What his father would make of his presence, he could not imagine, nor did he attempt to do so, but Thursday morning found him at Launceston Castle in the ancient county capital, where Dukes of Cornwall still came to receive their feudal dues, and where assize courts had been held since the twelfth century.
There was a great deal of traffic since Thursday was a market day, but he was able without much difficulty to pass through the town gate of the castle and drive his curricle straight inside, past the jail and onto the castle green, where the Assize Court building was located. Court was already in session when he entered, but although Sea-court was seated near the front, he saw no sign of the ladies or St. Merryn before he found a place in the second row. Jervaulx, the sole magistrate, was seated behind the high bench, and looked sharply at him for a brief instant before returning his attention to the case at hand.
Once Lady Ophelia’s carriage had passed the Launceston sheep market and made its way down the hill, Daintry could see the ancient south gate of the castle ahead.
“There it is, ma’am.”
“Yes,” Lady Ophelia said. “We will go round to the north gate and right in, too, for I’ve no mind to present myself or you gels to the populace at large as a spectacle. I do wish your father had seen fit to accompany us, or even your brother.”
Susan had been silent, as usual, but at these words she murmured, “Papa is so angry with me. ’Tis a pity Melissa cried so when we wanted her to stay with Annie, and insisted upon going to stay with Charlotte, or we need not have seen him today.”
Daintry said pacifically, “He agreed to allow Melissa to stay at Tuscombe Park until this business is settled, which must mean he expects Jervaulx to decide in your favor, love, so cheer up. We will have Deverill on our side, at all events, and Aunt Ophelia has arranged for Sir Lionel Werring to plead your case. Sir Lionel is most eloquent, is he not, ma’am?”
“He’d better be,” Lady Ophelia said grimly.
Susan fell silent again, and when they rolled through the castle gate, Daintry realized they were passing a prison. The sight of a man in chains being led inside by a burly jailer reminded her of how casually she had said she would go to prison rather than give Susan up. The thought made her feel sick now.
The huge round tower of the castle rose up on her left, and ahead on the castle green she saw the Assize Court building. The carriage rolled to a stop, and the footman riding behind leapt down to open the door and let down the steps. Daintry got out first, accepting the footman’s hand when she realized her knees were weak. There were people standing around, but she did not see anyone she knew. For some reason, she had expected to see Deverill, but she told herself now that he must have expected St. Merryn to accompany them and had decided it would not be tactful to make his presence known at once.
Her father had flatly refused to come. In fact, he had agreed to allow Melissa to remain at the house only when Lady Ophelia had pointed out that the child would not be allowed in the courtroom and could scarcely be left in the carriage. “Only think what people would say about a man who forced his innocent little granddaughter to sit outside a courthouse in plain view of all the riffraff, only because he was too puffed up in his own conceit to look after her properly himself,” she had said.
Though he had given in on Melissa’s account, nothing they had said would induce him to accompany them to Launceston. “Susan’s made her bed and must lie in it,” he said flatly. “It is no doing of mine, and I’ll be damned before I’ll set foot in Jervaulx’s court and let him smirk at my misfortunes.”
When Daintry had pointed out to him that it was Susan’s misfortune and Susan’s future that was at stake, he snarled, “Stuff and nonsense. All Susan has to do is to obey her husband, and she will get on perfectly well with him.”
“And what about Lady Catherine Chauncey?” Daintry demanded. “Is Susan expected to get on well with her, too?”
“More stuff and nonsense. If Seacourt’s taken a mistress, it is plain that Susan has not been a good wife to him. She must strive to do better, and that’s all there is about it.”
“She is not going to go back to him, Papa.”
“Of course she is. Jervaulx will order her back simply because a wife belongs with her husband.”
