Creswell had not, but there was not much more he could do. He asked more detailed questions about Archer’s movements that evening, and to each one, Archer replied that Silas was with him. Discussing the new charity, he said, dining, then playing games. It was domesticity mixed with business and rather vague, James thought, and not exactly true, but not exactly not. It slowly dawned that although Creswell had set Archer up as the gentleman he was and had made it clear that his manners, actions and behaviour in society were beyond reproach, there was little Archer could give as Silas’ alibi except to say that he had one.
Matthews saw through this too and, after another objection, Creswell was accused of wasting court time and told he should finish with his witness.
Before the hearing, James told him to string his questions out as long as possible and make sure the alibi was weak but reasonable, and not foolproof, but convincing. This was to give the prosecution as much ammunition as possible for the cross-examination. Creswell was against the tactic at first, but James explained Archer’s character and his resolve to staunchly protect the vulnerable, and Creswell listened intently to the footman’s reasoning.
Together, they concluded Archer would not only stand up to cross-examination but was more than capable of turning the prosecution’s case on its head.
James had talked Archer through his strategy while on the train, and they worked until the plan had no flaws. Archer had to act up a little, he might have to bend the truth somewhat, and he was to deflect questions about Silas’ character. James had read many court cases in his Police Illustrated and was convinced this one was simply word against word. The credibility of a viscount would outweigh that of a local vicar, especially as Reverend Stony felt unable to present himself in court.
After a closing statement from Archer which praised Silas’ character, Creswell declared he had no further questions, and Archer was handed over to the prosecution.
‘Are you a sodomite?’ was his first question, and it brought gasps from the public and much scribbling from the journalists.
Creswell was on his feet before he had even sat down, but his objection was overruled.
‘Well, Lord Clearwater? Will you answer?’
Silas’ fingers were tapping; he didn’t want Archer to answer. Unfortunately, the viscount was obliged to reply.
‘I find the question beneath you, Sir,’ he said. ‘Try something else.’
‘Very well. Are you in the habit of sleeping with other men?’
‘I have only one habit,’ Archer said. ‘And that is honesty.’
Matthews was not going to let him get away with it. ‘Then tell me honestly, Sir, have you ever had carnal knowledge of another man?’
‘Radnor, wasn’t it?’ Archer replied, holding the man’s stern gaze with one as evenly matched.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Radnor,’ Archer repeated. ‘Your boarding school. I may be incorrect as I was unable to find an entry for you in Debrett’s, nor indeed, even in Who’s Who, but I was under the impression that you were schooled at Radnor.’ Addressing the judge, he said, ‘You may not have heard of it, Your Honour. It is not one of the Golden Five.’
James didn’t know what that meant, but Galloways did. ‘Move on,’ he told Matthews. ‘I find the question uncomfortable.’
Briefly flustered, Matthews referred to his notes. ‘You were aware of the nature of Mr Hawkins’ business before you employed him, I take it?’
‘I was.’
‘And what was the nature of that business?’
‘Charity, Sir.’
‘Charity!’ Matthews drew the word out with mock surprise. ‘Did he not charge for his obscene behaviour?’ Again, he expected a laugh, but the women fanned themselves in embarrassment while several of the men coughed uncomfortably.
‘That, I wouldn’t know,’ Archer replied coolly. ‘Knowing the man as I do, I would say he is generous enough of heart to give his last crust to those in need.’
‘He was a prostitute, Sir!’ Matthews thundered. ‘A fact of which you were well aware.’
‘Objection!’
‘Oh, sit down Mr Creswell. I can deal with this.’
The public laughed. It was Archer who had said it.
‘I am inclined to advise you to take your witness’ advice,’ Galloways said. ‘Let him dig his own grave. Proceed, Mr Matthews.’
‘Objection.’ Creswell was on his feet again.
It was part of the act.
‘Overruled. Continue.’
‘Well?’ Matthews was waiting for an answer.
