by Jane Feather
Prudence half rose as if to follow him, and then resumed her seat when Gideon took her elbow.
The judge looked around the courtroom. “Any further witnesses, Sir Samuel?”
“No, m’lud.”
“Then, Sir Gideon, the court is yours.”
“I have nothing further, m’lud.”
Prudence didn’t hear the rest of the formalities. She paid no attention to the closing arguments to the jury before they were sent off to deliberate, and she registered only distantly the judge’s advice that if they the jurors found the publication not guilty of libel, they could consider awarding The Mayfair Lady punitive damages for the distress caused by a frivolous suit.
Prudence could think only that for the last four years they had tried to protect their father, do for him what their mother would have done, and now in the most public and humiliating situation imaginable they had forced reality upon him. It had been Chastity’s idea to use a phrase that their mother had used so often.
Male pretension. The phrase had always made her husband protest with one breath and laugh in the next. It had told Lord Duncan who was in the witness box. And, of course, it had explained exactly how his private shame was now public knowledge. Would he ever forgive them?
She became aware of Gideon’s hand on her arm. He was ushering her out of the courtroom and into the small antechamber again. Chastity and Constance were already there. They hugged one another fiercely.
“Will he forgive us?” Chastity asked, echoing her sister’s thought.
“How long could he go on living a lie?” The question came from Gideon, who still stood beside the door. They turned on him with livid eyes. He raised his hands defensively and backed out of the chamber. No man in his right mind would face the combined wrath of the Duncan sisters.
“It’s true, though,” Prudence said after an instant’s silence. “How long could it go on?”
“It was already over,” Constance pointed out practically. “Without his testimony we were going to lose and then he’d have to face reality, and with it . . . well . . .” She blew her nose vigorously.
The door opened and they all three spun to face it. Lord Duncan came in, letting it swing shut behind him. “That barrister told me I’d find you in here.” He regarded his daughters in a silence that seemed to stretch like elastic. “How dared you?” he demanded finally. “My private papers? What possible right did you think you had?”
“We didn’t think we had any,” Prudence said. “But we knew that we had no choice. Any more than Mother would have had.”
“The Mayfair Lady was Mother’s publication,” Constance said gently.
He gave a short laugh. “I realize that now. I should have known it all along.”
“We couldn’t lose it to a man who—” Prudence fell silent as he held up an imperative hand.
“I don’t want to hear it. I’ve heard enough for one day. I’ll see you at home. You too, Constance.” The door closed quietly behind him.
The sisters gave a collective sigh, then Prudence said, “This may sound perverse, but I feel the most amazing sense of release . . . now that he knows, I mean.”
“Yes,” Chastity agreed soberly.
“I imagine Jenkins and Mrs. Hudson will feel it too,” Constance said, just as a tap at the door heralded Gideon’s return.
“The jury’s coming back. Prudence . . .” He gestured to the open door.
“That was quick. Is that good or bad?” she asked.
“I prefer not to speculate. Come along.” His tone was brisk and she sensed for the first time today that he was not as nerveless as he appeared.
The jury filed in. The verdict was read.
“We find the publication. The Mayfair Lady, not guilty of libel, my lord.”
Prudence went limp as if she’d lost her skeletal structure. She stared down at the table, at her hands intertwined on its surface. She barely heard the rest of it. The award to the defendant of all costs and one thousand pounds in damages.
Only when it was over did she realize that they were free and clear. All legal costs would be borne by Barclay’s side, so Gideon would get his fee. Presumably. rather more than an eighty-percent share of a thousand pounds would give him, she thought as she tried not to stumble on their walk from the court. People crowded them, questions were shouted at her, but she was barely aware of her surroundings. Gideon’s hand was under her arm, supporting her, and then they were outside in the gray afternoon, and once again a hackney awaited them.
