by Anne Perry
Hester dined again at the Carlyon house, not because she was considered a close enough friend of the family to be welcome even at such a time, but because it was she who had recommended Oliver Rathbone, and they all now wished to know something more about him and what he was likely to do to try and defend Alexandra.
It was an uncomfortable meal. Hester had accepted although she could not tell them anything of Rathbone, except his integrity and his past success, which presumably at least Peverell already knew. But she still hoped she might learn some tiny shred of fact which would, together with other things, lead to Alexandra’s true motive. Anything about the general surely ought to be useful in some fashion?
“I wish I knew more about this man Rathbone,” Randolf said morosely, staring down the length of the table at no one in particular. “Who is he? Where does he come from?”
“What on earth does that matter, Papa?” Edith said, blinking at him. “He’s the best there is. If anyone can help Alexandra, he will.”
“Help Alexandra!” He faced her angrily, his eyes wide, his brows furrowed. “My dear girl, Alexandra murdered your brother because she had some insane idea he was amorously involved with another woman. If he had been, she should have borne it like a lady and kept her silence, but as we all know, he was not.” His voice was thick with distress. “There is nothing in the world more unbecoming in a woman than jealousy. It has been the curse of many an otherwise more than acceptable character. That she should carry it to the extreme of murder, and against one of the finest men of his generation, is a complete tragedy.”
“What we need to know,” Felicia said very quietly, “is what kind of implications and suggestions he is likely to make to try and defend her.” She turned to Hester. “You are familiar with the man, Miss Latterly.” She caught Damaris’s eye. “I beg your pardon,” she said stiffly. “Familiar was an unfortunate choice of word. That was not what I intended.” She blinked; her wide eyes were cold and direct. “You are sufficiently acquainted with him to have recommended him to us. To what degree can you answer for his … his moral decency? Can you assure us that he will not attempt to slander our son’s character in order to make there seem to be some justification for his wife having murdered him?”
Hester was taken aback. This was not what she had expected, but after only an instant’s thought she appreciated their view. It was not a foolish question.
“I am not answerable for his conduct in any way, Mrs. Carlyon,” she replied gravely. “He is not employed by any of us here, but by Alexandra herself.” She was acutely conscious of Felicia’s grief. The fact that she could not like her did not lessen her awareness of its reality, or her pity for it. “But it would not be in her interest to make any charge against the general that could not be substantiated with proof,” she went on. “I believe it would predispose the jury against her. But quite apart from that, had the general been the most totally wretched, inconsiderate, coarse and vile man, unless he threatened her life, or that of her child, it would be pointless to raise it, because it would be no excuse for killing him.”
Felicia sat back in her chair, her face calmer.
“That is good, and I presume in the circumstances, certainly all we can hope for. If he has any sense, he will claim she is insane and throw her on the mercy of the court.” She swallowed hard and her chin lifted; her eyes were wide and very blue. She looked ahead of her, at no one. “Thaddeus was a considerate man, a gentleman in every way.” Her voice was harsh with emotion. “He never raised a hand against her, even when at times she sorely provoked him. And I know she did. She has been flighty, inconsiderate, and refused to understand the necessity of his leaving her when his career took him abroad in the life to which he dedicated himself for the service of his Queen and country.”
“You should see some of the letters of condolence we have received,” Randolf added with a sigh. “Only this morning one came from a sergeant who used to be in the Indian army with him. Just heard, poor fellow. Devastated. Said Thaddeus was the finest officer he ever served with. Spoke of his courage, his inspiration to the men.” He blinked hard and his head sank a little lower. His voice became thicker, and Hester was not sure whether it was purely from grief or grief mixed with self-pity. “Said how he had kept all the men cheerful when they were pinned down by a bunch of savages, howling like demons.” He was staring into the distance as if he saw not the sideboard with the elaborate Coalport china on it, but some baking plain under an Indian sun. “Almost out of ammunition, they were, and waiting to die. Said Thaddeus gave them heart, made them proud to be British and give their lives for the Queen.” He sighed again.
