To Catch a Countess

by Patricia Grasso

“Percy Howell will meet us at court,” Duke Magnus told them.

  A few minutes later, the ducal coach halted in front of the Old Bailey Sessions House. A noisy crowd loitered outside the building.

  “Who are those people?” Victoria asked, her panic level rising at the thought of making her way through the crush.

  “Though the hearing is informal,” Duke Magnus answered, “the rabble wants to see a countess accused of adultery.”

  “The sins of the wealthy sell newspapers,” Robert said.

  “We will protect you,” Rudolf promised, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

  The driver appeared and opened the coach door. Duke Magnus climbed down first and then Robert. Rudolf alighted next and turned to assist Victoria.

  “That’s her,” someone in the crowd called.

  “Douglas slut,” shouted another.

  Victoria shrank back in fright. Rudolf put his arm around her and drew her forward.

  “Whore!”

  Victoria cried out as a stone hit her cheek. Robert yanked the hood of her cloak up to shield her face from view. Rudolf and he huddled around her protectively as Duke Magnus cleared a path through the angry throng. Victoria shook visibly by the time they reached the safety of the courthouse. Without taking his supporting arm away from her, Rudolf examined her cheek.

  “We will need to wipe the blood,” Rudolf said, “but you will live.”

  “Let’s get her inside the courtroom first,” Percy Howell said. “Being pregnant and stoned by an angry mob could win her instant sympathy.”

  Entering the courtroom, Rudolf and Robert ushered her to the tables at the front. Victoria saw Alexander and his barrister, Charles Burrows, on the opposite side of the aisle. Sitting in the gallery behind her husband’s table were Venetia, Diana, and Harry.

  Victoria ignored them and lowered her bulk into a chair. Rudolf dipped his handkerchief in a glass of water and wiped the blood off her cheek, making her wince. He folded it and placed it on her face again.

  “Hold it there to reduce the bruising.”

  Victoria kept her gaze downcast while she held the cloth against her cheek. She didn’t want to see her husband, knowing that today was the first step toward dissolution of their marriage. Victoria harbored no illusions about the outcome of the hearing. If her husband wanted to be rid of her, the judges would find in his favor.

  “If this is informal,” Duke Magnus was asking his barrister, “why are there so many spectators?”

  “Informal does not mean private, Your Grace,” Percy Howell answered. “Dozens of the curious, as well as reporters looking for the big story, fill the gallery,”

  Victoria cringed inwardly at the thought of revealing her stupidity to the crowded courtroom. She had no choice, though. She was either stupid or an adulteress.

  “What happened?” The voice belonged to her husband.

  “The crowd outside stoned her for being an adulteress,” Rudolf answered.

  “Tory, I am sorry,” Alexander apologized.

  Victoria refused to look at him. Without speaking, she turned her body away.

  “Why pretend what you don’t feel?” Robert challenged his sincerity. “You hired people to incite that crowd to violence.”

  “I had nothing to do with that.”

  “Oh, then I see the fine work of Satan’s handmaiden and her charming sister-in-law, the black widow,” Robert shot back.

  “Venetia and Diana would never—”

  “Go back where you belong,” Victoria said, refusing to listen to his defense of the two who had destroyed her.

  “Victoria is more than eight months pregnant,” Duke Magnus reminded the earl. “Refrain from upsetting her.”

  Alexander returned to his own table. He sat down, but Victoria felt his gaze upon her.

  “Let me take your cloak.” Rudolf smiled at what she wore beneath it. “A virginal white gown tight across your enormous belly, an excellent choice of apparel.”

  “Aunt Roxie thought the Madonna look would suit.”

  “All rise,” the bailiff called.

  Everyone stood when the three judges entered and took their seats. The one in the middle seemed to be in charge.

  “The barristers will approach the bench,” the chief justice ordered. “This is an informal hearing, not a trial. Both of you will conduct yourselves appropriately. Mr. Burrows, present your client’s evidence.”

