Three Round Towers

by Beverley Elphick

  The singers, lamp-bearers and musicians were all invited into the hall for mulled ale and biscuits after their boisterous singing of half a dozen festive songs. Beth and I sat on the stairway, out of sight, and watched them troop in. They seemed a bit uncomfortable but soon settled into themselves once refreshments were offered by Cilla, who had donned a maid’s uniform for the occasion. Once tongues had been loosened by the ale there were good wishes and good health declarations which went on for some time – the first from the lead singer, a rather gruff looking elderly man who had a fine pitched voice, albeit a little tremulous on the higher notes. Farmer Elwood replied with his own hopes for the community at large and the health and wealth of all the people present. Everyone wanted to say something generous and all had to be given a courteous reply but last of all came expressions of goodwill for the Lady of the House. This was volunteered by one of the lamp bearers who was, perhaps, the most senior of the group. Cecilia blushed prettily and hoped that all the ladies in the group would benefit from a peaceful and bounteous Noel. After all the good wishes, the choir were offered gifts to take home (nuts and spiced preserves) and a jingly purse for the benefit of Southover Church Choir, with particular regard to cushions for the uncomfortable kneelers.

  I went to bed with Beth tucked into my arms and thanked God for my good friends.

  Christmas Day dawned frosty and clear and for the Elwood household began with a family visit to church – everyone went including the farm hands, their families and the household staff. I went too but with my head covered with one of Cecilia’s hats with a lace veil. I knew everyone was looking at me but with Cecilia on one side and Farmer Elwood on the other I managed to hold my head up. The sermon was very long and people were shifting back and forth in their pews, no doubt thinking of the feast waiting at home. I remembered the sermons at Hamsey and the loud hectoring tone of hellfire and damnation and decided that Southover Church and its incumbent were much more to my liking.

  The joy of spending Christmas with everyone I cared for and Beth’s very first Noel almost overcame me but it was a wonderful day. We ate, we played, we sung, we laughed and exchanged our gifts. Billy-alone was in the kitchen, again, and he was made up with his new footwear. He presented, with a great flourish, a pretty little handkerchief for me. I didn’t ask where it had come from and I am sure he was relieved that I didn’t. I had given Miss Wardle her cream on Christmas Eve and I was touched when she gave me a quick hard hug and a pot of her bramble jelly.

  ‘Now don’t eat too much at once my dear, there is a good measure of brandy in it to give it some flavour.’ I was amazed – did everyone in Lewes have a barrel of smuggled brandy in their cellars? I was quite sure my parents had never even tasted such strong liquor but wasn’t I perpetuating this crime by making my own gifts from illegal alcohol? Who was I to criticise when I drunk the tea, ate the salt and spices and enjoyed a nip of brandy on occasions? I joined all the rest by turning a blind eye.

  Cecilia and Farmer Elwood gave me a length of muslin to have made up into a blouse.

  I thanked them, it was so pretty with sprigs of flowers in forget-me-not blue. I hoped they hadn’t wasted their money in buying me something that might never be worn if I was taken to the gallows. I would leave the making up for a date in the future, if there was to be one.

  Mrs Makepiece was invited to Christmas dinner and she was staying the night so we were able to spend a good while together with Beth on her knee. She was very pleased with my bottled fruit and handed me a little box with one of her own pieces of jewellery in it. I opened the box carefully and found a tiny brooch. It was a knot of silver with a little seed pearl at its heart.

  ‘My dear husband gave it to me many years ago and I would rather you have it and wear it for me. My boys are far away and would not know what to do with such a delicate thing.’

  I turned the beautiful brooch over in my hands, marvelling at the intricate silverwork.

  ‘Where are your boys tonight?’ I asked, hoping that they were enjoying their Noel as much as we were.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she sighed. ‘They are all in the navy, as was their father before them. They come home on occasions but it is not often enough. I worry about them in these troubled times what with the Frenchies and everyone fighting.’

