Reynolds’s eyes widened with astonishment. “Yes. That is Mr. Macy’s ring. I’ve never seen him without it.”
With a nod, Merrick returned that tray and then fetched another. “Do you recognize these?”
“Yes. They are Macy heirlooms, formerly belonging to the late Mrs. Macy, his mother.”
“Formerly?”
Reynolds’s features softened as he viewed the various bracelets. “Yes, sir. Mr. Macy gifted those to Miss Elliston during her stay at Eastbourne.”
“Did she wear them?”
“Oh yes, sir. Straightaway.”
Again, Mr. Whitney turned slightly, narrowing his eyes. I gave him an apologetic look. For the bracelets weren’t on the timeline. In truth, I’d forgotten all about them.
“Thank you.” Merrick signalled for him to step down.
To my surprise, the next witness he called was Mrs. Windham’s hall boy. The newspapers said that both Edward and I exhibited great shock when he entered the court. Perhaps it was so, though I don’t remember giving a visible hint of it.
In London, he looked twice as poor as he had at Am Meer. His bare feet were dirty and his hair was matted. He bowed his head and quickly made his way to Merrick, removing his cap. He glanced at Edward, then turned bright red.
I gave Edward a questioning look, unable to imagine what testimony this boy could give on the legality of our marriage. Edward, however, had already guessed and looked stricken.
“State your name, occupation, and residence.”
“C-Caleb Hastings,” he whispered. “I’m the hall boy at Am Meer in Gloucestershire, sir.”
“Will you please tell the court what you saw in the woods outside Am Meer, about a fortnight before your mistress and Miss Elliston left for Eastbourne?”
My insides curled with dismay.
Caleb peeked at Edward, then lowered his head. “I woke in the middle of the night ’cause I heard Reverend Auburn outside our cottage.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, silently willing for Caleb not to say another word.
“And what was Reverend Auburn doing?” Merrick asked.
“He was throwing stones at Miss Elliston’s window. When she came to the window, he demanded she come down and meet him.”
“And did she?” Merrick asked.
I gave a slight shake of my head, feeling like I was about to lose my stomach.
“Aye. No one disobeys the vicar when he gives ’em an order in that voice,” Caleb said.
“Did she want to come down and meet him?”
Caleb’s eyes were solemn as he shook his head. “No, sir.”
“And how do you know?”
Caleb cast me a quick look, then lowered his chin. “’Cause I peeked as she passed in the hall. Looked frightened to death, sir.”
I placed a hand over my bodice, recalling how I thought Edward was drunk.
“Continue.” Merrick placed one hand over the rail of the witness stand. “What happened next?”
“I heard her crying. Real loud like she was being hurt. So I gots up and found a lamp.” He swallowed. “I thought maybe she got lost in the dark or hurt herself. When I found ’em in the woods . . .” His voice was so low it became a mumble.
“Please repeat that louder so the court can hear you,” Merrick said.
“Reverend Auburn—” Caleb’s voice grew strained—“was holding Miss Elliston to the ground, sir.”
There was a ripple of scandalized shock through the courtroom. My father gripped my arm, though at the time I didn’t understand the full implications of what was happening. I do recall, however, that Mr. Macy kept his gaze fastened on Edward the entire time with a look I couldn’t quite interpret. Mr. Whitney faced me in disbelief, for this wasn’t on the timeline either.
I gave him a stunned look. Of course it wasn’t on our timeline! How could I have guessed Macy knew about that night?
“What happened next?” Merrick asked.
Caleb dug his toe into the wooden platform. “The vicar yelled at me to go back to bed and not look. She was crying as she ran through the hall and sobbed in her chamber too. The next day he came and told me to deliver a note to her.”
“Can you describe how she looked as she read the note?”
“Aye.” Caleb’s head bobbed, though with sadness. “She turned real pale. Then, looking like she were about to cry again, said to tell the vicar she’d do whatever he wanted.”
