charges against you, as suggested by Mrs. Anderson—who may be as unaware of Mrs. Gardiner’s youthful exploits as were the rest of us.'
Campbell did not reply but waited for Tobias to continue.
'Mrs. Gardiner fled when she realized that you had recognized her—at least that is your assumption?'
'Yes.'
'Did you follow her?'
'No, of course not. I had no reason to.'
'You remained at the party?'
'Not specifically at the party. I remained at Cleveland Square. I was very upset about the matter. I moved a little farther off in the garden, to be alone and think what to do... and what to say when the rest of the family would inevitably discover that she had gone.'
'And what did you decide, Mr. Campbell?'
'To say nothing,' Campbell answered. 'I knew this story would hurt them all profoundly. They were very fond of Miriam. Lucius was in love with her as only a young and idealistic man can be. I believe it was his first love ...' He left the sentence hanging, allowing each man to remember his own first awakenings of passion, dreams, and perhaps loss.
'I see,' Tobias said softly. 'Only God can know whether that decision was the right one, but I can well understand why you made it. I am afraid I must press you further on just one issue.'
'Yes?'
'The coachman, James Treadwell. Why do you think she left with him?'
'He was the servant in the house she knew the best,' Campbell replied. 'I gather he had driven her from Hampstead a number of times. I shall not speculate that it was anything more than that.'
'Very charitable of you,' Tobias observed. 'Considering your knowledge of her previous behavior with menservants.'
Campbell narrowed his lips, but he did not answer.
'Tell me,' Tobias continued, 'how did this wretched coachman know of Mrs. Anderson’s stealing of hospital supplies?'
'I have no idea.' Campbell sounded surprised, then his face fell. He shook his head. 'No—I don’t believe Miriam told him. She was conniving, manipulative, greedy—but no. Unless it was by accident, not realizing what he would do with the information.'
'Would it not be the perfect revenge?' Tobias asked smoothly. 'Her marriage to Lucius Stourbridge is now impossible because she knows you will never allow it. Treadwell is ruining her friend and benefactress, to whom she must now return. In rage and defeat, and even desperation, she strikes out at him! What could be more natural?'
'I suppose so,' Campbell conceded.
Tobias turned to the judge. 'My lord, this is surely sufficient tragedy for one day. If it pleases the court, I would like to suggest we may adjourn until tomorrow, when Sir Oliver may put forward any other evidence he feels may salvage his case. Personally, I have little more to add.'
The judge looked at Rathbone enquiringly, but his gavel was already in his hand.
Rathbone had no weapons and no will to fight any further.
'Certainly, my lord,' he said quietly. 'By all means.'
Rathbone had barely left the courtroom when he was approached by the usher.
He did not wish to speak to anyone. He was tasting the full bitterness of a defeat he knew he had brought upon himself. He dreaded facing Hester and seeing her disillusion. She would not blame him. He was certain she would not be angry. Her kindness would be even harder to bear.
'What is it?' he said brusquely.
'Sorry, Sir Oliver,' the usher apologized. 'Mrs. Anderson asked if you would speak with her, sir. She said it was most important.'
The only thing worse than facing Hester was going to be telling Cleo Anderson that there was nothing more he could attempt on her behalf. He drew in his breath. It could not be evaded. If victory could be accepted and celebrated, then defeat must be dealt with with equal composure, and at the very least without cowardice or excuses.
'Of course,' he replied. 'Thank you, Morris.' He turned and was a dozen yards along the corridor when Hester caught up with him. He had no idea what to say to her. There was no comfort to offer, no next line of attack to suggest.
She fell into step with him and said nothing.
He glanced at her, then away again, grateful for her silence. He had not seen Monk, and assumed he was on some other business.
Cleo was waiting in the small room with the jailer outside. She was standing facing them, and she stepped forward as soon as Rathbone closed the door.
'He’s lying,' she said, looking from one to the other of them.
He was embarrassed. It was futile to protest now, and he had not the emotional strength to struggle with her. It was over.
He shook his head. 'I’m sure you want to believe—'