  I felt my eyes prickle. ‘Thank you so much for this and everything you have done for me. I truly feel like you are my saviour – you have never doubted me and have stood up for me. No matter what happens…’

  ‘Nothing is going to happen my dear,’ she interrupted me. ‘We will get rid of this silly man Coad and all get on with our lives, with Beth here growing up to be a lovely young woman and you making her a home here in Lewes.’ I smiled at her belief and was comforted and said nothing more. Christmas night was upon us and we stood round Cecilia’s piano and listened to her playing – her fingers traced the keys with delicacy as she sang a lullaby. Beth crowed in delight and tried to reach the source of this lovely sound. I put her next to Cecilia and she transformed the playing with her own version of thumpity-thump on the keys. We all went to bed laughing at her antics.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A Poor Man’s Soup: Pick a handful of parsley leaves, mince them fine, and strew over a little salt; shred six green onions, and put them with the parsley in a sauceboat. Add three tablespoons of oil and vinegar, with some pepper and salt.

  A Cheap Rice and Meat Soup: Put a pound of rice and a little pepper and broth herbs into two quarts of water; cover them close and simmer very softly; put in a little cinnamon, two pounds of good ox-cheek, and boil the whole till the goodness is incorporated by the liquor.

  MacKenzie’s Five Thousand Receipts in All the Useful and Domestic Arts

  Farmer Elwood

  The New Year has arrived and I endeavour to keep the troubles of the world from my family but, in truth, I am concerned. There is much local disturbance with the price of grain and lack of basic foodstuffs. The harvest last year was poor and the early frozen ground yielded nothing. We are fortunate that women make the daily trek from Brighton with fresh fish. As South Farm is on their route over the downs we are lucky to get first choice. The one advantage of the heavy frost was that food did not spoil too soon. Mrs Fisher, though only a plain cook, makes the best of supplies and Esther is a great asset as she has skills with herbs and spices that improve our plain diet. The unrest in France is of great personal concern to me, my brother and uncle are both in the navy and I feel them to be at great risk. Piracy as well as smuggling is commonplace and the taking of boats, fully laden, by privateers is nearly as much a problem for the forces as is the smuggling. No one balks at the taking of Frenchies but many lawless men who have no allegiance to king or country roam our waterways.

  When Esther came into our lives we were in great distress at the death of our first child. I feared for Cecilia’s health and state of mind as she was distraught and has no close family nearby to help ease her pain. Esther’s arrival came just in the nick of time and her gentle care of my fragile wife will stay with me. It was difficult to see and hear the child Beth in our own cradle and know that we might have had one such baby ourselves but for the cruelty of fate. As the weeks passed Beth wound herself round our fingers and hearts and Cecilia recovered. If I am honest, she did more than recover, she became stronger, happier and I had hopes that nature would take its course soon and we would be blessed with our own child. It is not unnatural to want sons to carry on our name, and work the good land that I am privileged to have inherited. But, a little girl is something different, something delicate and beauteous that needs protection and nurturing and I long for one such for Cecilia and me to cherish.

  Since Noel, I have spent a number of evenings with my friend, Dr Grieve, who also happens to hold the office of coroner in Lewes. I am concerned as to why Esther is being charged with a murder when the coroner believes that young Becca, Beth’s mother, died of drowning before the dreadful injuries were inflicted. The Coad family clearly had t
he motive to hurt both the girls. Becca because she could talk and Esther as a scapegoat for the wicked deeds inflicted by Farmer Coad.

  I am deeply indebted to Esther and I believe her story so with the agreement of my dear wife I decided to fund the girl’s defence. Dr Grieve has to appear impartial but I know him to believe in Esther and knew he would help with practical advice and his particular knowledge of the court’s machinations which, I am grieved to say, did not always come down on the side of the innocent. Esther’s simplicity could work for or against her and it was necessary to find a barrister who would present her case with clarity and be able to knock down the arrogance of the Coads. I relished the prospect of defeating this odious family who are a disgrace to civilised humanity.

