Saint's Devils: Devil In My Arms Part 20

She nodded, and sniffed. Her tears were not feigned. She understood in that moment that Roger was putting his career and his reputation at stake for her. "Yes, sir. He is my dearest brother, and my savior." Roger walked over and handed her his handkerchief and she took it and grasped his hand for a moment. He squeezed hers in response.

"Fear not, little sister," he whispered.

"He has not saved you yet, Mrs. Enderby," Sir Robert said, using her true name rather forcefully. "He has proven you a runaway wife and a charlatan. Why did you run from Mr. Enderby, and why was he so eager to prove you dead?"

"I can only answer the first question with any authority, sir," she said, wiping her cheeks dry. She vowed not to cry another tear in this courtroom. She feared many would see it as dramatic manipulation. "I ran because he was a cruel master under whom I knew nothing but torture and humiliation. I ran to my sister and her husband for protection and sanctuary, and they gave it to me."

"You'll understand my skepticism," Sir Robert said to Roger. "Have you any proof that this is Eleanor Enderby, other than your word and that of your wife?"

"I do, sir," Roger said. He nodded at the back of the room, and Wiley led two men carrying a covered stretcher into the courtroom. "With the court's permission, I would like to present this as proof."

"And this is?" Sir Robert asked, eyeing the stretcher with distaste.

"This is the stranger that Jacob Enderby identified as his wife of almost fifteen years, sir. The poor woman buried under someone else's name, to be forever unknown." Roger walked over and rather dramatically whipped the cover off the stretcher, revealing a body in a grotesque state of decomposition. One woman in the gallery screamed, and several others fainted. Two things were immediately obvious to Eleanor and, she hoped, the jury. The body was short, noticeably shorter than Eleanor. And what hair still clung to the skull was long and white, either blonde or gray, she couldn't tell. But no one, not even someone who had no more than a pa.s.sing acquaintance with her, would identify this as Eleanor.

She turned away then, unable to look anymore, the handkerchief to her nose as a defense against the stench.

Chaos again ensued as Mr. Burns and Roger approached the bench and argued vociferously. Sir Robert glared at them both. There was too much noise for Eleanor to hear what was being said. Roger held a piece of paper, which he kept waving about until Sir Robert grabbed it from his hand.

"Silence!" Sir Robert roared, and the gallery quieted at once. "The court accepts this affidavit from the coroner in Derbys.h.i.+re certifying that this is the body buried as Eleanor Enderby. You may remove the remains. Put them in the custody of the bailiff to be examined by the coroner here in London for verification." The last was said with distaste, to Wiley and his men. They immediately covered it and exited the courtroom, following the uniformed bailiff.

On his way out, Wiley winked at Eleanor. She had to fight a smile at the small but gladly received token of support.

"Mr. Templeton," Sir Robert said between clenched teeth. "If you ever turn my courtroom into a circus again, I shall have you removed from the bar. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Roger said meekly. "My apologies. The body was only returned to London this morning. I certainly meant no disrespect to the court by my actions. But certainly you can understand my joy at this obvious sign of Enderby's villainy." His voice had grown louder as he spoke, and most of the people in the court had surely heard him.

"Are you now pleading self-defense?" Mr. Burns asked.

"Not at all," Roger said. "Mrs. Enderby had nothing to do with her husband's death. What I am attempting to show the court is that someone of Enderby's character would most a.s.suredly have had many enemies, any one of which could have resorted to murder."

"To what ends?" Mr. Burns asked incredulously. "The only person in London who had anything to gain from Enderby's death was his runaway, adulterous wife."

Roger's face turned red, and he glared at the prosecutor. "You, sir, impugn the good name of my sister-in-law, and I take offense at your manner."

"Sir, your sister-in-law is on trial for murder," Mr. Burns said, clearly enunciating each word. "And she herself admitted she ran from Enderby."

"For good reason," Roger said. "One with which I did not find fault, and from which I felt it my duty as her only remaining male relation, and a gentleman, to s.h.i.+eld her."

"If all you have is her word about Enderby's supposedly villainous character, I'm afraid that won't be enough," Sir Robert said gravely.

"I have witnesses," Roger said. "Witnesses who can testify to his treatment of her, and of others."

"Fine," Mr. Burns said. "I shall entertain Mr. Templeton's witnesses."

