Secret Night (20 page)

"We shall get another barrister, and he will prove Papa innocent-—I swear it"

Emmaline Rand stared unseeing at the polished table, then shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Ellie."

"It doesn't matter! Mama, you have got to come out of this! We have got to fight to save Papa's life!"

"No." The older woman sighed deeply, then shook her head. "No," she repeated, her voice scarce above a whisper. "If they will have me, I am going to my family."

"If they will have you?" Elise demanded incredulously. "Mama, what nonsense is this? You are Papa's wife—you cannot mean to desert him now."

" 'Twould appear as he deserted me, don't you think?" Emmaline bit her lower lip and turned away again. "All these years he has lived a lie, Ellie—a lie."

"I know you are disappointed, Mama, but—"

''Disappointed?
Disappointed?
Is that how you would call it?" her mother cried. "I know not how I shall face anyone!"

"Please—-come with me today-—listen to him."

"No."

" 'Tis the least you can do for the life he has given you," Elise argued. "He needs you, Mama—he needs you."

"He has never needed me," Emmaline declared bitterly.

"He loves you. He has always been so very proud of you, and you cannot deny it. Why, he has boasted to nearly everyone how you were born a Bingham— how you are Quality."

"Because I gave him consequence, Ellie—because I gave him consequence, and that is all." Her mother raised her head to meet Elise's eyes, and there was no mistaking the pain in her face. "I am worth no more to him than this house—than the rug beneath our feet, Ellie—and too long I have denied it."

"That is not true, and you know it! Mama, he has worshipped you!"

"He left my bed for those—those cheap little tarts!"

"He said he did it for you."

"For
me?
I never denied him—not once did I ever deny him! And he has repaid me with this!"

"Mama, you are overset. Please—come to see him with me, and let him explain—"

"He was caught with a whore!"

"But he didn't murder her."

"He has murdered me, Ellie—as surely as he pricked my heart with a knife, he has murdered me."

"If you could see how he is kept, Mama—if you could see how miserable he is, you would know that for whatever sins he has committed, he is paying dearly. He may even pay with his life."

A footman came in and placed a dish of porridge in front of her mother, then withdrew discreetly to get another for Elise. The older woman unfolded her napkin and laid it carefully in her lap, then reached for her spoon.

"He loves you," Elise repeated.

"I am going home to my brother's vicarage, dearest," the woman said flatly. "If you wish, you may go with me."

"Go with you—? Mama, you cannot cut and run! Look around you—look at what he has built for you!" Seeing that her mother's fine profile was like that of chiseled stone, she pleaded, "Please—at least see him once. Once—'tis all I ask, and then if you can leave him, so be it. But you owe him that much at least—you owe him that much at the least!"

The older woman carried the spoon to her mouth, then swallowed the bite of porridge. "I owe him nothing, for I have asked for none of it."

"But surely you loved him once!"

"He left me long ago, Ellie, and I have but now come to know it." Once again, her mother looked at her. "I have listened to too many of his lies to ever believe in him again."

"Mama—"

"He doesn't love either of us."

"He loves both of us, and you know it."

"Does he?"

"Yes."

"As for this house and everything that is in it, they were all his, Ellie—his. He had to have everything, to boast that he had the best. That's all I was—I was but the best he could buy."

"Because he wanted you."

"He wanted to own a gentrified wife, that was all. No, my dear, what he really wanted was—well, I shall not say it. I'm sorry if I have disappointed you, but you cannot know the whole."

"What he wanted was what?" Elise persisted.

Her mother sighed. "Yes, I suppose you are more like him than like me, aren't you? Both of you are so very strong-willed, after all."

"I have always been proud of both of you. If I have been more like Papa, it is that he treated me like I could have been his son."

"And filled your head with a great deal of nonsense, I'm afraid."

"But you were going to tell me why you are leaving him, weren't you? Go on—say it, else I shall believe you care more for saving face than for him."

"I suppose you have heard everything, anyway, haven't you? He wouldn't let me rear you into the lady I wanted, you know."

"He let me think, you mean."

"Except for Mr. Rose."

"Except for Ben. But we shall leave Ben out of this, I think."

