Twenty-One Days

by Anne Perry

  Grisewood flushed with annoyance, but he was obliged to obey. ‘Yes, my lord. Mr Falthorne, let me be plain. Was the body, as you saw it the last time, in any way burned?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘So, the burning, the disfiguring of her face and the upper body, happened to her after she was dead.’

  ‘It must have, sir.’

  ‘Did you have any part in it?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Did any of the servants?’

  This time Falthorne was caught. Daniel knew it. He would be as loyal as he could to Ebony, but he would not allow any of the other servants to take the blame for something he was sure they had not done. The conflict was clear in his face, probably to the whole court, but certainly to anyone who knew him.

  ‘Mr Falthorne?’ Grisewood prompted.

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘So, we may conclude it was not conceivably an accident, or part of her death, and none of the other servants was responsible. Was there anyone else in the house, apart from Miss Cumberford, and her daughter, Sarah, and her son, Arthur?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Falthorne, that is all.’ He turned to Daniel. ‘Your witness, Mr Pitt.’

  Daniel rose to his feet. Grisewood had left the door open, just an inch, for Daniel to push, if he dared. Did he? Was it a trap? The sweat trickled down his body, and his hands were clammy. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to begin. He had had no time to prepare for this change to the charge. The first judge had believed Ebony; clearly the prosecutor for the case did not.

  Daniel must take the chance. ‘Mr Falthorne, we must deduce from your testimony so far that only Mrs Graves, as she believed herself to be, and possibly her daughter, Sarah, were responsible for disfiguring the body of Winifred Graves.’

  Falthorne looked at him as if he had betrayed his trust. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Not Arthur Graves – or whatever his name now is?’

  ‘No, sir. He is confined to a wheelchair.’

  ‘It seems an extraordinary thing to do, without reason by Mrs . . . may I refer to her as Ebony? The situation is confusing. Can you think of any reason whatever why Ebony, with the help of Sarah, should change Winifred’s clothes, and dress her sufficiently that she could pass for Ebony? If she had left the body alone, it would have been clear enough that she had slipped and fallen, injuring herself fatally. Why did Ebony not do that? Why on earth disappear?’

  Falthorne hesitated.

  Before Grisewood could object, Daniel spoke again. ‘Mr Falthorne, if you are afraid of someone, it is your duty to tell the court.’

  A glimmer of understanding shone for a moment on Falthorne’s face.

  ‘My lord?’ Daniel appealed to the judge.

  ‘You must answer the question, Mr Falthorne, if you can.’

  Falthorne straightened up. ‘Yes, my lord. I believe that . . . I can only think of her as Mrs Graves . . . was afraid of Mr Graves, sir. He had treated her with considerable violence on many occasions—’

  ‘Objection!’ Grisewood was on his feet, his face twisted with anger.

  Daniel interrupted. ‘My lord, my learned friend opened the door by asking—’

  ‘Yes, yes. Indeed, he did. You may answer, Mr Falthorne, if it is of your own knowledge, and not hearsay.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ Falthorne replied. He looked back at Daniel, his expression completely altered. ‘I dislike speaking of it, sir, but most of the servants were aware that Mr Graves, on many occasions, over the years, beat Mrs Graves, and even Miss Sarah. And, at least, to our knowledge, he even beat Mr Arthur, when he was young, before he became an invalid confined to a wheelchair.’

  ‘As butler, how did you become aware of this while carrying out your duty, Mr Falthorne?’

  ‘I was frequently upstairs, sir, because I attended Mr Arthur. His mother was able to do everything for him when he was a child, but at a certain age it was no longer appropriate. I was aware of what occurred because I was frequently close to . . . close enough to hear.’ His emotion almost overcame him, and he suppressed it with difficulty. ‘And certain injuries are impossible to hide. The lady’s maid confided in me, in extreme distress, the first time Mr Graves actually beat Mrs Graves so hard he broke bones in her shoulder and her arm.’

  ‘The first time? There were others?’ Daniel did not even try to keep the emotion from his voice.

  ‘Yes, sir. I am not exactly sure. Five or six, I think. And Miss Sarah, also. Only one that I’m sure of with a broken bone.’