"As shall the court," Sir Robert said drily with a wry look at the prosecutor, who colored in embarra.s.sment.

"I did not mean to usurp your authority, sir," Mr. Burns said.

"You are not a magistrate yet, Mr. Burns, but your cooperation is appreciated. Mr. Templeton," he said, and waved at the witness stand. "Bring your witnesses."

The gallery was whispering furiously, heads craning to see who might be taking the stand. Eleanor wondered as well. Roger had not told her a thing about his plans for this line of questioning. She wasn't sure she approved of parading her sordid marriage before the ravening crowd.

But she approved far less of hanging, so she took a deep breath and waited for the first witness.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

"My first witness is not present," Roger said. "I would beg the court's indulgence. The second Mrs. Enderby, Miss Georgina Honeywell, declined to appear in person, which I am sure the court understands. The lady is with child, and is suffering greatly from the events of the last week. But she has sent along a sworn statement, witnessed by the justice of the peace in Derby."

Sir Robert waved his hand in a come-hither motion and Roger obliged, approaching the bench. Mr. Burns followed suit. Roger handed the letter over to Sir Robert who took a moment to peruse it. "It all looks in order. Mr. Burns?" he said, handing it over. Mr. Burns scrutinized it for several minutes, frowning.

"I don't like it," he said belligerently, "but I'll accept it. In spite of the fact that my witnesses' sworn statements were not acceptable to Mr. Templeton."

"As you can see," Roger said calmly, "Miss Honeywell's statement concerns her own experiences with Mr. Enderby, and not the events of April fourth. This is in response to Sir Robert's request that we show proof of Mrs. Enderby's ident.i.ty, and also may answer his question as to why Enderby wanted to kill his first wife."

Eleanor was shocked by this development. Roger had said nothing to her about communicating with Enderby's second wife. She was as curious as the onlookers as to what the letter contained.

Sir Robert gestured at Mr. Burns and he handed the letter back. Sir Robert in turn gave it to Roger. "Read it aloud for the record," he said.

Roger nodded and stepped back until he was standing in the middle of the room. When he began reading she realized his position was deliberate. It was the best spot to take advantage of the room's architecture, designed to maximize sound.

"My name is Miss Georgina Honeywell," he began. "I was married to Mr. Jacob Enderby last year, on November 16, 1820. I was led to believe at that time he was a widower, his wife having been recently declared dead by misadventure. He did not observe a mourning period because he said she'd been missing for so long he'd done his mourning months ago. I now realize it was because he knew she most likely wasn't dead.

"I became suspicious less than a month later. Enderby was still sending out men to search for his late wife even though he'd identified a body. When I questioned him, I was beaten severely and confined to my room for several days. I feared raising the subject again. Not long after, he became quite critical of all that I did. He wanted me to talk like Eleanor, to walk like Eleanor, to read her books, and he even made me wear her clothes, though they were too small for me-another thing I was berated for. I was punished for my failure to do these things to his satisfaction by being locked in my room and denied sustenance. This continued for about a month before it was discovered I was to have a child. After that I was not beaten or starved because of the baby, but I was now confined to my room almost all of the time. He declared it was for my safety and that of the babe.

"About a month ago, a man came to see him, one of the men he'd sent to search for his wife. They had a furtive conversation and then the man left again. For several days Enderby came to my room and simply stared at me, as if trying to decide what to do with me. Finally he made me take to my bed, with orders not to leave it under any circ.u.mstances. Fearing his wrath, I obeyed. He then informed the staff that I was feeling poorly and the pregnancy was not going well, which was not true. I felt fine. He gave instructions that only his man Ridgeway and the doctor he had retained could see me, and he left. I learned later he'd gone to London. When we received word of his death, Ridgeway disappeared immediately, taking the silver with him. The doctor packed up his belongings and informed me that he was hired to poison me when Enderby sent the word. Now that Enderby was dead, he, too, took several items from the house and disappeared. I have given his name and a description to the police here. Fearing we had been misinformed of Enderby's death, I immediately packed my bags and returned to my father's house. After he made inquiries, it was determined that Enderby had been murdered as he attempted to kidnap his first wife. Signed, Miss Georgina Honeywell. Witnessed by Mr. Bartholomew Sommerset, Justice of the Peace, Derby."

