Slaves of Obsession - Anne Perry [119]
“I see.”
Judith smiled. “No, you don’t. You are English, forgive me, but you have no idea at all. Neither had Daniel. He did all he could, and when he realized that they could simply disappear anywhere in hundreds of miles of coastline, thousands of islands anywhere between Constantinople and Tangiers, he came home again, angry, defeated, but prepared to care for me and for Merrit, and let justice be God’s, in whatever manner it may.”
There was nothing for Hester to add. Of course it was possible Alberton had made contact with gun buyers in the Mediterranean, pirates or otherwise, fighters for or against Italian unification. But there was no way she could find out. Probably Judith did not know; certainly she would not say.
“How did you know of the blackmail?” Judith asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“Mr. Casbolt told me.” Hester realized that needed some explanation. “I was seeking his help regarding his knowledge of Mr. Breeland, and of the munitions business in general. He told me of the pressure to sell to the pirates, and why Mr. Alberton never would, whatever the threat or the price.”
Judith’s face relaxed into a smile. “He always understood. He knew Daniel before I did, you know? They were friends at school here in England, and one year he brought Daniel with him to Italy. That was where we fell in love.” She looked down for a moment. “Without Robert’s help I don’t know if I would be able to commit to Sir Oliver’s fee for representing Merrit, and that would be more than I could bear.” She raised her head quickly, her eyes wide, fear naked in them. “Mrs. Monk, do you think Sir Oliver is going to be able to save her? The newspapers are so certain she is guilty. I had no idea written words could hurt so much … that people who don’t even know you could be so passionately certain of what you are like, what is in your heart. I don’t go out, not at the moment, but I don’t know how I will be able to when the time comes. How will I face people when everyone I pass in the street may believe my daughter is guilty of …”
“Ignore them,” Hester replied. “Think only of Merrit. Those with any honesty will be ashamed of themselves when they discover their error. The others are not worth battling with, and there is nothing you can do about them anyway.”
Judith sat quite still. “Will you be there?”
“Yes.” There had been no decision to make.
“Thank you.”
Hester stayed another half hour, but as a matter of companionship. They talked of nothing important, carefully avoiding speaking of the case, or of love and loss. Judith showed her around the garden, vivid with color as the roses began their second flush. It was warm even in the shade, the heavy perfume of flowers dreamlike. It made Monday’s opening of the trial harsher by contrast, as if this were so soon to end. For a long time neither of them spoke. Platitudes would insult the reality.
Monk went to see Breeland on Saturday. He had not found enough to help Rathbone beyond hope, doubt, issues to raise. He would continue seeking during the trial, but he was beginning to fear that there was no proof to find that Merrit was innocent. It might end in being no more than a matter of judgment.
There was one question to ask Breeland, the answer to which would do him no injury, so Monk had no hesitation in asking it.
Breeland was brought into a small square cell. He looked pale and thinner than when Monk had last seen him. His face had hollows around the eyes and a certain leanness to the cheeks where the muscles showed tight-clenched. He stood stiffly, looking