Peverell smiled sadly. Edith pulled a face, partly sorrow, partly embarrassment.
“That must be a great comfort to you,” Hester said, then found it sounded hollow the moment her words were out. “I mean to know that he was so admired.”
“We knew it anyway,” Felicia said without looking at her. “Everyone admired Thaddeus. He was a leader among men. His officers thought he was a hero, his troops would follow him anywhere. Had the gift of command, you see?” She looked at Hester, eyes wide. “He knew how to inspire loyalty because he was always fair. He punished cowardice and dishonesty; he praised courage and honor, and duty. He never denied a man his right, and never charged a man unless he was sure that man was guilty. He kept total discipline, but the men loved him for it.”
“Have to in the army,” Randolf added, glaring at Hester. “Do you know what happens when there is no discipline, girl? Army falls to pieces under fire. Every man for himself. Un-British! Frightful! A soldier must obey his superior at all times—instantly.”
“Yes I do know,” Hester said without thinking, but from the depth of her own feeling. “Sometimes it’s glorious, and sometimes it’s unmitigated disaster.”
Randolf’s face darkened. “What the devil do you mean, girl? What on earth do you know about it? Damned impertinence! I’ll have you know I fought in the Peninsular War, and at Waterloo against the emperor of the French, and beat him too.”
“Yes, Colonel Carlyon.” She met his eyes without flinching. She felt a pity for him as a man; he was old, bereaved, muddle-headed and becoming more than a little maudlin. But soldierlike she stood her ground. “And magnificent campaigns they were, none more brilliant in all our history. But times have changed. And some of our commanders have not changed with them. They fought the Crimea with the same tactics, and they were not good enough. A soldier’s blind obedience is only as good as his commander’s knowledge of the situation and skill in combat.”
“Thaddeus was brilliant,” Felicia said icily. “He never lost a major campaign and no soldier forfeited his life because of any incompetence of his.”
“Certainly not,” Randolf added, and slid a fraction farther down in his seat, hiccuping.
“We all know he was a very good soldier, Papa,” Edith said quietly. “And I am glad that men who served with him have written to say how grieved they are he is gone. It is a wonderful thing to have been so admired.”
“He was more than admired,” Felicia said quickly. “He was also loved.”
“The obituaries have been excellent,” Peverell put in. “Few men have had their passing marked by such respect.”
“It is appalling that this whole disaster was ever allowed to progress this far,” Felicia said with a tight expression in her face, blinking as if to avoid tears.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Damaris looked at her perplexedly. “Progress to what?”
“To trial, of course.” Felicia’s face puckered with anger and distress. “It should have been dealt with long before it ever got so far.” She turned to Peverell. “I blame you for that. I expected you to cope with it and see that Thaddeus’s memory was not subjected to vulgar speculation; and that Alexandra’s madness, and it must be said, wickedness, was not made a public sensation for the worst elements of humanity to revel in. As a lawyer, you should have been able to do it, and as a member of this fa
mily, I would have thought your loyalty to us would have seen that you did.”
“That’s unfair,” Damaris said immediately, her face hot and her eyes bright. “Just because one is a lawyer does not mean one can do anything one likes with the law. In fact just the opposite. Peverell has a trust towards the law, an obligation, which none of the rest of us have. I don’t know what you think he could have done!”
“I think he could have certified Alexandra as insane and unfit to stand trial,” Felicia snapped. “Instead of encouraging her to get a lawyer who will drag all our lives before the public and expose all our most private emotions to the gaze of the common people so they can decide something we all know anyway—that Alexandra murdered Thaddeus. For God’s sake, she doesn’t deny it!”
Cassian sat white-faced, his eyes on his grandmother.
“Why?” he said, a very small voice in the silence.
Hester and Felicia spoke at once.
