patronized her establishment-not that he wished her services for himself, but for a young gentleman of about sixteen or seventeen years old that he had brought with him. Yes, he had asked her to initiate the young gentleman into the arts of such a relationship while he, the prisoner, sat in the room and watched.
There was a murmur of disgust around the court, a long letting out of breath in self-righteous horror. Then there was total silence, in case the audience should inadvertently miss the next revelation. Charlotte felt sick-for all of them. This should never have happened, and they should not be here willingly listening to it. How on earth was Eugenie going to bear it when she knew-some busybody would be bound to tell her!
Land inquired whether Abigail could describe the young gentleman concerned.
Yes, she could. He was slender, fair-haired, with light blue eyes. He was very good-looking, and spoke with a fine accent. He was definitely a person of good breeding and money. His clothes were excellent.
He showed her a picture of Arthur Waybourne. Was this he?
Yes, it was he, without doubt.
Had she known his name?
Only his Christian name, which was Arthur. The prisoner had addressed him by it on several occasions.
There was nothing Giles could do. Abigail was unshakable, and after a brief attempt he accepted the futility of it and gave up.
That evening, by strict consent, neither Charlotte nor Pitt referred to Jerome or anything to do with the trial. They ate silently, absorbed in thought. Occasionally they smiled knowingly across the table.
After dinner they spoke quite casually of other things: a letter Charlotte had received from Emily, who had returned from Leicestershire, detailing social gossip, someone's outrageous flirtation, a disastrous party, a rival's most unflattering dress-all the pleasant trivia of daily life. She had been to a concert: there was an entertaining new novel-very risque-and Grandmama's health had not improved. But then it never had
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done so since Charlotte could recall. Grandmama enjoyed poor health, and was determined to enjoy it to the last!
On the third day, the defense began its case. There was little enough to say. Jerome could not prove his innocence, or there would have been no prosecution. All he could do was deny, and hope to bring forward enough witnesses to his previously impeccable character that there would be reasonable doubt.
Sitting in her accustomed seat near the aisle, Charlotte felt a wave of pity and hopelessness that was almost physical as Eugenie Jerome walked past her to climb into the witness stand. Just once she lifted her chin and smiled across at her husband. Then quickly, before she had time to see if he smiled back or not, she averted her eyes to take the Bible in her hand for the oath.
Charlotte lifted her veil so Eugenie could see her face and know there was one friend there in that anonymous, inquisitive crowd.
The court heard her in absolute silence. They wavered between contempt for her as an accomplice, the wife of such a monster, and compassion for her as the most innocent and ill-used of his victims. Perhaps it was her narrow shoulders, her plain dress, her white face, her soft voice, the way she kept her eyes a little downcast, then slowly gathered courage and faced her questioner. It could have been any of these things-or none, simply a whimsy of the crowd. But suddenly, like the moment when the tide slackens and turns, Charlotte could feel their mood change and they were with her. They were burning with pity, with hunger to see her avenged. She, too, was a victim.
But there was nothing Eugenie could do. She had been in bed that night and did not know when her husband had come home. Yes, she had planned to go to the concert with him, but that afternoon had developed a severe headache and gone to her room instead. Yes, the tickets had been purchased beforehand and she had fully intended to go. She had to admit, though, she was not fond of classical music; she preferred ballads, something with melody and words.
Had her husband told her what was played that evening? Certainly he had, and that it was excellently performed. Could she
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