by Anne Perry
She looked at him very steadily. Twice she nearly spoke and then changed her mind. What was there to say?
Slowly he bent and kissed her. He held on to her for as long as he could, as long as he dared. This kiss might have to last forever. Then he took her arm and they walked to find the nearest hansom to the Wapping Police Station.
CHAPTER
21
“WHAT?” MONK COULD HARDLY believe it. And yet, standing in the Wapping Police Station looking at Hooper and the white-faced and determined figure of Celia Darwin, his struggle against acceptance was over before it began. There was no question in his mind that she was speaking the truth. The cost to her would be immense. She had lied under oath, yet her reasons were so blindingly clear.
Piece by piece it all fell into place. Exeter was guilty. From the very beginning he had chosen Monk to play his part. He was ideal for it! Brave, clever, but not clever enough. His own wife, whom he loved even more deeply than perhaps he had ever acknowledged, had been kidnapped. Monk identified with Exeter from the start, because he understood exactly the emotions that Exeter had affected to feel. All the fears were magnified, the guilt because Hester was saved but Kate had been lost. Monk had put himself in Exeter’s place, exactly as Exeter had intended.
It wasn’t about love, or even about the men who had envied Exeter’s success and perhaps blamed him for their own losses. It was about money and the wounded vanity of a man whose wife intended to leave him, for all the world to see.
Monk must make sure Exeter was convicted somehow, without lying, without sacrificing Hooper or Celia Darwin. He had one night to find a way to do that.
He must go home—think! All night if necessary.
* * *
—
HE OPENED THE FRONT door of his house and saw the lights on in the kitchen. Never could he remember feeling so glad to know that Hester was home. His spirits lifted and the warm air wrapped around him. She called out from the kitchen, and when he did not go to her, she came out to find him.
“What is it?” She hurried forward. “William? What’s happened?”
Wordlessly, he drew her toward him and put his arms around her, holding her tightly.
She stayed with him for several moments, then pulled away. “What is it?” she said again. “Are you going to lose the case? Is it worse than that? You know which of your men betrayed you?” She searched his face, his eyes. “Not Hooper. I don’t believe that.”
“No.” He spoke at last, his voice sounding husky. “Nobody betrayed us. I should have known all along. I’m sorry. I was wrong. Wrong about the whole case.”
She frowned and pulled away a little, looking into his eyes. “Wrong about what? Who?”
“Just about everything,” he said. “And unless I can work out how to do it, tomorrow the case is going to close. Exeter will be found not guilty. You know he can never be tried again for any of these murders? Not Kate, not Lister, nor Bella Franken—and if they convict Doyle, not for his death either.”
“William…” Her voice froze. There was horror and the beginning of realization in her eyes, but she did not yet see clearly what it was she feared; only that he feared it, too.
“He will have got away with it. He killed them all, even Kate,” he said.
“But he was with you! And there were other men there.”
“No, there weren’t. We thought about it hard, Hooper and I. Wrote down a plan of Jacob’s Island and worked it out.”
She could not see it.
“If Laker and I have a fight,” he explained, “rough each other up quite a bit, and then tell you we were attacked by two men, already you have four in the fight, when in fact there were only two,” he explained. “Exeter was fairly thoroughly beaten. He said it was kidnappers. It could as easily have been like the fight Laker had, where he thought I was a kidnapper. And I thought he was. Multiply that. It only took two of them, and it would seem to be at least four—if Exeter knew exactly where each of us was. And he did: he actually drew it up.”
“Exeter and Lister?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Did Lister kill Kate, then, and Exeter took his revenge on him later?”
“No. I believe Exeter killed her himself, while Lister kept us busy. Exeter killed Lister later on, to keep him quiet.”
“That’s…terrible. But why?” She was fighting herself whether to believe him and the horror of it. There had to be some other explanation.
He could see it so clearly in her eyes, because he had felt that himself as Hooper was telling him. “Because he’s corrupt, and she knew it and was on the verge of leaving him. And of course taking her own money with her. This way, she is dead, the picture of the perfect marriage is preserved, and he gets her money as ransom. Nobody is pushing him to pay his debts because they all know, or think they know, that he hasn’t got the money now. He has, instead, a most public sympathy.”
“And Bella Franken was beginning to see that?”
“Yes.”
“So he killed her and threw her body in the river? But William, Celia Darwin, who is Kate’s cousin and closest friend, testified that she was with Exeter at his house at the exact moment Bella was found. And she can’t have been killed more than a few minutes before that, or the river would have swept her—”
He did not let her finish. “I know. Celia lied.”
“Why?” she demanded. “It was clear she absolutely hated saying it, but honesty compelled her. Anyone could see that.”
“No. Love compelled her.”
“Love! William, she loathes him. She’s hiding it well because she’s been brought up not to feel such things, and above all, not to own that you do. But I could see it, and so could any other woman in that court who wasn’t asleep!”
“You saw a woman forced to lie or see the man she loves hanged!” he corrected her.
Hester was incredulous. “She loves Exeter? I don’t believe it. You’ve got something terribly wrong.”