“Get in,” he said, thrusting her inside as a gaggle of newspapermen pressed close, shouting their questions. Prudence half climbed, half tumbled into the gloomy interior, and realized only when she was inside that her sisters were already seated. “How did you get here?”
“Thadeus,” Constance said.
Gideon leaned in through the window and said softly, “The cabbie will take you to a hotel first. We don’t want you followed home. I imagine your father is already besieged. When it’s dark and they’ve given up for the night, Thadeus will escort you home.”
“You think of everything,” Prudence observed.
“That is part of my job. On which subject, if it’s convenient I’ll call upon you in the morning to conclude our business.”
“Oh, yes,” Prudence said. “Our bargain. Of course.”
“Precisely.” He closed the door on them.
“Not much of a bargain for the barrister,” Constance remarked.
“Well, his fee’s covered by Barclay’s costs. I doubt he’s concerned,” Chastity said.
“No,” Constance agreed. “But if not, why’s he so anxious for his pound of flesh?”
“I daresay he wants to put the entire affair behind him completely,” Prudence said from the darkest corner of the cab. “Once the last piece of business is settled, it will be over and he can get on with his normal life without worrying about three contentious and subversive sisters.”
“You mean one contentious and subversive sister,” Constance stated.
Prudence shrugged. “What if I do? I’ll not be sorry to have it all over and done with, once and for all.”
“I’m sure it will be a relief,” Chastity agreed in soothing tones. Her eyes sought her eldest sister’s in the dimness. Constance raised her eyebrows in silent comprehension.
Gideon went back to his chambers. He felt none of his usual euphoria after winning a case—in fact, he felt more as if he was about to start trying one. He discarded wig and gown, poured himself a stiff whisky, and sat down at his desk. He had a plan of campaign, just as he always had before starting a trial, but he had no backup plan. There was none to be had. It was a high-stakes throw. All or nothing. And there had been nothing in her manner to encourage making such a move at this juncture. He had hoped for something. He didn’t know what exactly, but some small sign that she had missed him. But she’d given him nothing.
He reached for his cigarette box. He had to make allowances for the fact that she had had so much on her plate today, she probably had no mental or emotional energy for anything else. But all the same, he had watched her like a hawk when she’d first entered his chambers, and she’d given him nothing but that cool greeting. She hadn’t looked well and she was clearly troubled, but that was hardly surprising. She was facing a courtroom and the possible loss of her livelihood and a great deal else besides. Her mind had definitely not been on matters of the heart.
He sighed and stubbed out his cigarette. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt this anxious.
“You look as if you could do with a sherry, Prue,” Constance said when they were ensconced in a private parlor in a discreet establishment in a side street off Piccadilly.
“There seems to be everything here,” Chastity said, turning from her examination of the sideboard. “There’s tea, if you’d rather. Sandwiches and fruitcake . . . cheese and biscuits . . . sherry, wine, even cognac.”
“It’s a little early for cognac,” Prudence said. “But I
’ll have a glass of sherry.”
“You were magnificent, Prue,” Constance said, tossing her hat and gloves on a console table. “I don’t know how you managed to keep that accent going without it sounding like a Feydeau farce.”
“I think it did,” Prudence said, taking the sherry Chastity handed her. “It’s the ze that always gets to me. I want to laugh every time.” She took a sip of sherry. “Not this afternoon, however. I’ve never felt less like laughing.”
“No, none of us have.” Constance poured sherry for herself. “But it’s over. We won. The Mayfair Lady and the Go-Between are safe. And no one knows us from Adam.”
“Except Father.”
“Except Father,” she agreed.
“There’s a pack of cards here,” Chastity said. “How about we play three-handed bridge? We’ve got to do something to pass the time if we’re not to fall into a slough of despond.”
They had been playing for two hours when Thadeus came for them. “There are no newspapermen around the house anymore,” he said.
“And Lord Duncan?”
“He had not left the premises when I came to fetch you,” the clerk said. “He might have gone out since, of course.”
