The Trial of Marie Montrecourt (26 page)

The counsel for the prosecution asked Geoffrey to tell the court how Marie Montrecourt, as she used to be called, came to be a member of the Minton family, and Geoffrey related how he had been approached by the solicitor, John Pickard, and asked to arrange a meeting between Marie and Stanley. It took place at a small dinner party held at Devonshire Place.

“It was the worst thing I ever did. As soon as she joined the family, she created trouble. She left a trail of destruction behind her.” He warmed to his theme. “It was because of her that Ma died.”

To Marie’s relief, Sir Herbert was on his feet at last. “My Lord, I feel I really must object to that statement. Mrs Edith Minton’s death is not in question. There were no suspicious circumstances surrounding it, as far as I can ascertain.”

The judge turned to Geoffrey. “Are you suggesting there was something suspicious about the death of Edith Minton?”

“Well, no. Not really. Not as such.”

“Then I would ask you to make your answers relevant to the questions asked and not to speculate,” said Judge Pollard, firmly.

Redcar immediately switched tack. “Mrs Edith Minton died of a heart attack, I believe?”

“My Lord—” Sir Herbert hauled himself to his feet again.

Judge Pollard held up his hand to stop him. He turned to the Prosecuting Counsel. “Is there some relevance to this questioning, Mr Redcar?” he asked.

“Yes, my Lord. I intend to show that the accused is not as innocent as the defence counsel will try to prove, and the circumstances surrounding Edith Minton’s death will make that clear.”

Marie glanced nervously towards Sir Herbert.
Where was this leading?

“Very well. I will allow it. You may answer,” said Mr Justice Pollard, after a moment’s consideration.

“Peter, my younger brother, spent a great deal of time with her… with the accused,” Geoffrey said. “He was living at home at the time. They used to go out walking together while Stanley was at work. They went out on the moors. One day, when Ma was ill upstairs in bed, she came down and surprised the two of them. She found that woman and Peter…” he tailed off, not knowing how to put it, “in a compromising situation.”

He was repeating Peter’s version. She had warned Sir Herbert about Peter’s lie, but she’d never thought Geoffrey would repeat it in public.

“And how do you know this?” Redcar asked.

“Peter told me.”

“It was plain to your mother that they were in the middle of a physical act – that there was a carnal relationship between the accused and her husband’s younger brother? Is that what you’re saying?” Redcar asked.

“Yes, sir. It killed Ma when she saw them together.”

There was a murmur of condemnation from the courtroom. The jurors looked at her with contempt. She could feel her cheeks flaming. Sir Herbert scowled, then shuffled his papers on the desk in front of him.

Geoffrey was aware of the stir his words had caused and was eager to take advantage of it. “Peter told me he needed to leave for America to get away from her, because she wouldn’t leave him alone.”

Marie was desperate to protest. If Evelyn read this in tomorrow’s newspapers, it would cause him great distress. To her relief, Sir Herbert rose to his feet.

“Forgive me, my Lord, but I want to enquire if we are to hear this testimony from Mr Peter Minton himself, or does this tarradiddle only exist in the imagination of the witness? One who has displayed nothing but antagonism towards my client?”

“I was about to challenge the evidence myself, Sir Herbert, if you will let me draw breath.” The judge swung the question in the Prosecuting Counsel’s direction. “Mr Redcar?”

It was Redcar’s turn to shuffle his papers. He glanced at his junior, who shook his head. “We have tried to make contact with Mr Peter Minton, my Lord. He was in New York. It would appear that soon after receiving our telegram, Mr Peter Minton left that city. I believe he was heading west, but that is such a vast territory and communications there are so rudimentary that we’ve lost all trace of him.”

Sir Herbert Manners smiled at Redcar, having already discovered that for himself.

Marie saw the smile. This was all just a game to them; to these men who held her future in their hands, it was just a case of scoring of points.

Mr Justice Pollard then said, firmly: “Without the witness, I suggest you abandon that line of questioning. And I advise the jury to ignore it.”

A game
, Marie repeated to herself. She knew there was no way the jury could forget what they had just heard.

