Without Sin

by Margaret Dickinson

  There was to be no honeymoon – Percy decreed that the shop could not be closed – so they returned home, ate a hasty breakfast and went together to the shop.

  About mid-afternoon, a stranger dressed in a black morning suit with a top hat and ebony cane entered the shop.

  ‘Mr Percy Rodwell?’ he enquired in a superior voice.

  ‘Yes, sir. What can I do for you?’ Percy hurried forward, almost rubbing his hands at the thought of the custom such a gentleman might bring to his shop.

  The man produced a long, brown envelope, which he held out towards Percy with an exaggerated flourish.

  ‘I am from the firm of Baggerley, Snape & Proust, solicitors, and I am requested by one of the partners, namely Mr Snape, to hand you this letter personally.’

  Percy blinked, glanced at the envelope and then at the man and then back to the envelope before stretching out trembling fingers to take it.

  ‘Good day to you, Mr Rodwell.’ Having accomplished his task, the man raised his hat and left the shop, leaving Percy holding the envelope as if it might burn him.

  ‘What is it?’ Meg asked, moving forward.

  ‘I – er – don’t know.’

  ‘Then hadn’t you better open it?’ she said practically. She slid her arm through his. ‘Perhaps some rich old aunt has died and left you a fortune. Have you got any rich old aunts?’

  Percy shook his head. ‘I – er – don’t think so.’ He was still staring at the envelope.

  ‘Go on, Percy. Open it. Do.’

  He pulled open the flap and took out a single sheet of headed paper. As he read the letter, the colour drained from his face. When he looked up, his eyes were shocked. ‘It’s Clara, Miss Finch. She . . . she’s suing me. For breach of promise.’

  Thirty

  ‘How can she?’ Meg demanded when the initial shock had worn off a little, though Percy was still trembling. ‘It was her who broke it off. I heard her myself threaten that, if you didn’t sack me, the engagement was at an end. You didn’t break it off, Percy. She did.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose so, but . . .’ His diffidence had returned. It seemed as if the very mention of Clara’s name robbed him of every scrap of self-confidence.

  ‘But what?’

  He shrugged and said flatly, ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What’re you going to do?’

  ‘See my solicitor, I suppose.’

  ‘It’s not one of them, is it? Snape and what’s ’is name?’

  Percy shook his head. ‘No, no. I go to a Mr Henderson the other side of the town. It’s the firm my father always used. I was going to see him anyway soon about changing my will, so I suppose—’

  ‘Go now, Percy. This minute. I can mind the shop.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that, Meg.’

  ‘It’s almost dinner time and we don’t get many customers between one and two. Go on, Percy.’

  ‘But he – Mr Henderson – might be at lunch too.’

  ‘Well, at least go to his office. If he’s not there, make an appointment for when he is.’

  ‘Yes, yes, you’re right, my dear. Of course you are. It was just – just—’

  ‘Just what?’

  He took her hand. ‘This is our wedding day and I planned to close the shop early so that we could go home. Have a nice long evening together . . .’

  He said no more, but she understood his meaning. Involuntarily, she shuddered and was mortified that Percy noticed.

  He touched her cheek. ‘Oh, my dear, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.’

  ‘I know that,’ she told him. It was the part of getting married to him that she’d tried to blot out of her mind. She would do her duty to her husband, she would submit to him, but not for her the joy of giving herself to the man she loved . . .

  Her mind shied away from what she knew she must endure later. Now she said, ‘Do go, Percy. The sooner you go, the sooner Mr Henderson will be able to put your mind at rest.’

  Mr Henderson was unable to put Percy’s mind at ease.

  ‘He thinks she has a case,’ Percy told Meg worriedly when he arrived back at the shop later in the afternoon. He’d waited through the firm’s lunch hour for an appointment at two o’clock. By the time he’d talked to the solicitor and trudged back across the town, it was already four thirty.

  ‘Oh no,’ Meg breathed, her eyes wide and anxious.

  ‘We’ll close now and go home. I’ll tell you all about it there. But –’ Percy shook his head sadly – ‘it’s not going to be the kind of evening I’d planned.’