‘I have yet to hear a question,’ Archer replied. ‘You have told me Mr Hawkins was a prostitute, and, to be frank, Sir, I am surprised you say it with such confidence. For my part, I have never seen him employed as one, and can only assume with suspicion, that you have. You seem very assured of your slanderous accusation.’
Not only did the court laugh, but someone clapped, and the judge looked decidedly unnerved.
‘Then let me put it this way,’ Matthews said, unmoved. ‘Were you aware that Mr Hawkins prostituted himself on the streets of Greychurch?’
‘May I ask how you come by such an accusation?’ Archer asked, still calm, still assured.
‘Have you not read the affidavit of the plaintiff?’ Matthews shot back.
‘No. Is that the title of a novel?’
‘Lord Clearwater,’ Matthews snapped. ‘You are being deliberately obstructive.’
‘And you, Sir, are accusing my secretary of illegalities in front of several witnesses, some of whom know something of the laws of slander I dare say. I cannot answer a question without knowing that it has foundation.’
‘I am well aware of the laws concerning slander, Sir,’ the prosecution replied, trying to ignore his assistants who were frantically flicking through thick tomes, presumably to have such laws ready should they be required. ‘But I find your attitude obtuse. Were you aware that Mr Hawkins was a male prostitute? And I will have an answer.’
Archer glanced across the courtroom to James, who fixed a smile to his face and spread his little fingers, in the pre-arranged signal. Archer lowered his head and examined his nails briefly before looking up, showing that he had understood.
‘I am aware that some men are driven to such things in order to keep life and limb together,’ he said. ‘It is appalling that our great country should have brought some of its citizens to such lows, and I am sure any man educated with you would agree with me.’ He again addressed the judge. ‘Radnor is very liberal,’ he explained. Back to Matthews, he said, ‘This is why The Clearwater Foundation was envisaged by The Lady Marshall, Lord Ribble, Earl Romney and myself.’ The names were entered into notebooks, and at least four of the jurors were impressed. ‘Charity is what must lead when the government and the law fail.’
‘Yes,’ Matthews referred to his notes. ‘”The Cheap Street Mission”,’ he read the name with scorn. ‘What is that? Some kind of legalised brothel?’
‘You’re the man of the law,’ Archer said. ‘Perhaps you should tell me. When released, I will have my secretary bring by the Articles of Inauguration, the Mission Statement, the Church Charity Commission’s report and the property lease we have with Doctor Barnardo’s if it would please you. I can arrange for the superintendent, Doctor Markland, to give you a guided tour. Why, I am sure our chairman, Lady Marshall herself, would be happy to educate you on our success.’
James had to admit he was lost, but then so was the prosecution, and that was what he wanted.
‘I would have thought,’ Archer continued before the flustered barrister had time to interject, ‘that were it a brothel, it would have achieved the same notoriety as others.’
Matthews didn’t seem to notice that Archer had avoided his original question and he tried another t
ack.
‘Oh, so you admit that you know about such places?’
‘Why yes,’ Archer replied as though innocently surprised. ‘Only the other day I was in conversation with a man who admitted having visited one not far from here in Cleaver Street.’ He turned to Galloways with the same innocence but more pointedness. ‘Number nineteen, I believe, Your Honour, should that be of interest to Inspector Adelaide and his hounds.’
Galloway’s elbow sipped from the desk, and his papers fell to the floor. He reached to collect them, and when he resurfaced, his face was flushed as red as his robes and just as crumpled.
‘Have you visited one?’ Matthews was not giving up, but he was straying from his path.
‘No. Why? Have you?’
‘Your Honour!’ The barrister appealed to Galloways with outrage. ‘Would you remind the witness that it is not I who is on trial?’
‘Nor is it me, Sir,’ Archer thundered back. ‘Yet here I am under public scrutiny. I can say with all assuredness that, unlike nineteen Cleaver Street…’ He made sure the journalists had written the address before continuing. ‘The Clearwater Foundation is regulated and inspected, and anyone in this room is welcome to visit and see what goes on.’