  “I call Alexander Emerson, the Earl of Winchester.”

  Alexander rose and crossed the courtroom. He took his place, standing inside the witness box.

  “My lord, please tell the court the events of the evening in question,” Burrows said.

  “I arrived home from White’s sometime after five o’clock,” Alexander said, his voice clear and strong. “My sister and her sister-in-law happened to be in my library. When I asked the whereabouts of my wife, my sister told me the countess had gone out after receiving a note by courier.”

  “Here is the note, my lords.” Burrows passed the parchment to the judges. “My client prefers not to have it read out loud since it would cause the gentleman in question a great deal of embarrassment. As you said, this is not a divorce trial. Yet.”

  The chief justice looked at Percy Howell. “Do you wish to see this?”

  “No, thank you, my lord.” His answer drew surprised looks from everyone except the family he represented.

  “Are you certain?” the chief justice asked.

  “My lord, that note has no bearing on the truth of what transpired that night,” Howell answered.

  An audible ripple of excitement raced through the spectators in the gallery.

  “Are you implying the note is a fraud manufactured by my client?” Burrows demanded.

  Howell smiled at his colleague. “We contend that the note is a fraud manufactured by a third party.”

  “Please, continue,” the chief justice said to the earl.

  “I immediately went to the Philbin house as the note stipulated,” Alexander went on. “The door was unlocked, so I went inside. I found my wife naked and asleep on a daybed. I tried to awaken her, but she was quite drunk.”

  Titillated murmurs raced through the crowd of spectators.

  Victoria dropped her gaze to the mound of her belly. Her husband had just ripped her reputation to shreds. Again.

  “Do you claim her baby as yours?” Burrows asked.

  Victoria gasped, drawing her husband’s attention. Her complexion paled and her head spun dizzily.

  “The baby is mine,” Alexander said. “Victoria became pregnant within a relatively short period after the wedding.”

  “What a pity such a good breeder proves unfaithful,” Burrows said, shaking his head.

  “My lords,” Percy Howell called, rising from his chair.

  “Burrows, stifle the editorial comment,” the chief justice reprimanded the barrister.

  “I apologize, my lord,” Burrows said. “No further questions.”

  The chief justice gestured to Percy Howell. The barrister walked toward the witness box.

  “I am pleased to meet the man about whom I’ve been hearing so much,” Howell said, his smile affable.

  “I am pleased that my in-laws hold me in esteem,” Alexander said, making all but his in-laws smile.

  “My lord, I and my client have no reason to disbelieve what you have stated except, of course, her alleged drunkenness,” Percy Howell said. “We contend that you are ignorant of the truth.” The barrister paused for a moment. “I need to ask you a few questions of a personal nature.”

  Alexander looked perfectly relaxed. “I have nothing to hide.”

  “My lords, I object,” Burrows called, rising from his chair. “My learned colleague cannot ask—”

  “Burrows, sit down,” the chief justice interrupted. “This is an informal hearing, not a trial. “Continue, Mr. Howell.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Howell looked at the earl. “Describe in a few words your relationship with your s
ister.”

  “Until recently, we’ve always been at odds,” Alexander said. “We’ve become close since she returned from Australia with her husband and her sister-in-law.”

  “How would you describe the relationship between your sister and her sister-in-law?” Howell asked.

  “Venetia and Diana are the best of friends.”

  “Friendly enough to want her sister-in-law to become a countess?” Howell asked.

  “If you are implying—”

  “I imply nothing,” Howell interrupted. “I ask for your opinion.”

  “I would guess that Venetia wishes the best for her sister-in-law,” Alexander answered.

  “Why did you marry Victoria Douglas?”

  Victoria raised her gaze to her husband, who glanced in her direction. The words he spoke, though wholly truthful, brought tears to her eyes and heartache to her breast.

  “The Duchess of Inverary, her aunt, proposed the match,” Alexander answered. “I accepted in order to make amends for my late father’s transgressions against the Douglas family.”