  Indeed, it spoilt their day. Neither of them could eat the special meal that Meg prepared and later, in their bed, Percy’s lovemaking was fumbling and over so quickly that he wept against her neck.

  Sleepless, Meg stared into the blackness and knew she had made the most terrible mistake of her life.

  ‘Oh, Jake,’ she whispered into the silence of the night, ‘what have I done?’

  The case was the scandal of the district. Several months had passed since their wedding and now the case was due to be heard in the imposing courthouse in the town during the first days of November.

  Meg felt sick every time she thought about it.

  At the workhouse Sarah was kept in ignorance of the events in her daughter’s life. Isaac threatened everyone who came into contact with Sarah that, should they breathe a word about it to her, he would make their life utter misery. Since life in the workhouse was not easy by any standards, their tongues were stilled. So Sarah lived in blissful ignorance of Meg’s troubles, believing her daughter happily married and well cared for. There was no doubting that the last of Sarah’s hopes was true: Percy cared for Meg deeply and refused her nothing. And Meg was careful to play her part. She was a good and dutiful wife. She cooked, washed, ironed and cleaned his house and helped him in the shop. To their delight, the number of customers entering the shop had increased rather than decreased as they had both feared might happen.

  Despite the worry of the impending court case, Percy was amused. ‘Nothing like a bit of scandal to get the ladies of the town through our door.’

  ‘As long as they keep coming once all this is over,’ Meg said wryly.

  ‘Oh, they will. We sell good-quality merchandise. They’ll keep coming back for more.’

  Meg glanced at him but said nothing. She believed it was curiosity that, for the moment, brought the good ladies of South Monkford into Percy’s shop.

  It seemed that Meg was right, if the number of women who crowded into the public gallery on the first morning of the case was anything to go by. By half-past nine the gallery was crowded and several people were already having to stand to watch the proceedings when Judge Henry Ashton, an elderly, severe-looking gentleman, took his place.

  Meg sat in the front of the public gallery. Percy had not wanted her to attend and they’d almost had their first argument over the matter.

  ‘I need you to stay at the shop,’ he had said.

  ‘Believe me, Percy, there’ll be no customers that day. They’ll all be at court and so,’ she had added firmly, ‘shall I.’

  Although he said no more, Meg had the feeling that the real reason behind Percy’s request that she stay away arose from the embarrassment he might feel at her hearing all that would be said in court.

  She’d put her hand on his arm and said gently, ‘Percy, whatever happens in that court, I know the truth. I could see for myself that a union between you and Miss Finch would have brought you nothing but unhappiness. Even if I hadn’t come along, I believe you should not have married her, though I can see that you would probably have done so eventually.’

  Percy gripped her hand. ‘All I want you to know, my dear, is how very much I love you. You will remember that, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course I will, Percy.’

  If Meg had been in love with Percy herself then Mr Snape’s opening speech on behalf of the plaintiff might have caused her considerable heartache. He spo
ke with theatrical eloquence of the romance between his client and the defendant.

  ‘Here, your honour, we have something of a novel situation. This is the first time that such an action has been brought in the County Court in South Monkford. But, just in case any of you are in any doubt, I can assure you that these proceedings are right and proper under section 64 of the County Courts Act of 1898, giving County Courts jurisdiction in such a case with the consent of both parties.’ Mr Snape puffed out his chest, grasped the lapels of his gown and continued.

  ‘Your honour, I represent the plaintiff. Miss Clara Finch is a lady of genteel birth living under the protection of her brother, Mr Theobald Finch, a much-respected pillar of the society of this town. He and his family have lived at the Hall in South Monkford for four generations. During that time the family has served this community in a variety of ways. I will not take up your valuable time with all the positions of trust and authority which Miss Finch’s family has held over the years. Suffice it to say that Mr Theobald Finch is a town councillor and has served as mayor on one occasion, with his sister, Miss Finch, acting as his lady mayoress. He is the chairman of the board of guardians of South Monkford workhouse and he is a churchwarden at St Michael’s as well as a member of the board of governors for our local school. So, gentlemen, you see the kind of family of which Miss Finch is a much loved and respected member. She has involved herself in good works in the town, supporting her brother in all that he does and being a devoted member of the church.

