The Silent Cry (36 page)

"Just a minute!" he interrupted, holding up his hand. "You said "them". Who are we talking about? And what rape cases in Seven Dials?

Is he charged with rape as well?”

She was not being as clear as she had intended after all She had seen the fractional change in his face when she had mentioned Monk's name, and she felt guilty. What had he seen in her eyes?

She must speak intelligently, in an orderly fashion. She started again.

"Monk was engaged by a woman from Seven Dials to discover who had been first cheating, then with increasing violence raping and beating factory women, amateur prostitutes in Seven Dials…” she stopped.

He was frowning. Did he disapprove of Monk, or of the women, or did he fear it made Rhys's case even worse?

"What is it?" The words were out before she intended.

"It is a very ugly crime," he said quietly. "But it is one the courts will not pursue… for a dozen different reasons, both social…”

He wrinkled his nose very slightly in a wealth of distaste, subtle and deep. "And legal impossibilities also," he added. "Rape is a difficult crime to prove. Why did Monk pursue it? Whatever else he has forgotten, he must be aware of these things!”

"I argued it with him," she said with a very slight smile. "It is not what you fear." She hoped as she was saying it that it was the truth, not merely her wish. "He intended only to expose them to their own society, not to provoke the people of St. Giles to take their revenge.”

Rathbone's lips curled in a faint, ironic smile. "That sounds like Monk. A nice irony using society's hypocrisy to make it punish its own for the very crime it pretends does not exist, and will not strengthen the law to judge." He kept his eyes on her face. "But what has this to do with Rhys Duff, and the death of his father?”

"For some time Rhys had been keeping company with women of whom his father did not approve, and to the exclusion of suitable young ladies,” she explained. "At least that is what his mother believed." She was twisting her hands in her lap without realising it. "Perhaps in fact he had some idea of what Rhys was really doing. Anyway, on that particular evening they quarrelled, Rhys left the room, and apparently the house. Leighton Duff left about half an hour afterwards, when he realised that Rhys had gone, and perhaps suspected to where." She looked at him to make sure he was following her explanation.

"Proceed," he directed. "It is all perfectly clear so far.”

"One woman was raped and beaten in St. Giles that night," she went on.

"Within a few yards of Water Lane. A short time after that, the bodies of Rhys and his father were found in Water Lane itself. Rhys was insensible, and has not spoken since. Leighton Duff was dead.”

"And the assumption," he concluded, 'is that Leighton Duff caught up with Rhys and his friends, while it was still apparent they were the rapists of the woman… either they were in the act, or they had just completed it. He was furious, endeavoured to reason with them or apprehend them, and one, or all of them, attacked him. He drove off the other two quite quickly, but Rhys, knowing he would not escape the matter, fought until he had killed him.”

"Yes… more or less." It was a terrible admission, and she could not make it easily. Her voice sounded tight and brittle.

"I see." He sat silently for several moments, deep in thought, and she did not interrupt him. He looked up. "Have they anything to link Rhys or his companions who are they, do you know?”

"Yes, Arthur and Marmaduke Kynaston. They answer the descriptions given, and one girl, who actually named Rhys, named them also, Arthur and Duke. He is known as Duke.”

"I see." He nodded very slightly. "Were they injured at the time Rhys was, do you know?”

"Yes, I do know, and no, they do not appear to have been." She realised what he was thinking. "But that only makes them cowards as well!”

"I am afraid so. But can anyone place any of the three in Seven Dials, or connect them to the earlier rapes?”

"Not so far as I know.”

"And is there evidence to prove these rapes are not random, committed by several people? There must be many rapes in London in a week.”

"I don't think many are carried out by three men together, answering the descriptions of one tall and slight, one average and one slender, and all three gentlemen, arriving and leaving by hansom," she said bleakly.

He sighed. "You sound as if you believe him guilty, Hester. Do you?”

She did not want to answer. Now that the question was put so bluntly, and she faced Rathbone's clever, subtle gaze which would not permit evasion, and to whom she could not lie, she must make a decision.