“No, he’s waiting for us,” Prudence said, sliding the cards back into their silver case. “You’re coming back with us, Con?”
“Of course,” her elder sister said. “I’d hardly leave you to face him alone. Max will know what happened in court by now, so he’ll assume I’m with you.”
“The carriage is at the back door,” Thadeus informed them. “I thought it best to avoid the front just in case anyone’s lingering.”
“You think of everything, Thadeus.” Prudence smiled wanly at him. He merely bowed.
They sat in silence during the short ride to Manchester Square. “We’ll go in the back way,” Prudence said as they turned into the square. “Ask him to go to the mews entrance, Thadeus.”
“I have already done so, Miss Duncan.”
“Yes, of course you have,” Prudence murmured.
“Sir Gideon wished me to give you this, Miss Duncan.” Thadeus handed her an envelope as she stepped to the ground.
“Oh, thank you.” She looked down at it, puzzled. “What is it?”
“The lien on the house, madam. He thought you would know best what to do with it.”
Prudence tucked it into her handbag. “Yes, I think I will.”
They went into the house through the kitchen. “Oh, my goodness,” Mrs. Hudson said as they came in. “What a to-do there’s been. Men ringing the doorbell, asking questions, Lord Duncan in the worst mood I’ve ever seen him in. Locked in the library, he is. What’s been going on?”
“I trust the enterprise went in your favor, Miss Prue?” Jenkins appeared in the doorway, his face drawn with anxiety.
“Yes . . . yes, Jenkins, it did,” Prudence said swiftly. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get home earlier, but Sir Gideon thought we should avoid the newspapers. He was afraid the press would follow us here, even if they weren’t already here trying to get at Father.”
“They were here, all right,” Jenkins said grimly. “Banging the knocker. I threatened to call the police. His lordship locked himself in the library. I tried to ask him what had happened but he cursed me to the devil. I thought it best to leave well enough alone.”
“Wise of you, Jenkins,” Constance said with a faint smile. “We did win the case, but in order for us to do so, Lord Duncan had to find out the truth.”
“Ah,” Jenkins said, “that explains it, then.” Mrs. Hudson nodded gravely.
“It should make the house a little easier to manage,” Prudence said. “If we don’t have to pretend and cover up.”
Jenkins shook his head. “I don’t know about that, Miss Prue. Somehow I don’t see his lordship settling for leftovers and inferior wine.”
“No,” Prudence agreed. “We’ll still have to make shift, but at least we won’t feel we’re creeping around behind his back.”
“I think we’d better go to him now,” Chastity said. “We can’t put it off much longer.”
“There’s no putting anything off,” announced Lord Duncan from the kitchen door. “I assumed you conspirators would all be in here.” He glared at the assembled group. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know about this Jenkins, or you, Mrs. Hudson.”
“Father, it’s nothing to do with either of them,” Prudence protested. “You can blame us all you like, but Jenkins and Mrs. Hudson have only tried to help and make your life easier.”
A dull flush mounted on Lord Duncan’s cheeks. “For some reason my entire household seemed to find it necessary to shelter me from the consequences of my own folly. I do not find that a pleasant thought.” He turned on his heel. “We will discuss this further in the library.”
His daughters exchanged a look, shrugged in unison, and followed him. “There’s no need to close the door,” he said as they entered the library. “It’s clear there are no secrets in this household from anyone but myself.”
His daughters said nothing.
“How did you persuade Fitchley to let you examine my private papers?” he demanded.
Prudence sighed and told him. “You cannot blame Mr. Fitchley,” she said at the end.
“Clearly not. Of all the deceitful . . .” He turned away from them and he seemed suddenly a very old man. “Go away, all of you. I can’t face any of you at the moment.”
They left him, closing the door softly. “He can’t face us, or he can’t face himself?” Constance muttered.
Prudence was staring at the closed door, then abruptly she said, “No, we’re not bearing all this guilt. Come on.” She opened the door and stalked in, her startled sisters behind her.
