Honor (26 page)

Honor sat bolt upright. Cards! She hugged her knees and planned just how she was going to trap the smug Araminta deGrey.

The following day it was Frick’s turn to call his witnesses. Several of the Graham servants testified that their mistress was a nervous and high-strung woman who had imagined her husband’s cruelties. Several character witnesses then swore that Gordon Graham was a pillar of the community. They were followed by a man named Hamilton Adair who swore that Genevra Graham had slept with him several times while summering in Newport.

Hamilton Adair was one of the four mystery names that Genevra hadn’t recognized on Frick’s witness list. Now Honor knew why.

“He’s lying,” Genevra whispered desperately to Honor. “I don’t remember ever meeting him, never mind sleeping with him.”

“That’s obvious,” Honor whispered back, “but no matter what happens, don’t panic. It isn’t over until the jury reaches a verdict.”

With her client calmed down, Honor studied Frick and wondered what he was going to do next. First he had intimated that Nevada LaRouche had been Genevra’s lover, and now this man was testifying in another attempt to discredit her. Honor wondered if the other three unknown witnesses would also conveniently turn out to have been Genevra’s alleged lovers.

When Frick was through with Adair, Honor declined to cross-examine because she didn’t know how the witness would answer her questions. Frick then called the other three men to the stand, and just as Honor had suspected, all of them claimed that Genevra Graham had been their lover. Again, Honor thought it best not to cross-examine.

After a short recess for luncheon, when Honor tried to cheer up a despondent Genevra, they returned to the courtroom, and Graham himself took the stand.

Gordon impressed the jury of his peers with his commanding, leonine presence, which exuded wealth, success, and respectability. He painted a picture of himself as a devoted, concerned husband and father who loved his wife and child more than life itself. No, he couldn’t understand why his wife wanted to divorce him. Even though her secret abortion and her many infidelities had devastated him, he was still willing to forgive her.

When it was Honor’s turn to cross-examine, all she said was, “Mr. Graham, according to Miss deGrey’s testimony under oath, when you visited her, you dined, you talked, and you played poker. Is this true?”

While he looked the very picture of innocence, his hostile, disapproving eyes mocked her. “Yes.”

“How would you describe her poker-playing skills?”

He looked surprised for a second, then recovered himself. “I would describe her skills as excellent. When we play for small stakes, she often beats me.”

Frick rose. “Your Honor,” he moaned, “what bearing does Miss deGrey’s skill at cards have on this case?”

“Everything,” Honor retorted, “as I will soon prove to the court. Your Honor, I’d like to recall Araminta deGrey.”

Today she wore a more subdued but equally expensive ensemble of dove gray mousseline de soie, making no attempt to disguise her status as a well-kept woman. Again she regarded Honor with thinly veiled disdain.

Honor said, “Miss deGrey, we’ve just heard from your…friend Mr. Graham that you are an excellent poker player and often beat him. Is this true?”

“Yes.”

Honor walked over to her table, removed five playing cards from her purse, and fanned them out in her hand before walking back to the witness stand. “Since you are such an expert poker player, Miss deGrey, you won’t mind identifying the hand I’m holding.”

The witness’s cornflower-blue eyes widened in alarm. “Of—of course not.” She studied the cards, her delicate brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re holding a full house.”

Honor showed the hand to the jury. “As you see, gentlemen, I hold an ace, king, queen, jack, and ten of hearts. Is that a full house?”

“It’s a royal flush,” one of the jurors replied.

Honor looked at Araminta deGrey, who was no longer smiling. “Let’s give the…lady another chance.” Honor returned to her purse and selected another hand.

“Your Honor,” Frick wailed, “I fail to see—”

“Well, I do. Overruled.”

Honor showed the cards to the witness, who moistened her lips and threw Gordon Graham a panic-stricken look before saying, “That’s a flush.”

Honor turned to the jury. “Gentlemen, would you call a deuce, three, four, five, and six of clubs a flush?”

“No,” her card expert responded, thoroughly enjoying himself. “It’s a straight flush.”

