‘Isn’t she brave?’ whispers Jane admiringly, and I nod.
Suddenly I feel tears streaming down my cheeks. I hadn’t realized quite how fond I have become of the elderly couple. They have been so good and kind to Jane and myself, buying us the new ball gowns and trying to arrange my marriage for me. I don’t know whom I pity the most: Mrs Leigh-Perrot, erect and stately, bowing her head slightly to the jury and then taking her place, still standing, in the prisoner’s box, or her poor husband, convulsed with sorrow at the sight of her.
And then the judge comes in. ‘Mr Justice Lawrence,’’ whispers James to his mother, and everyone rises until he takes his seat. Mrs Leigh-Perrot gives him a stately bow, rather as if he has come to one of her stylish receptions at the Paragon in Bath, and he bows back quite courteously. He takes his seat and then whispers to a court official, who comes over to Mrs Leigh-Perrot and obviously tells her to sit down.
‘That’s a good sign,’ whispers Jane in my ear. ‘He can’t have fallen in love with her so quickly, so perhaps he thinks that she is innocent.’
Then the trial begins. Sir Vicary Gibbs opens the case for the prosecution. He is a small man, very small, perhaps only an inch or so bigger than I am – and I am only five foot two inches! Jane whispers in my ear that James told her Sir Vicary is called Sir Vinegar because he is so sour. He does seem sour, being very sarcastic and witty about rich ladies who think it is fun to steal from poor shopkeepers. Everyone turns to look at Mrs Leigh-Perrot when he says that, but not a muscle in her face moves as she sits there, quietly attentive. I admire her courage. I think I would prefer to die rather than to sit there and have that horrible man say such terrible things about me.
‘I will bring witnesses to prove that this woman stole lace worth over nineteen shillings,’ he says loudly, and he reminds the jury to make sure that they are not in any way influenced by the wealth and rank of the woman in the dock.
I see Mr Leigh-Perrot shudder when he hears his wife, the heiress of vast estates in Barbados, called a woman. I don’t suppose that she has ever been called that in her life before. She was probably called a lady from the time she was two years old.
However, I also notice that the foreman of the jury looks a bit offended at that piece of advice. Perhaps that was not such a clever idea from the chief prosecutor.
But then Miss Gregory, the first witness, is so precise and seems to remember everything so well that I begin to feel quite worried again. I hadn’t even noticed her going downstairs for her dinner, leaving Mr Filby to wrap the parcel and the apprentice Sarah Raines to tidy away the cards of lace – though perhaps that happened after Jane and I had left the shop.
Then there is Mr Filby – again with the air of having learned everything by heart. He even admits that he lives with Miss Gregory, though they are not married. I look at the jury when he says that, but they don’t look as though they care. And then Mr Bond, one of Aunt Leigh-Perrot’s lawyers, rises to cross-examine Mr Filby. He makes a very good job of it, I think, and I feel quite excited. Mrs Kent and Mrs Blagrave are there in court and he bows towards them when he refers to them.
‘It seems as if you are in the habit of wrapping up extra goods in your customers’ parcels,’ he says to Filby, and the man doesn’t quite know what to reply. In the end he says that he perhaps has made the occasional mistake.
‘But these ladies told you of your error,’ says Mr Bond. ‘What about others? What happens when the customer does not bring back the goods? It’s not surprising, is it, that the shop does not make a profit. Or do you perhaps do it on purpose so that the shop will make a profit...?’
I see Jane give a quick nod of her head when he says that. Her letter has been carefully read and the bit about Miss Gregory being behind with the rent for the printer, Mr Gye, has been noticed.
And then Sarah Raines the apprentice gives her statement, which is that she is sure that Mr Filby did not wrap up any white lace in Mrs Leigh-Perrot’s parcel. Mr Jekyll cross-examines her and she gets into a great muddle. The judge tries to help her, and unfortunately she improves then and goes back to the statement that she has prepared.
But then Mr Jekyll calls the shop girl who is prepared to swear that she saw Sarah Raines come out of the pastry-cook shop with a large pie on a plate and that Mrs Leigh-Perrot was coming out of Miss Gregory’s shop at the same time.
