Honor (47 page)

Her point made, Honor said, “No further questions of this witness,” and sat down.

Pike, who had regained his composure, said, “Dr. Delancy, just because you don’t think you’re guilty doesn’t mean you aren’t in the eyes of the law.” He looked at the district attorney. “Do you wish to cross-examine?”

“No, Your Honor,” Rampling replied, obviously thinking that Catherine had just convicted herself.

After Catherine stepped down, Justice Pike said, “Since there is some disagreement on this point, the court will now determine if the pamphlet is obscene.”

Once the three justices had copies of the pamphlet, they left the courtroom to decide Catherine’s fate.

Honor sat back in her seat and let out the breath she had been holding and said to Catherine, “I hope your testimony and Hilda’s convinced them.”

Damon, seated behind their table with Nevada, leaned over the railing to say to Honor, “Do you think they will find in Catherine’s favor?”

“It’s anyone’s guess,” she replied, ever conscious of Nevada’s gaze boring into her back.

All around them people were talking about the trial or rising to stretch their legs before the justices returned with their verdict. Many came over to the defense table to offer Catherine encouragement and support.

Fifteen minutes later Catherine whispered to Honor, “Have you told him yet?”

Her hand flew to her locket, then fell away when she realized she wasn’t wearing it. “No. Perhaps when this is over.”

Alarm flashed in Catherine’s eyes. “By then it may be too late.”

Before Honor could ask her why, the justices filed into the courtroom and the bailiff asked everyone to rise. When the justices had taken their places on the bench, Presiding Justice Pike asked Catherine to rise.

Honor rose also, her heart pounding so hard she thought she would faint. She didn’t need eyes in the back of her head to know that Damon was sitting on the edge of his seat, his hands gripping the railing separating him from his wife, while Nevada stood ready to aid him, ever the faithful friend.

A hush descended on the courtroom. No one spoke, no one moved, no one dared even to breathe.

Then Pike’s voice rang out. “Dr. Catherine Delancy, of the charge that you circulated a pamphlet that is immoral and indecent, we hereby find you guilty.”

“No!” Damon shouted, jumping to his feet.

Pike pounded his gavel, the sharp crack echoing throughout the room. “Sit down before I have you thrown out, Mr. Delancy. I’m not through yet.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Honor saw Nevada place his hand on Damon’s shoulder and urge him back into his seat.

Pike wagged his finger at Catherine in patronizing, paternalistic disapproval. “People like you who circulate such pamphlets are a menace to society, Dr. Delancy. Too many people now believe it is a crime to have children. It is not. Children are a blessing from God, and each one is to be cherished, whether it be born to the rich or to the poor.”

“Amen,” Comstock muttered, his eyes glittering with zeal.

Pike next addressed the spectators. “If people like Dr. Delancy encouraged women to have more children, they would be doing society a greater service.

“Although I am in favor of sentencing you to five years in prison, Doctor, my fellow justices have overruled me. Therefore, we are going to suspend your sentence and fine you one hundred and fifty dollars.”

Honor stood there, stunned. She had lost the case, but she had won Catherine’s freedom. Catherine would not have to spend one day in prison. With tears streaming down their faces, Honor and Catherine hugged each other.

Later, looking back on what followed with the advantage of hindsight, Honor decided that Dr. Hilda Steuben was responsible for the ensuing riot. Seconds after Pike gave Catherine a suspended sentence, the redoubtable Hilda rose, let out a whoop that could have been heard all the way to the Tombs, climbed up on her bench, threw her hat almost up to the ceiling, then roared when it landed on Comstock’s head.

Suddenly it was as if a gathering thunderstorm had finally broken. A volley of clapping grew louder and louder, followed by a medley of cheers and jubilant shouts of victory. Men and women alike climbed up on the benches and waved their bowlers and handkerchiefs.

The three justices, their faces red with fury, stood at the bench. Pike went on pounding his gavel louder and louder, keeping time to the clapping and cheering.

Well-wishers swarmed around Honor and Catherine, hugging them and shaking hands. At one point, Honor found herself swept up in Damon’s crushing embrace.

“You’ve done it,” he said. “Whatever you want, name it, and if money can buy it, it’s yours.”

“Money can’t buy what I want,” she said.

He held her at arm’s length. “You don’t need money to get what you want. All you have to do is go to him.”

As harried court attendants and determined police reinforcements began herding the unruly spectators toward the outside corridor to clear the courtroom, Honor noticed that Nevada was gone.

“Where is Nevada?” she asked Catherine.

Catherine’s fingers dug into Honor’s arm. “He’s gone to turn himself in for killing Talmadge.”

If Honor hadn’t been a civilized woman and pregnant besides, she would have clawed and kicked her way out of that courtroom. Instead she reined in her desperation and let the crowd move her like a paper sailboat carried along by a swiftly moving stream.

She had to find him. She had to tell him that she loved him and that she would stand beside him no matter what happened. If they sentenced him to prison, she would wait for him.

Panic rushed up to grab her by the throat when she got to the corridor and couldn’t find his pale head bobbing among the crowd.

Then she saw him at the far end of the corridor.

Suddenly an earnest young woman stepped in front of her. “I’ve circulated many copies of
A Married Woman’s Secret
among my friends and classmates, Mrs. Davis. Even if one of us is arrested, another will take her place.”

Honor squeezed her hand. “If that happens, I’ll be more than happy to defend the lot of you, but right now, you must excuse me.”