Mr. Burns looked furious after the letter was read, but he made no objection when Roger submitted it to the clerk as evidence. The gallery was abuzz, but Eleanor's mind was reeling at the revelations of Miss Honeywell, and she couldn't focus on their chatter. Enderby had been obsessed with her. She'd known he was slightly mad, and had been during their marriage, or he wouldn't have done the things he did. But to hear of his unhealthy attachment to her, his cruel and abusive treatment of his young wife, and his relentless search for her was extremely disquieting.

The next witness was Mrs. Hastings, the Enderbys' housekeeper for almost ten years. "He was a brute," Mrs. Hastings said. "And Mrs. Enderby dared not say a word against him," she stated bluntly. She was a blunt woman, but never about Enderby. Neither of them dared say a word about him for fear of punishment. It had stood like a barrier between them for almost ten years. Awkward weekly meetings to discuss the menus, never knowing if she'd even be allowed to eat. Housecleaning tasks a.s.signed, with Eleanor's room last on the list. It could only be cleaned if Eleanor wasn't locked inside. No food or clothing or other charitable contributions to organize; Enderby didn't allow it. Mrs. Hastings was in charge of the staff. Eleanor rarely knew who they were from week to week, since Enderby ran off or fired so many of them. And most of the gardening staff hadn't realized Enderby was married at all, since Eleanor was rarely if ever allowed out of the house.

Mrs. Hastings related it all in her matter-off-fact tone. "Wasn't much we could do about it, could we? Barely knew the woman, though I worked for her for nigh on ten years. After he'd locked her up for a week or more, with hardly a bite to eat to keep her going, he wouldn't allow anyone to tend her but himself, until she was able to leave the room again. His manservant helped, of course. Ridgeway has disappeared, by the way, missus, now the master is gone. Took most of the silver with him. The new Mrs. Enderby left for her parents' house before the body was cold, leaving all behind. Little bit of a thing, she is, like you, and treated the same. Can't blame her at all."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hastings," Roger said when she stopped to take a breath. "Can you tell us how Mr. Enderby was viewed by the nearby village? Was he socially active, sought out by neighbors, a pillar of the community?"

Mrs. Hastings scoffed. "Not at all," she said. "No one came round except to pay him what they owed. He owned most everything in Little Eaton, including the coal mine and the quarry, and a half interest in the paper works. Lorded it over the village with an iron fist, too," she added with a disdainful sniff. "Only reason I stayed on with him so long is to keep my sister and her man and the little ones in their house."

"Is it your opinion as a longtime servant and resident of Little Eaton that there may have been some in the community who wished Mr. Enderby ill?"

"Some?" she asked incredulously. "Heard the reverend prayed for his untimely demise more than once for the sake of the whole congregation." She snorted. "Half the town wished him to perdition. About the only person I'd wager wouldn't kill him is Mrs. Enderby. If she was going to do him in she'd a done it years ago, in my humble opinion. Why wait until she's a free woman in London and under her brother-in-law's protection? Always knew she was smarter than that."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hastings," Roger said graciously. "Mr. Burns, have you any questions for Mrs. Hastings?"

"Just one, if you would be so kind Mrs. Hastings," Mr. Burns said in his most pleasing voice. He smiled graciously at the older woman, who blushed at his fine manners. "Do you know the whereabouts of Mrs. Enderby on Wednesday last, April fourth?"

Mrs. Hastings looked uncomfortable at his question. "I understand she was on her way to visit a friend," she answered obliquely. G.o.d bless the woman. She really was trying to make up for ten years of looking the other way.

"Yes," Mr. Burns said encouragingly. "That is what we are being led to understand. But do you know this for a fact?"

"If she says so, then it must be so," Mrs. Hastings hedged.

"So you saw her? In London that night? On her way to see Sir Hilary St. John? Remember, Mrs. Hastings, that you are sworn to tell the truth."

"No, sir," she mumbled.

"Let the record show the witness's answer was no," Mr. Burns told the recorder.

And so it went. Eleanor was quite amazed that at least seven former servants and residents of Little Eaton had shown up to testify in her defense. But Mr. Burns asked the same question of each on cross-examination, and each one had to answer no, they did not know where she'd been the night Enderby was killed.

