Sweet Awakening (19 page)

“I apologize, Giles. Here I am being flippant and unsympathetic. What do you need of me?”

“I need you to defend Clare.”

“Has she been charged? Arrested?”

Giles hesitated. “Not as far as I know. Not formally, anyway. There are two Runners at the house, and it is clear that she will not be allowed to leave. Not that she is in any condition to.”

“That is good news. Did she confess to the murder?”

“She didn’t have to. Evidently she was found standing over Rainsborough’s body brandishing a poker, terrified that she
hadn
’
t
killed him.”

“But she had?”

“Clare shot him in the head and chest with his own dueling pistols.”

Andrew lifted his eyebrows. “Then I guess there is no way to make the argument that she thought he was an intruder?”

“Hardly.”

“And why are
you
coming to me, Giles, and not her father?” he asked quietly.

“Clare’s father doesn’t know anyone involved in criminal law.” Giles hesitated. “And I feel responsible.”

“How so?”

“It seems ... evidently Rainsborough was not doting but insanely jealous and controlling. And violent, very violent. Sabrina and I had been worried about Clare. She has pulled away from everyone. I insisted on seeing her alone at the Petershams’ ball, even though she didn’t want to. I think that set the whole thing off.”

And, of course, you still love her, thought Andrew, looking over at his friend’s set, closed face.

“From what little Sabrina could gather, he has been”— Giles swallowed hard—”beating Clare for at least a year. Perhaps longer. We really don’t know. She was beaten last night. Sabrina has seen her. Surely you could argue self-defense?”

“It is a very tricky case, Giles. After all, a man has the right to beat his wife.”

“But surely not to kill his wife, Andrew.”

“We would have to show that she was in real fear for her life, Giles. Not an easy thing to do.”

“And if you can’t?”

“If I can’t ...” Andrew let the words hang there between them.

Giles shuddered. “Surely she would not hang, Andrew. A woman? A countess?”

“I am afraid she would be lucky to hang, Giles. The punishment for a servant who kills his master or a wife who kills her husband is the same as for petty treason: being burned at the stake.”

“What!”

“It is still the law. Of course, no one has been burned in the last fifty years or so. But the statute still exists.”

“Oh, my God. Clare.” Giles buried his face in his hands.

Andrew stood up and put his hand on Giles’s shoulder. “I will do what I can, Giles. The sooner I talk to Clare, the better.”

“She was in shock, according to Sabrina. She is sleeping now.”

“I’ll come by this afternoon, then.”

Giles lifted his face. “Thank you, Andrew. If anyone can do this, you can.”

“I will do my best.” Giles stood up to go. “And Giles ...”

“Yes?”

“Clare’s father hired me. Sabrina can visit Clare and keep you in touch. I will do so also. But you must stay away.”

Giles started to protest.

“I am not concerned about gossip, Giles. Or at least, only in so much as it impinges on the case. There can be no suspicion of collusion between you and Clare.”

“I see,” replied Giles stiffly.

“For God’s sake, Giles, I know there was no reason for Rainsborough’s jealousy, man. I am telling you this as a lawyer.”

“Oh, God, Andrew, I hope you can help her.”

And so do I, thought More as he watched Giles leave. So do I.

* * * *

Giles sent a message to Sabrina telling her that he had spoken to Andrew and that the lawyer would visit Clare later that afternoon. He asked his sister to offer his sympathy to Clare and explained why he could not do so in person.

When Sabrina read his note, she frowned. Clare needed all the support she could get. Why was Andrew More treating Giles almost as though he was a guilty party?

Clare had slept the morning and noontime away. When she finally awoke, dull-eyed from the aftereffects of her evening and the rum, Sabrina was next to her.

“How are you feeling, my dear?”

Clare was puzzled for a moment by Sabrina’s presence. Justin would not like to have Sabrina Whitton by her bedside. Justin would be angry, and she would have to placate him. Justin might start drinking and ... Then she remembered. Justin was dead. Sabrina had promised her that. She sank back against the pillows.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Clare? Perhaps some toast?”