“Sir, would you enlighten the court as to the difference between a flush and a straight flush?”

“A flush is a deuce, five, six, jack, and king of clubs.”

Honor pocketed her cards and faced the witness with the cold, deadly calculation of a cobra about to strike. “Miss deGrey, both you and Mr. Graham have testified under oath that you are an expert poker player. Yet when I asked you to identify two hands that any card player—myself included—would know, you could not accurately identify them. Can you explain this discrepancy to the court?”

The witness’s gloved hand fluttered and she batted her lashes helplessly at Judge West. “I—I’m so nervous about testifying that I made a mistake.”

“Twice? Oh, come now, Miss deGrey!” Honor said, her voice edged with steel. “Not once during your entire testimony have you appeared the least bit nervous. If anything, you’ve been extremely confident of yourself—confident to the point of arrogance. No, I think you’re not an expert poker player at all. I’d bet my law degree that you have never played a game of cards in your life.” She approached the stand and glared at the witness. “In fact, I think that you’ve been lying. You and Gordon Graham don’t play cards when he comes calling. You go to the bedroom and—”

“Your Honor!” Frick cried, jumping to his feet.

Looking like a fox finally cornered by the hounds, Araminta deGrey sputtered, “Even if we didn’t tell the truth about playing cards, we are not lovers!”

“Then why did you lie under oath, Miss deGrey? That’s perjury, punishable by a fine, a prison term, or both. Have you ever been in prison, Miss deGrey? I can assure you that it’s most unpleasant.” Honor let her contemptuous gaze rove over the woman’s flaunted finery. “There are no Worth gowns in prison, Miss deGrey, and you’ll face imprisonment if you don’t tell the truth.”

Araminta deGrey flashed another silent, desperate plea for deliverance in Graham’s direction, but all he could do was glower helplessly.

“I am telling the truth,” she insisted. “We are not lovers.”

“Prison cells are very small, Miss deGrey. Those in the Tombs are seven feet long and three and a half feet wide. There’s barely enough room to stand up between your cot and the wall.” Honor smiled. “Not exactly the Spanish Flats, is it?”

The woman swallowed hard, but remained tight-lipped and silent.

“No running water and only a bucket for sanitation.”

“Your Honor,” Frick said, “Mrs. Davis is trying to terrify this witness into making a false confession.”

“On the contrary. I am doing her a service by describing what she will face if she’s guilty of perjury.” When the justice overruled Frick, Honor added, “It’s such a shame that there are no fine face creams or perfumes in prison.”

Doubt slowly shadowed those cornflower-blue eyes. Araminta deGrey nervously bit her lower lip.

“Once again, Miss deGrey,” Honor said coldly, “are you and Gordon Graham lovers?”

Her iron resolved finally failed her. The lovely face crumpled. “Yes! Yes!” She burst into tears. “Don’t send me to jail. Please.”

Honor, whose nerves were strung as tight as a wire, almost collapsed with relief. “Thank you, Miss deGrey. That will be all.”

She has proved Gordon Graham guilty of adultery by his mistress’s own admission.

Honor took a deep breath and faced the jury to deliver her summary, her final chance to sway them to her side.

“Gentlemen of the jury,” she began, “during the past two days you’ve heard a great deal of conflicting testimony. Your responsibility will be to sort through that testimony and arrive at the truth. But what is the truth?”

She looked at each man. “Although Mrs. Graham is not on trial here today, my esteemed opponent, in an attempt to discredit her in your eyes, has insinuated that she, not her husband, is the guilty party in this marriage.

“He has called four witnesses to the stand—not counting Mr. Nevada LaRouche—who have all testified that they were Genevra Graham’s lovers. Mr. LaRouche supposedly carried on with her at his Hudson Valley country estate, another man chose Newport for their alleged trysts, a third claimed he slept with her in the Berkshires, a fourth at a New York hotel, and a fifth traveled all the way to Connecticut.”

Honor took a moment to glare contemptuously at the defense table before turning back to the jury. “It would seem that the lady has a lover stashed away in every country house.” Honor fanned her face with her hand. “An exhausting prospect, is it not?”