‘So it looks as though you were not present while the parcel was being wrapped, doesn’t it?’ says Mr Jekyll with a sweet smile, and Sarah Raines just nods.
‘Oh, well done, Harry,’ whispers Jane in my ear. The jurymen are all sitting up and exchanging glances with each other.
And then Miss Gregory is recalled and now it is the turn of another of the lawyers from London, a Mr Dallas this time. He has a very sharp manner and seems a bit of a bully, shaking his finger at her whenever she stumbles over her story or seems not to be saying the same thing as before.
‘So Mrs Leigh-Perrot, her parcel in her basket, was just strolling past your shop like a lady with nothing on her mind after the supposed theft, is that what you are saying?
Miss Gregory does not reply.
‘Come now,’ he says, ‘let’s get the truth out of you. It’s a simple question. Is the answer yes or no?’
‘Answer the question, please,’ says the judge.
‘She was passing the shop, but she wasn’t like a person with nothing on her mind and she didn’t have her parcel in her basket either; she had it hidden under her cloak.’ Miss Gregory stares at the lawyer triumphantly.
‘That’s a lie! She wasn’t wearing a cloak. She was wearing a pelisse, the one that she has on now!’ I can only admire Jane’s courage. And her quick-wittedness! She stands up very straight, ignoring the faces of the rows in front of us that turn round to look at her. Her clear voice rings through the whole courtroom. Mrs Leigh-Perrot, of course, is not allowed to say anything in her own defence. There is a murmur of sound as two thousand people turn to a neighbour and comment. Heads are craned, trying to see who has spoken.
‘Silence in court!’ The official almost yells it and the judge frowns. Mrs Austen, to my surprise, gives an approving grin and squeezes Jane’s arm. Mr Dallas from London looks now like a hunting dog on the trail of something interesting. He gives a half-glance down at the table of lawyers, and in a moment Mr Pell – another of the London lawyers – is on his feet.
‘With your lordship’s permission... approach my client ... a matter of ascertaining the facts...’ Mr Dallas is almost breathless, and Mr Justice Lawrence gives a reluctant nod.
Mr Pell hardly waits for this. He is on his feet and up the steps to the platform almost before Mr Dallas begs permission. He bends over Mrs Leigh-Perrot, whispers a question, gets the reply and then gives a tiny nod in the direction of his superior.
‘And so she had the parcel tucked under her cloak, did she?’ asks Mr Dallas with the smiling expression of a cat looking at a mouse that thinks it can escape.
Miss Gregory nods, but her expression shows that she feels she has been trapped.
‘But we have a witness who claims my client was not wearing a cloak that day,’ says Mr Dallas gently, ‘that she was wearing the very same pelisse that she wears today. What do you say to that?’
Miss Gregory looks uncomfortable. She looks around the court. She looks at Mr Vicary Gibbs, who has a savage expression on his face; she looks at her lover, Mr Filby, but no one can help her.
‘I may have been mistaken,’ she says. ‘Perhaps Mrs Leigh-Perrot wore a pelisse that day, but the parcel was under it.’
‘Perhaps, my lord, I may ask Mrs Leigh-Perrot to stand up for the benefit of the jury?’ Mr Dallas asks the question very carefully, very deferentially, but his expression shows that he scents victory.
The judge nods. Our aunt stands up straight and tall, looking magnificent. The pelisse had been made by the finest dressmaker in Bath and it fits her like a second skin, nipped in at the waist, tight across the stomach, well-fitted around t
he hips – there is no possibility that a parcel containing a gown could have been concealed under it.
‘No further questions,’ says Mr Dallas with a deep bow to the judge.
And then Mr Vicary Gibbs sums up for the prosecution – and does his best with the threads of evidence that have been left to him.
And Mr Bond sums up for the defence, making full use of all the uncertainty of Miss Gregory’s evidence, of the improbability that the apprentice Sarah Raines was speaking the truth, and of the testimony that Mr Filby has tried the same trick on other customers. He hints vaguely at Mr Filby’s character as the lover of an unmarried woman, but does not labour the point.
After that Mr Pell, the junior lawyer, reads out statements from many noble people and also from ordinary citizens of Bath, swearing that Mrs Leigh-Perrot’s character is of the highest and that she has always been very strict about all money matters and has never left a bill unpaid or shown any moral laxity (that was from Lord Braybroke).
