Degrees of Hope

by Catherine Winchester

  “And if you could do that day again, would you still kill him?”

  James thought about that for a few moments. He knew that Honoria was alive now, but she still would have been violated in the worst way by Malcolm.

  “I don't think I could have done anything any differently.”

  The prosecution lawyer was upset that he hadn't admitted killing Malcolm but in all honesty, he no longer had the heart to fight this anymore. Besides, the inquest had already confirmed that the bullet wound caused the infection that killed him.

  “I have no more questions for this witness,” he told the judge.

  The judge dismissed James from the stand and looked to Edward Klein. “Do you have any further witnesses to call?”

  “I do not, your Honour.”

  “Very well.” Sir John gave a brief summation to the jury, who then retired to consider the case and called a recess until the jury had reached a verdict.

  Lucien made his way to the bar, which separated the court from the gallery. Martha and Hope following behind him, as Edward also made his way over to them. James stood up and turned to face the gallery.

  Lucien felt strange not to be able to go beyond the bar since this was usually his domain but then, very little about the past few months had been normal.

  “What do we do now?” Martha asked Edward.

  “We wait. They don't usually take very long to reach a verdict, sometimes the jury doesn't even leave the courtroom, they just huddle together to confer. This is a longer trial than most however, so they may take half an hour, possibly a little longer.”

  Two Javelin men stood either side of the dock, guarding James but they didn't stop Hope from approaching him.

  “How are you?”

  “Frightened,” he admitted.

  “Everything will work out for the best,” she assured him. She wanted to take his hand but there were far too many reporters around for her to risk that. “Tonight we will have a celebration,” Hope tried to distract him. “The kitchen has goose ready with all the trimmings, and father has a few bottles of champagne picked out from the cellar. Charity has also been learning some new piano pieces to entertain us.”

  James tried to smile but it was difficult when in a few minutes time, you could be convicted of murder.

  Hope could almost taste his anguish and wished that there was something more that she could do for him. Then she realised that this whole defence had been her idea! Yes, Edward Klein had agreed with her but if he was found guilty, it would still feel like her fault.

  Just then, the jury door opened and the men filed back in.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  “How long has it been?” Hope asked, suddenly panicked. Was a quick verdict good or bad.

  “Four minutes,” Edward answered, suddenly feeling a little nervous himself.

  “All rise!” came a call from one of the Javelin men, as the judge came back into the court room.

  “Be seated,” Sir John said but since so many people were out of their seats, it took a while for the gallery to settle. Sir John then turned to the Jury. “Foreman of the jury, have you reached a verdict?”

  One man stood up. “We have, your Honour.”

  “Please tell the court.”

  “We find the defendant, Sir James Charles Ashdown, not guilty of the murder of Malcolm Arundell.”

  Most didn't hear a word after 'not guilty' as the gallery erupted in cheers. Hope hadn't realised that so many people were on his side, nor for that matter, had James.

  Sir John banged his gavel a few times to bring order, then addressed James.

  “James Ashdown, it is the verdict of this court that you are not guilty of the crime of murder. You are free to go,” he said with a smile.

  Talk erupted in the gallery again, resulting in another few bangs of the gavel.

  “As the hour is 3pm, we will adjourn for the day, to reconvene at 10am tomorrow morning. Jurors, thank you for your service.” Still smiling, Sir John came down from the bench and shook hands with James before he could head into the gallery. “I must say, I am relieved not to be sentencing you to death, Mr Ashdown.”

  “I feel very much the same way,” James answered, with a grin so wide that it threatened to crack his face.

  “And Mr Klein,” he turned to the Queen's Counsel. “A most inspired defence. I look forward to running into you in the future, young man.”

  “Thank you, your Honour, but the idea for the defence was not mine, it was Hope's.”

  “You mean Hope Beaumont?”

  “The very same, sir.”

  “Well well, all these years that I have dined with her, I knew her to be bold, I did not however, realise that she had intelligence to match. I would make my move, if I were you, Mr Klein.”

  Both gentlemen looked over to her, only to see her smiling up at James.

  “Ah, well, perhaps you may be a little too late already,” the judge added.

  “Such is life,” Edward said.

  Regardless of his failure in love, his success in court today would give his career a generous boost, so he couldn't be too downhearted.

  They saw James being pulled away from Hope by the crowd of well-wishers and reporters.

  “I dare say the Beaumonts will be delayed for quite some time, and I don't much like the idea of fighting through that crowd. Why don't we go out the back way and take a hansom cab to Marchwood Hall?”

  “Good idea, Mr Klein.”

  Edward's prediction proved true and for a time, none of the Beaumonts had eyes on James. Lucien eventually rounded his ladies up and suggested that they wait outside the building, where James would surely look for them eventually. One of the court clerks found them and informed them that Sir John and Edward had made their own way back to the house, so the Beaumonts waited.

  Newspapermen approached them for quotes, many asking about the inspired defence, since they hadn't been able to talk to Mr Klein before he left. Hope had never been one to hide her light under a bushel, so Lucien decided to be honest with the press and explained that the defence strategy was her idea.