Ringing engulfed my hearing even as the courtroom erupted in cries. I couldn’t see Edward from where I sat, because men jumped up and were shouting. But I was afforded a view of Mr. Macy. He wore the same impish smile I’d seen him wear the morning I woke on his couch in his study. Only this time, instead of looking at papers, he was staring in Edward’s direction.
It chills me now to look back and understand Macy’s expression. I was so ashamed of my behavior that night that I automatically assumed they were yelling because of our scandalous deed, but Macy had set up the case to make it look as if Edward had raped me. Nor did I realize that the legal ramifications of Caleb’s testimony drove their excitement. Those found guilty of rape at the Old Bailey were always hanged immediately after the trial.
It took several minutes before order was established. And when the men all sat, Edward locked eyes with me again. I gave him a nod to show I was fine, still not fully grasping what had just happened.
To all of our surprise, a jeweller took the stand next. The small man with large spectacles testified, “I live on Oxford Street and own Tuttle and Sons. I do not know the prisoner, but I am familiar with Mr. Macy. He came into my shop and purchased a necklace for his missing wife during the month of April.”
“Is this the one?” With one finger, Merrick dangled the necklace that Mr. Forrester had given me at Maplecroft the morning he asked me to blackmail Mr. Macy with him. It sparkled, dazzling the courtroom.
The jeweller’s eyes softened as he nodded. “Yes, that is the one.”
“Can you tell me its cost and purchase history?”
“Yes. Its cost was thirty thousand pounds.” The jeweller had to stop, for there was a stir over the chamber. When the noise died down, Merrick signalled for him to continue. The jeweller wet his lips before resuming his testimony. “Mr. Macy purchased it. He said his missing wife had sent him a request, testing his commitment to her. He said he knew where his wife was hiding and that she was very frightened and confused. He hoped by purchasing the necklace, he’d prove his love to her and that she’d return and once more be safe with him.”
Again, Mr. Whitney turned slightly toward me. All I could do was give him an apologetic look. For the thirty-thousand-pound necklace wasn’t on our timeline either. His face was incredulous as if he wasn’t certain he could believe I’d forgotten three such significant things.
Miss Moray testified next that she’d seen the jewelry amongst my possessions, but no, she had not known its origin.
Mr. Howell Ethan, the magistrate responsible for the investigation, testified that the jewelry was taken from my bedchamber in London House. Men’s brows furrowed as they considered the evidence.
One of Macy’s men testified that twice while I lived in London, I’d spent hours alone with Mr. Macy.
I settled against the wooden back of my seat, stunned by the turn of events.
Because I had lowered my gaze, needing to collect myself, I wasn’t watching when the next two witnesses entered the courtroom until my father suddenly stiffened. Looking up, I found that Eaton, the butler of Maplecroft, was taking an oath, and behind him stood William, our second footman.
Eaton ascended the stand.
“State your name, occupation, and residence,” Merrick intoned in a bored voice.
“Roger Eaton. I am Lord Pierson’s butler at his Maplecroft estate in Bedfordshire. I was present the night Miss Julia arrived at Maplecroft. She arrived in tears, not certain where else to go. Reverend Auburn didn’t want her anymore, and she feared her husband’s wrath too much since she’d be
en forced to abandon him.”
I wrinkled my nose, thinking that was an odd way to state it.
“And next?”
Eaton frowned with sadness. “When Lord Pierson came home, he spent hours berating her, screaming that her husband was evil. The poor girl grew quite frightened, saying she was confused, as Mr. Macy had protected her from Reverend Auburn.”
I gasped, stunned that he’d tell such a bold lie in court.
“When she insisted that she wasn’t certain what to think anymore, Lord Pierson began to accuse Mr. Macy of the most horrendous crimes. Only after she began to panic did Lord Pierson threaten that if she didn’t obey him absolutely, he’d return her to her husband.”
“That’s it! I have to object to this proceeding continuing any further,” Mr. Whitney said, rising. “This is absolute fiction! My client isn’t even allowed to testify to contradict this. Logic declares there’s no truth here. Why would Lord Pierson risk his wealth and reputation so recklessly? Why would she run away with the man who forced himself upon her?” He flung a hand to the judge. “Is the court truly going to entertain someone so clearly and obviously a liar? Are we really going to allow such a bold mockery of justice to continue?”
