'Of course, and most commendable,' Lovat-Smith agreed with a nod of his head. 'That is your vocation and your skill.'
'Yes.'
'Then you really are not in a position to say whether your husband's relationship with Miss Barrymore was unusual, or personal, or whether it was not-are you?'
'Well-I…' She looked unhappy. 'I-I don't know.'
'There is no reason why you should, ma'am,' Lovat-Smith said quietly. 'Neither would any other lady in your position. Thank you. That is all I have to ask you.'
A look of relief crossed her face, and she glanced up at Sir Herbert. He smiled at her briefly.
Rathbone rose again.
'Lady Stanhope, as my learned friend has pointed out, you know nothing about the hospital or its routines and practices. But you do know your husband and his personality, and you have for nearly a quarter of a century?'
She looked relieved. 'Yes, yes I do.'
'And he is a good, loyal, and affectionate husband and father, but dedicated to his career, not socially skilled, not a ladies' man, not sensitive or aware of the emotions.and daydreams of young women?'
She smiled a little ruefully, looked up at the dock as if uncertain, apology plain in her face. 'No sir, not at all, I am afraid.'
A shadow of relief, almost satisfaction, touched Sir Herbert. It was a complex emotional expression, and the jury noticed it with approval.
'Thank you, Lady Stanhope,' Rathbone said with rising confidence. 'Thank you very much. That is all.'
Rathbone's last witness was Faith Barker, Prudence's sister, recalled now for the defense. When he had first spoken to her she had been utterly convinced that Sir Herbert was guilty. He had murdered her sister, and for her that was a crime for which there was no forgiveness. But Rathbone had spoken to her at length, and finally she had made pronounced concessions. She was still uncertain, and there was no mercy in her for Sir Herbert, but on one point at least she was adamant, and he felt the risk of what else she might say was worth it.
She took the stand with her head high, face pale, and marked with the depth of grief. Her anger also was unmistakable, and she shot Sir Herbert in the dock opposite her a look of unsuppressed loathing. The jury saw it and were distinctly uncomfortable; one man coughed and covered his mouth in a gesture of embarrassment. Rathbone saw it with a rising heart. They believed Sir Herbert; Faith Barker's grief made them uncomfortable. Lovat-Smith saw it also. His jaw tightened and he pursed his lips.
'Mrs. Barker,' Rathbone began clearly and very politely. 'I know that you are here at least in part against your will. However, I must direct you to exercise all your fairness of mind, that integrity which I am sure you have in common with your sister, and answer my questions only with what is asked. Do not offer your own opinions or emotions. At such a time they cannot but be profound and full of pain. We sympathize with you, but we sympathize also with Lady Stanhope and her family, and all other people this tragedy has touched.'
'I understand you, Mr. Rathbone,' she replied stiffly. 'I shall not speak out of malice, I swear to you.'
'Thank you. I am sure you will not. Now please, if you would consider this matter of your sister's regard for Sir Herbert and what you know of her character. What we have heard of her from witnesses of very different natures, and different circumstances in which they knew her, all paints the picture of a woman of compassion and integrity. We have not heard from anyone of a single cruel or selfish act on her part. Does that sound like the sister you knew?'
'Certainly,' Faith agreed without hesitation.
'An excellent woman?' Rathbone added.
'Yes.'
'Without fault?' He raised his eyebrows.
'No, of course not.' She dismissed the idea with a faint smile. 'None of us is without fault.'
'Without being disloyal, I am sure you can tell us in which general area her flaws lay?'
Lovat-Smith rose to his feet. 'Really, my lord, this is hardly enlightening, and surely not relevant? Let the poor woman rest in as much peace as is possible, considering the manner of her death.'
Hardie looked at Rathbone.
'Is this as totally pointless and tasteless as it seems, Mr. Rathbone?' he said with disapproval sharp in his lean face.
'No, my lord,' Rathbone assured him. 'I have a very definite purpose in asking Mrs. Barker such a question. The prosecution's charge against Sir Herbert rests on certain assumptions about Miss Barrymore's character. I must have the latitude to explore them if I am to serve him fairly.'
'Then arrive at your point, Mr. Rathbone,' Hardie instructed, his expression easing only slightly.
Rathbone turned to the witness stand.
'Mrs. Barker?'
She took a deep breath. 'She was a little brusque at times. She did not suffer fools graciously, and since she was of extraordinary intelligence, to her there were many who fell into that category. Do you need more?'
'If there is more?'
'She was very brave, both physically and morally. She had no time for cowards. She could be hasty in her judgment.'
'She was ambitious?' he asked.
'I do not see that as a flaw.' She looked at him with undisguised dislike.
'Nor I, ma'am. It was merely a question. Was she ruthless in reaching after her ambitions, regardless of the cost or consequences to others?'
'If you mean was she cruel or dishonest, no, never. She did not expect or wish to gain her desires at someone else's expense.'
'Have you ever known her to force or coerce anyone into a gesture or act they did not wish?'
'No, I have not!'
'Or to use privileged knowledge to exert pressure upon people?'
A look of anger crossed Faith Barker's face.
'That would be blackmail, sir, and in every way despicable. I resent profoundly that you should mention such a sinful act in the same breath with Prudence's name. If you had known her, you would realize how totally abhorrent and ridiculous such a suggestion is.' Again she stared, tight-faced and implacable, at Sir Herbert, then at the jury.
'No. She despised moral cowardice, deceit, or anything of that nature,' she continued. 'She would consider anything gained by such means to be tainted beyond any value it might once have had.' She glared at Rathbone, then at the jury. 'And if you imagine she would have blackmailed Sir Herbert in order to make him marry her, that is the most ridiculous thing of all. What woman of any honor or integrity whatever would wish for a husband in such circumstances? Life with him would be insupportable. It would be a living hell.'
'Yes, Mrs. Barker,' Rathbone agreed with a soft, satisfied smile. 'I imagine it would be. And I am sure Prudence was not only too honorable to use such a method, but also too intelligent to imagine it could possibly bring her anything but lifelong misery. Thank you for your candor. I have no further questions for you. Perhaps my learned friend has?' He looked at Lovat-Smith with a smile.
Lovat-Smith's answering smile was bright, showing all his teeth, and probably only Rathbone knew it was empty of feeling.
'Oh certainly I have.' He rose to his feet and advanced toward the stand. 'Mrs. Barker, did your sister write home to you of her adventures and experiences while she was in the Crimea?'
'Yes, of course she did, although I did not receive all her letters. I know that because she would occasionally make reference to things she had said on certain occasions, and I knew nothing of them.' She looked puzzled, as if she did not comprehend the reason for his inquiry. Even Hardie seemed dubious.
'But you did receive a considerable number of her letters?' Lovat-Smith pressed.
'Yes.'
'Sufficient to have formed a picture of her experiences, her part in the nursing, and how it affected her?'
'I believe so.' Still Faith Barker did not grasp his purpose.
'Then you will have a fairly vivid understanding of her character?'
'I think I have already said so, to Mr. Rathbone,' she replied, her brow puckered.