Remembering those words now as she entered the courtroom with her great-aunt and her sister, Daintry prayed he would be proved wrong. Looking swiftly around, she saw that there were few women present, and not one to whom she would wish to be seen speaking. At first she did not see Seacourt or Deverill, but then, as if drawn, she found herself looking at a head of dark auburn hair set above a pair of broad shoulders. Deverill shifted in his seat and turned, his gaze locking with hers. He did not smile, but so certain was she that his intent was to protect her sister that she smiled at him to show him she was grateful for the support of his presence. She had never expected to look to any man for protection, but she had to admit now that it was rather pleasant to be able to do so.
She glanced at Lady Ophelia and Susan, but the former was searching the crowded room for her solicitor, and Susan, white-faced, was staring at the floor and trembling.
Sir Lionel, a small, wiry gentleman dressed with quiet good taste, approached them, nodded at Lady Ophelia, touched Susan’s arm, and said in low but carrying tones, “This way, Lady Susan. I’ve seats for you near the front so you will not have to walk the full length of this place when your name is called.”
“Are you quite prepared for this business, Lionel?” Lady Ophelia demanded over the rumble of noise around them.
“As prepared as possible, Ophelia, but as I warned you—”
“Yes, yes, I know. Just do your best. No one can expect you to do more than that.”
Daintry looked at her aunt in dismay. “Does he think Susan cannot win, ma’am?”
“Take your seat, my dear.”
Sir Lionel indicated space on one of the polished oak benches near the front, and Daintry, realizing that they had begun to draw attention, quickly took her seat. She could see Deverill ahead of her, at the end of the next row, and taking comfort from his nearness, turned her attention to his father.
The marquess, though harsh of countenance, much thinner, and nearing his sixtieth year, looked a good deal like his son, she thought. He was seated high above everyone else in the court, wearing the black robes and a full-bottomed powdered wig of a magistrate, and he had noted their presence, for Susan’s case was soon called. Daintry had no notion what to expect, but when Sir Lionel began to explain that Lady Susan sought permission from the court to live apart from her husband, she saw Susan begin to tremble more than ever, and prayed hard that the solicitor would be eloquent indeed. He was not a barrister, after all, but Lady Ophelia had assured them that merely to present their position with regard to the habeas corpus did not require one, and that to engage one would serve only to annoy the magistrate.
Sir Lionel began persuasively enough by explaining that he spoke on behalf of an innocent woman who had been grossly mistreated by the very man sworn to protect and cherish her. But that was as far as he got with his rehearsed periods.
“One moment, Sir Lionel,” Jervaulx said suddenly. Daintry noted that his voice was low like Deverill’s but contained more of a growl. The sound was not comforting. “The man you speak of is Lady Susan’s husband, is he not?”
“He is, my lord.”
“Then one fails to comprehend your point, sir. The law of England attributes general dominion of a husband over his wife, so she must always be better off in his custody than elsewhere, regardless of how he treats her. By entering into marriage, she consents to submit to his will, so he may keep her by force and he may beat her—within reason, one hopes—if she disobeys him. In any event, the law disapproves of separation, since a much greater amount of happiness is produced in the married state when the union is known to be indissoluble than could be enjoyed if the tie were less firm. Lady Susan must return to her husband.”
“No!” Dain
try was on her feet, crying out the word before she had any notion that she was about to do such a thing, but even the chorus of gasps from the courtroom audience was not enough to silence her. “You cannot send her back to him! It would be too cruel!”
Jervaulx’s cold gaze came to rest upon her, and although she was conscious of a sudden movement ahead and to the right of her, she could not look away. The magistrate’s thin lips tightened, and for a moment she had an awful premonition that he was going to cry, “Off with her head!” Licking suddenly dry lips, she waited for summary execution. The courtroom was deathly silent.
“Who, pray, are you?”
“Daintry Tarrant, sir. Lady Susan is my sister.”
“Is that so? Then perhaps you may be forgiven for your unseemly outburst. Reasonable persons will attribute it to a female’s natural inability to control her sensibilities.”
“My sensibilities have nothing to do with it, my lord. You have not even heard her case.”
“She has no case.”