‘As they are at any brothel,’ Matthews bellowed.
After a moment’s silence and a look of surprise, Archer turned to Galloways and said, ‘I wouldn’t know,’ as if Matthews used them all the time.
James repressed a smile. It was going exactly as he hoped. Firing Cleaver Street across Galloway’s bows was meant to be a single, heavy warning, but Matthews had allowed him to get off a volley.
Matthews, having recovered from Archer’s attack, decided he was not going to be able to discredit the viscount as a character witness and returned to a more specific matter. ‘The night of October eleventh,’ he said, suddenly unflustered and focused. ‘You claim you were with Mr Hawkins at your home.’
‘I was.’
‘But anyone else who can verify this is conveniently unavailable.’
‘As conveniently unavailable as those who say I was not,’ Archer countered.
It was true. The prosecution had produced no-one to stand before the court and swear they saw Silas that night. They couldn’t.
Grinning, Matthews held up several sheets of paper. ‘This, Sir, is the sworn affidavit of the Reverend Stony.’ He passed it forward to a clerk who handed it to the judge.
Galloways took it, uninterested; he had probably helped write it. Another copy was offered to Creswell who said, ‘I’ve read it,’ and waved it away. ‘It’s dull. Show it to him.’
Another part of the plan fell into place as Archer was handed the document.
‘As you will see, Lord Clearwater,’ Matthews continued, his grin broader. ‘This man of the cloth has identified the accused as the man he saw — begging M’lud’s pardon — committing the act of buggery. That, Sir, is all the testimony the Crown needs.’
Archer held the paper at arm’s length. Silas was right, he did need spectacles.
‘And where is the other?’ the viscount asked. ‘The other party in this act? I see we have a Reverend Stony watching for several hours as an apparently addicted voyeur, and Mr Hawkins allegedly involved, but surely Sir, as a man schooled at Radnor, you must know as well as anyone that buggery takes two.’
The court burst into laughter, causing Galloways to shout, ‘Order!’ several times while banging his gavel.
‘The witness will refrain from besmirching the good name of that institution,’ he roared.
‘My apologies,’ Archer replied with deference. ‘I attended Millfield where besmirching the opposition was part of the curriculum.’
‘Just answer the questions,’ Galloways ordered.
‘Oh,’ Archer ignored him and indicated the bottom of the affidavit. ‘This is interesting.’
‘Clearwater, I shall have you up for contempt.’
‘I don’t doubt it, Your Worship, but surely this is of interest to all.’
‘What is?’ Galloways had his head in his hands.
‘Did you observe, Mr Matthews, the interesting fact of the plaintiff’s signature.’
‘What does his signature have to do with anything?’
‘Only that it might give us a clue as to the second party,’ Archer said.’ He held the paper to the jury. ‘He has signed it, Rev Dan Stony. Most unusual.’
‘Not at all,’ Matthews said.
‘Perhaps not,’ Archer said, turning directly to Galloways. ‘But it happens to use the same letters as the man who, I was told, owns that house of ill repute in Cleaver Street. One Tony Danvers. Perhaps they are one and the same man? Or perhaps Inspector Adelaide would like to make enquiries along such lines?’
Like the journalists, Inspector Adelaide was extremely interested in the coincidence.
‘It was just a thought.’ Archer smiled innocently.
There was no way that Galloways couldn’t know that was a direct threat. Archer had made it plain that he knew of the judge’s involvement, he knew the place, who ran it and who used it.
Before the judge had time to overcome his panic, Matthews threw up his arms and appealed.
‘M’lud,’ he said. ‘Should we continue in the customary manner, I fear we will achieve nothing with this witness, nor, possibly with this case. May it please the court that in the absence of a corroborating witness from either side, it be left to you to decide the weight of evidence?’