  It is February and I have a meeting with our chosen barrister, Mr Josiah Button.

  ‘Tell me again, Mr Elwood, about the bag that the money was handed over in – you have it in your house?’

  ‘Yes, it is kept safe in my study.’

  ‘We need to fetch it – I will take it with me and make enquiries. I will also need to speak with the young woman before the case comes to court.’

  ‘That is easily arranged. Tell me, do you think we have a good chance of acquittal?’

  ‘Ah, that is indeed a question. We have a legal system that requires the jury to understand the evidence and act accordingly. Regretfully, in my learned opinion, juries are largely drawn from the less educated classes for the simple reason that there are more of them. Because of that we also need a judge who can see the wood for the trees and direct the jury to the proper conclusion. Alas, this does not always happen. A jury can be swayed by many things, not necessarily pertinent to the case.’

  ‘Surely, the case depends on the evidence presented?’ Mr Button laughed at my words and I was discomfited to hear him. I wasn’t accustomed to people deriding my opinion.

  ‘My dear sir, clearly you have not been in touch with the courts before now. I congratulate you but regretfully the jury is often the Achilles’ heel of the system.

  I banged my fist on the desk in frustration.

  ‘Well, what are we to do then? Why am I employing you, at great expense I must say, if you cannot be certain to win our case?’

  Mr Button raised his silver topped cane to his mouth and tapped it against his teeth.

  My dear fellow, you are employing me because I can out-think and then outwit any jury and certainly the public prosecutor.’

  I was uncomfortable with this declaration but Dr Grieve seemed to think that Josiah Button was the best we could hope for in the defence of Esther.

  Later, at home, I confided in Cecilia that it wasn’t as clear-cut as I had believed; that Esther’s very innocence made her a ‘sitting duck for the prosecution’ according to Mr Josiah Button.

  ‘But how can that be, my dear?’ A crinkle of concern had knotted her brow.

  ‘Her testimony can be manipulated by the prosecution because she hasn’t the knowledge of mankind to appreciate how wicked some people are. In other words, she is gullible in her innocence.’

  ‘Oh John, what are we to do?’

  ‘We must hand over the evidence – the stake, the bag, the money and prepare Esther for a rough ride. Mr Button will arrange investigators to seek out the facts and he will, God willing, find enough facts to carry the jury without putting Esther on the stand.’

  Cecilia grasped my hands and we sat in sad silence at the unfairness of it all.

  Chapter Thirty

  Esther

  I am to meet the barrister that Farmer Elwood has employed for me at the inn near the court. He has arrived a few days early to question and prepare. He has been provided with a list of people who will give testimony on my behalf. I am frightened. I don’t like this man. I worry that Farmer Elwood is spending money on me that should be going to his own family and farm. Times are very hard and no one can afford to waste money. I clutch Beth to me in fear and misery.

  Cecilia

  Esther is to be put on trial for murder tomorrow. Today, I am charged with preparing her for what will be a frightful miscarriage of justice if she is found guilty. We believe in her innocence, we don’t even understand why she has been charged. That horrible man who will defend her has demoralised her, us, completely. He has tortured her with memories; he has browbeaten her with interpretations – false interpretations. He has bullied us all and we no longer know what it is we think. Today, my dear husband is to take Esther to the market tower where she will spend the night in a cell before being taken before the judge tomorrow. We have been told that the judge, his Honour George Pettigrew, is a stickler for procedures and, fortunately for us is considered a fair man.

  This morning Esther rose and packed her little bag with some clean undergarments. She hesitated and then pulled a sweet comb from the bag and handed it to me saying, ‘If, Cecilia, things go badly for me, then I ask you to save this comb and give it to Beth when she is older. It was her mother’s and she loved it dearly. Please also give this brooch to Beth. Mrs Makepiece gave it to me for Christmas and I don’t think it sensible to keep it by me.’