“We don’t know,” Hester said.
“Because she is sick,” Felicia cut across her. She turned to Cassian. “There are sicknesses of the body and sicknesses of the mind. Your mother is ill in her brain, and it caused her to do a very dreadful thing. It is best you try not to think of it, ever again.” She reached out towards him tentatively, then changed her mind. “Of course it will be difficult, but you are a Carlyon, and you are brave. Think of your father, what a great man he was and how proud he was of you. Grow up to be like him.” For a moment her voice caught, too thick with tears to continue. Then she mastered herself with an effort so profound it was painfully visible. “You can do that. We shall help you, your grandfather and I, and your aunts.”
Cassian said nothing, but turned and looked very carefully at his grandfather, his eyes somber. Then slowly he smiled, a shy, uncertain smile, and his eyes filled with tears. He sniffed hard, swallowed, and everyone turned away from him so as not to intrude.
“Will they call him at the trial?” Damaris asked anxiously.
“Of course not.” Felicia dismissed the idea as absurd. “What on earth could he know?”
Damaris turned to Peverell, her eyes questioning.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “But I doubt it.”
Felicia stared at him. “Well for heaven’s sake do something useful! Prevent it! He is only eight years old!”
“I cannot prevent it, Mama-in-law,” he said patiently. “If either the prosecution or the defense wishes to call him, then the judge will decide whether Cassian is competent to give evidence or not. If the judge decides he is, then Cassian will do so.”
“You shouldn’t have allowed it to come to trial,” she repeated furiously. “She has confessed. What good can it do anyone to parade the whole wretched affair before a court? They will hang her anyway.” Her eyes hardened and she glanced across the table. “And don’t look at me like that, Damaris! The poor child will have to know one day. Perhaps it is better we don’t lie to him, and he knows now. But if Peverell had seen to it that she was put away in Bedlam, it wouldn’t be necessary to face the problem at all.”
“How could he do that?” Damaris demanded. “He isn’t a doctor.”
“I don’t think she is mad anyway,” Edith interrupted.
“Be quiet,” Felicia snapped. “Nobody wants to know what you think. Why would a sane woman murder your brother?”
“I don’t know,” Edith admitted. “But she has a right to defend herself. And Peverell, or anyone else, ought to wish that she gets it …”
“Your brother should be your first concern,” Felicia said grimly. “And the honor of your family your next. I realize you were very young when he first left home and went into the army, but you knew him. You were aware what a brave and honorable man he was.” Her voice quivered for the first time in Hester’s hearing. “Have you no love in you? Does his memory mean no more to you than some smart intellectual exercise in what is legally this or that? Where is your natural feeling, girl?”
Edith flushed hotly, her eyes miserable.
“I cannot help Thaddeus now, Mama.”
“Well you certainly cannot help Alexandra,” Felicia added.
“We know Thaddeus was a good man,” Damaris said gently. “Of course Edith knows it. But she is a lot younger, and she never knew him as I did. He was always just a strange young man in a soldier’s uniform whom everyone praised. But I know how kind he could be, and how understanding. And although he disciplined his men in the army, and made no allowances or bent any rules, with other people he could be quite different, I know. He was …” Suddenly she stopped, gave a funny little half smile, half sigh, and bit her lip. There was intense pain in her face. She avoided Peverell’s eyes.
“We are aware of your appreciation of your brother, Damaris,” Felicia said very quietly. “But I think you have said enough. That particular episode is far better not discussed—I’m sure you agree?”
Randolf looked confused. He started to speak, then stopped again. No one was listening to him anyway.
Edith looked from Damaris to her mother and back again.
Peverell made as if to say something to his wife, but she looked everywhere but at him, and he changed his mind.
Damaris stared at her mother as if some realization almost beyond belief had touched her. She blinked, frowned, and remained staring.
Felicia met her gaze with a small, wry smile, quite unwavering.