  Hope was caught off guard and as more people realised that something was going on (even if they didn't know what) the crowd grew. The reporters all yelled questions, one after the other, which made it impossible for Hope to answer anyone.

  “Gentlemen, please!” Lucien yelled, using the voice that Hope knew meant 'listen to me or there will be serious trouble'. She hadn't heard it too often growing up, but thankfully it had the same effect on the press as it did her and the crowd quietened. “We will answer your questions, but please, one at a time.”

  Lucien pointed to a reporter near the front, who had his hand slightly raised.

  “Lady Beaumont, is it true that you devised the idea for Mr Ashdown's defence?”

  For a moment, Hope felt like running for cover, hiding herself away from all these vile men who were pushing and shoving each other. Then her father's hand rested on her shoulder and she turned to look up at him. He looked so proud of her. She turned back to the reporter.

  “It is,” She answered.

  “How?” another reporter asked, although he hadn't been invited to talk and he quailed slightly under Lucien's glare.

  “I read the science articles in our periodicals and that gave me the idea.”

  “Are you saying that you did the research for the defence?”

  For a moment she considered being modest and playing down her role, but the sooner people realised that women were capable and intelligent beings, the better.

  “Yes, I did the research and I contacted Mr Shaw to enquire about my theory.”

  “How do you feel after the attack by Malcolm Arundell?”

  Hope swallowed. “I was shaken for a while but I think overall, this will make me stronger.”

  “Is there a message that you want people to take away from today?”

  “If anything, it's 'don't underestimate the power of emotions'. Mr Ashdown shot someone who had h
urt his sister but men are not the only ones who don't know what they are capable of until they're tested. Every day in this country there are women enduring hideous marriages, and that takes a kind of courage and strength that most men will never need or understand. When someone we care about is threatened, there is no telling what lengths a woman will go to, to save them.”

  “A woman scorned?” One reporter yelled out, joking but Hope sent him a withering glare.

  “When I was 15, my eldest brother was being picked on by older boys in the park. I was supposed to be looking after him but he had wandered off. I horse whipped three boys until they ran off, because I love my brother. When Malcolm Arundell attacked me, I fought him with all my might, determined that he wouldn't win, because I respect myself. And when James Ashdown faced the death penalty for trying to avenge his sister, I paid for his defence and I worked night and day to devise a strategy that might save him. Women cannot be summed up in tired clichés like 'a woman scorned'; we are far more complex and capable of so much more than we are given credit for. The sooner more people realise this, the better off we will all be.”

  There was silence for a moment, then the first reporter raised his hand again and Hope nodded for him to go ahead.

  “What about those other women who suffer abuse in marriage, how can you help them?”

  “I've been thinking that very thing myself. First, we must legislate so that women are able to obtain a divorce from such brutal men. Then we must give all women feme sole status, so that they have the power to run their own lives and manage their own money, regardless of their marital status. Finally, we must teach everyone that women are not possessions to be treated in any way their husbands wish. We are thinking, feeling beings, and we do not deserve to be scorned simply for the happenstance of being born female.”

  “And how will you achieve this?” someone called out from the back.

  “I'm afraid that with the trial looming, I haven't had much time to contemplate it, but once we are done celebrating Mr Ashdown's happy news, I intend to start by petitioning members of the House of Commons.”

  “Don't you think that men will be less inclined to take a wife if their property does not become his upon marriage?”

  “Father, perhaps you would answer that one,” Hope said with a smile.

  “Gladly. Perhaps you gentlemen are not aware of this but my wife's father, Augustus Aldercott, put her inheritance in trust upon his death, so I have never been able to touch a penny. But I suppose the difference is, I married my wife because I love her, not because she could boost my bank balance.”

  Although perhaps the wrong time and place, Martha couldn't resist standing up on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

  The press went wild at such an inappropriate action and the yelling began again, so Lucien decided to call it a day.

  “Thank you, gentlemen, that is all for now.” He put his arms around Martha and Hope and guided them through the crowd, to where their carriage had been waiting for the past fifteen minutes. Although not shielded from the press inside the carriage, Lucien kissed his wife as he wished that he could do in public, and she responded. The yelling from beyond the carriage windows increased but Martha and Lucien paid no mind.

  When Martha pulled away, feeling decidedly breathless and still somewhat amazed that her husband could still make her feel like a teenager, she leaned close to his ear.

  “I believe I shall need a lie down once we are home. The events of today have quite exhausted me.”

  “And what did I do to deserve such afternoon delights?” Lucien asked, knowing that she was being euphemistic.

  Martha pulled away and cupped his cheek. “For paying me such a lovely compliment in front of those press hounds. And I love you too, by the way.”

  Lucien grinned and Hope rolled her eyes. She knew by now that chastising them for their displays of affection was about as effective as serving tea in a chocolate teapot.