“No!” He dismissed the idea as almost blasphemous. “She hates him as much as few hate at all! She loves Hooper.”
“Hooper?” Hester took a deep breath and let herself smile. “Of course! They are perfect for each other, but—”
“I have to tell you something else,” he cut across her. “An old story, which Exeter will expose if she tells the truth.”
“Come into the kitchen. It’s warm. I’ve got soup on the stove. You’re freezing. And I’m not going to stand here in the hall any longer.” She pulled away from him, and he felt the separation like a jarring break.
He followed her and accepted the soup while he told her the full story of the mutiny and Hooper’s part in it, and Captain Ledburn’s death.
She sat white-faced, her own soup untouched. “What can we do? They’ll hang Hooper. Mutiny is a very serious crime, and they can’t afford to let it go. You can’t let that happen, not to Hooper. He’s…one of the best—”
“I know,” he cut across her. “That’s why Celia Darwin lied. And Exeter will have been tried and found not guilty, so afterward it doesn’t matter what we learn, or what we can prove. He cannot be tried again. And I brought that about, Hester. It’s my fault. And the worst of it is, he still knows about Hooper and could turn him in. He’ll have that over our heads as long as he lives.”
“But then we…” The breath went out of her. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Once he’s been found not guilty…the bastard! The utter…I haven’t got a word vile enough!” She said it helplessly, as if not putting a name to it were the final defeat.
“Hooper won’t let her,” Monk said quietly. “He’ll tell them himself, if she won’t withdraw it, but better for her if she does. She’ll pay a heavy price if he confesses it instead. But he will. He can see that once Exeter is cleared, he’s untouchable, and the law will want someone to pay for these deaths—four,
if they hang Doyle. He’ll not let that happen.” The look on Hooper’s face as he had said that would haunt Monk’s mind for the rest of his life.
“What can we do?” Hester looked as if she were going to add something, but fell silent.
“First thing is, I’m going to tell Rathbone. He has to know the truth.”
Very slowly she shook her head. “You can’t. You’d put him in an impossible position. Exeter is his client, and he’s guilty. You know that, but Oliver doesn’t. He still has to represent him to the best of his ability.”
“I know—but I can’t let this happen.”
“Oliver will know Exeter lied to him, but only because you say so, not from any facts anyone has told him,” she pointed out. “And Celia has lied, too, under oath. Hooper lied by omission. I know that in a way it’s no one else’s concern, but do you think the jury will see it that way? You believe him because you know him.”
“Stop!” he said abruptly. “I believe Hooper, and I believe Celia Darwin. I’ve got to find a way to save them…I don’t mean from the law! I mean from the guilt of knowing they let a triple murderer go free and an innocent man hang in his place.” He gritted his teeth. “And if all this is true, and I believe it is, I can’t think how I could have been so gullible.”
“Because you saw yourself in him,” she said quietly. “He played on that. You imagined his pain and his grief as if it had been yours. What kind of a man would you be if you had not?”
“It’s little excuse,” he said impatiently. “I still need to put it right. Do you think Exeter will let them live indefinitely, knowing what they do? He killed Lister. He killed Bella Franken. He killed Kate. Do you think he wouldn’t kill Celia? She hates him, and she knows him through and through.”
Hester’s face was white. She had not even considered that, but she saw it immediately now. “All right! I see. We must put this right ourselves, though. We can’t do it by putting Oliver in a position that will ruin him. His job is to defend Exeter to the best of his ability—not to be his judge—and by failing to do his job to the fullest of his skills, he will be his executioner. All the witnesses have already testified. We have to do something with what’s left.”
“That’s only Exeter,” he pointed out.
“Then that’s what we must use.”
“How? Exeter is his own witness. And it’s Oliver’s job to help him clear himself. He’s not going to lead him into giving himself away.”
She looked consumed by the desperation she felt. “Then Ravenswood will have to do it. That’s all there is left. You’re sure about Hooper, William? They will—” She stopped. They both knew the words, but she could not bring herself to say them.
“Hang him,” he finished, his voice choking in his throat as he said it. “I know. So does he. This is his decision. He will not let Celia Darwin carry this for the rest of her life. And I daresay he also thought of the fact that Exeter will hold it over her, until he can find a way to kill her and get away with it. He would also, in a sense, own Hooper…” He did not need to finish the sentence.
“And you,” she pointed out. “You knew who Hooper was, and you didn’t turn him in.”
“Turn him in!” He was horrified until he realized that, strictly, under the law, perhaps he should have, and have left it to the courts to decide whether Hooper was speaking the truth. “No. You’re right. We must go and see Ravenswood.”
“Now,” she agreed. “There is no time to waste. Please heaven he’s at home. Where does he live?”
“Oliver will know. We’ll ask him on the way. This can’t wait. If we have to hunt him down at dinner or the theater, we’ll do it.”
“He’ll be at home, going over his case,” she said with certainty. “He’s losing.”
* * *
—
THEY FOUND RAVENSWOOD WITH no difficulty and, an hour later, were shown into his quiet study.
