by Allison Lane
Now it was up to her.
“You are a diamond, sweetheart,” murmured Jack, kissing her ear before opening the hearing room door. “Calm, competent, perfect in every way. Just be yourself, and no one can rule against you.” He squeezed her hand in the greatest show of warmth in days. Her fingers tingled.
Then the door closed between them, and she was alone. Alone with the fear that he’d just said good-bye.
It was less crowded than she’d expected. The black-robed bishop sat on a raised dais, dominating the room. She forced her gaze to meet his, then exhaled in relief. Curiosity blazed in his eyes. He had not yet made his decision.
Rowland and Hilliard, the two barristers, each occupied a small table. A third table served two clerks. There was no jury or audience.
Relieved, she took her seat in the witness chair.
“We have heard others describe their dealings with you,” began the bishop. “Why don’t you tell us in your own words what happened twelve years ago and how those events affected your life?”
She paused to settle herself, then inhaled deeply and began.
“To understand the effect, you must first understand my family. Papa was a scholar with three loves – his wife, his children, and his books. We were happy at Halworth and far closer than is usually the case in our class. The only pain I recall from those years was a skinned knee, and my greatest sorrow was one stillborn pup in a litter of six.”
“So you had never suffered?” asked the bishop.
“Exactly. Lady Barnett described me as spoiled. I have always understood that to mean undisciplined – which was not true in our family. But I was certainly untested. Despite being twelve, I was unprepared for what I experienced in France.” Taking another deep breath, she described the illness that delayed their departure from Paris and her guilt when her mother contracted it, forcing further delay. Then she recounted cowering in the stable loft; fleeing through the night, certain that the mob was following; meeting Jack; her arrival at Barnett Court.
“When Jack assured me that Lord Barnett would protect me, relief released the tears that I hadn’t dared shed while we were in such danger. But once I started, I couldn’t stop, even when Lady Barnett struck me, chastising me for such a vulgar display. Her fury worsened my grief. For the first time, I realized that other families were not loving. The knowledge sharpened my loss, for I knew then that my former life was utterly gone.”
Rowland nodded. “A natural reaction.”
The bishop glared, silencing the intrusion.
Marianne continued. “Any child with my background would have been overwhelmed, but even the strongest grief fades with time. In a few days I had recovered enough to look about me. I found my new life daunting. Lady Barnett despised me and resented my intrusion. Her daughters followed her lead, tormenting me whenever their governess wasn’t looking. It did not help that I received treatment they considered preferential.” She described her memories of that time and how those differed from the housekeeper’s tale.
“You say Lord Barnett removed you a month later,” said the bishop. “That must have distressed you.”
“By then, I was grateful. Believe me, I have no quarrel with his decision. Since his family offered none of the affection I had lost in France, I was happier alone. Halworth was familiar, and the staff cared deeply for me. I soon recovered most of my composure, and the nightmares faded.”
“Then how do you explain your most recent fit?”
“It was not a fit,” she claimed, having worked out with Jack how to portray her last meeting with Barnett. She hated dishonesty, but to win this war, she had no choice. “Its origins were quite different from those childhood outbursts. If I had known of Barnett’s plans, I would have petitioned the court to terminate his guardianship on the basis of fraud and neglect. He knew that, of course, so he gave me no warning. That limited my response.”
“Explain.”
“Knowing that I must soon take personal charge of my estate, I had been preparing for the responsibility as best I could – not an easy task, for I’d never been allowed to communicate with my steward. Barnett refused me a governess or even a companion, and he posted guards to prevent me from leaving the grounds. No one was allowed through the gates. Thus I had to study on my own and meet friends in secret and on foot. But despite all that, I still considered him an honorable man who would carry out the letter of my father’s will, so I was unprepared when he moved against me.”
She shifted to a more comfortable position. “When I met Colonel Caldwell in the folly that day, he asked for my hand. I gladly accepted. The decision left me euphoric, for it marked the first of many steps that would restore my rightful place in society. I had no inkling when I returned to the house that Barnett had planned a much different future for me.”