  Before things could get any more sentimental though, something banged on the carriage door and they saw James, desperately trying to push his way through the crowds. Lucien stood up, opened the door, then reached about three bodies back into the crowd, grabbed James' arm and pulled him up and into the carriage. He then rapped twice on the front of the carriage and the horses began to move. They heard a few cracks of the whip, but Lucien didn't think that it was the horses that were being chastised.

  “Everyone seems very happy for you,” Hope said to James.

  “Yes,” James answered, a wide smile on his face.

  Back at Marchwood Hall, MacDuff ran out to meet Hope, running on his three good legs, his tail high and wagging. Martha excused herself for a lie down and after greeting Edward and Sir John, James also felt that he needed some time alone. Lucien shared one small celebratory glass of brandy with their guests, then excused himself to 'check on' Martha.

  Hope was also feeling a tired after the excitement of the day, and went to her room to read for a few hours before dinner. Her lady's maid helped her change out of her corset and dress, then into something simpler.

  Since it was a nice day, she sat on the window seat to read, so that she could feel the warmth of the afternoon sun. She had been reading for perhaps half an hour before there came a knock on her door.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened and James stood in the doorway. “Hope, I wondered if I might have a word with you?”

  “Of course, come in.”

  “This is your bedchamber.”

  “Where you visited me every day whilst I was under the weather.” She got off the window seat and took one of the chairs by the unlit fire. “Come on, I promise that I won't bite you, and nor will MacDuff.”

  Somewhat reluctantly, James stepped into the room and took the other chair, although he left the door ajar in the name of propriety.

  “I realised that I haven't yet thanked you for everything that you have done for me. Without you, I would probably be awaiting the gallows now.”

  “Perhaps not. Everyone was on your side, James.”

  “But they still needed a reason to let me go, which you gave them. And of course, Mr Klein's expertise doesn't come cheaply.”

  “You're very welcome. Now please, let's forget about it.”

  Although reluctant, James nodded.

  “And I suppose that we must now decide what to tell Honoria,” Hope continued. They had all agreed to get the trial over with before telling his sister of what had happened. She would have returned immediately, which meant five to six weeks after the letter was sent. Everyone felt that it was better to let things settle down for a while, before telling the world that Honoria was alive and well.

  “Yes... she's an heiress now,” James noted.

  “I suppose she is, but I cannot see her wanting to remain in that house. I suppose that I should inform his estate that she is alive, at least, before they settle his fortune on someone else.”

  “Does Malcolm have any other family?”

  “Honoria told me that he has some cousins, but they don't speak.”

  James nodded absently.

  “And what about you, will you return to your theology college now?” Hope asked, wondering why the idea disappointed her.

  “I hadn't given it very much thought but to be honest... well after all this, I'm not certain that I belong there anymore.”

  “Of course you do! Entering the church is your dream!”

  “Is it?” he asked, which Hope found rather confusing. “Besides, I took a life. Not to protect myself, or for Queen and country, but for revenge.”

  “Well, you are more than welcome to stay here until you reach a decision.”

  “Thank you,” he smiled. “And I know that you are well enough to start teaching at the school again but I have rather enjoyed it, so I was wondering if perhaps, I could continue to cover your teaching days?”

  Teaching had been about the only thing that cheered James recently, so Hope had no problem with him continuing to cov
er for her. She would have suggested that James consider taking over completely, but Mary would be returning home soon and Hope couldn't give her job away.

  “I have no objection, and I'm sure Mother won't either.”

  “You're certain that I won't be putting anyone out?”

  “Yes. To be honest, with everything that has happened recently, we are both rather behind on our designing and could use the time to catch up.”

  “Thank you, for everything.” He smiled at her and Hope was surprised to feel herself blushing slightly.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Mid-August found the Beaumonts, Lucien, Martha, Hope, Gus, Bart and Charity, along with James Ashdown, standing on Liverpool docks, waiting for the Great Britain to dock. The dock was busy but not as crowded as some might imagine. More people made the journey to America than the return, so the crowds who came to see their loved ones off, were usually larger.

  James was clearly nervous, pacing up and down the dock as he waited for the walkway to be secured, so that the passengers could disembark. His eyes kept being drawn to the ship in the hope of catching a glimpse of Honoria, but he couldn't spot her. She was probably queuing by the gangplank, waiting to disembark.

  Finally people began to make their way from the ship onto the dock and James kept his eyes focused on those crossing the walkway, desperate for a glimpse of Honoria. Then he spotted her.

  She wasn't dressed in her usual finery, although she looked perfectly respectable. The most startling thing about her appearance though, was her smile. It broke his heart to think that he couldn't remember the last time that he had seen her looking so light and happy. He could remember her easy smile from childhood, he had just forgotten about it until now. Her companion said something and Honoria laughed. It pained James to realise that he couldn't remember the sound.

  He began to make his way towards the gangplank and by the time Honoria reached the dock, he was waiting to envelop her in a large hug. He held her to him for a long time and Honoria was content to remain in his embrace.