It took James a moment to process the sentence but when it fell into place he realised with horror that his plan had backfired. Instead of frightening Galloways into dismissing the case for fear of exposure, the prosecution had just asked the judge at the centre of the conspiracy to decide which side would win. Archer’s face fell, Creswell looked up from his papers, and Silas closed his eyes.
‘There is precedent,’ the judge said, the only man in the court with a smile. ‘Mr Creswell, unless you produce a reputable alibi for your client, I feel inclined to dismiss the jury and find for the prosecution simply on a matter of word against word. Mr Matthews, the court would appreciate your bringing this cross-examination to a conclusion, so I may rule in this matter.’
‘Your Worship!’ Creswell was on his feet, struggling to control his outrage. ‘I object. It is for the jury to…’
‘You may not object,’ Galloways roared back. ‘You are making a mockery of my courtroom, Sir, and in that, I find no respect. Overruled. The prosecution will continue.’
‘I am obliged.’ Matthews bowed obsequiously.
James wanted to shout that he was obliged to tell the truth, but he bit his tongue, his heart pounding. Silas was looking at Archer as if this was the last time he would ever see his face.
‘We come to the heart of the matter,’ the prosecution said, the gravity of his voice bringing a hush to the room. ‘I will remind Lord Clearwater that he is under oath and that perjury is a crime. I would expect, from a man in your position, Sir, nothing but the truth as you have sworn before God to tell.’ He took a breath, and sighed as if he didn’t want to ask the next question. ‘You will see from the affidavit that the Reverend Stony attests he was aware of your whereabouts on that evening and it was not, as you say, at Clearwater House. Is that true?’
A gasp from the public, raised eyebrows from the jury, but not a word from Archer.
‘It may help refresh your memory,’ Matthews continued, ‘if I tell you that it was the night of a fire at Limehouse docks and only two nights after the double Ripper murders. I believe you were, in fact, researching your Mission in Greychurch that evening, correct?’
Archer glared at him open-mouthed. Whether the affidavit had been sworn by Danvers or Tripp, it didn’t matter. Tripp knew where Archer was, he had found out or guessed, but he knew for sure that eventually, t
he viscount would be compelled to tell the truth. Archer had avoided some questions and some he had answered honestly, but there was no way out of this one.
Silas held him with a stare of resignation, his little fingers were separating and joining slowly. He understood what was going to happen, and was telling Archer to think of himself and his reputation.
If the viscount told the truth, they were all damned. If he lied, he was in contempt and equally as done for. Either way, Silas would be sent down. Despite James’ quick thinking, Creswell’s knowledge and Archer’s bravado, they had lost the game.
He was vaguely aware of someone shifting beside him, but he paid them no attention. The public was leaning in and they understood the seriousness of the viscount’s response. The reporters had their pencils poised. Galloways was grinning unashamedly.
‘I shall ask you one last time, Sir,’ Matthews said, impatient at Archer’s silence. ‘On the night of October eleventh…’
He broke off, annoyed at an interruption brought by a clerk. The man sidled through the benches heading towards Creswell with a slip of paper.
The man beside James was fidgeting annoyingly, and James shoved him with his shoulder.
‘Do you mind?’ he hissed, turning to give the nuisance a piece of his mind. ‘There are other places to…’
The emerald green eyes, the dark auburn hair, and those attractive little freckles… With a finger to his soft lips that smiled knowingly, Thomas draped his overcoat across their legs and felt for James’ hand. Their fingers entwined as Thomas silently pointed to the courtroom floor.
Matthews continued. ‘On the night of October eleventh,’ he said, his voice sonorous and grand, ‘between the hours of eight and midnight, were you at Clearwater House or were you in fact, in the Limehouse district of Greychurch?’
Archer’s fingers were replying to Silas, up and down. The viscount was not going to let Silas go down alone, he was going to tell the truth. He opened his mouth…
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