“The prosecution hasn’t finished with its witnesses,” Merrick said dryly. “Would the defense please wait their turn to call their witnesses?”
The judge looked at Macy, who did not change expression, before frowning. “The next time you disturb us with an outburst, Mr. Whitney, I’ll have you dismissed from the courtroom.” He motioned to Merrick. “Proceed.”
Mr. Whitney was so angry, he couldn’t sit. He moved to the far end of the courtroom, where he shook his head and paced.
“Why did you not go to the police?” Merrick asked Eaton.
“I thought about it plenty of times.” Eaton looked in my direction as if to apologize. “Only I feared to. I resolved to keep my mouth shut, but my conscience was heavier than lead, sir.”
William’s testimony was similar. He spoke about my time in London, saying that more than once he’d been present when I tearfully approached my father with my doubts about Mr. Macy’s guilt. He testified that on numerous occasions I’d begged my father to write Mr. Macy, to make inquiries to see if he’d forgive me for feeling forced to run away with Reverend Auburn. Supposedly my father had even locked me within my bedchamber.
My father gave no hint of his emotions during the testimonies, though I am certain he must have felt complete shock that two members of his upper staff had betrayed him. I swallowed and glanced at Simmons, waiting to see if he planned to take the stand too. He, however, watched Eaton, seething.
My father’s supposed misdeeds were of even more interest than my scandalous behavior. Here was the story the public wished to believe. The courtroom listened breathlessly. The only sound was of Mr. Whitney thwacking his robes as he paced. The more outrageous the lie, the harder he thwacked.
“How many more witnesses?” the judge asked, placing a hand over his midsection as William left the stand. “It’s past lunch.”
“One more, Your Honor,” Merrick said.
“Is that even necessary?” the judge asked irritably. He spread a hand in the direction of the jury. “Is there any doubt in anyone’s mind that the marriage is legal and consummated?”
The mixture of men shook their heads, showing they had no argument.
Mr. Whitney stormed from the back of the courtroom, his face tomato red.
Before he could speak, however, Merrick gave a slight bow. “Your Honor, my client Mr. Macy has endured extreme mental anguish as his wife has been viciously misled by her father and dominated by Reverend Auburn. You cannot imagine the torment he’s been in. Dare we cut short his day in court?” He pointed at the jury. “Are these not the same men who will sit on the civil case tomorrow? This particular witness is only in London for today and is vital to understanding why Lord Pierson would choose to persecute Mr. Macy to this degree.”
The judge glanced in Mr. Macy’s direction with the same air a butler looks at his master with when he is trying to anticipate him. “Fine. One more witness and then a brief recess.”
“When the court adjourns for a break,” my father said to Simmons in a low voice, “take my daughter as planned. Leave this country immediately.”
Simmons leaned forward. “Sir, she’s the only witness who can clear Reverend Auburn’s name now. It would mean his death sentence.”
“You will take my daughter,” my father ordered through gritted teeth, “and you will go into hiding.”
I stared at them, wondering what sort of provisions my father had prepared for me in the event we lost. Going into hiding with Simmons had never once crossed my mind. I furrowed my brow, wanting to inquire what Simmons had meant about Edward receiving a death sentence. I was so deep in thought that by the time I registered the courtroom had grown silent, the sharp rap of a walking stick was already sounding outside in the hall.
Horror shot through me as I looked up and saw Lady Foxmore’s powdered visage angrily approaching the center of the chamber.
FROWNING FROM HER PERCH atop the witness stand, Lady Foxmore scrutinized me. A capillary must have burst behind her right eye, for it was completely blood-filled, which, when set against her powdered face, was positively ghastly. As if to accentuate the gruesome component, she lifted her lorgnette and squinted at my father and me before turning her baleful gaze on Mr. Macy.
His chuckle echoed through the courtroom.
Silently she promised him a slow, agonizing death. Bony hands clutched her sable stole as she squared her shoulders.
