“Why?”
“The lady had little respect for those she viewed as subservient. Lord Windmere accorded Miss Carlyle a liberal degree of autonomy that Lady Windmere disliked.”
“How did Miss Carlyle come to live at Rosalie?”
Here we go, thought Rachel. Never, no matter how deeply provoked, would Hastings lie under oath.
“She was a companion to Miss Sheppard, who is my guest.”
“I’m told you’re a relative of Miss Sheppard. Specifically, how are you related?”
His blue eyes met Rachel’s for several seconds, and they seemed to glisten.
“Mr. Hastings,” Thomas pressed, “please answer the question.”
“Rachel is my granddaughter.”
A shiver stole over Rachel. Hastings’ principled honesty left no room for doubt. But … how could it be? He must mean it in a general way. Still, it undoubtedly meant he was her ancestor. Thomas went on, giving her no time to dwell on it.
“Were there other exchanges with the lady?”
“I avoided her, sir. Each time I met her, it was an unpleasant episode.”
“But would you characterize your personal relationship with the lady as cordial?”
Hastings examined his hands as they lay on the rail. Finally he looked up at Thomas. “I detested her. When she woke up each day, Lucifer rejoiced for the suffering and anguish she wrought on decent people.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hastings.”
The governor glanced at Randolph. “I’ve no questions, excellency.”
Hastings returned to his seat.
Thomas said, “I call Donovan Stuart, marquis of Dunraven.”
Girlish whispers and a giggle or two passed around the room as Donovan Stuart moved forward. He glanced at Grey as he went by, but his gaze was grave. He was sworn in.
“Lord Dunraven, what’s your occupation?”
“I’m a lawyer here in Williamsburg.”
“What’s your relationship to the accused?”
“We once were the best of friends.”
“And now?”
“I still have high regard for Grey, but I’m afraid I haven’t proven worthy of his.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Twice in the last seven years, I had a liaison with his wife. When they were first married, and during a brief visit she made to Williamsburg four years ago.”
Thomas glanced at Grey, but his face was expressionless.
“There’s been much conjecture today about the character of Letitia Trelawney. You admit, apparently without qualm, to an adulterous affair with her.”
“Affairs are of little enjoyment when qualms are attached,” Donovan said with a faint smile.
Rachel saw the slight quirk at Grey’s mouth, and she was grateful for the respite Donovan provided.
“And did you continue this affair when she arrived here most recently?”
“No, sir. She indicated an interest, and I declined.”
“What do you know of Lady Windmere’s arrival here? She hadn’t visited in several years, had she?”
“While on a recent trip to Philadelphia, I met an associate from London. He told me then that Letitia had left London in disgrace.”
“Disgrace?
“Her careless affairs were the talk of the ton.”
A single loud chuckle came from the gallery of justices. The man next to the merry justice cast a withering glance from his colleague to Donovan, and Donovan sobered.
“My apologies,” he said, then went on. “She approached me when she arrived because she sought a discreet liaison.”
“Did she say why?”
“Yes. She said Grey had no sense of adventure.”
“Sense of adventure? Did she make it clear what that meant?”
“Men of my profession don’t play at conjecture, sir. She told me plainly that he had no interest in the games she enjoyed.”
“Describe, in as much detail as you’re comfortable with, the games to which she referred.”
Donovan folded his hands behind his back and glanced at the ceiling. “Four years ago, Letitia decorated a chamber at Rosalie that I doubt Grey even knows about. I visited the room several times.”
“Why would you conduct such behavior in the home of a man whose wife you were seducing?”
“’Twas the lady’s preference. The room held devices she was fond of, that I couldn’t readily replicate.”
“Devices?”
“Oh, dear.” Donovan hesitated, wet his lips, and plunged in. “Well. Whips and things. Handcuffs. Removable shackles. Some of them, I still don’t know their purpose. All handcrafted by a French jeweler to suit Lady Windmere’s taste—and her delicate frame, such as her wrists.”
“Shackles?” Thomas prompted, wanting more detail.
“Heavens, must we?” Even Donovan’s sensibilities had their limit.
“Please.”
“All right, yes, shackles. Letitia enjoyed—among other things—being bound to the bed while having sex.”
A chorus of astonishment captured the room.
“Mr. Trelawney!” the governor interrupted, “the personal peculiarities of Lady Windmere are not an issue we have interest in. There are ladies present.”
“I am aware of that, sir. Should you think it necessary to remove them, please do so. A man’s life is the issue here, and Lord Dunraven’s testimony is key to establishing the true cause of her death.”
The governor sighed. “Very well. Should anyone prefer to leave, we heartily encourage it at this time. The testimony contains objectionable material necessary to discern the truth.”
Many men rose to escort their wives to the door, promptly returning. Some women refused to leave, atwitter at the prospect of hearing Donovan Stuart describe his lovemaking. One couple began bickering and continued all the way out the door. Rachel saw the half-smile linger at Donovan’s lips.
“Did you think this was normal?” Thomas asked Donovan.