At last the day ended. Sir Robert stood and addressed the courtroom. "Court will reconvene tomorrow morning at seven o'clock sharp. I am remanding Mrs. Enderby back into the custody of the gaol keeper at Newgate until then. Mr. Burns," he said to the prosecutor, "when we reconvene in the morning, I will expect to see your watchman here. Do I make myself clear? His is the only testimony that places Mrs. Enderby at the scene of the crime."

"Yes, sir," Mr. Burns said nervously, looking behind him at Inspector Vickery, who shrugged.

"Mr. Templeton and Mr. Lyttle," Sir Robert said. They stood and faced him respectfully. "There will be no more theatrics tomorrow. This is a courtroom, not Drury Lane."

"Yes, sir," they both replied, looking chagrined, though Eleanor could tell it was an act on Roger's part. He chanced a glance in her direction with a barely there grin, but she could tell he was elated. He'd bought her one more day.

"d.a.m.n and blast," Hil swore, kicking the door shut on Weekes's empty office. It was obvious from the detritus around them that he'd been living there for some time. But his files were gone, burned in the grate, if the ashes were any indication, and his personal effects were noticeably absent. "He's on the run."

"He gave himself away on the street," Lavender surmised. "Do you think he's flown London?"

"I don't know," Hil answered, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He spun around, vainly looking for some clue. "We'll have to check the docks and coaching lists to see if he sought transportation out. After all this time, he could have walked to Scotland."

Lavender stretched his neck from side to side, his eyes closed and his lips pursed. "I don't know," he said at last, looking at Hil. "This is a personal vendetta, and it's almost at the gruesome conclusion, if you'll excuse the reminder. In my experience, people want to stick around to see the finale when they've gone to so much work. And he was determined to see it through, when he thought the murder charge wouldn't stick. Can't imagine he'd run now without seeing it done."

"Speaking of finales," Hil said grimly. "I must go to court tomorrow. We shall work all night to find this b.a.s.t.a.r.d. If we do not, I don't know what will happen tomorrow. Wiley should have delivered the body this afternoon. I'm going to check in with him and with Roger. Perhaps with the body, Unger's testimony, and Cruikshank's drawing, it will be enough to convince the jury she's innocent, or at least that she might not be guilty. I am going to go back over my notes and try to figure out where Weekes might be hiding." His palms were slick with nervous sweat, his throat dry with fear. Eleanor's life was on the line and he had nothing but paltry theories and a ghost on the run.

"I'll check the docks," Lavender said, followed by a heavy sigh. "We need luck more than anything now if we're to find him."

"Luck has always been kind to me," Hil said. "I can only hope she has not turned her back when I need her the most."

Chapter Twenty-Five.

Nothing. Not a d.a.m.n thing. No trace of Weekes in London, or leaving it. Hilary hadn't slept a wink all night, and looked like the Devil he was, wearing the same clothes he'd had on the day before. He hadn't taken the time to shave or change his clothes, had barely eaten. He was a man possessed. His thoughts kept veering toward the possible result of this day in court, and then skipping away. He simply couldn't imagine what he might do if Eleanor were convicted. But he knew it would either set her free or kill them both. With shaking hands, he pulled open the door to the Old Bailey and stepped inside, Wiley at his side. The boy had been constant with his help and support in the last week, and Hil would never forget it. He'd worked as tirelessly as Hil all night, questioning every source he had, running all over London, searching to no avail. Weekes was a ghost, unknown and ignored by most of society, high or low. The sort who surprised everyone when they burst forth with violence and destruction.

He entered the courtroom and had to elbow his way into the gallery. Once his ident.i.ty was discovered, however, the crowd parted and he slid to the front. Harry was there, wearing a lavender gown that made her look like a spring flower among the refuse. Alasdair and Julianna stood at her side, along with the Earl of Throckton and his sister, Lady Anne. Harry took his hand as he came up beside her. The magistrate was not on the bench yet. Hil gripped the wooden rail separating him from the courtroom floor. His heart ached fiercely when he saw Eleanor standing in profile to the gallery. She was wearing her prisoner's garb again, and biting her lip in the dock, her hands visibly shaking, from fear or the weight of the shackles, he wasn't sure which. He'd never seen her so distraught. But no tears fell, and that somehow made her terror more frightening. He ducked under the rail separating the crowd from the trial partic.i.p.ants and went to her. It was a compulsion he could not deny, just as he could not make his heart stop beating.