He waited.

"He says he didn't," she answered very slowly, choosing her words. "I am not sure what he remembers. It frightens him, horrifies him. I think maybe when he says that, he is saying what he wishes were true.

Perhaps he does not entirely know.”

"But you think physically, for whatever reason, he committed the act,” he said.

"Yes… yes, I think so. I can't avoid it.”

"Then what is it you wish me to do?”

"Help him… I…" Now she realised how much she was being emotional rather than rational, not only regarding Rhys, but in her plea to Rathbone. Still she could not turn aside from doing it, even now she was aware. "Please, Oliver? I don't know how it happened, or why he should have let himself fall into such a desperate situation. I… I can't argue anything in mitigation for him… I don't know what there is, I just have to believe there is something." She looked at his face with its humour and intelligence, sometimes so cool and just now, gazing back at her, so gentle.

She forced herself to think of Rhys, his terror, his helplessness.

"Maybe it is not justice I'm asking for, but mercy? He needs someone to speak for him…" She gave a painful little laugh. "Even literally! I don't believe he's purely evil. I've spent too many hours with him, close to him. I've watched his pain. If he did these things, there must be some reason, at least some cause, which explained it to him! I mean…”

"You mean insanity," he finished for her.

"No, I don't "Yes, you do, my dear." His voice was very patient, trying not to hurt her more than he had to. "A young man doesn't rape and beat women he doesn't know, then murder his father because he found out, if he is anything that ordinary men and women would recognise as sane. Whether the law will make the same nature of distinction I don't know. I very much doubt it." His eyes were filled with sadness. "It is precise as to what insanity is, and the fact that Rhys attacked his father suggests he knew very well that his violence against the women was wrong, which is what the law will view. He knew what he was doing, and that is the crucial factor.”

"But there must be something else!" she said desperately. "I can't let it go at that! I've watched him too often, too long…”

He rose to his feet and came around the desk towards her. "Then let me make arrangements to come and see him for myself, that is if Mrs. Duff wishes me to represent him…”

"He's not underage!" she said hotly, rising also. "It is if he wants you to!”

He smiled with dry, rueful amusement. "My dear Hester, if he cannot speak or write, and has no occupation of his own, he will not only have very little power to defend himself, he will have no financial means.”

"His father was wealthy! He will have been left provided for!" she protested.

"Not if he killed his father, Hester. You know that as well as I do.

If he is convicted for the crime, he cannot inherit.”

She was furious. "You mean he cannot have a defence because if he is found guilty he will not be able to pay? That is monstrous!" She was so angry she almost choked on the words. "It's…”

He put both hands on her shoulders, holding her so firmly she was obliged to face him.

"I did not say that, Hester! I think you know me better than to imagine I work only for money…”

She swallowed. She had cause to be ashamed. She had come to plead with him to take on an impossible case, because she believed he would.

"I am sorry.”

"But I do work within the law," he finished. "In the circumstances I shall have to speak first to his mother." His lips twisted with genuine humour. "Although I imagine that with you in the house, and doubtless in charge, I shall find her co-operative.”

She blushed. "Thank you, Oliver.”

He said nothing, but made a little sound of acquiescence.

It was mid-evening before Rathbone arrived at Ebury Street. Hester had informed Sylvestra of his willingness at least to consider the case, and Sylvestra had been too confused and unhappy to argue. She had consulted her own solicitor, a mild man skilled in the matters of property, inheritance and finance, and totally out of his depth where the criminal law was concerned. He was to brief anyone recommended to him, and willing to undertake such an unpromising cause.

"Sir Oliver Rathbone," the butler announced, and Rathbone came into the withdrawing room almost on his heels. He was as elegant as always with the ease of someone who knows his own power and feels no need to impress.

"How do you do, Mrs. Duff," he said with a very slight smile. "Miss Latterly.”

"How do you do, Sir Oliver," Sylvestra replied with a commendable calm she could not have felt. "It is good of you to have come. I am not sure what you can do for my son. Miss Latterly speaks most highly of you, but I fear our situation may be beyond any help. Please do sit down." She indicated the chair opposite and he accepted.