  ‘So, you understood Ebony’s desire for him to consider her dead, and not pursue her?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You do not deny helping her, at least insofar as you did not enlighten anyone in the police that she was alive, and therefore that Mr Graves could not be guilty of having murdered her?’

  ‘No, sir. I am prepared to be judged on that account. I knew you were defending him, sir, and I believed that you would be successful in saving Mr Graves from the gallows.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Daniel said slowly. ‘You had greater trust in me than I had in myself. That is all the questions that I have for you.’

  Grisewood rose to his feet, looked at the jury, saw their faces, and sat down again.

  Falthorne was excused.

  The police who had been called to the scene at the time of Winifred’s death came to the stand and testified at some length to all the circumstances. Grisewood made much of the state of the body, and the fact that Sarah had identified it as that of her mother.

  There was nothing for Daniel to do but wait silently and not make more of it than was already there. He did seem as if he were about to press further, but Kitteridge shook his head.

  The evidence took until the final adjournment.

  ‘All right so far,’ Kitteridge said to Daniel as they left the court and went outside, into the summer day. The street was loud with the sound of traffic, both horse-drawn and automotive. They were getting accustomed to the smell of fumes, as their parents had with the smell of horse dung.

  Daniel said nothing. He was full of doubts. He had not foreseen them changing the charge, and he felt that he should have.

  After a few steps, he spoke. ‘I should have known that Graves wasn’t finished,’ he said bitterly.

  ‘We all should have,’ Kitteridge admitted. ‘But we have to work with how it is. Getting that information from Falthorne was good. Now what are we going to do to build on it? Grisewood will call the police surgeon first thing tomorrow morning. He’ll give the jury all the most disgusting details about Winifred. For what it’s worth, I don’t think there’s any point in fighting him. We’ve got Miriam. Do you honestly think they’ll take notice of her? She’s got no recognised qualifications.’

  ‘I know that.’ Daniel already felt himself getting defensive. And the police surgeon, Grisewood, and probably the judge also would give her a far harder time than Kitteridge did. ‘She’ll bring only the evidence she can show them. I know her word won’t serve anything, even though she knows more than all of them put together.’

  Kitteridge smiled lopsidedly. ‘Don’t let your temper show, Pitt. Righteous indignation has its place, and this isn’t it. Listen to me – I know what I’m talking about.’

  Daniel did not argue. They had been over this before. His indignation wouldn’t help at all. But the jury’s might. He wanted the jury to feel for Ebony, and Sarah. And for Arthur, too, if it helped. ‘We’ve got to prepare for tomorrow,’ he said instead. ‘Feel like an early supper at the Boar’s Head, before we begin in earnest?’

  ‘Good idea,’ Kitteridge agreed immediately.

  The following morning, Grisewood called the police surgeon, as expected. He was a sympathetic figure and gave the facts as he had observed them, precisely as Grisewood asked. He described the disfiguring in detail, but without ascribing any emotion.

  When it was Daniel’s turn to question him, he rose to his feet, determined to treat the man with a respe
ct the jury would see.

  ‘Good morning, Dr French. You have given us a very detailed, yet completely understandable picture of what must have happened to the body of Winifred Graves. May I ask you one or two further questions?’

  ‘Of course,’ French replied. He was at least forty years older than Daniel, and his lean, silver-haired look was a distinguished one that the jury would not forget. ‘What do you wish to know?’

  ‘You believed it was the body of Ebony Graves, because you were told it was. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, I was informed that the daughter, Miss Sarah Graves, had identified it as her mother. The butler also confirmed that, and the lady’s maid identified the clothes.’

  ‘There was nothing of the body itself that confirmed that to you?’

  ‘I was not acquainted with Mrs Graves, or Miss Cumberford, as I believe she is more correctly known.’

  ‘Actually, the woman you examined was Mrs Winifred Graves. Ebony Cumberford is alive and well.’

  The moment he had said it, Daniel regretted it. He did not want to antagonise the doctor.

