Defend and Betray - Anne Perry [196]
“I have nothing to ask this witness, my lord.”
“You are excused, Mrs. Carlyon,” the judge said coldly. He opened his mouth as if to add something, then changed his mind.
Felicia came down the steps clumsily, like an old woman, and walked away towards the doors, followed by a silent and total condemnation.
The judge looked at Rathbone.
“Have you any further evidence to call, Mr. Rathbone?”
“I would like to recall Cassian Carlyon, my lord, if you please?”
“Is it necessary, Mr. Rathbone? You have proved your point.”
“Not all of it, my lord. This child was abused by his father, and his grandfather, and by one other. I believe we must know who that other man was as well.”
“If you can discover that, Mr. Rathbone, please do so. But I shall prevent you the moment you cause the child unnecessary distress. Do I make myself plain?”
“Yes, my lord, quite plain.”
Cassian was recalled, small and pale, but again entirely composed.
Rathbone stepped forward.
“Cassian—your grandmother has just given evidence which makes it quite clear that your grandfather also abused you in the same manner. We do not need to ask you to testify on that point. However there was one other man, and we need to know who he is.”
“No sir, I cannot tell you.”
“I understand your reasons.” Rathbone fished in his pocket and brought out an elegant quill knife with a black-enameled handle. He held it up. “Do you have a quill knife, something like this?”
Cassian stared at it, a pink flush staining his cheeks.
Hester glanced up at the gallery and saw Peverell look puzzled, but no more.
“Remember the importance of the truth,” Rathbone warned. “Do you have such a knife?”
“Yes sir,” Cassian answered uncertainly.
“And perhaps a watch fob? A gold one, with the scales of justice on it?”
Cassian swallowed. “Yes sir.”
Rathbone pulled out a silk handkerchief from his pocket also.
“And a silk handkerchief too?”
Cassian was very pale. “Yes sir.”
“Where did you get them, Cassian?”
“I …” He shut his eyes, blinking hard.
“May I help you? Did your uncle Peverell Erskine give them to you?”
Peverell rose to his feet, and Damans pulled him back so violently he lost his balance.
Cassian said nothing.
“He did—didn’t he?” Rathbone insisted. “And did he make you promise not to tell anyone?”
Still Cassian said nothing, but the tears brimmed over his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.
“Cassian—is he the other man who made love to you?”
There was a gasp from the gallery.
“No!” Cassian’s voice was high and desperate, shrill with pain. “No! No, he isn’t. I took those things! I stole them—because—because I wanted them.”
In the dock Alexandra sobbed, and the wardress beside her held her shoulder with sudden, awkward gendeness.
“Because they are pretty?” Rathbone said with disbelief.
“No. No.” Cassian’s voice was still hard with anguish. “Because he was only one—who—who didn’t do that to me. He was just—just my friend! I …” He sobbed helplessly. “He was my friend.”
“Oh?” Rathbone affected disbelief still, although his own voice was harsh with pain. “Then if it was not Peverell Erskine, who was it? Tell me and I will believe you!”
“Dr. Hargrave!” Cassian sobbed, crumpling up and sliding down into the box in uncontrolled weeping at last. “Dr. Hargrave! He did! He did it! I hate him! He did it! Don’t let him go on! Don’t let him! Uncle Pev, make them stop!”
There was a bellow of rage from the gallery. Two men seized Hargrave and held him before the bailiff could even move.
Rathbone strode over to the witness box and up the steps to help the child to his feet and put his arms around him. He half carried him out, and met Peverell Erskine down from the gallery and forcing his way past the bailiff and marching over the space in front of the lawyers’ benches.
“Take him, and for God’s sake look after him,” Rathbone said passionately.
Peverell lifted the boy up and carried him out past the bailiffs and the crowd, Damaris at his heels. The door closed behind them to a great sigh from the crowd. Then immediately utter stillness