolm Arundell to a duel because you felt guilty, didn't you?”

  “Yes.”

  He hadn't been expecting James to agree and was thrown slightly.

  “So you admit that you killed him because you felt guilty?”

  “I admit that I challenged him to a duel, in part because I felt guilty for not protecting my sister from that loathsome man.”