  I dropped my eyes as I took the comb, I didn’t want her to see my tears and believe that I had lost faith, not in her innocence, but in our ability to protect her.

  I took Esther in the carriage to Mrs Makepiece who was all of a flutter and not much use in keeping either of us calm. We left Beth with her when my husband arrived to escort us all to the market tower. We were determined to show the town that this young woman was under our protection and as we are considered to be people of substance in this community our protection was a public declaration of her innocence.

  I could not bring myself to enter the gaol but waited outside in the carriage as John escorted my dearest friend inside. I could hear a lot of noise and I gathered that the assizes were to try a very full list of cases. Later, John told me that Esther was incarcerated with some light women and several trampers. Mrs Fisher had prepared her a decent basket of refreshments and at the very least I can be assured she won’t go hungry again. John had advised her to sew some coins into her hem in case of need. We went back to collect Beth and returned home. I retired to my room once I had made sure that there was a good dinner being prepared for John and Dr Grieve who had accepted our invitation to dine. I spent my time playing with my poor motherless Beth and saying prayers for Esther’s deliverance. It was a distressing day for all of us.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Esther

  The constable came and entered my name into a great book. He took my basket from me and searched it. I felt very uncomfortable when this uncouth man pulled my drawers and bits and bobs out for all to see. He then proceeded to unpack the food which Mrs Fisher had kindly put up for me. He smirked as he put the food and ale to one side. ‘That’ll make me a nice lunch today. Here, I’ll leave you the apple.’ I ignored his familiar looks and kept my eyes down. I felt beaten already. In some ways I hoped that I would be sent to the gallows rather than a long internment in a prison or a prison ship.

  I felt I would not be able to adjust to incarceration no matter how brave I might become. I knew I should not be thinking like this – giving up hope. I should be full of my own innocence and people would see it and know me to be not guilty.

  Somehow, I had lost hope that I would overcome the Coads. I was in such a low state that I considered pleading guilty just to get it over with. I had not told anyone my thoughts as they would be greatly shocked and distressed and I couldn’t bear for them to suffer on my behalf.

  We entered a cell that was already crowded with other women: coarse, dirty women who all stared at me. I cringed back and tried to stop but the constable put his hand on my back and gave me a great push. I fell into the squalid little room and grabbed at the nearest person to stop me from falling onto the dirty floor.

  ‘Oi, gerr off… what d’ye think yer doin?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…’

  ‘Oh, I say, a bit
lah di dah ain’t we? Look loveys we got us a posh one ’ere – what you in for m’lady?’

  ‘Murder,’ I whispered.

  This seemed to startle the woman who peered at me with interest.

  ‘Landsakes, who did you top then, yer ol’ man?’

  ‘No, I am innocent of the charges. I didn’t murder anyone. I am falsely accused by a man who wants to cover up his own wrongdoings.’

  My voice had risen and grown stronger as I continued and in the end I told my fellow prisoners all about Farmer Coad and his wicked sons. It was the best thing I could have done because after that they seemed to have some sympathy for me and my night in their company was not so very bad. We were five in that cell and there were others all around waiting their turn for summary justice. There was only one pallet in the corner of the room and three of us sat on it side by side – the women decided I was entitled to a spot on the pallet because of my lipsy leg but in the end we all swapped round throughout the night.

  No one could sleep because of the noise from the other cells. When daylight eventually filtered into our space I began to quiver with fear again. Sarah, one of my companions, told me that Justice Pettigrew was a sour but fair man and that I should put some faith in being honest.

  ‘How do you know?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve been up before his almighty-self many a time and he and I is on remarkably good terms,’ she cackled through her broken teeth. ‘I’s expecting to go down for a whiles this time tho, maybe even transported. Suit me fine, getting out of this Godforsaken country, startin’ afresh somewheres else, find me a man and a nice little cottage in a warm place.’