Gradually the amazement waned and another even more powerful emotion filled Damaris’s long, sensitive, turbulent face, and Hester was almost sure it was fear.
“Ris?” Edith said tentatively. She was confused as to the reason, but aware that her sister was suffering in some fierce, lonely way, and she wanted to help.
“Of course,” Damaris said slowly, still staring at her mother. “I wasn’t going to discuss it.” She swallowed hard. “I was just remembering that Thaddeus could be … very kind. It seemed … it seemed an appropriate time to—think of it.”
“You have thought of it,” Felicia pointed out. “It would have been better had you done so silently, but since you have not, I should consider the matter closed, if I were you. We all appreciate your words on your brother’s virtues.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Randolf said sulkily.
“Kindness.” Felicia looked at him with weary patience. “Damaris is saying that Thaddeus was on occasion extremely kind. It is not always remembered of him, when we are busy saying what a brave soldier he was.” Then again without warning emotion flooded her face. “All a man’s good qualities should be remembered, not just the public ones,” she finished huskily.
“Of course.” He frowned at her, aware that he had been sidetracked, but not sure how, still less why. “No one denies it.”
Felicia considered the matter sufficiently explained. If he did not understand, it was quite obvious she did not intend to enlighten him. She turned to Hester, her emotion gone, her expression perfectly controlled.
“Miss Latterly. Since, as my husband has said, jealousy is one of the ugliest and least sympathetic of all human emotions, and becomes a woman even less than a man, can you tell us what manner of defense this Mr. Rathbone intends to put forward?” She looked at Hester with the same cool, brave face she might have presented to the judge himself. “I imagine he is not going to be rash enough to attempt to lay the blame elsewhere, and say she did not do it at all?”
“That would be pointless,” Hester answered, aware that Cassian was watching her with a guarded, almost hostile expression. “She has confessed, and there is unarguable proof that she did it. The defense must rest in the circumstances, the reason why.”
“Indeed.” Felicia’s eyebrows rose very high. “And just what sort of a reason does this Mr. Rathbone believe would excuse such an act? And how does he propose to prove it?”
“I don’t know.” Hester faced her pretending a confidence far from anything she felt. “It is not my prerogative to know, Mrs. Carlyon. I have no part in this tragedy, other th
an as a friend of Edith’s, and I hope of yours. I mentioned Mr. Rathbone’s name to you before I knew that there was no question that Alexandra was guilty of the act. But even had I known it, I would still have told you, because she needs a lawyer to speak for her, whatever her situation.”
“She does not need someone to persuade her to fight a hopeless cause,” Felicia said acidly. “Or lead her to imagine that she can avoid her fate. That is an unnecessary cruelty, Miss Latterly, tormenting some poor creature and stringing out its death in order to entertain the crowd!”
Hester blushed hotly, but there was far too much guilt in her for her to find any denial.
It was Peverell who came to her rescue.
“Would you have every accused person put to death quickly, Mama-in-law, to save them the pain of struggle? I doubt that that is what they would choose.”
“And how would you know that?” she demanded. “It might well have been exactly what Alexandra would choose. Only you have all taken that opportunity away from her with your interference.”
“We offered her a lawyer,” Peverell replied, refusing to back away. “We have not told her how to plead.”
“Then you should have. Perhaps if she had pleaded guilty then this whole sorry business would be over with. Now we shall have to go into court and conduct ourselves with all the dignity we can muster. I presume you will be testifying, since you were there at that wretched party?”
“Yes. I have no choice.”
“For the prosecution?” she enquired.
“Yes.”
“Well at least if you go, one imagines Damaris will be spared. That is something. I don’t know what you can possibly tell them that will be of use.” There was half a question in her voice, and Hester knew, watching her tense face and brilliant eyes, that she was both asking Peverell what he intended saying, and warning him of family loyalties, trusts, unspoken ties that were deeper than any single occasion could test or break.
