“Yes, I remember. So, you sent Giles away and then you and your husband quarreled.”
“No,” said Clare, shaking her head. “Justin apologized for his suspicions. And I reminded him”—Clare frowned as she began to remember—”I reminded him that he had been planning to visit with Dr. Shipton.”
“Dr. Shipton?”
Clare lowered her eyes. “The doctor has had some success in helping people reduce their dependence on laudanum. Justin thought he would see if he could help him overcome a certain dependence on spirits.”
“Lord Rainsborough drank too much?”
“Not all the time. He could abstain for weeks at a time. But when he did drink, then ...” Clare folded her hands across her stomach.
“When he drank?”
“That was when he would get jealous. Accuse me of terrible things ...” Her voice trailed off.
“Hit you?”
She nodded. “I was so hopeful when he first mentioned Dr. Shipton.”
“I understand. You loved your husband, Lady Rainsborough?”
Clare’s eyes filled with tears. “I loved him very much. Once.” The last word was almost inaudible, and Andrew almost missed it.
“Once?”
“I don’t know if I still loved him. You see, it was almost like living with two husbands: the Justin who loved me, and the Justin who beat me. At first it was the Justin who loved me that I lived with most of the time. But lately ...”
“For how long?”
“For at least a year I have wondered if I have been going mad. If I could trust my own perceptions. Because the time he was not drinking became shorter and shorter. I was having a hard time remembering the Justin whom I had loved.” Clare paused and then continued slowly and painfully. “But then he would be there again, for a short time, and of course, I still loved him.”
“Let us go back to yesterday, Lady Rainsborough,” said Andrew as he watched Clare twisting her hands together harder and harder. “You were in harmony with one another by the time you left?”
Clare nodded.
“Did anything happen at the ball?”
“Justin and I danced. Then he went into the card room. I saw him with a glass of champagne, but I was hoping he would have only one. It was all my fault,” she said in an agonized whisper.
“What was?” Andrew asked gently. What could she possibly have done to merit such a beating?
“Giles asked if he could see me alone. I let him convince me to be private with him. I thought Justin was playing cards. I thought we would be out of there ... that he wouldn’t see us.”
“And what did Giles have to say to you?”
“That my father had asked him to speak with me. That my family and friends were concerned about my health.”
“And did you tell him about your ... troubles?”
“Oh, God, of course not,” said Clare vehemently. “I have told no one. What could anyone do, especially Giles?"
“Perhaps someone could have challenged Lord Rainsborough with his behavior?”
At the word challenge, Clare put her hand to her forehead.
“Are you in pain, Lady Rainsborough?”
“No. Yes. It is just that I can’t let it through ...”
Andrew reached out for her other hand and held it loosely in his own. “How do you know that your husband saw the two of you?”
“He made me leave early. He made his usual accusations.”
“Which you denied?”
Clare pulled her hand from Andrew’s and laughed mirthlessly. “I have always denied them. As quietly and calmly as I could. I never let myself be drawn into a quarrel. The few times in the beginning when I did, it only made things worse.” She continued in a level voice that sounded to Andrew as though she were somewhere else. “Sometimes, if you are quiet enough, he will stop.”
“Stop what, Lady Rainsborough,” Andrew asked very quietly.
“Stop hitting you. Or kicking you.”
“Did he hit you last night?”
The river was swelling, swirling, pushing against her brain. The lock wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly hold it. Clare moaned. Oh, God, the water was rushing over, and she was being carried along with it.
“Did he hit you last night, Lady Rainsborough?” Andrew kept his voice as soft and even and expressionless as possible.
“Yes, yes. I kept telling him nothing had happened. I promised him I would never see Giles again. He said if I promised, he wouldn’t challenge him.”
“How did he hit you?”
“Oh, as usual,” Clare said with a tired smile. “My face. He banged my head against the mantel.”
“Did he kick you?”
“Oh, yes,” Clare said, almost matter-of-factly. “That usually ended it. But something had changed these past few weeks. He ...”
“Yes?”
“He had started choking me. I thought he was going to kill me this time. And he took out his pistols. I did what he asked: I admitted we were lovers, I said I would never see Giles again. I would have said anything to keep him from challenging Giles. But then, he said he was going to kill me anyway.”
“But you said there was nothing between you and Giles?” Andrew kept his voice innocently puzzled.
“Don’t you understand?” said Clare, suddenly standing up. “Don’t you understand? He said he would challenge Giles. He would have killed him. Giles, who had never done anything but try to help me. Who loved me. Who was my dearest friend. I would have said anything. I would have admitted to anything to prevent that. Justin promised that if I admitted to it, that this would never happen again.”
“What?”
“The beating. But he tricked me. He put his pistol to my head ... and I...” Clare was backing away from Andrew, not seeing him, seeing Justin. “I hit him with the candlestick from the desk.”
“Didn’t that stop him?”
“He started to get up,” said Clare, looking down as though she again saw her husband. “He was getting up, and I remembered the pistol, and I walked right into his arms, and I shot him.”
Clare was shaking violently from head to foot, and Andrew started to approach her slowly.