Hester sat on the sofa, a little removed from them, but where she could watch both their faces.

"One does not always know what a defence will be until one begins, Mrs.

Duff," he replied calmly. "May I assume that you wish your son to have any assistance that is possible, in his present tragic circumstances?" He looked at her patiently, gently, as if his words had been a simple question and without pressure.

"Yes…" she said slowly. "Yes, of course. I…" Her face was composed, but it was plain from the shadows under her eyes and the fine lines of stress around her lips that it cost her very dearly. It would be inconceivable that it should not.

Rathbone smiled immediately. "Of course you cannot yet see what can be done. I admit, neither can I, but that is not unusual. Whatever the truth of the matter may prove to be, we must see that, as much as possible, both justice and mercy are served. That cannot be unless Mr.

Duff is represented by someone who will fight as hard for him as if they believed him valuable, capable of hope and of pain, and deserving every opportunity to explain himself.”

Sylvestra frowned. "You are already a brilliant advocate for him, Sir Oliver. I could not possibly disagree with anything you have said. No one could." She sat without moving, a touch of immobility in spite of the emotion which must be tearing inside her. It was an extraordinary self-discipline, learned over the years to have the strength to apply now. "What confuses me is why you should wish to represent my son,” she continued. "And it is obvious from your presence here, let alone your words, that you do. I know better than to imagine you are some young man seeking to make a career and a name for himself… not that you would choose this case if you were. Nor are you so hungry for business that you would pursue any case at all. Why my son, Sir Oliver?”

Rathbone smiled, and there was a very faint touch of colour in his cheeks.

"For Miss Latterly's sake, Mrs. Duff. She feels very strongly for Rhys's plight, regardless of whether he should prove guilty of this or not. She persuaded me that he needs the best defence he can obtain.

With your agreement, I shall do all in my power to see that he has it.”

Hester felt the blood burn up her own face and she looked away, avoiding Rathbone's eyes, in case he should glance in her direction.

She had used his feeling for her, perhaps even misled him, because she was uncertain of her own emotions. She was guilty, but she did not regret it. She would do the same again. If she did not fight for Rhys, there was no one else who could.

Sylvestra relaxed at last, the rigidity easing out of her shoulders.

"Thank you, Sir Oliver, both for your honesty and for your compassion for my son. I fear there will be few others, if any at all, who will feel the same for him. He… he will be regarded… I think… as a monster." She stopped abruptly, unable to go on. The words were too hard, too painfully true, and it was a future which loomed within days, not weeks. It would be the pattern of life from now on. The world would be changed for ever.

Hester wanted to argue, just to offer any comfort at all, but it would be a lie, and they all knew it. Anything she said would only belittle the truth and imply that she did not understand.

Rathbone rose to his feet. "It will be my task to see that everything that can be said for him is put as eloquently as possible, Mrs. Duff.

Now I would like to speak to Rhys myself. Perhaps you would allow Miss Latterly to take me upstairs.”

Sylvestra rose also, taking a step forward.

Rathbone held up his hand in a very slight gesture.

"If you please, Mrs. Duff, I require to see him in effect alone.

What passes between a barrister and his client is privileged and must be confidential. Miss Latterly will be party to it only in her capacity as his nurse, in case he should become distressed and need her. She will be bound by the same absolute rules.”

Sylvestra looked taken aback.

"It is necessary," he assured her. "Otherwise I cannot proceed.”

Reluctantly she fell back, her face still filled with uncertainty, her eyes moving from Rathbone to Hester.

"I shall see he is not distressed more than is absolutely necessary in order to learn what we must," Hester promised.

"Do you really think…" Sylvestra began, then faltered. She was afraid. It was stark in her eyes, afraid of the truth. She hesitated on the brink of telling Rathbone not to seek it. She turned to Hester.

Hester smiled at her, pretending she did not understand, and walked to the door.

She led Rathbone upstairs and aft era knock on Rhys's door, merely as a courtesy, she led him in.