"All right, I will say it." Emmaline laid her spoon on the edge of the charger plate. "What your father wanted was a lady by light of day and a whore beneath him at night. And if he said he turned to those women because of your birth, I shall call him a liar."

"He told me—"

"I was too stupid to know it then, but upon looking backward, I can see far too many times when he had excuses for not coming home, for not being—"

"He worked hard, Mama—he worked night and day to provide us with the comforts of his wealth."

"No."

"He honors you."

At that, her mother carefully refolded her napkin and laid it beside her barely touched porridge. Rising, she looked down at Elise.

"My mind will not budge, dearest. No, I am going home to the house where I grew up, and God willing, I shall never have to come out into the world again."

"No, you are turning your tail and fleeing!" Throwing down her own napkin, Elise stood to face her. "You are a coward, Mama!"

"Your loyalty is admirable, my love, but I fear it is misplaced," the older woman said mildly.

"Well, I don't mean to desert him!"

"If you change your mind, I am sure your uncle Charles will welcome you also."

"Only if I bring Papa's money bags! That's all the Binghams have wanted from him, you know—they've all tried to hang on his sleeve, and well you know it!"

Her mother turned and walked slowly from the dining room, leaving Elise to stare after her. As she heard the woman's steps on the stairs, the girl's anger faded to dejection. Sinking into her chair again, she put her head into her hands and fought the urge to cry. Now she would have to tell him that not only would Patrick Hamilton not defend him, but that rather than face the ignominy of his trial, his wife was leaving him.

Having discreetly avoided the quarrel between mother and daughter, one of the footmen coughed apologetically behind her, then set her plate next to her elbow.

"Cook is wishful of knowing whether you'd be having coddled eggs with the porridge or not, miss."

She sat back and took a deep breath. Looking up at him, she managed to show him a calm that she did not feel inside. "I'm not very hungry, I'm afraid." Pushing the plate and bowl away, she said, "I think I shall merely have a tea tray brought up to my chamber."

"Aye."

"I have to visit my father."

"Aye. And a bad business that is, miss—there ain't a body here as don't feel sorry about it."

"Thank you."

"None of us believes he did it—a pack o' lies it is, or me name ain't Joseph."

"Thank you." She pushed away from the table and stood again. "Yes, well, I shall convey your good wishes to him, and I am sure he will appreciate your loyalty."

"Aye, miss."

There was a small but decidedly unfriendly crowd at the entrance to Newgate Prison, and as she passed them, they were shouting at the guards stationed outside, raising their fists, demanding the death of Bat Rand. Pulling her hood up, Elise hurried inside.

Her father had been moved, but the accommodations were not much better save that the room was a trifle larger, affording him a small, rough-hewn table in addition to the bench. And there were sheets upon the cot scarce wide enough to be called his bed. An empty bottle of something lay where he'd left it upon the floor.

As the door closed behind her, locking her in with him, he rose unsteadily to hobble to her, his face eager.

"I knew as you'd be here—aye, I knew it. You ain't about to forget about your papa, are you?"

He looked as though he'd not slept either, and his unshaven face made him appear even more haggard than before. She forced her brightest smile.

"Well, I could scarce stay away." Digging into her reticule, she drew out a linen-wrapped sweet bun. "Your cook sent this. Indeed, but Joseph said you are missed by everyone in the house."

He took it, but laid it upon his table. "Where's Em?"

"She—uh—she could not come."

"She ain't sick over this, is she? You just got to tell her it'll all work out, that's all."

"She is not precisely ill."

He nodded. "Aye, I see—she's vexed, ain't she?"

"Something very like it."

"I was wanting to tell her I didn't do it, you know."

"I know."

He sat heavily on the edge of his cot. "You ain't giving me the whole—I can see it, Puss."

She didn't want to admit that her mother was already on her way to Somerset, so she evaded him.

"Yes, well, I have been to see Mr. Parker, and he will wait upon you directly."

"Parker? Damme if I didn't say you was to see Hamilton, Ellie!"

"I did."

He stared at her for a time, then seemed to explode at her. "You was to persuade him! Now I know you could do it if you was to have a mind to! I know it!"

"I couldn't, Papa." She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He wouldn't listen to me."