“Don’t you come near me,” she said. He stopped. “He moved. His arm moved, so I picked up the other pistol and put it to his head. But then I was so afraid he wasn’t dead, that he would kill me and then Giles after all ...” She took a long, deep, shuddering breath and then said calmly, almost like a child who has been comforted after a nightmare: “But Sabrina told me that he is dead.”
“Lord Rainsborough is indeed dead, Lady Rainsborough,” said Andrew reassuringly.
Clare stood there, and her body gradually became still. She lifted her eyes to Andrew. “Then I killed my husband, didn’t I, Mr. More?”
“I am afraid so, Lady Rainsborough.”
* * * *
Sabrina had gone down to the library, hoping to find something to read that would keep her mind off Clare, but she had forgotten that the library was off-limits for anyone but the Runners, and so she settled herself in the morning room. That was where Andrew found her, pacing back and forth, unable to settle for a minute.
“Sabrina.”
She turned, and Andrew could see from the expression on her face that she was still angry with him.
“How is she? I hope you have not upset her too much? I will go right up to her.”
Andrew caught her arm just as she was about to rush past. “Lady Rainsborough needs her rest, Sabrina. And some time alone.”
Sabrina tried to shrug his hand off her arm. “Let go of me, Andrew. She needs a friend near her.”
“Soon, I agree, but not this moment. I believe she needs to absorb what happened to her.”
“Does she remember, then?” Sabrina asked, giving in and letting Andrew lead her over to the sofa.
“Yes, I am afraid she does.”
“What do you mean ‘afraid,’ Andrew?”
“Had she continued in a state of shock, the amnesi
a coupled with her rank might have given me a chance to declare her incompetent to testify. I could have brought witnesses forward who would attest to her physical condition and made the argument that she was out of her mind with terror and didn’t really know what she was doing. But now ...”
“But now?” Sabrina repeated.
“She is competent enough to take the stand. And she does remember everything.”
“But surely Justin had terrorized her? Surely she was only defending herself.”
“Oh, I believe that. The question is, can I get a coroner’s jury to believe it. She killed her husband, and she did it knowingly. She could have stopped with the blow to his head. But she shot him twice with his own pistols.”
“She was still terrified when I got here, Andrew. Afraid that he was still alive. Surely that shows that she was beside herself with fear? And her face and throat ... the bruises.”
“Yes, well, they will be almost gone by the time of the inquest. We will have to rely on eyewitnesses. The butler ... her abigail.”
“Myself,” said Sabrina matter-of-factly.
“Surely you wouldn’t want the notoriety? Sabrina.”
“Surely I wouldn’t want my good friend convicted of murder!”
Andrew smiled warmly at her, and Sabrina felt a stirring of pleasure at his approval. His brown eyes could change so quickly, from being intent and concentrated to softening with affection. Nonsense, she chided herself. He had no affection for her. Why should he? He hardly knew her. And he had treated her more high-handedly than anyone but Giles dared to!
“I don’t think there will be any need for that. I hope there will not. Or for Giles.”
“Giles?”
“Yes. He could confirm her story that she turned him away from an afternoon visit. And that the only reason he sought her out at the ball was to inquire after her health.”
“Surely, no one would believe anything else?”
“Her husband did. And there are people who would sympathize with a jealous husband over a protesting wife.”
“But we have hardly seen Clare these last two years.”
“I know. And that will count for something. But the law is on Justin Rainsborough’s side.”
“The law allows a husband to murder his wife!” Sabrina said furiously.
“No, of course not. But the prosecuting counselor can make the argument that her life was not truly in danger.”
Sabrina sat quietly for a moment. “Do you think you can win, Andrew?”
“I am going to do my damnedest!” he said with the quirky grin that gave him a gypsy look.
Chapter Sixteen
Giles had never felt so helpless. He wanted nothing more than to be with Clare. She needed him, now more than ever. Who else could give her the courage to face what was before her? And all because of Andrew’s ridiculous precautions, he was being kept away.
Giles had been so sure these past two years that his love for Clare had changed. Recently, he had seriously been considering marrying Lucy Kirkman. She was attractive, an enjoyable companion, and would have made him an undemanding wife. She wanted him, and he knew their marriage would also have been physically satisfying. And he needed an heir.
Now the very idea seemed ridiculous. He had been lying to himself all along. Well, perhaps not lying. Perhaps he could have married Lucy and been happy, had Clare truly been in the marriage he supposed her to have. But to find out that Rainsborough had been abusing her. That she had had to bear it all alone. All the old feeling came rushing back. Clare was his love, the one and only one he had ever wanted to enfold in his arms and keep safe. And for now, the only way to keep her safe, according to Andrew, was to stay away from her. He didn’t know if he could bear the frustration.
* * * *
When Andrew finally called, Giles was so eager to hear his report that he quite forgot himself as a host. After they sat down in the library, and Andrew looked over at his friend and said, with a quizzical smile, “Aren’t you going to offer me anything to drink, Giles? Tea? Sherry, Andrew?’ ” He mimicked Giles’s even tones perfectly.