And then it was the turn of our aunt to read out her statement.
Surprisingly for a woman with a strong, clear voice, she begins in a very low, timid tone which we cannot hear. The judge, seeing everyone straining ears from the hall, sends the court official scurrying over to Mr Jekyll, the lawyer. He goes and stands protectively next to his client and repeats each sentence. It is a good speech, cleverly designed to appeal to the jury. It represents the strong-minded, authoritative Mrs Leigh-Perrot as a gentle, God-fearing, law-abiding woman (but of course blessed with all that could be desired in the way of riches) whose greatest concern is the injury that this false accusation, arrest and imprisonment has caused to her sick husband.
‘How could I,’ she says and Mr Jekyll repeats her words in his beautiful sonorous voice, ‘lose all recollection of the situation I hold in society – to hazard, for this meanness, my character and reputation, or to endanger the health and peace of mind of a husband for whom I would die?’
Poor Mr Leigh-Perrot sobs loudly at this and so does Mr Pell, the junior lawyer. Mr Jekyll looks approvingly at his colleague and pats his own eyes with a very large, very white muslin handkerchief. The judge looks grave and the jury sympathetic. Jane nudges me but preserves a serious face, gazing intently at her aunt. Several sobs rise from the courtroom and I notice the journalist from The Times scribbling frantically in his notebook.
And then the judge sums up. I’m beginning to get a bit worried by all the long phrases about the law of the land being the same for a person of wealth as for the meanest wretch (the journalist from The Times wrote that one down) and how Miss Gregory’s evidence is corroborated by Mr Filby whereas Mrs Leigh-Perrot has not been able to produce any witnesses to prove she did not take the lace.
‘However...’ When the judge says that word I begin to breathe again. He takes a long time to make his point but he does tell the jury that if anything makes them distrust the evidence of the shopkeeper then they should bear in mind the excellent character of the accused, a character that has been attested by some of the highest in the country, he goes on, no doubt having in mind Lord Braybroke.
And now the jury are retiring. There is a buzz of conversation when the twelve men file out.
‘I give them fifteen minutes,’ says the Times journalist to a colleague. He speaks just as the court official calls for order, and his voice sounds quite loudly through the courtroom. Mr Austen takes out his timepiece and Jane and I keep peering at it. Mr Leigh-Perrot sobs into his hands. Mrs Austen pats his shoulder. Jane told me last night that our uncle has resolved to sell all his property in England, his house in Bath as well as his estate in Berkshire, and move out to Australia if my aunt is convicted and deported. The thought of this brings tears to my eyes.
The time goes very slowly.
But less than ten minutes has gone by when a sudden bustle and a rising storm of whispers make every eye go to the door at the back of the platform. It opens, and the twelve men file in and take their places in the jury box. The silence is intense. Mrs Leigh-Perrot’s face is like that of a statue carved from stone. I dare not look at her poor husband. It seems an eternity to me – what must it be like for them?
And then the judge asks the jury whether they have agreed on a verdict and the foreman tells him that they have. Another question, and then the magic words: ‘Not Guilty‘.
And the whole courtroom erupts in clapping, exclaiming, laughing. Mrs Leigh-Perrot stays quite still, with her eyes fixed on the judge; the court official struggles to silence everyone. The judge tries to do the same, and manages to tell the prisoner that she is free to go. She makes a stately bow to him and another to the gentlemen of the jury, who all look as pleased as though she were their favourite aunt.
And then Mr Jekyll escorts her to where her husband sits. He is so overcome that he cannot move.
It seems as if the whole courtroom wishes to congratulate Mrs Leigh-Perrot. People throng around her – even complete strangers are shaking her by the hand and patting her on the back. The wife of the prison governor comes to congratulate her and tells her how much they have felt for her in her troubles and advises her to ‘wrap up warm and take a few glasses of port wine every day’.
It takes a good half-hour before we can make our way back to the coach. I fall asleep on the way home.