  “This was no love match?” Howell asked, and tears rolled slowly down his client’s cheeks.

  Alexander hesitated and glanced at her. “We did not marry for love.”

  “Do you speak for yourself or do you include Lady Emerson in the pronouncement?” Howell asked.

  “I would not presume to speak for Lady Emerson.”

  “Who are the three girls in residence with you?” Howell asked.

  Victoria dropped her gaze. She had told the barrister not to mention the girls. There was no good reason they should be hurt, too.

  “The girls are my daughters by my former mistresses,” Alexander answered.

  “How old are they?”

  “Five.”

  Howell grinned. “Three five-year-old daughters by three mistresses?”

  “Yes.”

  “Gawd, if he ain’t a struttin’ cock,” called one of the spectators, drawing ribald laughter.

  The chief justice banged the gavel.

  “How did your daughters come to live with you?”

  “Their mothers abandoned them in my foyer.”

  “Before or after you married Victoria Douglas?”

  “After.”

  “Did you ever wonder why three mothers would abandon their daughters?” Howell asked.

  “I assumed someone paid them in order to cause trouble between me and my wife,” Alexander said.

  “And did it cause trouble?”

  Alexander looked at Victoria and smiled. “My bride welcomed the girls into our home and her heart. She insisted the girls remain with us permanently.”

  “Very commendable of Lady Emerson, wouldn’t you say?”

  Alexander glanced in her direction again. “Yes, I would say that.”

  “By the way, did your sister return from Australia before or after you married Lady Emerson?” Percy Howell asked.

  “I believe it was a couple of weeks before the wedding,” Alexander answered.

  “So the marriage contract had been signed and the wedding plans finalized?” Howell asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And when did the first daughter arrive at your home?”

  “I can’t remember exactly,” Alexander said. “Perhaps, two or three weeks after Victoria and I married.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Percy Howell turned to the judges. “No further questions, my lords.”

  “Mr. Burrows?” the chief justice asked.

  “No more witnesses.”

  “Mr. Howell, you may present your client’s evidence,” the chief justice said.

  “I call to the witness box Victoria Emerson, the Countess of Winchester.”

  A collective gasp shot through the crowded courtroom. Silence followed, all gazes focusing on the young woman rising from her chair.

  Victoria felt every gaze on her. With the prince’s help, she rose from her chair and, one hand on the mound of her belly, moved toward the witness box.

  Her white, high-waisted gown accentuated her youth, but her face was pale and drawn. Dark smudges of fatigue lay beneath her eyes. So many months of heartbreak and worry had taken their toll.

  “My lords, I beg a chair for Lady Emerson,” Percy Howell said.

  “Yes, of course.” The chief justice gestured to the bailiff who set a chair in the witness box.

  “Lady Emerson, I want you to relax,” Percy Howell said. “We prefer to finish these proceedings today and not wait for you to recover from childbirth.”

  Victoria blushed and gave him a wobbly smile. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, though, and felt that everyone could see them shaking.

  “Lady Emerson, tell the court how you know the Philbin brothers.”

  “Phineas and Barnaby tutored my nieces and nephews,” Victoria answered, her gaze downcast.

  “Other than that, what is your association with them?” Howell asked.

  Victoria raised her gaze to her barrister and took a deep breath. Her moment of truth had arrived. “The Philbin brothers tutored me.” She glanced at her husband, who stared at her with an expression of curious disbelief.

  “When and why did you hire tutors for yourself?”

  “Last June, before I married the earl, I visited the Philbin brothers and asked them to tutor me,” Victoria said. “They accepted my offer and request.”

  “What was your request?”

  “I wanted no one to know they were tutoring me,” Victoria said. “We met on Thursday afternoons because both could be present. Being alone with only one would have been improper.”

  Her statement elicited chuckles from the spectators. Victoria cast a nervous glance toward the gallery and then focused on her barrister.