Clare nodded. She realized she was very thirsty, and when she swallowed, her throat hurt. She put her hand up to her neck, as though to hide the bruises when she remembered why.

“I know what he did, Clare,” said Sabrina softly.

Clare let her hand drop back on the covers.

“I saw the bruises last night when I helped you bathe. Was this why you kept us all away?”

Clare flushed and turned her face away. After two years of hiding it, now everyone would know that Justin beat her. That she had been helpless to stop him. That somehow, she wasn’t sure how, it was all her fault.

She winced as the back of her head touched the headboard, and suddenly she saw Justin’s hands holding her and banging her head against the mantel. Then the scene, which had flashed suddenly into her mind, was gone. Surely that had happened last night? She could feel the pressure of other memories pushing like a river against a lock, but she was unable or unwilling, she wasn’t sure which, to release them.

What was Sabrina asking her? Was this why she had kept her friends away? How could she answer that? How could she possibly explain to anyone what her life had been like?

Sabrina patted her hand. “It is all right, Clare. You don’t have to say anything. Here is Liza with some tea.”

Clare put all her attention on the familiar ritual. Would she like sugar? Yes. A piece of toast? Thank you. The first swallow hurt her throat, but as the tea began to work its magic, she savored each sip, as though it were her first time tasting it. Perhaps it was only the stimulating effect of the tea, but somewhere deep inside her, she was beginning to feel alive again in a way she hadn’t for two years.

Sabrina had been silent, but after the cups had been cleared, she said hesitantly: “I received a note from Giles, Clare. He has called on an old school friend. Andrew More.”

Clare was puzzled. Why was Sabrina telling her something so inconsequential?

“Do you remember his name?”

Clare shook her head.

“He is the youngest son of the Earl of Collinworth. Brother to Lord Avery. He is a barrister.”

So Giles had called on an old friend, a barrister and sent a note to Sabrina who was sitting here by her bedside to tell her that? Clare knew there was some meaning in this, something to do with her, but she couldn’t quite make the connection.

Sabrina had been hoping that mentioning Andrew would be self-explanatory. That Clare would understand why Giles was sending him. But she could see from the questioning look on her face that Clare was still at a loss.

“Clare,” she said quietly but firmly, “you were found standing over Justin, terrified that he was still alive. There is a Runner downstairs who is here to make sure you don’t leave the house. There will have to be some sort of ... inquiry.” Please God, it wouldn’t go to trial, prayed Sabrina to herself. “You will need legal advice.”

The river was pushing hard against the lock—so hard that Clare felt she would be swept away if any water were released. Terrible things had happened. But she couldn’t look at them. Not now. Not yet.

“Please ... no,” she whispered.

Sabrina grasped her hand. “Oh, Clare, he must see you and find out what happened. But I will stay with you, dear, and send him away if it gets to be too much.”

* * * *

Andrew More was not looking forward to his meeting with Clare. He had met her twice on summer visits to the Whittons while Giles and he were on holiday from university, and despite his friend’s obvious love for her, he had been unimpressed. Clare had seemed nice enough, and certainly pretty enough, but she lacked a certain something ... energy, personality ... Andrew couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Of course, it could have been only that she was not Sabrina.

It had been a cool, cloudy morning when Giles had visited his chambers. It had turned into a clear, warm day, and Andrew, who had chosen to walk to the Rainsboroughs’ town house, was hot and sweaty by the time he arrived.

The butler had obviously been expecting him, and it only took a few minutes with the Runners, whom Andrew knew quite well, to establish that he would likely be acting as Clare’s counsel and needed to interview her privately.

“You may tell Lady Rainsborough her lawyer’s here,” said one of the Runners to an obviously annoyed Peters. It was galling to the butler to have his authority diminished, but he could hardly challenge an officer of the law.

A few minutes later, Peters admitted Sabrina into the drawing room, where Andrew was waiting.

“Sabrina, it is delightful to see you again,” said Andrew, standing as she entered. “I did not realize you were still here.”

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Andrew. Please sit down.” Sabrina had only seen Andrew a few times this Season, and the flicker of attraction that was always activated by his presence made her notice, almost without her wanting to, the way his hair was damply curling at the ends, and the odd way his eyebrows drew together when he was intent upon something.