  ‘Now, as for – er – Mr – er—’ Here, Mr Snape paused and shuffled his papers as if the name of the defendant was not even worth remembering. ‘Ah yes – Mr Percy Rodwell . . .’ He grimaced and spoke the name as if it pained him to do so. ‘His family has lived in the town for a much shorter period of time. His parents moved to the town, I understand, in the year of 1868, shortly before Mr Rodwell’s birth. He was born, I understand, in the rooms above the tailor’s shop which his father rented, mark you, from the Finch family. Eventually, Mr Rodwell followed his father into the tailoring business and became the sole proprietor on his father’s death in 1898. His mother, with whom the defendant continued to live, died in 1903, and since that time he has lived alone in a small house on Church Street. Mark you well, then, gentlemen –’ Mr Snape made another extravagant gesture around the courtroom towards Percy and his eyes came to rest with a benign smile upon his client, Miss Clara Finch – ‘the difference between the backgrounds of these two people. The one, my client, coming as she does from a genteel, upper-class home, being a property owner and land-owner in her own right with a comfortable income as well as the sole beneficiary of her brother’s will. The defendant –’ again the man’s tone changed rapidly from deference to derision – ‘is a man of – trade.’ The last word was spoken as if its utterance left a nasty taste in his mouth and there was a ripple of laughter around the courtroom. The judge looked crossly over the top of his spectacles at the sound and the noise subsided.

  ‘About eight years ago –’ Mr Snape gripped the lapels of his gown again – ‘Mr Rodwell, who of course was known to the family through his tenancy of Mr Finch’s properties, began to pay court to Miss Finch.’ There was the sound of laughter, quickly stifled.

  ‘At this stage, it has to be said—’ Mr Snape’s tone made it sound as if he were reluctant to say this – ‘it has to be said that the defendant conducted the courtship with decorum. He approached Mr Finch for his permission and, this being given, he began to call at the Hall on a Sunday afternoon and sometimes on a Saturday evening after the close of – er – his business to dine with the family. During the first two years he observed the proprieties, the niceties, of such a courtship, their meetings always being in the presence of a third party.’

  Again, from the public gallery came the sound of muffled laughter.

  ‘Six years ago the couple, with Mr Finch’s approval, became officially engaged. An announcement was made in the newspaper informing the whole world of the impending nuptials.’ Mr Snape waved a newspaper in the air. ‘And a small dinner party was held at the Hall to celebrate the event. If necessary, I can call several witnesses who were present on this happy occasion.’

  He paused, cleared his throat and continued. ‘The defendant purchased a ring. Not a ring of any great value, I hasten to add, though Miss Finch—’ he inclined his head towards his client with an ingratiating smile –‘declared herself happy with the token of their betrothal.’ He cast a baleful glance at Percy, who was sitting with his head bowed and hands clasped before him. ‘Of course, my client would not say so for herself, but she is a modest soul, not of a grasping or a self-seeking nature. Miss Finch,’ he declared resonantly, ‘was most certainly not attaching herself to the defendant for his money.’

  Now for the first time Mr Snape turned slowly and deliberately raised his eyes to seek out Meg, sitting in the front row of the gallery and it seemed to her that every eye in the vast room turned to look at her.

  Thirty-One

  Mr Snape’s opening speech continued until the judge adjourned for lunch.

  By the time Meg had struggled through the throng, ignoring the nudges and whispers around her, and fought her way to Percy and Mr Henderson, she was seething. ‘It’s not what he’s saying,’ she ranted, pacing up and down the small room, ‘it’s the way he’s saying it. He’s so scathing, so . . . so . . .’ She couldn’t think of the words to describe the way in which Mr Snape was besmirching poor Percy’s character. ‘So . . . awful,’ she finished.