Several jurors snickered, as Honor had hoped they would.

She rested her hands on the bar. “While these four men claim Mrs. Graham committed adultery with them, the defense has failed to prove it in every instance. No witnesses have come forth to corroborate their testimony, so it all boils down to their word against my client’s. In fact, Mr. LaRouche, one of the men my esteemed opponent implied was Mrs. Graham’s lover, has emphatically denied the charge.”

Honor stepped back. “Gentlemen, does the defense counsel really believe that you are so gullible as to be easily duped into believing that this sweet, innocent gentlewoman, a mother who loves her little boy and only wants what’s best for him, has taken
four
lovers?”

The members of the jury shifted in their seats and looked downright uncomfortable.

“Four!” Honor said, holding up that many fingers for emphasis. “A veritable male harem, gentlemen. Only courtesans and streetwalkers heedless of their tender, feminine nature collect so many men. Yet Mr. Graham would have you believe that his gentle wife has the morals of a courtesan.” She shook her head. “It’s absurd. First of all, it goes against a well-bred lady’s nature to be promiscuous. All you have to do is look at Genevra Graham seated over there to see that she is certainly a lady. Second, how could any lady possibly love four men at once?

“On the other hand, gentlemen, you have heard Miss Araminta deGrey, who is obviously not a lady, confess under oath that she is Gordon Graham’s mistress.”

Honor turned and pointed an accusing finger at a glowering Gordon Graham. “It’s plain to see that he is the one who is guilty of adultery.”

She turned back to the jury. “At the beginning of this trial, Justice West warned you not to be unduly influenced by the fact that I am a woman. I believe his exact words were ‘Just because she’s pretty doesn’t mean she’s right.’” She ignored West’s scowl. “But just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I’m wrong, either. By extracting a confession from his mistress, I’ve proven that Gordon Graham is guilty of adultery, and I’m asking you to grant his wife a divorce on those grounds.”

She thanked them and sat down.

Frick’s closing remarks were all bluster as he tried to punch holes in Honor’s arguments, but she couldn’t tell if he was swaying the jury to his side.

When Frick finished, the jury went out to begin their deliberations. One hour later they returned.

“How do you find?” Judge West asked the foreman.

Honor held her breath and prayed.

“We find for the plaintiff, and grant Genevra Graham a divorce on the grounds of adultery.”

Nevada LaRouche raised his champagne glass and grinned. “To the best lawyer in New York City.”

Honor and Genevra were celebrating their victory with Robert and LaRouche in the parlor of the Fifth Avenue mansion.

Genevra’s hazel eyes shone with grateful tears. “I never expected to win custody of my son, let alone the house and ten thousand dollars a year in alimony.”

“You should have gotten more,” Honor declared. “Gordon can afford it.” She smiled wickedly. “Of course the smug Araminta may have to do without her Worth gowns for a while.”

LaRouche’s remote gaze hardened. “Considering what he paid those two thugs to beat you, I’d say Gordon got off real easy.”

“I quite agree,” Honor said, suppressing a shiver. “I just wish I could have proven that he hired them.”

Genevra said, “One thing puzzles me, Honor. Why didn’t you cross-examine Hamilton Adair and those other three men and expose their lies for what they were?”

“It could have harmed our case,” she replied. “Cleavon Frame, the Boston lawyer I clerked for, drilled it into me that a lawyer is not obligated to cross-examine every witness who takes the stand. Frick thought that because I wasn’t as experienced as he, I would fall into the trap of trying to prove you innocent of adultery. Instead, I didn’t waste time cross-examining his mystery witnesses, and I let Frick hang himself.”

Nevada frowned. “But what if the jury had believed those low-down liars?”

“By not cross-examining them,” Honor replied, “I let their testimony pile up to the point of nausea. Frick’s attempts at character assassination finally disgusted the jury, and when I pointed out the absurdity of his assertion that a well-bred lady had taken four lovers, they saw Frick’s ploy for what it was.”