“I cannot spare you very long, Mr. Monk.” He glanced at Hester to include her in the apology. “I have to close tomorrow. And I have no idea what I’m going to say. Miss Darwin’s testimony caught me completely off balance. When I spoke to her a few days ago, she gave me no inkling whatsoever of this.”
Monk had been considering how much to tell Ravenswood of the truth and now felt that, as much as he wished to protect Hooper, he must tell all.
“She didn’t know then any reason not to speak as she did,” he said. “I can’t tell you how to proceed, but she was lying and will now, I think, tell you everything.”
Ravenswood looked dubious.
Monk spoke without hesitation. He told Ravenswood the whole story of the mutiny, as Hooper had told him, and then about the pressure put upon Celia with the threat. Then he explained how he believed the murder of Kate Exeter had happened, with no more than Exeter and Lister on Jacob’s Island. There had been no betrayer among Monk’s men. He knew that now with certainty. It was all Exeter’s deliberate creation. The relief was wonderful, like a dawn light spreading through everything. But it showed many things unseen before. The distrust and misery that had been sown by the suggestion had made everything seem different. That was how Monk had heard of the mutiny.
“This man, Fisk,” Ravenswood interrupted, “he would say the same?”
“Yes.”
“And Ledburn was the captain’s name?”
“Yes.”
“I remember the affair, vaguely. Hooper realizes he may hang, in spite of all we can do?” The pain in his face was acute in the lamplight, and his voice carried it as well.
“Yes,” Monk said huskily. “But he won’t live with the lie. Nor will he allow Miss Darwin to.”
“There must be something you can do,” Hester interrupted. “Once the verdict comes in that Exeter is not guilty, he’ll be free for the rest of his life! And he may well kill Celia after a little while, just in case she changes her mind. To…tidy up, as it were.”
“Yes, I see that, Mrs. Monk.” Ravenswood did not argue.
“Exeter’s going to testify. He’s cocksure,” she went on. “Can’t you get him to say something that will open up a…chance to trip him? Then another…and another?” She leaned forward a little. “He thinks he’s got away with it. Three murders, four if they hang Doyle for it. And they’ll have to hang someone! Public opinion won’t let it go. And he’ll have got away with it all!” The anger made her voice sharp, desperate.
Ravenswood was thinking.
“He’s vain,” Hester went on, leaning forward a little further. “He thinks he’s cleverer than all of us—you,” she amended quickly. “He thinks Celia is stupid. Inferior. And he wants the world to think he and Kate were idyllically happy, that she adored him. You’ve got to be able to make something of that. Trip him up. Once will be enough. If you don’t, not only will he get away with it, but the good people—and Hooper is good, really good—will suffer. Celia may even get killed, too,” she reiterated. “You—”
Ravenswood held up his hand. “I understand, Mrs. Monk.” There was a very faint smile on his lips. He turned to Monk. “Are you prepared to work all night?”
“Yes,” Monk said immediately.
“Of course,” Hester agreed.
Ravenswood looked slightly taken aback. He started to speak, but she cut across him.
“I was with Miss Nightingale in the Crimea,” she said simply. She saw in his face that it was enough. She did not ask whether he had lost anybody he loved in that senseless and bloody war. Everyone knew Florence Nightingale’s name.
“Very well,” he said with a new respect in his voice. “We need to find this man Fisk, which should not be difficult if he works for Runcorn. And if we are to save Hooper, then we need to find the survivors of the Ledburn family. If possible, one of them may tell the truth about the captain, or at least enough of it to substantiate what Fisk and Hooper say of events. And we must persua
de Miss Darwin to amend her testimony, regardless of what it costs her. That may not be easy. She will be admitting she lied to protect a man she loves, who has made no such commitment to her. Rathbone will not like doing it, and he will have to attempt to destroy her credibility. And that will involve embarrassing her profoundly, humiliating her even.” He looked from one to the other of them.
Monk turned to Hester. “Would she do that?”
“We must give her that choice,” Hester replied. “We have no right to make it for her.”
“She may not realize—” Ravenswood began.
“It is very gracious of men to protect us,” Hester snapped. “It is also extremely condescending. We would like the dignity of making our own decisions.”
“Even if they are wrong?” Ravenswood said quite gently.
She gave a tiny shrug. “I am tempted to say that we are never wrong. Which would be ridiculous. All of us are wrong at times. Even men! But you never grow up if you are treated like a child and someone else makes all your big decisions for you.”
“She may pay very…” Monk started to argue, then saw the expression in her eyes and decided it would be time wasted. Time they could not afford.
“We will work all night,” she said firmly. “Where do you wish to begin?”
* * *
—
WHEN MONK AND HESTER arrived in the court the following morning, Ravenswood was already in his seat, but he looked haggard, with deep circles under his eyes. Monk knew that he could not have had more than an hour and a half of sleep, if that.
Rathbone looked his usual self, except with extra energy, because he was on the brink of victory in a case he had expected to lose.
Monk felt a stab of guilt so deep it was almost physical. But to have warned Rathbone would have compromised him in a way that lasted far longer than the brief pain of losing this battle—if that could be brought about!