  She sat down beside Percy and took his hand in hers. ‘Oh, Percy, this is all because of me. I’m so sorry.’ Whilst she knew, deep in her heart, that she was not in love with Percy Rodwell and never would be, she was very fond of the man who had been so kind to her. Watching her, Mr Henderson recognized her concern as being genuine. About Percy’s regard for his young wife he had never been in doubt, but until this moment he had been unsure of the young woman’s. Now Mr Henderson smiled, knowing that later on that day – if Mr Snape ever finished his opening speech – he would be able to stand up and speak just as eloquently as his adversary, safe in the knowledge that there was real affection between the couple.

  After lunch the courtroom filled up again, buzzing with excited chatter. Many there had never been inside a court before and none had ever seen a breach of promise case.

  ‘She’s a hard-faced shrew, that Clara Finch,’ the few men there muttered to one another, their sympathies all with the defendant when they compared his former fiancée with his pretty young bride. ‘Only thing is, I can’t see what that young lass sees in him.’

  ‘Money, that’s what. He may not be in Theobald Finch’s league, but he’s a good catch as far as that young ’un’s concerned. She’s from the workhouse, they say.’

  ‘Wasn’t it her father who ran off with farmer Smallwood’s daughter . . . ?’

  And so the gossiping and the tittle-tattling went on, the men siding with Percy, whilst the women, for the most part, found themselves siding with the jilted woman.

  As the judge entered the room, all present rose as the whispering subsided and every eye turned eagerly towards Mr Snape. What juicy morsels would he reveal this afternoon?

  Mr Snape resumed his demolition of Percy’s character subtly but effectively. He went into lengthy detail about the courtship’s progress. According to his client, every attempt on her part to set a date for the marriage had been met by prevarication from the defendant. ‘His excuses ranged –’ here Mr Snape waved his hands expressively – ‘from being too occupied with building up his business – a business in which, I might add, your honour, my client made it only too obvious that she would be willing, nay happy, to help. The defendant –’ not once, Meg noticed, did Mr Snape refer to Percy by his name now – ‘also gave the excuse that his home was not suitable for a lady of Miss Finch’s standing in the community.’ Here Mr Snape paused and smirked. ‘For once, your honour, I find myself in agreement with the defendant.’

 
Though the judge did not even smile, this time he made no move to quell the ripple of laughter that ran around the court.

  ‘So we come to the events leading up to this unhappy breach of promise action. The defendant, in his wisdom,’ Mr Snape added sarcastically, ‘decided to employ a young girl from the workhouse. Perhaps –’ he spread his hands again – ‘he wished to act charitably, to give a pauper the chance of a lifetime. Perhaps we should not condemn him for that action.’ It was the closest the man had come to praising Percy, yet Meg could still detect the sarcasm in his tone. At his next words, she realized his intention. ‘And oh, your honour, what a chance of a lifetime that turned out to be.’

  ‘This young . . .’ he paused, searching for the right word to describe Meg. ‘This scheming hussy –’ a startled gasp echoed through the courtroom – ‘played upon the defendant’s sympathies. She seduced him, your honour. There is no other way to describe—’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Meg was on her feet, shouting at the prosecuting solicitor. ‘Don’t listen to him, your honour. It’s not true what he’s saying about me or about Percy – Mr Rodwell.’

  An excited buzz ran through the public gallery and the judge banged on his bench with his gavel.

  ‘Young woman, sit down or else I shall have you put out of court.’

  ‘But, sir—’

  Another angry bang. ‘It’ll be a charge for contempt of court if you utter another word. Sit down and be quiet.’

  Meg glanced towards where Percy was sitting with his head in his hands. Mr Henderson was looking at her and frowning. He gave a little shake of his head and patted his hand in the air, indicating that she should sit down. Then he put his fingers to his lips. Meg subsided back into her seat, her face red. Now everyone was looking at her. She could feel their stares on the back of her neck and hear the whispers. The judge banged again and there was silence.

  ‘Pray continue, Mr Snape.’

  Mr Snape gave a little bow towards the bench. ‘Thank you, your honour.’ He glanced towards his opponent and Percy and then briefly up to the front row of the gallery towards where Meg was sitting. Smirking, he said, ‘May I crave your indulgence, your honour. The girl is, of course, so very young!’ It was neatly done, turning Meg’s impetuous outburst against her.