  French stiffened. ‘I was told who she was, and had no reason to question it. It was the body of a woman of perhaps sixty or so, and she had died from a severe blow to the back of the head. The damage to her face, neck, and shoulders was inflicted after death. That is all I testify to.’

  ‘No one doubts you, Dr French. Can you tell me what caused the burning? More than extreme heat, of course.’

  Several expressions crossed French’s face, finally a degree of interest. ‘No. I was asked to ascertain whether it was before or after death, and whether it could be accidental. It could not.’

  ‘Does flesh burn easily?’

  ‘It blisters easily. It does not ignite. Anyone who has burned themselves is painfully aware of that. If you are asking me how the burning happened, I do not know. I was only required to say that it was not caused by falling into the fire, or by coming in contact with burning logs, or a domestic iron for clothes.’

  ‘Or some other, more deliberate act?’

  ‘If you say so, sir. I cannot see how that serves your client.’

  ‘It serves only to prove that she is telling the truth. Thank you. Oh, before you go! Did you find any evidence on the body of broken bones? Or scars from having been beaten?’

  ‘If I had, young man, I would have reported it, as a matter of course. There were old scars, well healed, which could have been caused in any number of ways. They are all at least twenty years old.’

  ‘Dating from the time of her marriage to Mr Graves?’

  ‘Apparently.’ A flash of interest crossed French’s face, then died.

  ‘Thank you, sir. That is all I have to ask you.’

  French inclined his head in a slight bow, and left the stand.

  Grisewood’s final witness was Graves himself. The man who climbed the witness stand was outwardly very different from the one who had sat in the dock only a short while ago. At that time, he had been angry, frightened and exhausted, alternating between hope and fear. Today, staying temporarily in London, he stood upright, dressed in an expensive and well-tailored suit, freshly pressed white shirt, and his hair was expertly cut. It altered the whole aspect of his face and his entire bearing.

  Grisewood treated him with almost deferential respect. ‘After your recent ordeal, I’m sorry you have to experience this new distress. However, I have to ask you to relive the whole story of your marriage, your difficulties with Ebony Cumberford, and the facts that have brought you to this tragic place.’

  Daniel felt a chill of apprehension. He glanced at Kitteridge and saw him shift in his seat, as if he too feared something as yet unknown.

  ‘You were married to Winifred Graves when you first met Ebony Cumberford, were you not?’

  ‘Yes. However, we were living apart,’ Graves answered.

  ‘Did you tell Miss Cumberford that you were married?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You were attracted to each other?’

  ‘Yes, at that time she was a very attractive woman.’

  Daniel studied Graves’ face. He did not seem in the least nervous. No one looking at him would see any tremor of fear, only a weariness at having his private grief examined yet again in front of strangers. Perhaps the jurors would sympathise with him.

  ‘And did you go through some form of marriage?’ Grisewood continued.

  ‘We had a ceremony. It was not a marriage. I was already married, as Ebony well knew. She was prepared to accept me, and the life I could offer her, in those circumstances. I admit, at first I was not willing to get involved in . . . a deceit. But she insisted, even after I had told her of the disadvantages. She said she would move to a place where Winifred was not known, and would not find us. I agreed, if that was what she wanted. She was . . .’ He bit his lips, as if momentarily embarrassed. ‘She was a beautiful woman then, and very . . . skilled in the arts of persuasion.’

  ‘Are you saying she seduced you, Mr Graves?’ Grisewood asked with as much innocence as he could contrive.

  ‘I suppose I am,’ Graves agreed.

  ‘So, you lived together for twenty years, and no one suspected?’

  ‘As far as I know, no one did.’

  ‘What changed, Mr Graves?’

  ‘I inherited a title, quite unexpectedly. It was not a direct ancestor, but someone on my mother’s side of the family. There were two deaths in a row, and the title passed laterally to me. With a considerable amount of both land and money.’

  ‘And Ebony was aware of this?’

  ‘Of course. I would not have kept such a thing secret from her.’

  ‘How did that change things? Why on earth would she want to run away from such good fortune? Was there some threat that your marriage arrangements would be exposed?’

