Degrees of Hope (27 page)

“I hope I won't inconvenience anyone else,” she said sincerely.

“Most read the periodicals when they come in but few want to look over back issues, so I doubt it'll cause any problems.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you!” He answered, which surprised her. “Mr Arundell wasn't much liked in these parts Miss, but Mrs Arundell was. We're on Mr Ashdown's side on this one.”

She wondered how much the town knew, not to mention now much was fact and how much fiction.

“That's nice to hear.”

“Good luck, Miss.”

They left, Alf carrying the volumes of magazines while Hope carried the two books in her good arm. They stored them in the carriage and Alf offered Hope his hand to help her step up.

“Do you have a lot of work back at the house?” she asked suddenly.

“Not especially. With your father away, I don't have to pick him up from the workshop. Why?”

“I was wondering if you would accompany me for a stroll. It's been so long since I was out that I don't feel inclined to return yet.”

“Sounds lovely,” Alf smiled.

They walked in silence for a while, drawing a few stares given the gossip but being the Earl's daughter, that usually happened to some extent whenever she went out.

“Shelly misses you, you know,” Alf said out of the blue.

Hope turned to him, surprised by the statement and a little shamed because he was right. “I can't ride yet, not until Dr McCoy says the splint can come off.”

“I know, but you rode her almost every day. You're her mistress and she misses you. Besides, we don't feed her nearly the amount of carrots and apples that you do.”

Hope smiled.

“You're right, I'm making excuses, I just... I found it difficult to leave the house for a while.”

“I understand, lass.”

“Surely with your father, you grew up used to fear.”

“Aye, but that don't make it right. I did a lot in the name of fear when I were younger, even illegal stuff 'cos I was afraid of Pa, so I know how powerful fear is. But you're out now, you've got a goal again and each day it'll get a little bit easier. Maybe things will never be like they were before, but sometimes that's a good thing.”

“A good thing?” She could tell from his tone that he wasn't being flippant, that he really meant it.

“Aye, your mother were always saying that to us. I didn't get it when I was young but now I can see that every experience, good or bad, teaches us sommat. Sometimes it's just how strong we are, for living through something that we didn't think we could, but sometimes it helps us understand something we couldn't before. Or it helps us understand other people who have been through bad stuff.”

“Well, I do have a much greater respect for Honoria now. I'm ashamed to say that I used to think her weak sometimes but living with him... well, I don't think I could have done that.”

“Happen you couldn't, but I think that maybe you could. I think that you're much stronger than you give y'sen credit for.”

“Please, one attack and I crumpled.”

“And you pulled y'sen back up by the boot straps. Happen Honoria was like that the first time too.”

Hope had never considered that. Honoria and Malcolm had already been married for a few months by the time she met them, and already Honoria had been showing signs of submission to Malcolm. Perhaps she hadn't always had the strength to endure that Hope had seen, perhaps that strength grew when it was needed.

“How's Gran doing?”

“She's fine, settling in well with our Maggie, and I think Maggie likes the help.”

“And how is she handling Mary's disappearance?”

“Well, she's not happy but she's used to loss.”

Hope remembered that of her seventeen children, five had died in childhood, and another three had succumbed to illness or injury as adults (not including Mary). She supposed that Lizzy had to get used to loss or she would have been driven to despair. She too had endured life with a monster although sadly, for many more years than Honoria.

“If you see her first, tell her I'll come and see her on Sunday.”

“Will do,” Alf smiled.

“And I suppose we should be heading back. No point hanging around when I have work to do.”

“If you want, lass. I hope James knows how lucky he is to have you on his side.”

“I think he knows, just...”

“Just what?”

“Well, I don't think he can forgive himself. I think that part of him wants to be found guilty and be punished.”

“Poor bloke. If anyone deserved it, a man like Arundell did.”

“I know, but James had such lofty ideals. In one way, I'm pleased that he's broadening his mind but at the same time, I know this is killing him.”

“They tell me he's right popular at the school.”

“Is he?”

“Aye, the kids love him.”

“Well, I'm not surprised. He used to come and read to me each day and he really knows how to animate a subject. If he's like that with the children, I can imagine them enjoying his lessons.”

“So, you two friends now?”

Hope considered for a moment, remembering how vehemently she used to dislike him. She smiled at the memory.

“Yes, I suppose we are.”

“Well, suppose stranger things have happened.”

Hope was reading one of her magazines again, as she had been doing every afternoon for the past two weeks now. Those around her conversed, but Hope seemed engrossed in what she was reading.

“Oh my!” she suddenly exclaimed and ran from the room, the volume of periodicals she had been reading tucked under her arm.

Everyone looked to each other for an explanation, but they were all clearly dumbfounded by her actions. Martha made to get up and follow her but Lucien stopped her.

“Let me.”

So Martha sat down again whilst Lucien went to hunt down his eldest daughter. He discovered her a few minutes later in the library, sitting on the floor with their collection of periodicals spread about.

“Hope?” he asked as he approached.

“Just a minute, Papa.”

She continued flicking through the pages of the pamphlets, clearly searching for something specific. In the meantime, Lucien made his way over to the volume of periodicals that she had left open. The article she had been reading was about the possible ways that infections could be transmitted.

“Got it!” she climbed to her feet, clutching the article that she had discovered. She thrust the magazine into his hands. “I think we have found our defence,” she said, with a wide grin on her face.