"And why the devil not?"

"He doesn't believe you."

"I see." It was as though all the bluster left him entirely. He sat there, his face betraying his dejection. "And Em's gone, too, ain't she?" When she said nothing, he told her, "You don't have to tell me no fibs, Puss, 'cause I can see right through 'em—always could, even when you was a little chit, you know."

"I know. I daresay that Mama's merely overset, that she will come back when she realizes how much you truly love her."

"Run to the preachy brother of hers, no doubt," he muttered. "Much good he'll do her unless she took m'blunt with her." He sighed. "But the Binghams was all like that, you know. Fair-weather friends, the lot of 'em. Don't you think I knew how it was? The old man, may the devil take his soul, was letting me grease his hands—selling Em, he was—and all the while he was a-telling any as would listen how he hated to do it." He straightened his shoulders resolutely. "Aye, well, I can take care of that later, I suppose. Right now, I got to get Hamilton."

"I don't think you would wish him, Papa," she said quietly. "I told you—he thinks you have lied to him."

"Well, I ain't—and I ain't taking anybody but him. That's all there is to the matter, Puss—I ain't taking anybody else."

"But I have already told you that Mr. Hamilton has declined. Mr. Parker has agreed to see you later today."

"Parker! Humph! And what's he supposed to do for me, I ask you? Fellow ain't known like Hamilton! Peale ain't afraid of him!"

"Papa, one lawyer must be nearly the same as another, and you have not even seen Mr. Parker."

"Don't need to," he muttered. "A man as goes into court with Hamilton has got an advantage ere he even opens his mouth. I told you—I seen him argue for the Volsky woman, and the Russian's lawyer was done for no matter what he said. Hamilton acted close to his chest, just asking for things real innocentlike—letting the other fellow look like he was winning. Then—" Rand hit his fist in his hand so hard that the pop startled her. "Then he all but killed him. Why ere the other fellow was knowing what was happening, he was a laughingstock. Hamilton asks questions as makes the other side look like fools. And the summations—why he can make a jury cry." Looking up at her, he rested his case. "Now—who knows this Parker, I ask you?"

"Perhaps that can work to your advantage. Mr. Parker at least has an open mind."

"Open minds ain't where it's at, I tell you! I got to have Hamilton if I am to have a chance at cheating the gallows, Ellie—I got to!"

"I cannot very well force him to defend you, Papa," she said tiredly. "Besides, contrary to your belief, he has been known to lose a case."

"Who told you that?" he demanded suspiciously. "The Parker fellow?"

"No. Mr. Hamilton."

"Well, he don't lose many of 'em, I can tell you. Why, when he is arguing before a jury, the man's got a gold tongue—aye, and he's got passion, Ellie. It's just like it was when Kean was troddin' the boards in Drury. Ain't nobody looking at anyone but him. They ain't paying no attention to the prosecutor—nor to the justice's directions. Seen it myself, and damme if I wasn't hanging on every word out of his mouth. Like I was saying it, the man's a genius at making 'em all look like fools." He stared off for a moment as though he were reliving something, then he nodded. "Aye, I got to have that, Puss."

"But you have never heard Mr. Parker speak, have you?" she countered.

"Don't have to. Damme, Ellie, but you ain't listening to me!
I
got to have Hamilton, I tell you! Anybody else and I am as good as gallow's bait!"

"Papa, I have done my best!"

"No, you ain't! Look at you, Puss—ain't a man in England as you couldn't have at your feet if you was wantin' to have 'im there. You just didn't go about it right, that's all."

"I cannot very well throw myself at his head—and it would not matter if I did. I told you—he is very nearly engaged to Dunster's daughter!"

"Well, he ain't stepped into the parson's mousetrap yet, has he?" he demanded truculently.

"What you are suggesting is offensive in the extreme, Papa," she managed more calmly.

"Now I
ain't meaning as you got to actually do anything, Puss—just make him think you was interested, that's all."

"He isn't interested in me."

"Bosh and hogwash! He's breathin', ain't he?"

"We do not even deal civilly together,
I
'm afraid. Within half the hour, no matter how pleasantly we start out, we are at daggers drawn."