“If she were a man who had been assaulted—”
“She is not a man. She is a wife. And according to the laws of England, a wife has no civil status at the bar—”
“Then the law is unfair to women!”
“Daintry, sit down,” Lady Ophelia hissed.
Daintry ignored her, but Lady Ophelia’s words had clearly carried to the high bench, for Jervaulx glanced at her. His gaze flickered toward his son, then came to rest again upon Daintry. “This discussion had better be continued in the magistrates’ chamber. Sir Lionel, bring your party. Sir Geoffrey, you come along too, of course.” Jervaulx got to his feet and, robes swirling, descended from the high bench to make his exit, barely pausing long enough for a minion to snatch open the chamber door.
Daintry stood in shock, wondering what on earth she had done. She saw Susan move ahead with Sir Lionel and felt her aunt tug her sleeve but could not seem to move. Then a firm hand grasped her other arm, and she looked up to see Deverill, looking more like the stern-faced marquess than she had thought possible.
“Come on,” he said. “He does not like to be kept waiting.”
“You will come, too, won’t you? What will he do?”
“He won’t eat you.” His tone was brusque.
“It is not myself I’m worried about. You must make him listen to all the horrid things Geoffrey has done to Susan!”
Giving her a little push toward the others, Deverill escorted her past the fascinated onlookers to the door through which Jervaulx had disappeared. It led into a medium-sized chamber used generally for robing, but there was a large desk at one end near a window, and Jervaulx had seated himself behind it. He indicated chairs for Lady Ophelia and Susan.
“There seems, unfortunately, to be an insufficient number of chairs for everyone, but the gentlemen will not mind standing. Step forward, Lady Daintry, and perhaps these matters can be made plain to you. No, no, Sir Lionel,” he added when the solicitor stepped forward with her. “You are an excellent advocate, but she has no need of you just now.” To Daintry’s surprise, his tone was nearly benevolent.
“I should not have shrieked out at you like I did, sir,” she said, aware that although Sir Lionel had stepped away Deverill was still behind her. Grateful for his presence, she took a deep breath, adding, “I do apologize if I behaved badly.”
“You did, and to no good purpose.”
“But the law is unfair.”
“My dear young woman, so great a favorite is the female to the laws of England that a good many of them are specifically intended to protect and benefit her. By marriage she becomes one person in law with her husband. That is to say, her very being, her legal existence, is consolidated with his, and she is perceived to act at all times under his command and protection.”
“Protection,” Daintry said scornfully, “is not what my sister has received at the hands of her husband, sir.”
“Consider the many advantages granted a woman,” Jervaulx said as if she had not spoken. “She does not lose her rank on marriage, a privilege of which Lady Susan has taken advantage. She is allowed to testify on her own behalf if she is raped, and she cannot be imprisoned for debt. She is not even obliged to pay her debts. Her husband must pay them. He is obliged to support her as long as she shares his bed and board, and he is answerable for her actions. In fact, since she is presumed to act under his command and control, she is excused punishment for offenses committed in his presence unless it can be proved that she did not act under his influence.”
“But none of that applies to Susan. She has committed no wrong. She does not even have any debts. What she has got is a great many bruises!”
Patiently, Jervaulx said, “But you see, a husband has a vested interest in keeping his wife under his control and out of mischief. Not only is he responsible for her actions but—you will forgive some plain-speaking here—England is the one country in all the world which gives a woman an extraordinary opportunity to palm off a bastard child on her husband. If an Englishman cannot prove his wife’s adultery, any child she has is assumed, under law, to be his full responsibility, however improbable the circumstances of that child’s birth.”
Seacourt snapped, “That’s right, by God.”
Jervaulx shifted his chilly gaze. “As to you, sir, pray recall that, under law, a husband can be punished if he mistreats his wife in ways not acceptable to the community. No one questions his right to chastise her, but he must not go too far.”
Seacourt looked directly at Susan and said, “The community will hear no complaints from my wife, my lord.”
“Excellent,” Jervaulx said, beginning to rise.