She glanced at Hilliard. “I had barely entered the house – had not even shut the door – when Barnett grabbed me, shoved me against the wall, then announced that I was mad and he was locking me in an asylum so he could take control of my inheritance. Naturally, I fought to escape – biting, scratching, and kicking. I screamed. I shouted. I cried. Those were the only weapons at my disposal. As I’d hoped, he flinched, allowing me to break free. But he’d brought the guards with him. On his orders, they overpowered and bound me. Yet losing that skirmish did not mean I had to lose the war. I knew my staff would inform Colonel Caldwell of my abduction, and that he would follow. So I tried to attract attention, making it easy to track the carriage. Through God’s grace, he arrived in time to prevent the staff at Barnett’s chosen asylum from ravishing me.”
“Ravish, Mrs. Caldwell?” exclaimed Rowland.
“Exactly. Colonel Caldwell must have described how he found me. I cannot testify from my own knowledge, for they had dosed me heavily with laudanum before tying me to that bed. Once he rescued me, our only recourse was to wed immediately instead of posting banns as we’d originally planned. Since then, I have concentrated on preventing Barnett from twisting the law to his own benefit.”
The bishop nodded. “That seems clear enough. Have you any questions, Hilliard?”
“I do, my lord.”
“Then proceed.”
Hilliard rose.
Marianne braced herself, for this portion of the hearing would be much harsher.
“Let us go back to the journey from Barnett Court to Halworth,” said Hilliard ponderously. “If, as you claim, you were relieved to return home, then why did you scream and wail for the entire three-day trip?”
“No one bothered to tell me what was happening, so it wasn’t until we actually reached Halworth that I knew our destination. It was then that relief set in.”
“You distrusted Lord Barnett that much?” He sounded incredulous.
“Would you trust a complete stranger when you were still suffering grief and terror from listening as your family was butchered by strangers?”
“Stranger?”
She turned to the bishop. “A servant plucked me out of bed before dawn and tossed me into a carriage, saying not a word about what was happening or where I was going. A man I had never seen climbed in after me and signaled the coachman to move. I was understandably wary of strangers, so it terrified me to be locked in a coach with one.”
“But he was your uncle and guardian,” protested Hilliard.
“I know that now. But I had never seen Lord Barnett before that moment. He had not been in the house when I arrived, and he left without speaking to me. Nor did he see me when he returned. Even after joining me in that carriage, he did not introduce himself. I did not discover his identity until the next day when he treated me to a drunken rant condemning my father for leaving his fortune to a puling girl instead of giving it to him, as he considered his right. His anger was so intense that I fully expected him to kill me so he could claim my father’s estate.”
“Suspecting a lord of the realm of murder is mad, Miss Barnett,” snapped Hilliard.
“Mrs. Caldwell,” she corrected co
ldly, glaring at Hilliard. “I was twelve years old at the time and terrified. I will not apologize for my suspicions. If you think a lord behaves any better than the lowest riffraff when in his cups, then you are the madman. And I only learned last week that my father had protected me from such an attack by naming a residual beneficiary in his will. But as for your original question, I was also bothered on that journey by the many stable yards we entered. The smell recalled my family’s murder, raising new waves of grief and terror.”
“Another reaction most would consider mad, would you not agree?”
“Not at all. Smell often triggers memory, sometimes good, sometimes bad. Gingerbread and pine boughs recall Christmas. The scent of brandy reminds me of my father, for a glass of brandy always sat on his desk when I came in to say good night. My sister’s nurse broke into tears whenever she smelled snowdrops. She associated them with her brother’s death – the scent was strong on his body when neighbors bore it home after a fatal accident.”
The bishop was nodding. He, too, must have memories associated with scent.
Hilliard frowned. “But most people are not incapacitated by such memories.”