“State your name, occupation, residence, and your testimony in the case.”
She forced breath through her nose. “I am Lady Adelia Foxmore. I have no occupation outside of being superior to worms such as yourself. As far as my testimony . . .” Her chest swelled, and with a haughty expression, she glared at Mr. Macy and me before lifting her bejewelled finger. “There sit the stupidest girl and stupidest man in the whole of England!”
Again Mr. Macy chuckled.
“You laugh,” she addressed Mr. Macy, then slowly held up a letter. “But I have compartments in secret boxes in secret places you’ve never thought to search.”
The atmosphere changed as Mr. Macy sat straight and levelled her ladyship with his eyes.
“The court may find this useful,” Lady Foxmore said, handing the letter to Merrick.
If I’d ever seen Mr. Macy look murderous, it paled in comparison to the quiet dread that preyed on all our spirits as he sat forward and extended his hand for the letter. He glared at her ladyship as he flapped open the note and read it.
He passed the note back to Merrick and studied her ladyship anew, this time with a touch of confusion. Merrick opened the letter and read it, then passed it on to the judge.
I watched the white sheet of paper travel from hand to hand as people read it during her ladyship’s testimony.
When Macy sat back against his seat, there was no humor in his expression.
She cackled in his direction, ignoring the fact that they were in a courtroom. “Lucky for you, I chose that letter. This is the last favor you shall ever extract from me again. Did you truly think I’d burned all those correspondences?” Her body trembled as she waited for an answer.
Mr. Macy studied her with a calculated look that would have frightened anyone with sense. My father gripped my shoulder and sat straighter with a look of hope.
Mr. Macy sliced her ladyship with his eyes and waited the span of two breaths before divesting his waistcoat of a small folded handkerchief, which he extended for Merrick to take to her.
Merrick collected the small bundle and brought it to the witness stand. She gave Macy a questioning glance before proceeding to unfold the square of cloth.
I leaned forward, straining to see.
What looked like a large pearl earring sat in the center of the cloth.
Its significance I could not guess, but it
transformed Lady Foxmore. She gave it a long, hard stare before she covered it again. Her mouth stayed small and tight, but her eyes flashed. Wordlessly she flung the pearl and handkerchief onto the floor before the table where Macy and his lawyers sat.
Chills washed over me as I looked about, waiting to see what the courts would do about a witness being blackmailed before their eyes. At least two jurors squirmed as they looked at their fellows in the jury box. But everyone else either shuffled or looked at papers, pretending not to have noticed. From the corner of my eye, I saw my father’s lips turn grey, as they did when his headaches came over him. He swallowed, doing his best to mask his distress.
“You want my testimony?” Her nostrils flared as she addressed Macy. “Fine! Here is what I know. I chaperoned that girl’s mother in Bath, where Lord Pierson became infatuated with her despite the fact she was engaged to William Elliston. He learned that Mr. Macy was a guest in my house and recruited Mr. Macy to help him seduce Lucy Cames by arranging for me to be gone during certain hours of the day.”
Her words were like hammer blows, for I’d expected her to talk about Eastbourne, not my father. I recoiled. Several men cast dubious looks in my father’s direction. Macy’s jaw stayed locked as one finger tapped the table.
“One morning I found Lucy lying across her bed, sobbing. She was with Pierson’s love child and the whole story tumbled from her. Lord Pierson was already engaged and assumed she understood their relationship was pleasure only.”
I stared, unable to breathe. Though this had nothing to do with my marriage, and though her words were awful, I wouldn’t have stopped her testimony for all the gold in the world. I’d spent my life wondering what was so terrible that Mama could never bring herself to reveal it.
“Go on,” Merrick said dryly.
“Macy was furious when he learned what had happened. He confronted Pierson, but Roy was finished with poor Lucy. Macy had to pay Elliston to wed her. For nothing would convince Lord Pierson to provide for the girl, not even as his wife in watercolors.”
There was a general shock from the men that she’d used that term, for likely they had no idea any woman knew its meaning. My father cringed and placed his hands on either side of his head.
Price of Privilege Page 39