  Percy Howell cocked his head to one side. “Why didn’t you want anyone to know?”

  “My—inability—embarrassed me,” Victoria said, choosing her words carefully. “I wanted to improve myself for the earl so—”

  “What is your inability?” Howell interrupted.

  Victoria remained silent for several long moments. The signs of her inner struggle played across her care-worn face.

  “What is your inability?” Howell repeated, a hard edge to his voice.

  “I am stupid,” Victoria said, and burst into tears.

  The spectators in the gallery laughed, which added to her humiliation. She couldn’t bring herself to peek at her husband.

  “In what way, specifically, are you stupid?” Howell asked in a gentler tone, offering her a handkerchief.

  Victoria accepted the handkerchief and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I cannot read. Letters and numbers become jumbled in my mind. You see a b, but I see a d. P’s become q’s, ‘was’ becomes ‘saw’, sixes become nines . . .

  “My aunt and my sisters tried to teach me many times, but I could never learn. Finally, I stopped trying . . . until the earl and I became betrothed.”

  Victoria looked at Alexander as if speaking to him. “I didn’t want him to know I was stupid because I feared he wouldn’t marry a stupid woman. I did so want to marry him.”

  “How long have you suffered with this?” Howell asked.

  Victoria lifted her chin a notch. “I’ve been stupid my whole life and—”

  The spectators erupted into loud guffaws of laughter. The chief justice banged his gavel for order.

  Victoria peeked at Alexander. He was smiling at her.

  “And?” Percy Howell asked, when the courtroom quieted.

  “And I expect to die stupid,” she finished.

  Another eruption of laughter resounded in the gallery. Victoria glanced at the judges, who were smiling, and her husband, who was still smiling. Even her relations were smiling.

  “How did you travel from Grosvenor Square to the Philbin house?” Howell asked.

  “I walked.”

  “Why didn’t you take a carriage?”

  “If I did that, the driver would have told the earl,” Victoria answered. �
�Then I would have had to confess my stupidity.”

  Muffled chuckles sounded in the gallery.

  “Did you try to sneak in any way?”

  “I walked out the front door,” Victoria answered. “When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I turned left—no, right—left, I think . . . I can’t remember which way I turned.”

  The chuckles from the gallery were not quite so muffled this time.

  “You walked openly from your home in Grosvenor Square to the Philbin house?” Howell said.

  Victoria nodded. “Yes.”

  “My lords, counsel is leading the witness,” Burrows complained.

  “Be quiet,” the chief justice ordered.

  Percy Howell continued, “If someone wished to know where you went every Thursday, that person could have had you followed and found out?”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “Did the Philbins help you?”

  “Phineas and Barnaby gave me strategies to cope with my problem and praised my enthusiasm,” Victoria said, “but I suspect I was the least capable student they’d ever tutored.”

  “The strategies did not help?”

  “I practiced two hours each day but only managed to give myself a headache,” Victoria said, her tone mirroring the defeat she had felt.

  “How did you pay for tutoring?” Howell asked.

  “I used the pin money my husband gave me each month.”

  “Wouldn’t you have preferred buying ribbons or such for yourself?”

  “I needed to read more than I needed ribbons,” Victoria answered.

  “Why?” Howell asked.

  “I wanted to read my children a bedtime story,” Victoria said. “I didn’t want them to read one to me. And—”

  Laughter interrupted her.

  “And?”

  “And I was tired of lying.”

  “Explain what you mean by lying,” Percy Howell said.

  “I always told people that I forgot my spectacles or misplaced my spectacles or broke my spectacles,” Victoria answered. “I don’t own spectacles because there is nothing wrong with my eyesight, only my brain.”

  “Lady Emerson, tell the court what happened on the night in question,” Howell said.

  “Alex—I mean, the earl—had gone to White’s and left me to deal with his sister and her sister-in-law,” Victoria began.

  “You are not in accord with your in-laws?”