“That is true.” She met his eye and lied. “Which is why stables no longer bother me. But at the time, the wound was fresh, and I was greatly troubled by many things.”
“But we have heard testimony that stables still send you into fits of madness.”
“I cannot imagine from whom.” Surely Devall had not been called to testify. He was the only one in London besides Jack who knew she still turned into a quivering mass near stables. “Lord Barnett had not visited Halworth in eleven years before he abducted me. His secretary is hardly competent to judge.”
“He swears that you have not improved a bit.” Hilliard leaned close, breathing in her face as his hand clutched at her shoulder.
“Ah. He explained that trick, I see,” she said calmly, though her heart began to race. “But he obviously minimized his actions – his touches always included my breasts.”
“What?”
The bishop leaned forward.
“Only recently have I discovered what a lecher he is. And Mr. Craven could hardly judge my reaction to stables, for I own no horses and had closed the stables many years ago – he was always irritated that he had to send his coach to the village.”
“A pitiful attempt to cover your fear of horses,” sneered Hilliard.
“Hardly. Maintaining a stable was an unnecessary expense. Since Barnett confined me to the grounds, I had no need of horses. But as to Mr. Craven, I suspect that his visits had two purposes. The first was to make sure that I remained conveniently mad by inciting hysteria at every opportunity. The second was to satisfy his lust should I ever give him a chance.”
The bishop frowned. “Do you claim that Barnett wanted you mad?”
“Perhaps not in the beginning.” She shook her head sadly. “Twelve years ago he believed it himself and did his best to hide it. His wife called me mad from the moment I shed my first tear. It was easier to pack me off to Halworth than call a physician. No one wants to stain his line with madness. I don’t know when his purpose changed, but he must have realized quite soon that madness could give him the fortune the courts had already denied. So he made sure that no one could contradict his claims. He never provided a governess or companion, never sent me to school or presented me to society – though anyone currently in town can testify that I am quite comfortable at social affairs. What he did was divert most of my income to his own use. I received a final accounting of my trust last week and was shocked that barely a tithe of my allowance reached my hands, in blatant disregard of the trust provisions. For twelve years he has supported himself using my funds. In the end, he tried to lock me away and take charge of everything.”
The bishop’s lips pressed together so hard they turned white.
Marianne met his gaze. “Given what I have learned about his embezzlement and his mounting debts, I must wonder if he condoned Mr. Craven’s lechery on grounds that rape would add to my supposed mental fragility.”
“Preposterous!” exclaimed Hilliard. “Accusing a peer of the realm of such perfidy is proof enough of madness.”
“Noble birth has never been a guarantor of noble deeds,” she snapped, then drew in her temper. “But we have moved far afield. Barnett’s crimes are not under the purview of this court, except as they define his motives for incarcerating me. And it is possible that Mr. Craven acted on his own initiative. Seducing me would have forced me into marriage, placing my estate and fortune in his hands.” She shook her head in disgust. “The point of this hearing is my sanity or lack thereof. In my defense, I doubt that any lady of questionable reason could successfully stage a come-out in London at a time when accusations of madness, treason, and much more raise untold interest in her every word and deed. Since I have survived such suspicion intact – and have even thrived – I contend that my reason is sound.”
Hilliard continued to harass her for two hours, but her responses remained firm, refuting every falsehood and explaining the rest. It was easier than she had expected. Fear for Jack left no room to fear the hearing’s outcome. If she lost this battle, he would die, so she had to win, no matter what it took. Devlin still had not reported, so she was on her own.
Fear for Jack made it easy to parry Hilliard’s jabs. She could feel him slipping away, retreating into a mental dungeon to brood. His will was so strong that she would be hard-pressed to stop him.
“It is utter madness to wed a virtual stranger without even consulting your guardian!” Hilliard finally shouted, his own fraying temper making her appear the sanest person in the room.