“Is Lady Rainsborough available?”

“She doesn’t want to see you, Andrew. She is in a very vulnerable state. I am sorry for your trouble, but I think it best if you come back in a few days.”

“A few days? In a few days they will be holding a coroner’s inquest, Sabrina. Whether she wants to or not, your friend needs to talk to me. And she was not so fragile last night, was she?”

Sabrina looked at Andrew in amazement. “I beg your pardon, Andrew, did Giles not tell you of the situation?”

“He told me Lady Rainsborough shot her husband with his own dueling pistols.” Andrew’s tone softened. “He also told me that it seems possible it was in self-defense.”

“Clare had been brutally beaten. And it is clear to me that it was not for the first time.”

“The law allows a man to beat his wife, Sabrina.”

“If you are only here to quote the law to me and Clare, then you might as well leave right now,” Sabrina said, furious at his insensitivity.

“I am a lawyer, Sabrina, so it is natural for me to quote the law,” said Andrew, with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “I am only trying to point out to you that Lady Rainsborough needs to convince the coroner’s jury and the coroner that, despite his rights under law, she had reason enough to defend herself from her husband’s attacks. Under law, a wife is essentially her husband’s property, and he can do what he likes with his own, if I may take the part of the devil’s advocate for a moment, and express society’s view of things.”

“Clare is the one who needs an advocate, not that devil of a husband of hers, Andrew.”

“Well, yes, that is, after all, what I have been saying. I must question her immediately, no matter how painful that process is for her.”

Sabrina sighed. “All right. But she is in no condition to come down. I will take you up.”

Just outside of Clare’s door, Sabrina turned and whispered, “I don’t know if you will be able to get anything out of her, Andrew. She thought Justin was still alive and able to come after her again. I am not sure just what she remembers about last night.”

* * * *

Clare had put on her silk wrapper and made her way stiffly and painfully to the chair by her window. She nervously pulled the wrapper tighter when Sabrina entered, bringing Andrew More into the room. Giles had sent him to help her, so she supposed she must see him, but what she could tell him, she didn’t know.

Andrew had seen Clare a few times this Season and had, like others, noticed how thin she had gotten. Now he was shocked at her appearance. She was so pale that the bruises on her face looked almost worse than they were, if that were possible. Her mouth looked lopsided because of her swollen lips, and when she greeted him almost inaudibly, he could tell it was physically painful for her to talk. He was so filled with pity that all his previous dislike of her fell away, and for the first time since Giles had approached him, he felt like he wanted to defend her.

Sabrina had called for a tray of lemonade, and it arrived almost immediately. After a few moments of commonplaces exchanged between Sabrina and himself, as they sipped and watched Clare ignore her glass, Andrew thanked Sabrina for her company, but asked if she would leave Lady Rainsborough alone with him for a few minutes.

Sabrina protested as Clare lifted her hand as though to grab her friend.

“Clare wishes me to stay.”

“I understand that,” said Andrew kindly. “But if I am to defend her, I must establish a relationship with her myself. I need you to leave,” he repeated firmly.

“I do not wish to leave, Andrew. I cannot leave her to be interrogated without any support.” Sabrina was furious that he would even suggest it.

“Then I can do nothing here,” said Andrew, starting to get up.

Sabrina was just opening her mouth to deliver a cutting set-down when Clare spoke.

“No.” She put out her hand to Andrew. “No, you can stay. I must do this. You can go, Sabrina.”

Sabrina could see that it took all of Clare’s courage to say this. How could Andrew More not see it. Clare needed her friend, not a possibly unsympathetic barrister.

“I don’t want to leave you alone, Clare.”

Clare was silent for a moment and then laughed softly. “Justin is dead, Sabrina. I can safely talk to a man alone or in company, without being afraid. I will be all right, I promise you.”

* * * *

After Sabrina had gone, Andrew handed Clare her glass of lemonade. “Here, drink this, Lady Rainsborough. You need your strength.”

Clare sipped slowly, wincing a bit as the tart liquid hit her cut lip. But she was thirstier than she had realized.