Although he wanted to know what she had found, he took a moment to admire her smile, for it was the largest smile that he had seen on her face in a long time. Still, he managed to tear his gaze away and look at the article that she had thrust at him, which appeared to be about heating broths. Heating then covering a broth seemed to stop it from going bad, or at least delay it for a long time.

He looked up at his daughter.

“I don't understand.”

Hope explained her idea as best she could, then Lucien put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead.

“My daughter is a genius!” he declared.

“Hardly,” Hope laughed as he released her. “But this is a start. If we can write to these gentlemen and get them to answer our questions, and if they agree with me, then I believe we have a very good chance of getting James declared not guilty!”

“I think you're right,” Lucien agreed.

Chapter Twenty Five

The Assizes Judge, Sir John M. Silverthorn, arrived in Marchwood early in July. He was greeted at the railway station by Lucien and other local dignitaries, such as the High Sheriff and the local priest. They escorted him to the Town Hall, where he opened the commission, meaning that the Magistrates Court would now be the Crown Court for the duration of the judge's stay.

After that, they attended a church service, then the judge returned to Marchwood Hall with Lucien, where he usually stayed during his visits. Often he was the Beaumont's only guest for his time in town but at the moment, they also had James, Edward Klein and a gentleman named Nicholas Shaw.

Over dinner that evening, Judge Silverthorn asked all about James' case. Although it might be thought unusual to some, many believed that that a prior knowledge of the case being tried was beneficial. Between them, Lucien, Hope and Edward explained the events and how they intended to argue their case. His Honour listened with interest and smiled his approval.

The next morning, Sir John took his seat in the Crown Court and the gentlemen of the Grand Jury were sworn in. When that was finished, Sir John read a proclamation against immorality and vice, then proceeded to read the charges and make any comments on them. The Grand Jury retired to chambers with the High Sheriff as witness, to review the prosecution evidence and decide if charges deserved to be brought. Lucien recused himself from James' decision but participated in all the rest.

The gallery was full of spectators as the Ashdown case had been making headlines around the country. Indeed, there hadn't been murder trial resulting from a duel in England for twenty years.

Whilst the Grand Jury were in chambers, the Petty Jury, who would watch over tomorrow's trail, was chosen and sworn in.

Finally, in those cases where there was deemed to be enough evidence to proceed, the defendant was brought before the court and formally charged with their crime.

James maintained his composure as the charge of murder was read out, but Hope could see the tension he felt, in his shoulders.

Finally the session was closed, to resume tomorrow morning at 10am with the case against James.

No one slept very much that evening (except for Sir John who had nothing invested in this trial) and everyone was quiet over breakfast the next morning.

Hope, Martha and Lucien took their seats in the crowded public gallery. There were far more people here than there were chairs for, so many were standing in aisles, and many many more were out in the hallway. This was a bigger event than any of the Beaumonts could have predicted. Thankfully, being Earl of the county meant that Lucien and his family had seats saved for them in the front row, just behind the defence council (to show whose side they were on, much like at a wedding).

The jury was sworn in and a Clerk of the Court read out the charge against James. Then the prosecutor laid out his case for the jury, which seemed pretty damning, then he called his first witness, Mr Patterson, who was Malcolm Arundell's butler.

He explained how Mr Ashdown had come to see Mr Arundell in a rage. How Mr Ashdown had challenged Mr Arundell to a duel, and how he had witnessed that duel and then carried Mr Arundell back to Arundell Hall after he had been shot.

The prosecutor then sat down and Edward stood up.

“Mr Patterson, do you have any idea why Mr Ashdown was so angry with Mr Arundell?”

“Mrs Kenner, the housekeeper, said that Mr Ashdown had found Mrs Arundell's diaries.”

“And what do you expect he read in those diaries?”

“Objection,” the prosecution said. “Calls for speculation.” The judge upheld the objection.

“Mr Patterson,” Edward continued as if nothing had happened. “Was the Arundells marriage a happy one?”

“No sir, far from it.”

“And why was that?”

“Mr Arundell was a tyrant who ruled his wife with an iron fist. A fist he wasn't afraid to use on her.”

“He beat her?”

“Many times.”

“And do you believe those beatings were justified?”

“I'm sorry?”

“Were Mrs Arundell's misdeeds enough to warrant such beatings?”

“No sir. Mrs Arundell was a kind, gentle, god-fearing woman, she didn't have a bad bone in her body.”

“Did you ever try to stop these beatings?”

“I tried, but Mr Arundell threatened to fire not just me, but everyone on the staff, and without a reference. I could find a new position as I have previous employers who will speak well for me, but most of the other couldn't.”

“Thank you, Mr Patterson.”

Next the prosecution called Mrs Kenner, the housekeeper to the stand, who told a very similar story of Mr Ashdown challenging Mr Arundell to a duel, then Mr Arundell returning later with a gunshot wound. Then it was Edward's turn.

“Mrs Kenner, do you know why Mr Ashdown was so upset that day?”

“I believe I do.”

“Please tell us.”

“He wanted to interview all the staff about his sister's disappearance. With Mr Arundell at home, I couldn't allow any disruption to the staff schedule, so instead I told him where he could find his sister's journals.”

“These journals?” Edward held up some leather-bound books.

“That looks like them.”

“And where were these kept?”

“She hid them in her writing desk, in the space under the bottom drawer. I saw her putting them away once when I brought her some tea.”