Wednesday, 11 May 1791
Today has been an odd day. Everyone is so relieved that the jury found Mrs Leigh-Perrot innocent, but it is almost as if some great weight is still over the household. Every time the doorbell rang Franklin seemed to jump, and even though it was invariably bunches of flowers or messages for Mrs Leigh-Perrot, he still did not relax. Augusta declared that she had a migraine and went off to bed, Edward-John went out for a walk and Mr Austen and James went to book tickets for the stagecoach home.
James had told some great news to the Leigh-Perrots over breakfast. He is engaged to be married to Anne Montgomery, General Montgomery’s only child. ‘Quite a fortune with her,’ Mrs Austen had whispered to her sister-in-law and Mrs Leigh-Perrot smiled approvingly at James.
Jane and I wondered whether to go to the post inn with James, but then thought that might seem a bit heartless, so we hovered and didn’t quite know what to do.
My aunt and uncle were restless too, moving from room to room, upstairs and downstairs, almost as if they could not believe that they now had the freedom to do what they wanted and to go where they wished.
It was Mrs Austen who put a stop to this. When we all sat down to dinner at three o’clock, she suddenly announced:
‘My dear sister, what you must do is give a party. Allow all your friends to come and congratulate you. And hear of your experiences. Get it all over and done with in one evening. Invite everyone!’
‘What a wonderful idea! Let’s have it tomorrow.’ Her brother beamed at Mrs Austen, and his wife was equally struck.
Everyone rushed through dinner. Eliza arrived just when it was finished and gave her enthusiastic support. Jane and I were seated at a small Pembroke table and set to work filling out invitation cards from a list that Mrs Leigh-Perrot produced from her desk. Two of the maids were employed in taking bundles of them all over the town while Mr Leigh-Perrot and Franklin decided on the menu and a long list of delicious food with pies of every description. Pastry-cooks, wine merchants, flower shops, musicians – all were pressed into the service of this impromptu party.
‘No one will come at such short notice,’ said Mrs Leigh-Perrot.
‘Nonsense, everyone will come. They’ll all want to tell their friends that they’ve seen you and heard your stories about the jail,’ said Mrs Austen bluntly.
‘Chère madame, you are a cause célèbre!’ said Eliza fervently.
‘Is there anyone you girls want to ask?’ Mrs Leigh-Perrot is in very good humour with us. While pretending to berate Mrs Austen for taking two such ‘innocent young women’ into the courthouse, I think that she was touched by how the Austen family had rallied around her. Jane has become a great favour
ite with her – I think that both the Leigh-Perrots were amazed at her courage at speaking out at court. They both thanked her very earnestly. I noticed that they barely spoke to Augusta!
‘What about Harry Digweed?’ suggested Jane.
‘Harry Digweed!’ exclaimed her mother. ‘Is he still in Bath? Goodness gracious, what on earth is he doing hanging around a place like this? I thought that boy was wedded to farming.’
She must have noticed something in Jane’s tone because her eyes narrowed and she exchanged glances with Mrs Leigh-Perrot. And both of them stared at Jane, who looked unperturbed and started to fill out the next card on the list before her.
‘Harry Digweed – of course, we must ask him! He was like a son to us during that terrible time!’ Mr Leigh-Perrot was emphatic. Now James was the one to look put out. And Edward-John. Neither of them liked to hear such praise of Harry Digweed.
‘He’s a nice boy – a playmate of my boys,’ said Mrs Austen, making it sound as if Harry was about ten years old.
‘And what about you, my dear?’ Mrs Leigh-Perrot looked across at me.
I felt a little hesitant, but I had promised Thomas to keep an eye on his sister so I asked her whether she would invite Admiral Williams and his niece, and she was very happy to do that, writing out the card herself instantly.
‘Dear Aunt,’ said Jane, after we had written for what seemed like hours, ‘pray allow Jenny and me to deliver some of those cards.’
I was on my feet as soon as she said that. I could guess what she felt. After the tension of that terrible day in Taunton we just wanted to get back to normal again and to run down the hill streets of Bath and laugh and joke as usual.
‘Why didn’t you ask Newton Wallop?’ I said to Jane as we walked through Queen’s Square, neatly avoiding Phylly, whom we spotted on her way up to St Swithin’s church. I was reminded of Newton because I could see him in the distance, coming up Barton Street.
Jane Austen Stole My Boyfriend Page 18