  ‘None at all. But somehow or another Winifred found out, and she arrived to claim her place as my wife. She had fallen on harder times – and saw I was a famous man, about to have a title and even more wealth. I was worth much more to her, and she felt she had a right to her place.’

  ‘To be exact, to Ebony’s place,’ Grisewood countered with a smile.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you tell her she could not return now?’

  ‘I didn’t see her. She approached Ebony. I don’t know exactly what transpired, except that Winifred is dead, and Ebony is alive. I don’t know if she ever intended to tell me, but things went badly wrong, and she ran away to escape the results of her actions. I did not know at the time, obviously. I was in danger, quite wrongly, of being hanged for having killed Ebony, who is clearly alive. I never actually saw Winifred, and I certainly did not kill her. From the evidence of Falthorne, who used to be my butler, you know more than I did until now.’

  Beside Daniel, Kitteridge let out his breath. ‘The bastard!’ he said bitterly.

  Grisewood gave a slight bow, very slight, but it was a gesture the jury would not miss. It was as if Grisewood were acknowledging Graves as a gentleman, an equal for whom he had been able to perform a service.

  Kitteridge nudged Daniel. ‘Do you want me to do this?’

  ‘No!’ Daniel took a breath. ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Then don’t make me wish I had,’ Kitteridge said with a smile. ‘Nail the swine!’

  Daniel rose to his feet. ‘I don’t need to introduce myself to you, Mr Graves. We know each other quite well. Mr Kitteridge had the responsibility of mounting the appeal after you were convicted of murder, and we found the proof that you were, in fact, not guilty. I dare say you remember me?’

  There was a rustle of movement, and definitely of interest, around the room. The jury stared at Daniel with renewed attention, and even respect.

  ‘Indeed.’ Graves knew enough to be polite, whatever his actual emotion.

  ‘As you say, you did not know what happened in that bedroom, or that the body was that of your first wife – in fact, your only actual wife. I believe you. What I find more op
en to question is that the “arrangement” you reached with Ebony Cumberford was with her agreement, even more than your own. She says otherwise. In fact, she has a certificate of marriage which she believed to be valid.’ Daniel turned to the judge. ‘I submit it into evidence, my lord.’

  It was duly passed up, and the judge regarded it. ‘If it is not, then it is a remarkably good forgery,’ he said unhappily.

  ‘Mrs . . . I mean . . . Miss Cumberford will swear that she believed it to be real, my lord,’ Daniel told him. Then he turned back to Graves. ‘Have you seen this document before?’

  ‘No,’ Graves said vehemently. ‘I always told Ebony that I was married, and not free to marry her. She was perfectly happy to live “in sin”, as they say. Until Winifred turned up and threatened to resume her place at my side, and accept her share of the inheritance.’ His face was perfectly calm, as if he could see nothing more than unimportant pretence in the matter.

  ‘And what would have happened to Ebony, in that case?’

  ‘She would have been exposed as a kept woman, I imagine.’ Graves smiled very slightly. ‘She had a certain laxity in morals, but I think that would have caused her considerable discomfort. The loss of position in society, at least.’

  ‘And the loss of a roof over her head, food on her table?’ Daniel added.

  ‘Yes, I imagine so.’

  ‘And even more, the illegitimacy of the children, your children,’ Daniel went on. ‘Sarah would find herself a bastard, with little hope of making a fortunate marriage. But rather more than that, Arthur would be without a name, without the medical attention he needs, if he is to survive. That would have been devastating to all of them, would it not? You made no provision for them, did you?’ It was barely a question.

  ‘I would have!’ Graves said angrily, temper sharpening his voice.

  ‘But as of today, you have not!’ Daniel pointed out. ‘You have had plenty of time. You have given them no comfort or assurance at all.’ He glanced only momentarily at the jury, but he saw the anger and the pity in their faces, and something that looked like disgust. ‘As far as they are aware,’ he continued, ‘you are determined to put their mother in prison, and leave them illegitimate and abandoned. Perhaps that has not fully sunk into their consciousness – they are too hurt and sorry for their mother – but it will. Sarah, at least, is terrified that Arthur will die, and she will be unable to save him.’