Redcar turned back to Geoffrey. “Mr Minton, have you any other reason to think there was an affair between your younger brother and the accused?”

The judge opened his mouth in reproof, but Geoffrey swiftly replied: “Well, she admitted lying about what they were doing on the night Ma died. She said at first that they were playing the piano, then, after Ma died, she told me mother had seen them in a compromising situation.”

Sir Herbert turned to look at his client and she knew such inconsistency must give credence to the lie. Why had she allowed Peter’s first explanation to go unchallenged? She should have told the truth immediately. That Peter had tried to seduce
her
,
not the other way around.

Redcar continued: “And did the deceased know of his wife’s involvement with his brother? Did you tell Stanley?”

“No. I knew it would destroy him. He loved his wife.”

Remembering Stanley’s violence towards her, Marie reflected that it was a strange kind of love.

“And as far as you know, Stanley was never made aware of the circumstances?” continued Redcar.

“He would have thrown her out of the house if he’d known.”

“And if he
had
known, might he have fallen into despair?”

“He wouldn’t have killed himself, if that’s what you mean.”

“Very well. Were you aware that the deceased was in financial difficulty?”

“He was, in the past, which is why he sold The Emporium, but he’d just bought a new business. He was starting again. He was very excited about it.”

“So you can see no reason why he should take his own life?”

“No. He had everything to live for.”

“Were you aware he was inhaling chloroform?”

“He never did.” He saw the judge was about to speak. “Well, I didn’t witness it. If that happened, it happened when she was by herself with him – after they moved here to Leeds. Maybe that’s why she wanted Pa out of the way. She fooled around with pills and potions, didn’t she? Why not with chloroform?”

Sir Herbert was on his feet. “My Lord, this is too farfetched.”

“Thank you, Mr Minton,” Redcar said quickly. “That’s all I have to ask. Sir Herbert may have one or two questions for you,”

Sir Herbert surveyed Geoffrey for a moment without speaking. The silence was intense and Marie, for one, found it unbearable.

“This is an extremely difficult time for you, Mr Minton, I appreciate that, and I offer you my sincere condolences.” Geoffrey nodded, warily. “You are obviously of the opinion that Mrs Minton carries the responsibility for her husband’s death?”

“I am,” Geoffrey said, emphatically.

“But what would she have to gain from it?” Sir Herbert asked curiously.

“Well…” Geoffrey shrugged.

“Not money. There was very little of it to be had by all accounts and most of it was tied up in this new business venture. Why not wait until he’d built up the business again? Why take steps now when it would leave her penniless?” He turned to the jury. “The marriage between Stanley Minton and Marie Montrecourt was more of a business arrangement than a love match. I have here a copy of an agreement drawn up by Mr John Pickard and signed by Mr Stanley Minton.” He held up a document. “It states that money will be paid into Mr Minton’s business account when the marriage certificate is signed. It also insists that his wife should remain ignorant of the arrangement. She was a convent girl, unworldly. She was easily persuaded that he was marrying her for love.”

Marie was horrified that the contract had been introduced into the case. She had never mentioned any such thing to Sir Herbert. She prayed Evelyn would not suspect her of betraying his father’s request for anonymity. Would Sir Gordon be mentioned by name?

Sir Herbert handed the document to the clerk of the court, who took it to the judge, who in turn passed it on to the jury.

“Mrs Minton certainly brought money with her into the marriage,” Sir Herbert continued. “The sum of eight hundred pounds, in fact.”

There was a gasp of surprise. Reporters exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Marie leant forward. He mustn’t name Evelyn’s father. However, Sir Herbert had no interest in pursuing the source of the money – much to the reporters’ frustration. He had a more pressing point to make.

“This eight hundred pounds was lost when her husband’s business failed. And his business did fail, have no doubt about that, leaving him virtually penniless – leading to him having to sell The Emporium and his home. It surely had to be in his wife’s interests to see the new business in Leeds flourish, as it was her only chance to recoup some of the money from her dowry.” He turned to Geoffrey. “As a businessman yourself, you must agree that this was the only way she would receive any return on her money. Isn’t that right, Mr Minton?”