“I told you—”
“Yes, Father, and we heard you. However, you might want to burn this.” She opened her handbag and took out the envelope. “I doubt very much that the earl of Barclay will be pursuing it after this afternoon.” She held it out to him.
Lord Duncan opened the envelope, stared down at the lien on his house. “He has no legal claim, then?” he said, almost in disbelief.
“No,” Prudence stated. “And he never did have. Since Barclay Earl and Associates is not a legal entity, they can’t hold property in its name. Burn it, Father. Now.”
He looked at them as they stood in front of him, presenting a united and determined front. And he thought of his wife, and of how like her they all were. And he thought of how much he missed her, every minute of every waking hour. And he knew that his daughters missed her as deeply, if in different ways. And he thought how they were her living embodiment.
Deliberately, he tore the sheet in two, then turned and threw both pieces into the fire. He stood watching as the paper curled, caught, and fell into ash.
Lord Duncan heard the door close behind him as he remained staring into the fire, acknowledging his grief.
Chapter 20
Prue, are you sure you don’t mind seeing Gideon alone?” Chastity asked the next morning, standing on tiptoe to see in the high hall mirror as she adjusted the brim of her hat.
“Of course I don’t,” her sister said carelessly, sweeping into the palm of her hand fallen petals from the vase of fading chrysanthemums on the hall table. “We need to get The Mayfair Lady out on the streets again as soon as possible, and we haven’t picked up the post from Mrs. Beedle in more than two weeks. Con’s writing up the account of the trial this morning, so it’s my task to deal with the barrister. It has been all along, after all.”
“I suppose so,” Chastity said, still sounding doubtful, but it was clear that her sister had her mind made up and it was the most sensible division of labor, since it would only take one of them to dispose of Gideon. “Very well, then, I’ll be off. I’ll only be a couple of hours, if that. It depends if Mrs. Beedle wants to chat.”
Prudence waved her away and picked up the vase of flowers. She carried it into the kitchen to dispose of them and was returning with the
empty vase to the hall when the doorbell rang.
“Shall I get that, Miss Prue?” Jenkins had appeared as usual as if by magic carpet.
“It’ll be Sir Gideon,” she said, smoothing down her skirts. “Show him into the drawing room.”
Jenkins went to open the door and Prudence went into the drawing room, where she turned her attention to a bowl of late-blooming roses that seemed to require some rearranging.
“Good morning.”
She turned slowly at the soft voice. “Good morning.” She moved towards the sofa. “Do sit down.”
“Thank you.” He took an armchair and waited for Prudence to alight somewhere. She perched on the arm of the sofa.
“So, I take it you’ve come to settle our business?” she said.
“That was what I had in mind.”
Prudence folded her arms. “You don’t think it’s a little premature?” she asked testily. “We haven’t even received our thousand pounds as yet.” She got to her feet abruptly. “I don’t understand why this couldn’t have been dealt with by letter. Presumably once the damages are paid the money will go to you. Why couldn’t you simply subtract your eight hundred pounds and send us our two?”
“Well, you see, I don’t think I could do that,” he said.
“Well, I’m very sorry, but we don’t have the money. I can’t give you eighty percent of nothing, can I?” Her green eyes glared, and he could see dark emerald sparks in their depths. Miss Duncan was clearly rather irritated. He had the feeling that it had little to do with his supposed reason for this visit.
“Unfortunately, I find myself in dire straits,” he murmured apologetically.
She stared at him. “What on earth . . . How could you find yourself in financial straits? Don’t be absurd, Gideon. You can’t possibly expect me to believe that. I don’t believe for one minute that eight hundred pounds would make one iota of difference to your bank balance.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t,” he agreed, shaking his head. “Not one iota.”
“Then what the hell are you talking about?” She was growing more irritated by the minute, and his calm demeanor wasn’t helping.
