Anne Perry - Defend and Betray

Edith sighed. “Hester, what is happening? I have never been to a trial before, and I don't understand. Mr. Rathbone is supposed to be so brilliant, and yet from what I hear it seems he is doing nothing at all. I could do as much. So far all he has achieved is to persuade us all that Thaddeus was quite innocent of any affair, either with Louisa Furnival or anyone else. And to add that Alexandra knew it too. What possible good can that do?” Her face was screwed up with incomprehension, her eyes dark and urgent. “It makes Alexandra look even worse in a way, because it takes from her any possible reason that one could attempt to understand, if not forgive. Why? She has already confessed that she did do it, and it has been proved. He didn't challenge that. In fact if anything he reconfirmed it. Why, Hester? What is he doing?”

Hester had told Edith nothing of their appalling discoveries, and now she hesitated, wondering if she should, or if by so doing she might foil Rathbone's plans for examination in the witness box. Was it possible that in spite of the outrage she would undoubtedly feel, Edith's family loyalty would be powerful enough for her to conceal the shame of it? Might she even disbelieve it?

Hester dare not put it to the test. It was not her prerogative to decide, not her life in the balance, nor her child whose future lay in the judgment.

She sat down in the chair opposite Edith.

“I don't know,” she lied, meeting her friend's eyes and hating the deceit. “At least I have only guesses, and it would be unfair to him and to you to give you those.” She saw Edith's face tighten as if she had been struck, and the fear deepened in her eyes. “But I do know he has a strategy,” she hurried on, leaning forward a little, only dimly aware of Major Tiplady looking anxiously from one to the other of them.

“Does he?” Edith said softly. “Please don't try to give me hope, Hester, if there really isn't any. It is not a kindness.”

The major drew breath to speak, and both turned to look at him. Then he changed his mind and remained silent and unhappy,'facing Hester.

' “There is hope,” Hester said firmly.”But I don't know how great it is. It all depends on convincing the jury that-”

“What?” Edith said quickly.' “What can he convince them of? She did it! Even Rathbone himself has proved that! What else is there?”

Hester hesitated. She was glad Major Tiplady was there, although there was nothing he could do, but his mere presence was a kind of comfort.

Edith went on with a feint, bitter smile. “He can hardly persuade them she was justified. Thaddeus was painfully virtuous-all the things that count to other people.” She frowned suddenly. “Actually we still don't know why she did do it. Is he going to say she is mad? Is that it? I don't think she is.” She glanced at the major. “And they have subpoenaed me to give evidence. What shall I do?”

“Give evidence,” Hester answered. “There's nothing else you can do. Just answer the questions they ask and no more. But be honest. Don't try to guess what they want. It is up to Rathbone to draw it from you. If you look as if you arc trying to help it will show and the jury won't believe you. Just don't lie-about anything he asks you.”

“But what can he ask me? I don't know anything.”

“I don't know what he will ask you,” Hester said exas-peratedly. “He wouldn't tell me, even if I were to ask him. I have no right to know. And far better I don't. But I do know he has a strategy-and it could win. Please believe me, and don't press me to give you answers I don't have.”

“I'm sorry.” Edith was suddenly penitent. She rose to her feet quickly and walked over to the window, less graceful than usual because she was self-conscious. “When this trial is over I am still going to look for a position of some sort. I know Mama will be furious, but I feel suffocated there. I spend all my life doing nothing whatsoever that matters at all. I stitch embroidery no one needs, and paint pictures even I don't like much. I play the piano badly and no one listens except out of politeness. I make duty, calls on people and take them pots of conserve and give bowls of soup to the deserving poor, and feel like such a hypocrite because it does hardly any good, and we go with such an air of virtue, and come away as if we've solved all their problems, and weVe hardly touched them.” Her voice caught for an instant. “I 'm thirty-three, and I'm behaving like an old woman. Hester, I'm terrified that one day I'm going to wake up and I will be old-and I'll have done nothing at all that was worth doing. I'll never have accomplished anything, served any purpose, helped anyone more man was purely convenient, never felt anything really deeply once Oswald died-been no real use at all.” She kept her back to them, and stood very straight and still.

“Then you must find work of some sort to do,” Hester said firmly. “Even if it is hard or dirty, paid or unpaid, even thankless-it would be better than waking up every morning to a wasted day and going to bed at night knowing you wasted it. I have heard it said that most of what we regret is not what we did but what we did not do. I think on the whole that is correct. You have your health. It would be better to wait on others than do nothing at all.”

“You mean go into service?” Edith was incredulous and there was a frail, slightly hysterical giggle under the surface of her voice.

“No, nothing quite so demanding-it would really be more than your mother deserves. I meant helping some poor creature who is too ill or too mithered to help herself.” She stopped. “Of course that would be unpaid, and that might not work…”

“It wouldn't. Mama would not permit it, so I would have to find lodgings of my own, and that requires money-which I don't have.”

Major Tiplady cleared his throat.

“Are you still interested in Africa, Mrs. Sobell?”

She turned around, her eyes wide.

“Go to Africa? How could I do that? I don't know anything about it. I hardly think I should be of any use to anyone. I wish I were!”

“No, not go there.” His face was bright pink now. “I-er-well, I'm not sure, of course…”

Hester refused to help him, although with a sweet surge of pleasure she knew what he wanted to say.

He threw an agonized glance at her, and she smiled back charmingly.

Edith waited.

“Er…” He cleared his throat again. “I thought-I thought I might… I mean if you are serious about people's interest? I thought I might write my memoirs of Mashona-land, and I-er…”

Edith's face flooded with understanding-and delight.

“Need a scribe. Oh yes, I should be delighted. I can think of nothing I should like better! My Adventures in Mashona-land, by Major-Major Tiplady. What is your given name?”

He blushed crimson and looked everywhere but at her.

Hester knew the initial was H, but no more. He had signed his letter employing her only with that initial and his surname.

“You have to have a name,” Edith insisted. “I can see it, bound in morocco or calf-nice gold lettering. It will be marvelous! I shalt count it such a privilege and enjoy every word. It will be almost as good as going there myself-and in such splendid company. What is your name, Major? How will it be styled?”

“Hercules,” he said very quietly, and shot her a look of total pleading not to laugh.

“How very fine,” she said gently. “My Adventures in Mashonaland, by Major Hercules Tiplady. May we begin as soon as this terrible business is over? It is the nicest thing that has happened to me in years.”

“And to me,” Major Tiplady said happily, his face still very pink.

Hester rose to her feet and went to the door to ask the maid to prepare luncheon for them, and so that she could give rein to her giggles where she could hurt no one-but it was laughter of relief and a sudden bright hope, at least for Edith and the major, whom she had grown to like remarkably. It was the only good thing at the moment, but it was totally good.