“Heavens, no. Letitia was beyond bizarre. In the end, she grew bored with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“She asked things of me that even I couldn’t provide. She required a sustained level of violence that no man who loves women as I do could satisfy. In addition, she told me of a diary she kept that contained the names of all the men she’d known … in the biblical sense, sir. She named several who are now in the colony. Most have wives of their own, and she knew she could count on their discretion. As a bachelor, I believe she told me their names to remind me that my name, too, was in that book, and as easily mentioned to others. Even four years ago, she feared exactly the sort of disgrace that she ended up suffering in London.”
“Then she broke off your affair back then?”
“No, I did.” He smiled. “I was afraid that someone would get hurt, and that it might be me.”
“Did Lady Windmere ever … leave bruises on you?”
“Routinely, sir. Blood was sometimes drawn, though she oftener reserved that for the bondservants. That was another thing I disliked about her. She abused her servants terribly.” Sobering, he said, “Virginia gentlemen avoid speaking plainly when it comes to their womenfolk, and I regret the lady’s passing. But let me say this. Letitia Trelawney was a prurient, savage woman, and I believe she was killed at the hand of a man who liked the violence too well. I know this. Any number of men in this town—any number of men in this courtroom, for that matter—could have killed the lady. Except her husband.”
“Why do you say that?”
Donovan stared silently at Grey for several moments. “I know—more than any man in this room today—that Grey would never commit murder, as has been suggested, in a jealous rage, over an unfaithful wife.”
“Why?” Thomas pressed.
“Because, were he so inclined, he would’ve committed murder years ago. On the contrary, he made the honorable choice.” Donovan’s gaze returned to Grey, and his expression was sober. “And now, he is blessed with a charm
ing daughter he rightly adores. He has everything to live for. Moreover, Grey visited me just before he left for Richmond.”
“Why?”
“His purpose was twofold. He desired to change his will, to provide for the manumission of his bondsmen, on his death. He also made other changes, but they have no bearing on this trial. And he desired to petition for a divorce. I warned Grey that it would take a great deal of time and money.”
“And his response was?”
“Let me get it right. He said, ‘For seven years I’ve endured hell. I’ll enjoy seven years of looking forward to heaven.’ And might I add, sir, with all due respect to the attorney general, that this farcical testimony … well, I can’t quite follow the storyline. Is Grey presumed to have killed his wife so he might have someone else, or to keep everyone else from having his wife?”
Laughter skittered through the room. Donovan knew he’d gone beyond the line of questioning, and he gave a placating nod to the governor. “I’m sorry, excellency, but it’s important to the truth of this trial. Grey is an intelligent man. Why would he commit such a stupid crime, with all the so-called evidence pointing clumsily in his direction?”
Thomas nodded. “Thank you, Lord Dunraven.”
Governor Gooch glanced at Peyton Randolph. “Mr. Randolph?”
“No questions, your excellency.”
Thomas said, “I call Miss Rachel Sheppard to the stand.”
Rachel took a deep breath and went forward.
“Miss Sheppard, what is your relationship to the accused?”
She looked at Grey. How did one sum up a lifetime of need and but a moment of fulfillment? “I am his friend.”
“Are you in love with him?”
Aghast that Thomas would ask such a thing in this context, she reluctantly nodded. “Yes.”
A loud hubbub crossed the room.
“Yet you knew he was a married man?”
“I did not know at first. He assumed I did. By the time I knew the truth, I already cared for him.”
“Did Grey Trelawney ever say or do anything to lead you to believe he might harm his wife?”
“No. He said he was honor bound to her.”
“Honor bound? Would his attention to honor have provoked him to dispatch his wife, freeing him to marry you?”
“No.” She was relieved to see at last where he was going. “A man so hesitant to seek a divorce, because of his honor, would never murder a woman. The night he was arrested, he had just asked me to be patient, because a divorce might take years.”
She glanced from the gallery of dignified justices to Grey. He stood with his hands behind his back, focused on her.
“In the last few months,” she went on, “I’ve come to understand there’s nothing more noble than a man with honor. And,” she said, her gaze resting on Manning, “nothing more despicable than a man without.”
Thomas asked, “How have you learned these things?”
“From Grey Trelawney.”
“Thank you, Miss Sheppard. Mr. Randolph?”
Peyton Randolph rose and approached Rachel, and she felt a sinking in her stomach. She was the only witness he’d chosen to cross-examine.
“Miss Sheppard.” He watched her as if she were a skittish cannon. “You speak a great deal of honor. Almost as if it were a foreign commodity in your homeland.”
Rachel was silent.
“Exactly where is your homeland?”
“My family comes from Virginia.”
He nodded. “How did you arrive in Williamsburg?
“I came to learn of the colonial capital.”
“I see. But why Rosalie?”
Now, her superficial truths grew woefully inadequate. “I had heard a lot about the Trelawneys, and I believe I came here to remember a painful part of my past. A past I’d chosen to forget.”
“Why would Rosalie serve such a purpose?”
“Because Grey Trelawney lives there. And in him, I saw a gentleness I’d not known since I was a child. In watching Grey’s tenderness with his daughter, I remembered the most joyous part of my life. And I learned that although there are painful parts of the past that we cannot change, there is a great deal of goodness and virtue there as well.”
