The William Monk Mysteries_ The First Three Novels - Anne Perry [519]
“Not to your mother—or your father?”
“No—not to anyone,”
“Were you aware that your nephew, Cassian Carlyon, was being abused?”
She flushed with shame and her voice was low and tight in her throat. “No. I should have been, but I thought it was just his grief at losing his father—and fear that his mother was responsible and he would lose her too.” She looked up once at Alexandra with anguish. “I didn’t spend as much time with him as I should have. I am ashamed of that. He seemed to prefer to be alone with his grandfather, or with my husband. I thought—I thought that was because it was his mother who killed his father, and he felt women …” She trailed off unhappily.
“Understandable,” Rathbone said quietly. “But if you had spent time with him, you might have seen whether he too was abused—”
“Objection,” Lovat-Smith said quickly. “All this speech of abuse is only conjecture: We do not know that it is anything beyond the sick imaginings of a spinster servant and a young girl in puberty, who both may have misunderstood things they saw, and whose fevered and ignorant minds leaped to hideous conclusions—quite erroneously.”
The judge sighed. “Mr. Lovat-Smith’s objection is literally correct, Mr. Rathbone.” His heavy tone made it more than obvious he did not share the prosecutor’s view for an instant. “Please be more careful in your use of words. You are quite capable of conducting your examination of Mrs. Erskine without such error.”
Rathbone inclined his head in acceptance, and turned back to Damaris.
“Did your husband, Peverell Erskine, spend much time with Cassian after he came to stay at Carlyon House?”
“Yes—yes, he did.” Her face was very white and her voice little more than a whisper.
“Thank you, Mrs. Erskine. I have no more questions for you, but please remain there. Mr. Lovat-Smith may have something to ask you.”
Damaris turned to Lovat-Smith.
“Thank you,” Lovat-Smith acknowledged. “Did you murder your brother, Mrs. Erskine?”
There was a ripple of shock around the room. The judge frowned sharply. A juror coughed. Someone in the gallery stood up.
Damaris was startled. “No—of course I didn’t!”
“Did your sister-in-law mention this alleged fearful abuse to you, at any time, either before or after the death of your brother?”
“No.”
“Have you any reason to suppose that such a thing had ever entered her mind; other, of course, than the suggestion made to you by my learned friend, Mr. Rathbone?”
“Yes—Hester Latterly knew of it.”
Lovat-Smith was taken by surprise.
There was a rustle and murmur of amazement around the court. Felicia Carlyon leaned forward over the gallery railing to stare down at where Hester was sitting upright, white-faced. Even Alexandra turned.
“I beg your pardon?” Lovat-Smith said, collecting his wits rapidly. “And who is Hester Latterly? Is that a name that has arisen once before in this case? Is she a relative—or a servant perhaps? Oh—I recall: she is the person to whom Mrs. Sobell enquired for a lawyer for the accused. Pray tell us, how did this Miss Latterly know of this deadly secret of your family, of which not even your mother was aware?”
Damaris stared straight back at him.
“I don’t know. I did not ask her.”
“But you accepted it as true?” Lovat-Smith was incredulous and he allowed his whole body to express his disbelief. “Is she an expert in the field, that you take her word, unsubstantiated by any fact at all, simply a blind statement, over your own knowledge and love and loyalty to your own family? That is truly remarkable, Mrs. Erskine.”
There was a low rumble of anger from the court. Someone called out “Traitor!”
“Silence!” the judge ordered, his face hard. He leaned forward towards the witness stand. “Mrs. Erskine? It does call for some explanation. Who is this Miss Latterly that you take her unexplained word for such an abominable charge?”
Damaris was very pale and she looked across at Peverell before answering, and when she spoke it was to the jury, not to Lovat-Smith or the judge.
“Miss Latterly is a good friend who wishes to find the truth of this case,