“I’ve asked Dora to deliver our baby,” Beth said.
“You don’t want Dr. Withers?”
“He’s a good coroner,” she said.
After a bit, Marc said, “Did Patricia tell you anything more about what went on up at Chepstow?”
Beth hesitated. “She did. But if I tell you, you must promise not to use it in the trial.”
“Even if it means Billy’s life?”
Beth took that in.
“Please, believe me, darling, we would only use such information if we needed to, and even then with the utmost discretion.” While he was thinking of himself and Robert in this regard, he knew he couldn’t speak for Dougherty.
“Coltrane seduced her,” Beth said.
“Jesus-”
“A few days before Christmas, she said. And it only happened once.”
“Did she tell her mother or father?” Marc said, his hopes rising.
“I’m afraid not. She was wise enough to know how they’d react. Besides, her lover swore her to secrecy. And she was mad for him. Still is, poor thing.”
Marc sighed. “Even so, Almeda had her suspicions, though she swore to me that she didn’t pass them along to her husband.”
“Would you?”
Marc yawned. He had been up since dawn and he was beyond fatigue, but his mind had not stopped racing with thought all day. “I’m sure to be called tomorrow. That means I’ll have to sit in the witness room until I’ve given my testimony.”
“You want me to go to court?”
“Do you have the time?”
“I’ll take Dolly,” Beth said. “She’s too scared to go by herself.”
Before the jury was brought in, Chief Justice Robinson summoned Robert Baldwin and Kingsley Thornton to him and rendered his decision on the letter found in Almeda Stanhope’s ball gown.
“I am not going to allow the defense to use this letter at this time. It would be speculative and prejudicial without a proper foundation. First of all, the letter, according to the affidavit sworn by Rose Halpenny, was found sewn into a dress belonging to Mrs. Stanhope, it is addressed only to ‘D’ and signed only as ‘your demon lover, C.’ So, while Mrs. Stanhope may be the possessor of the letter, it does not appear to have been meant for her. Without her corroboration of its provenance-a maid could have placed it there, as after all, such a gown is used only on rare occasions and, if out of style, never again-we have nothing usable. Moreover, while the handwriting sample you supplied, with an affidavit from Mr. Edwards as to its source, is similar to that of the letter in question, I am no expert, and a forgery is a distinct possibility, given its inflammatory contents. Hence, without a foundation, which can only be provided by direct testimony from Mrs. Stanhope, you cannot introduce the letter or allude to its contents or any implications thereof while cross-examining Colonel Stanhope. However, it is conceivable that you may be able to establish its legitimacy and relevance later on during the presentation of the defense’s case.”
With that, the judge set the offending letter beside him and called for the jury.
Beth was seated beside Dolly and Rose Halpenny in the front row of the side gallery nearest the defense bench, where she got her first and appalled glimpse of Richard Dougherty. He rose before her in a languid, agonized waddle towards the trembling lectern. Colonel Stanhope was back on the stand and reminded of his oath. To the surprise and delight of the crowded room, he stood proud in his regimental uniform, a near replica of the regular’s redcoat. Only the sabre was missing.
“Good morning, sir,” Dougherty began. “I wish to begin by asking you a question you may find offensive, but it is one I wish you to answer in the forthright manner you so ably displayed yesterday.”
The colonel acknowledged the compliment with a single twitch of his moustache, but his cold eyes were narrow and wary.
Dougherty’s pea-green eyes, however, had removed themselves from the witness to stare up at the letter lying harmlessly beside the judge. Stanhope, who had not been present for the ruling, blinked uncertainly. He followed Dougherty’s gaze up to the letter, then he glanced sideways at Thornton, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. If the judge noticed, he did not react to the impropriety.
“You are a man of honour, sir,” Dougherty said, “a military man to whom a sworn oath is sacred.” He peered up at the letter again. “And you have sworn to tell the-”
“Please put your question, Counsellor.”
“Did you at any time between May and the end of November of last year receive, directly or indirectly, a blackmail threat?”
The galleries drew in their collective breath.
Stanhope flinched and, as he was wont to do when discomfited, grew rigidly erect.
“Colonel?” Those tiny porcine eyes veered back up to the letter.
Beth realized what Dougherty was doing. If the colonel had been receiving blackmail threats about his wife’s alleged infidelity, then he had to presume that there were possibly many letters with incriminating potential in existence, one or more of which may have found their way into the hands of the defense, in addition to the one beside the judge.
“Yes,” Stanhope said in a hoarse whisper.
The onlookers stirred and craned to hear more.
“Tell me when they came and what they demanded, please.”
He has omitted any reference to the source of the threat, Beth thought, and smiled.
“The first came in September, while I was still here in Toronto.” The colonel’s voice had regained its confidence. “It was from Caleb Coltrane and demanded money. If I refused to pay him five hundred dollars, he threatened to reveal information to the press which he assumed would cause a scandal in my family. When I ignored the letter-I burned it-I received another two weeks later.”
“Now this may be painful, sir, but you must answer-”
“Milord!” Thornton was on his feet. “This has gone far enough. The witness has already denied any involvement in the murder and pointed out the incontestable fact that no one other than an enraged and aggrieved youth like the defendant would murder an already doomed man.”
Beth saw the respectable burghers of the jury nodding in sympathy.
“Mr. Dougherty?”
“Milord, I cannot show sufficient cause for a plausible alternative theory of the crime if I am not permitted to probe for that cause.”
Chief Justice Robinson, who had seen Caleb’s letter, paused for a second only before saying, “Take it step by step, Counsellor. And when I say stop, you stop, even if you are in mid-sentence.”
Dougherty’s massive head swivelled back to the witness stand. “What was the precise nature of the threat?”
The colonel was fuming but also attempting to smile at the jury to convey his unshakeable confidence. Even his ears stiffened. “Major Coltrane claimed that when my wife paid a visit to his sister in Detroit last spring, she had become romantically involved with him.”
The sensation in the room had to be gavelled down, while the colonel reddened to the colour of his tunic.
“The revelation of such a claim, if accompanied by sufficient detail, might well ruin you, is that not so, Colonel?”
“It would ruin any gentleman,” Stanhope said vehemently. “But as it was a vicious lie and its source an enemy of the Queen, I had no real fear of its being made public.”
“And how did you determine it was a lie?”
Stanhope looked over at Almeda, who, not being on the witness list, was sitting near Kingsley Thornton. He smiled with his teeth and said loudly, “I went to my wife and asked her.”
Murmurs of approval here from many in the crowd.
“So, satisfied that the claims were groundless, you simply ignored the threat. Did you receive a third letter?”