“Either the previous witnesses have been lying through their teeth, or you have not been paying attention,” she countered, shaking her head in disgust. “I was four-and-twenty at the time of my marriage – far past the age of consent. Barnett was and remains a virtual stranger who cares nothing for me beyond stealing my fortune. On the other hand, I have known Colonel Caldwell for twelve years, first in France, where he rescued me from incarceration, if not death, escorted me back to England, and did his utmost to keep me safe. Later I knew him as a neighbor who shared many of my interests and applauded my determination to wrest Halworth’s methods into the nineteenth century and improve the lot of my tenants. By the time we decided to wed, I knew him as well as I’d known my family. He has always conducted himself with honor, courage, and kindness. He is a gentleman in truth as well as in name. He has land and fortune enough to satisfy all but the most grasping guardian. And he has made no attempt to hurt me. None of that is true of Barnett.”
Another hour passed before the bishop excused her. Rowland summed up her testimony in a few brief sentences. His main point was that her activities and behavior in London could not be distinguished from those of other society matrons. That alone proved her normality. Whether terror had pushed her grief into temporary madness twelve years ago was irrelevant.
Hilliard was still ranting when she left the hearing room.
The moment she reached the antechamber, her legs gave way.
“I don’t know why I’m shaking now,” she murmured as Jack caught her against his side. One arm steadied her shoulders while the other wrapped around her waist.
“Reaction. We call it battle fatigue. When the fighting stops, men collapse, feeling far more exhausted than usual. The same thing happens after sudden danger. You have anticipated this for days, marshaling all your energy for this confrontation. Now that it is over, your body demands rest.”
“I can’t rest until we hear the ruling.” But she sagged against him, letting his heat warm her sudden chills – and raise hope that he was not too far removed to reach. It was the closest they had been since they had arrived in London.
“That won’t be long. You were the last witness.”
“Not any more. Hilliard wants to present more testimony. He is furious at his failure to rattle me, so he is demanding that the bishop summon
Carey. They were discussing it when I left.”
“Then you have won, indeed.” His smile reached his eyes for the first time in days. “The bishop hates men who continue beating a horse long after it is dead.”
Jack was right. Word arrived an hour later that the bishop refused to prolong a hearing that had already consumed more time than was reasonable. Marianne Amelia Barnett Caldwell had been competent when she contracted her marriage, so the petition for annulment was denied. He added some pithy comments about Barnett’s negligence as a guardian and his obvious avarice, then rued his lack of jurisdiction over corrupt lords and hinted that he might raise the question when Parliament reconvened – bishops sat in the House of Lords.
As she and Jack left the building, they spotted Barnett across the street. It was the first time she’d seen him since Halworth.
He looked terrible, with haunted eyes sunk into a white face and slack jowls that hinted he’d lost weight. Lady Barnett was with him – she had also testified, which may have worked in Marianne’s favor. Now the lady screeched loud enough to be heard in France.
“What do you mean, there is no money? The girls must attend Lord Houghington’s house party. You know…”
Marianne turned to Jack. “I almost feel sorry for him. His wife is a harridan of the first water.”
“True, but she is no longer your concern. How does it feel to be vindicated?”
“Unreal, but I am glad that it is over.”
His lips smiled, but his eyes remained cauldrons of swirling emotions, most of them dark.
Marianne struggled to suppress tears. Despite offering comfort after her testimony, his wall was nearly complete. Once it was done, she would never reach him. Winning was meaningless unless Jack stayed with her. Without him, she might as well return to the asylum.
She had to make him listen. Tonight would be critical.
Chapter Fifteen
Marianne nearly broke down as the carriage drew up before Blackthorn House. The journey home from Bishop’s Court had been the worst hour of her life. Devall’s satisfaction and Angela’s promise of a victory celebration had sliced Marianne’s soul. Couldn’t they feel Jack slipping away? Couldn’t they see the darkness settle over his eyes as he added the final stones to his wall of isolation? Despite uttering the same congratulations as the others, he felt nothing.
