unarguable, and looking around the crowded courtroom, there was not a single face which registered doubt. They were there only to watch Alexandra and the Carlyon family sitting in their row at the front, the women dressed in black and Felicia veiled, rigid and square-shouldered, Randolph unhappy but entirely composed.
Edith took the stand and stumbled once or twice when swearing the oath, her tongue clumsy in her nervousness.
And yet there was a bloom to her skin, a color that belied the situation, and she stood erect with nothing of the defen-siveness or the weight of grief which lay on her mother.
“Mrs. Sobell,” Rathbone began courteously, “you are the sister of the victim of this crime, and the sister-in-law of the accused?”
“lam.”
“Did you know your brother well, Mrs. Sobell?”
“Moderately. He was several years older than I, and he left home to go into the army when I was a child- But of course when he returned from service abroad and settled down I learned to know him again. He lived not far from Carlyon House, where I still live, since my husband's death.”
“Would you tell me something of your brother's personality, as you observed it?”
Lovat-Smith shifted restlessly in his seat, and the crowd had already lost interest, all but a few who hoped there might be some completely new and shocking revelation. After all, this witness was for the defense.
Lovat-Smith rose to his feet.
“My lord, this appears to be quite irrelevant. We have already very fully established the nature of the dead man. He was honorable, hardworking, a military hero of considerable repute, faithful to his wife, financially prudent and generous. His only failings seem to have been that he was somewhat pompous and perhaps did not flatter or amuse his wife as much as he might.” He smiled dryly, looking around so the jury could see his face. “A weakness we might all be guilty of, from time to time.”
“I don't doubt it,” Rathbone said acerbically. “And if Mrs. Sobell agrees with your estimation, I will be happy to save the court's time by avoiding having her repeat it. Mrs. Sobell?”
“I agree,” Edith said with a look first at Rathbone, then at Lovat-Smith. “He also spent a great deal of time with his son, Cassian. He seemed to be an excellent and devoted father.”
“ Quite: he seemed to be an excellent and devoted father,”
he repeated herprecise words. “And yet, Mrs. Sobell, when you became aware of the tragedy of his death, and that your sister-in-law had been charged with causing it, what did you do?”
“My lord, that too is surely quite irrelevant?” Lovat-Smith protested. “I appreciate that my learned friend is somewhat desperate, but this cannot be allowed!”
The judge looked at Rathbone.
“Mr. Rathbone, I will permit you some leniency, so that you may present the best defense you can, in extremely difficult circumstances, but I will not permit you to waste the court's time. See to it that the answers you draw are to some point!”
Rathbone looked again at Edith.
“Mrs. Sobell?”
“I…” Edith swallowed hard and lifted her chin, looking away from where her mother and father sat upright in their row in the front of the gallery, now no longer witnesses. For an instant her eyes met Alexandra's in the dock. Then she continued speaking. “I contacted a friend of mine, a Miss Hester Latterly, and asked her help to find a good lawyer to defend Alexandra-Mrs. Carlyon.”
“Indeed?” Rathbone's eyebrows shot up as if he were surprised, although surely almost everyone in the room must know he had planned this most carefully. “Why? She was charged with murdering your brother, this model man.”
“At first-at first I thought she could not be guilty.” Edith's voice trembled a little but she gained control again. “Then when it was proved to me beyond question that she was… that she had committed the act… I still thought there must be some better reason than the one she gave.”
Lovat-Smith rose again.
“My lord! I hope Mr. Rathbone is not going to ask the witness to draw some conclusion? Her faith in her sister- in-law is very touching, but it is not evidence of anything except her own gentle-and, forgive me, rather gullible- nature!”
“My learned friend is leaping to conclusions, as I am afraid he is prone to do,” Rathbone said with a tiny smile.
“I do not wish Mrs. Sobell to draw any conclusions at all, simply to lay a foundation for her subsequent actions, so the court will understand what she did, and why.”
“Proceed, Mr, Rathbone,” the judge instructed.
“Thank you, my lord. Mrs. Sobell, have you spent much time with your nephew, Cassian Carlyon, since his father's death?”
“Yes of course. He is staying in our house.”
“How has he taken his father's death?”
“Irrelevant!” Lovat-Smith interrupted again. “How can a child's grief possibly be pertinent to the accused's guilt or innocence? We cannot turn a blind eye to murder because if we hanged the guilty person then a child would be robbed of both his parents-tragic as that is. And we all pity him…”
“He does not need your pity, Mr. Lovat-Smith,” Rathbone said irritably. “He needs you to hold your tongue and let me proceed with uncovering the truth.”
“Mr. Rathbone,” the judge said tartly. “We sympathize with your predicament, and your frustration, but your language is discourteous, and I will not allow it. Nevertheless, Mr. Lovat-Smith, it is good counsel, and you will please observe it until you have an objection of substance. If you interrupt as often as this, we shall not reach a verdict before Michaelmas.”
Lovat-Smith sat down with a broad smile.
Rathbone bowed, then turned back to Edith.
“I think you are now permitted to continue, Mrs. Sobell. If you please. What was your observation of Cassian's manner?”
Edith frowned in concentration.
“It was very hard to understand,” she replied, thinking carefully. “He grieved for his father, but it seemed to be very-very adult. He did not cry, and at times he seemed very composed, almost relieved.”
Lovat-Smith rose to his feet, and the judge waved him to sit down again. Rathbone turned to Edith.
“Mrs. Sobell, will you please explain that curious word
“Yes, my lord. I'm sorry.” Again her nervousness betrayed itself in clenched hands on the witness box rail, and a catch in her voice. “I saw him alone on several occasions, through a window, or from a doorway when he did not know I was there. He was quite at ease, sitting smiling. I asked him if he was happy by himself, thinking he might be lonely, but he told me he liked it. Sometimes he went to my rather- his grandfather-”
“Colonel Carlyon?” Rathbone interrupted.
“Yes. Then other times he seemed to go out of his way to avoid him. He was afraid of my mother.” As if involuntarily, she glanced at Felicia, then back to Rathbone again. “He said so. And he was very upset about his own mother. He told me she did not love him-that his father had told him so.”
In the dock Alexandra closed her eyes and seemed to sway as if in physical pain. A gasp escaped her in spite of all her effort at self-control.
“Hearsay,” Lovat-Smith said loudly, rising to his feet. “Mylord…”
“That is not permitted,” the judge apologized to Edith. “I think we have gathered from your testimony that the child was in a state of considerable confusion. Is that what you wished to establish, Mr. Rathbone?”
“More than that, my lord: the nature of his confusion. And that he developed close, and ambivalent, relationships with other people.”
Lovat-Smith let out a loud moan and raised his hands in the air.
“Then you had better proceed and do so, Mr. Rathbone,” the judge said with a tight smile. “If you can. Although you have not shown us yet why this has any relevance to the case, and I advise that you do that within a