“I apologize. I have been beside myself. Tea? Sherry, Andrew?” he repeated with a smile.
“Sherry would be perfect, Giles.”
Giles rang and had the footman bring them a decanter and a plate of biscuits.
Andrew sipped the sherry slowly and appreciatively. It had been a hard afternoon. He had had some grim cases in the past, but nothing that had turned his stomach like this one. He was not completely against an occasional blow. He wasn’t the sort who would ever do it, but he could understand how a man might be driven to it by a certain kind of woman. It seemed to be human nature that the strong sometimes hurt the weak: parents beat their children, masters their servants. He didn’t like it, he didn’t approve of it, he wouldn’t do it, but if it was kept within bounds, he was able to live with it. After all, people paid good money to watch professional pugilists go at it for hours. It wasn’t his cup of tea, but there it was.
But Clare Dysart, Lady Rainsborough. A sweet, harmless young woman who had clearly never looked at another man. From just the little she had revealed, and he was sure he hadn’t heard everything, he felt sick to his stomach. There had been madness in Justin Rainsborough, and unfortunately, society and the law gave him the right to express it.
Andrew finally looked over at Giles, his brows knitted together and Giles said quietly: “That bad?”
“Not good, Giles. Not good.”
“What happened? Were you able to get a coherent story?”
“Oh, yes. It seems Lord Rainsborough has been beating his wife these past two years with increasing regularity.”
Giles buried his head in his hands.
“Last night, or to be more accurate, these past few weeks, it had escalated. Evidently he had threatened to kill her several times while he choked her almost insensible. Last night she believed he truly meant to do it. And then call you out and kill you.”
“Me!”
“It seems Rainsborough was beyond reason, jealous of any attentions paid to his wife, especially yours.”
“But I have hardly seen Clare,” Giles protested.
“Yet you called on her yesterday and spoke with her privately at the Petersham ball. That was more than enough to set him off. He threatened to kill her if she didn’t admit you were lovers and then to challenge you to a duel. He was a crack shot, I understand?”
“Clare denied it, of course?”
“For a while. But then he promised to stop the torture if she admitted you had been intimate and gave her word never to see you again. So she did.”
Giles groaned.
“He put a pistol to her head, and she had enough courage ...” Andrew looked over at Giles with an expression of wonder mixed with admiration. “I don’t know where she got it from, Giles. And of all women, Clare. She hit him over the head with a brass candlestick. Had she stopped there ...”
“Had she stopped there,” said Giles, almost spitting the words out, “had she stopped there he would be alive to do it again. She might well have been dead by the end of the Season,” he added wonderingly.
“Yes, perhaps you are right. At any rate, she shot him twice with his own dueling pistols.”
Giles looked horrified. It was one thing to be glad Clare had defended herself. It was another to imagine the details.
“She likely would have shot him again, Giles,” said Andrew with an ironic grin, “had she known how to reload. She wasn’t convinced he was dead until Sabrina went down to see the body and reassure her.”
“Oh, God. I should have been there, Andrew.”
“No, you shouldn’t. The worst thing in the world for my case is for you to involve yourself. No, you must let Sabrina act the friend for both of you.”
“I don’t know if I can stand it. Clare needs me.”
Andrew thought to himself that the last thing in the world Clare needed at this time was a man, old friend or not, but he kept hi
s thoughts to himself.
“She is all right, Giles, I promise you.”
“You will do everything you can? Spare no expense, Andrew. I will assume the costs.”
“The Marquess of Howland will assume the costs, Giles,” Andrew reminded him dryly.
“Yes, of course.”
“I will have to question the servants. Her abigail.”
“Liza is relatively new, you know,” said Giles thoughtfully. “In fact, now that I think of it, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rainsborough had Martha dismissed.”
“Martha?”
“Her former abigail was Martha Barton.”
“Hmm. Well, I will try to find this Martha. The more eyewitnesses to her husband’s treatment of her, the better.”
“Can you win, Andrew?”
“I will do my best, Giles.”
* * * *
Andrew went directly from the Whittons’ to Clare’s father and told him all. The marquess seemed to age five years as he listened to his daughter’s ordeal.
“I know it is somehow our fault,” he told Andrew. “She was a late arrival, a surprise, actually. We did not quite know how to deal with her. It was as though we had forgotten what a young child needed.” He was silent for a moment or two. “It was why we sent her to the Whittons. She needed young people around her. If only she had married Giles. Had never met Rainsborough. Why did she never tell us what he was doing to her?”
“She seems to have felt hopeless that anyone on the outside could help her. And, at the same time, hopeful that the situation might change, that Rainsborough would go back to being the man she married.”
“They seemed so happy together. They were notorious for being in one another’s pockets.”
“Yes, well evidently the doting husband turned into a violently jealous one under the influence of spirits,” said Andrew. “You will not be hearing a very pretty story at the inquest, I am afraid, my lord.”
“Can you help her?”
“If you wish me to take the case, I will do my best. Much will depend on Clare’s ability to tell her story. And on any witnesses I can find.”
Sweet Awakening Page 16