Desperately, Daintry cried, “Please, my lord—”
“No, Lady Daintry,” Jervaulx said sternly. “There is no more to be said. Extraordinary measures have been allowed today, because of the history existing between the Tarrant and Deverill families. You were not to suppose that your sister could not receive justice from this court. But now that the matter has been fully explained to you, there are other cases that must be heard without further delay.” He got to his feet, nodded at the others, and swept from the room.
Daintry, turning to watch him leave, found herself face to face with Deverill, and all the rage she had had to suppress boiled over in that instant. “You betrayed us,” she snapped. “We depended on you to help, and you did not speak one word in Susan’s defense. It is just as I’d feared, and you are no better than any other man. In fact, you are worse, for you led me to suspect that you had a heart, Deverill, and you have none!”
“It is not a matter of heart,” he retorted, “but a matter of law. You heard him.” He shot a glance at Susan, still sitting by Lady Ophelia but staring at Sir Geoffrey with much the same look on her face as a rabbit mesmerized by the approach of a fox.
Daintry’s glance followed Deverill’s, and impulsively she stepped in front of Seacourt. “If you dare to hurt Susan again, Geoffrey, so help me, I will see that you pay dearly.”
Seacourt smiled, but the expression was not pleasant. “So fierce, little sister-in-law, but you have no power to stop me, you know, and nor does Deverill.” He shot a triumphant look at the latter. “Whether or not there is truth in the accusations against him, Susan has not behaved well at all and deserves to be punished. Come along, my dear,” he added, pushing Daintry out of the way and holding out a commanding hand to his wife.
Still with that mesmerized look on her face, Susan stood up. Her cheeks were pale, her lips parted, her eyes wide with fear.
Lady Ophelia stood up too, briskly shaking out her skirts. She said, “See here, young man, you may have won this skirmish, but the war is far from over, and it would behoove you just now, I think, to recall the source of your wife’s expectations.”
Sir Geoffrey looked sharply at her.
Lady Ophelia’s smile was grim. “Ah, yes, that has brought you up short, has it not? You have always gone out of your way to be charming to me before, but you have seriousl
y blotted your copybook now, and I should like to make you aware of a thing or two. First and foremost is the fact that Susan’s inheritance is merely a matter of my will, which can easily be altered. At present, she is co-heiress with Daintry, but it might be more sensible to put her share in trust for Melissa instead. And lest you think that would make no difference to your control, sir, let me make it plain to you that Sir Lionel here will arrange the whole business for me, not through the common court, but through a Court of Chancery, where it can be arranged so that you will have no access to the money. I should be reluctant to humiliate you so, since at Susan’s own request I did not arrange it that way from the outset, and the news would get round quickly, but if you antagonize me, do not think for a moment that I will not.”
Seacourt’s cheeks were red, and his outstretched hand had fallen to his side. He said in a tightly controlled voice, “You misjudge me, ma’am, but I cannot blame you, knowing how much inclined you are always to support the members of your own sex against mine. Indeed, that part of your character is what I have most admired in you. But in this instance, I believe you have carried it too far. I love my wife, not her expectations, so you may do as you please with your money. I own, I behaved more like a beast than a lover when I thought Susan had been involved in a clandestine affair with such an acknowledged rake as Deverill.”
Lady Ophelia’s glance shifted abruptly to Deverill, but Sir Geoffrey did not pause long enough for her to speak.
“Perhaps no one chose to mention it to you, ma’am, but Susan received two letters accusing her of misconduct with him. I let the first pass, accepting her assurance that there was no truth in it, but we had all been guests at a large house party where, as you know, any number of things might have happened of which I was unaware, and thus, the second letter was more than I could bear. I lost my temper, and if I was rougher than I’d meant to be, I doubt I did more than any angry husband would. It was no cause for Susan to run away, and surely none to complain to you of abusive treatment. I give you my word, I have never been so cruel to her before. Have I, Susan?” he added, looking directly at his wife. “Come now, it is time for the truth, my dear.”
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