She stopped as the realization seeped into her. As Malcolm had promised, she had found what the past—and her past—meant to her.
“And this honor you speak of—what has this to do with Lord Windmere’s guilt or innocence?”
She looked at Grey. “I hope that men of honor will see that he never could’ve killed his wife. And that he will be restored quickly to his daughter.”
Randolph bowed his head. “I’ve no further questions, your excellency.”
“Mr. Attorney General, I call Grey Trelawney to the stand.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Rachel’s heart beat rapidly as he was sworn in. “Grey, tell the court where you were on the night of June thirty.”
“I was in the countryside between here and Richmond, on my way home.”
“What was your business in Richmond?”
“I’d recently learned Miss Sheppard’s parents had been murdered, and I was attempting to discover who had done the crime.”
Rachel hung on the sound of his soft, quiet voice. How the knowledge pierced her.
“Were you at Rosalie on the night of June thirty?”
“No.”
“Did you bind your wife and cast her into the river?”
“No.”
“Grey, did you kill Letitia Trelawney?”
“No.”
“I’ve no further questions, your excellency.”
Peyton Randolph hesitated a long moment. At last, he rose and walked forward. “Grey, did it anger you to learn just now that your wife had an interest in Lord Dunraven?”
“It was not news. I knew they once were lovers. I assumed they would be again.”
“Would you characterize yourself as a jealous man?”
He hesitated only a moment. “As much as the next man.”
“If you learned that the woman you loved had been unfaithful, could you find yourself capable of murdering her?”
Grey’s gaze settled on Rachel, and his eyes searched hers for a long moment. He shook his head. “No, sir. Never.”
“Did you love your wife, Grey?”
Grey looked at the floor, then back at Randolph. “Ours was a marriage arranged by my grandmother, Philippa Harrington. And I had hoped to come to love her.”
“Yet you did not?”
“I learned her true nature on our wedding night. I pitied her. And I afforded her all the other comforts and protections a man offers his wife.”
Randolph folded his arms across his chest. “When did you leave Richmond?”
“June twenty-nine.”
“With whom did you travel?”
“I was alone.”
“When did you return to Williamsburg?”
“The first day of July. I had to stop first at Rosalie to find out whether Hastings had need of me. He had only just returned from a social event at Carter Burwell’s. I left for Williamsburg in the early afternoon.”
“Is there no one to testify to where you were in that time?”
“No, sir. Only an itinerant artist I met, and I’ve no idea how to find him.”
Randolph gave a weary sigh, and a lengthy silence passed. “Grey Trelawney, did you kill your wife?”
“No, I did not.”
“I’ve no further questions, your excellency.”
Grey was dismissed.
“Your excellency,” Thomas said, “we rest our defense.”
Randolph stood before the court, preparing to make his closing statement, when a hubbub began in the back of the room. An old man was shoving his way through the crowd.
“Excuse me, your excellency?”
Rachel blinked.
It was Malcolm, standing there before the governor.
The governor glared at Malcolm. “Do you have business wit
h this court, sir?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
Rachel glanced at Grey, surprised at the delight dawning in his eyes. How could he possibly know Malcolm?
Camisha watched Malcolm with suspicion.
“This is quite out of the ordinary,” Governor Gooch said.
“But I’ve testimony to offer, your honor—er, your grace. Your excellency.”
“Very well,” the governor said with a sigh. “Will someone swear this man in?”
Randolph gestured Malcolm forward, and they clustered around Grey and Thomas, speaking in hushed tones. The room had fallen so still you could hear the rustle of silken shirts in the gallery as the justices leaned forward, attempting to hear what was said.
Presently, Randolph spoke. “Your excellency, I call Malcolm Henderson to the stand.”
Malcolm was sworn in.
“Please state your occupation, sir.”
A merry smile played over his face. “Well … I do a little of this, and a little of that.”
Rachel anxiously pressed her fingertips against her lips. This was no time for him to go babbling about time-travel.
“Can you be more specific?”
“I suppose you could say I’m a good, old-fashioned Renaissance man.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Renaissance man. In reference to that era, of course.”
Randolph’s brow wrinkled. “We’re not familiar with that term, sir.”
“Well, of course you are! We’re well out of that period—” He stopped himself.
Craaaap, Rachel thought. He was off the rails already, using words that hadn’t come into usage yet.
The attorney was clearly at a loss, and a knot formed in Rachel’s stomach. She was beginning to think Grey might’ve been better off without Malcolm. It was like watching a car wreck in slow motion.
“My apologies, sir,” Malcolm put in. “Shall we say I’m a man of leisure, with various interests?”
Randolph seemed at a loss how to question the man, and he gestured with a touch of impatience toward Grey. “Are you acquainted with the defendant?”
“Indeed I am, sir. I met him a few days ago.”
“When was that?”
“When I was on my way to Richmond. He told me he was on his way back. And we made camp together.”
Tender (The Trelawneys of Williamsburg Time Travel Romance Book 1) Page 30