After disengaging herself from the young woman, Honor looked around. Nevada had disappeared again. Swearing under her breath, she fought her way through the crowd like a salmon swimming upstream. Finally she broke free.

Honor looked around desperately. Just when she thought she had lost him, she spied him striding down one of the mezzanines that led to the rotunda below. With her steel corset stays robbing her of breath, she rushed after him.

Honor caught up with him just as he started across the rotunda.

“Nevada, wait!”

He stopped and turned.

Suddenly the realization that she wouldn’t be seeing him for years hit Honor like a bolt of lightning. She wouldn’t hear his soft drawl, see his eyes burn with desire for her, feel him lying so warm and solid beside her when she woke up in the morning. He wouldn’t be there when his child was born. Their child wouldn’t have a father for God knew how long.

What had Catherine said the night Honor learned she was pregnant? “Temper justice with mercy and let your heart guide you.”

Principles be damned, she thought. I can’t let him throw his life away.

Out of breath, she went up to him. “Where are you going?”

“To the police station,” he replied, his gaze caressing her, “to turn myself in.”

“You can’t.”

He started walking away from her. “Why not?”

“Because I love and want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

He kept walking. “You sure that’s enough?”

“There’s another reason,” she replied. “I also don’t want my child’s father to be a convict.”

He stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned to face her. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, Clovis.”

“You’re…?”

“Two months along, according to Catherine.”

He walked back toward her, his expression one of stunned surprise. He stroked his drooping mustache. “A child? Mine?”

A horrible thought skittered through her brain: what if he didn’t want the baby? Honor trembled with that new uncertainty.

His hand shot out, grasping her by the elbow to steady her. “You all right?”

“You’re pleased”—she reached for the locket that wasn’t there and wound up twisting her fingers instead—“aren’t you?”

He gave her an exasperated look and drew her out of the rotunda’s traffic before she was jostled by a passing stranger. “Couldn’t be happier.”

Honor gave a small sigh of relief. “Then you won’t turn yourself in?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

“I don’t.”

He lifted her chin with his fingers and looked deep into her eyes, his own frightfully serious. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“Well, it’s high time you listened.”

“Once more?”

Nevada lay back against the pillow with a satisfied moan. “Are you sure this…activity won’t hurt the baby?”

Honor chuckled and nuzzled his ear. “Catherine says we can be as active as we like.”

“You’ll be the death of me, woman.” He stared at the ceiling, his mood sobering. “Why did you change your mind?”

She propped herself up on one elbow and studied the sharp planes of his face. “It was something Catherine said to me about tempering justice with mercy and following my heart. When I saw you walking through the rotunda, heading for the police station to turn yourself in, I suddenly realized how much I loved you and how empty my life, and the life of our child, would be without you.”

Honor placed her hand on his chest. “Talmadge was a horrible, horrible man. I’m not saying he deserved to die, but you didn’t intend to kill him. What purpose would it serve for you to come forward now? Our lives would be ruined. Catherine and Damon would have lost a good friend.”

“You know I would have done it for you,” he said.

“I know.” She kissed his shoulder. “But I also realized that I’m not honorable like Aunt Theo, who gave up Wesley Saltonsall for his own good. I want you, Nevada LaRouche, and if that’s compromising my principles, then I’m guilty.”

They both started when a clap of thunder split the summer night sky, followed by the welcome hiss of falling rain on the dry city street below. A gust of wind bursting through the open window sent the curtains billowing out.

“The rain’s coming in,” Honor said, rising from the bed.

Padding softly across the bedchamber to close the window, Honor recalled what another, more famous Portia had said: “The quality of mercy is not strain’d, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven.”

Smiling, she closed the window and returned to bed.

Epilogue

December 1897

Christmas at Coppermine would be a mixed blessing this year for Nevada. He had Honor and he had his freedom, everything a man could wish for. Almost everything, he reminded himself, watching Honor napping soundly on the fainting couch in their upstairs sitting room, her softly rounded body ripe and heavy with their child.

The child that would be illegitimate. A bastard.

Watching Honor sleep, one hand curled around her locket, Nevada knew that she didn’t want their child to bear the stigma of illegitimacy, no matter how often she reassured him that it didn’t matter to her. It broke his heart when she tried to pretend for his sake.

He was so lost in contemplating how he had come to deserve such a woman that he failed to notice the carriage rushing down the drive toward the house, failed to attach any special significance to the rattle of wheels and the pounding of hoofbeats, beyond thinking fleetingly that Damon and Catherine must have returned from showing Theo, who had arrived just yesterday, around the snow-covered estate.

So when he heard a soft knock on the sitting room door and answered it, he was surprised to find Catherine standing there.

“There’s a man named Stannard downstairs,” she whispered.

Before she could say another word, Nevada flew past her. He returned ten minutes later to kneel at Honor’s side. He took her hand and stroked her silken cheek. “Honor, wake up.”

She stirred. Slowly she opened her eyes, sleepy midnight pools that filled with the most wondrous light whenever she looked at him. She took one look at him now and knew that something momentous had happened.

She pushed herself into a sitting position, suddenly alert and afraid. “What is it?”

He squeezed her hand. “You’re finally going to be free.”

“Free? I don’t understand.”

He took a deep breath. “Your husband has been found.”

Honor turned so pale that he feared she would faint, and her eyes widened. “Found? Where?”

He told her that he had hired the Pinkerton National Detective Agency to find Robert so that she could divorce him, but they hadn’t had any success.