He knew that yesterday, witnesses from Little Eaton had been called to describe her life with Enderby; upon hearing some of what they said, once again he wished the other man weren't dead, so he could kill him. The crowd was murmuring behind him, calling out, and it drew Eleanor's attention. When she saw him she rushed to the side of the dock nearest him, reaching out with her shackled hands. He ran to her, grasping her hands and kissing them, as she bent down and kissed the top of his head. Grabbing the rail around the prisoner's dock, he climbed up to the outer ledge and wrapped his arms around her. Though the rail was between them, he clutched her tightly. The shackles around her wrists, with a bar braced between them, rammed into his chest as she clutched his coat, but he didn't care. He buried his face in the curve of her neck. "I love you," he said.

"Hilary, Hilary, Hilary," she said, as if she couldn't believe he was there. "I love you, too."

"Trust me," he whispered, already planning how to get her from the prison to the docks if the verdict was guilty. Wiley had men in place.

"I do," she said. "With all my heart."

"Hil," Roger was saying, tugging on his coat. He became aware of angry shouts and catcalls around them. The courtroom was a madhouse. Suddenly his arm was grabbed and he was yanked down. He angrily turned to his attacker, only to see a bailiff standing there with his hands in the air, shaking his head.

"Sir Hilary," the magistrate was saying angrily. "I will not have more theatrics in this courtroom. If you wish to help the prisoner, then I suggest you retreat to the gallery, or I shall have you removed and barred from the courtroom." He turned to the crowd. "I will clear the courtroom," he shouted, "if order is not restored immediately."

Hil took a deep breath and came to his senses. He had no wish to jeopardize Eleanor's freedom with reckless behavior. "My apologies, Sir Robert," he said with as much respect as he could. "I thought court was not in session yet."

"It is not," Sir Robert said stiffly. "But embracing the prisoner in the dock is still against the rules, whether I am sitting or not." He pointed to the back of the courtroom. "Go. I am quite sure the gentlemen of the press in the audience have already had an opportunity to memorialize your dramatic and tender scene in print. All of London will see the depth of your feelings soon enough."

Hil bit back an angry retort. He and Sir Robert had encountered one another many times in the past over various cases, and Hil had always found him to be a reasonable, if somewhat stern, magistrate. Eleanor certainly could have gotten worse. His embrace had arisen from his intense emotions today, not a desire to sway public opinion through the broadsheets he deplored, which Sir Robert should well know. With a last, longing glance at Eleanor, now crying in the dock, he stepped through the gate and back into the gallery. Harry grabbed his hand again, and her hold was strong. Wiley immediately stepped behind them to keep the crowd at bay.

Sir Robert called court into session and Hil was shocked when Roger immediately said, "I would like to call Sir Hilary St. John to testify." He moved forward without hesitation as the prosecutor protested.

"I fail to see how Sir Hilary's testimony is relevant to the murder. He was not with the prisoner at the time."

"He was witness to the prisoner's state of mind on the night of the murder," Roger said, "and she was arrested while in his company, at his house."

Hoots and catcalls came from behind him until Hil turned and glared at the offenders, who went silent and slunk back into the crowd.

"I trust that you, Sir Hilary, are now cognizant of the solemnity of these proceedings, and that your testimony here today will reflect your honesty and integrity, despite your relations.h.i.+p to the prisoner," Sir Robert said.

"Of course," Hil said, trying not to be offended.

"Good. Mr. Templeton, proceed."

"I would like my objections to this testimony to be entered in the record," Mr. Burns said stiffly.

"I'm sure you are aware that everything is entered in the record," Sir Robert barked. "As I said, proceed."

"Sir Hilary, please state your name, and tell us the nature of your relations.h.i.+p with Mrs. Enderby."

Hil wasn't sure this was the line of questioning Roger ought to be pursuing right now, but he had to trust him. To question him now in front of the jury would undermine the credibility he'd earned thus far. Hil wasn't ignorant enough to believe the members of the jury didn't know him and his reputation. If he appeared hesitant, it could ruin everything.

"I am Sir Hilary St. John," he said. "As to my relations.h.i.+p with Mrs. Enderby, I am in love with her."

The crowd gasped and there were sighs from some of the ladies present.