“I suppose so.”

“You arranged for Mrs Minton to meet Mr Stanley Minton, you say? Why did you agree to that?”

Geoffrey shifted uneasily and glanced towards the judge. “It was suggested to me by Mr Pickard, who was the girl’s guardian.”

“But why did you agree to it?” pressed Sir Herbert. Geoffrey shrugged. “Let me jog your memory. Was it, perhaps, because Mr Pickard agreed to your demand that you be paid ten per cent of the dowry if you arranged that meeting? Ten per cent of eight hundred pounds means you would receive eighty pounds if the marriage came about. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

The admission was reluctantly made and Marie wondered if Isabelle had been party to that agreement.

“But that was a suggestion made to me by Mr Pickard,” Geoffrey added quickly – aware of the murmuring in the court. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“But you didn’t refuse it, did you?”

“I only had Stanley’s interest at heart. I knew he needed the money.”

And who in his family had her interests at heart
, Marie wondered, bitterly.

“Precisely, Stanley needed the money,” continued Sir Herbert, “and no one would lend it to him because financially he was heading for bankruptcy. No one in the family told his future wife, though, did they?” He turned to the jury. “I would point out that this was a young girl of eighteen who had spent all her life in a convent. She had no living relatives to guide her. She was ignorant of the world and its ways. I would suggest that this innocence was something the Mintons found very useful.”

Geoffrey leant over the edge of the witness box. “It’s my opinion that she used her money to buy respectability.”

“I’ll come to the matter of respectability in a moment, Mr Minton. My client should have had every reason to believe that her money was going into a successful business, which would give her security. In other words, the family lied to her for their own gain. Far from
her
using
you
, I would suggest your family used
her
.”

Geoffrey shook his head vehemently from side to side.

“I would suggest your family’s dislike of her stemmed from the moment they took possession of her money. And far from Mrs Minton gaining from her marriage, I would suggest she lost everything she had. Therefore, the only future for her lay in her husband recouping his losses. It was not in her interest to cut his life short.”

“What she got out of the marriage was my family’s good name and support,” Geoffrey shouted and Mr Justice Pollard banged his gavel on his desk.

“Please, Mr Minton. Please control yourself.”

Geoffrey fell silent. It took a little longer for the commotion in the body of the court to subside. For the first time, Marie sensed a wave of sympathy.

Sir Herbert’s tone became pleasantly conversational. “Let’s look further into this respectability you say Mrs Minton was so desperate to acquire. I believe that Mr Peter Minton once worked for Harcrofts Mill in Bradford?”

Geoffrey looked warily at the Prosecuting Counsel, who looked equally baffled.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Does this have relevance to the matter in hand?” the judge asked.

“It does, my Lord.”

“Very well.”

“I have here papers and statements,” Sir Herbert held up the documents, “which I will pass to the bench, from Mr Harcroft. They confirm that Mr Peter Minton stole fifty guineas from the company safe in order to finance his gambling. I will call Mr Harcroft if necessary?”

Poor Peter
, thought Marie,
his lies were finally catching up with him.

Redcar was on his feet. “I must protest, my Lord, that this is irrelevant.”

“My Lord, this is very relevant,” Sir Herbert said, firmly. “Peter Minton’s name has been introduced into this case by his brother Geoffrey to blacken my client’s character. I intend to show that the reverse is true.”

After a moment’s thought, Mr Justice Pollard nodded. “Very well, but get to the point quickly, Sir Herbert.”

“This young man, Peter Minton, had been in constant trouble. The money was refunded to the mill and Mr Harcroft agreed not to prosecute, but he sacked him and gave him no references. This left the young man unable to find a job. He was offered one in New York, but he needed money to get there. I suggest, Mr Minton, that your brother lied to you about my client’s attempted seduction in order to persuade you to pay for his passage – and that’s what you did. Isn’t that correct?”

Marie was on the edge of her seat, waiting for Geoffrey’s reply. He surely had no choice but to admit it.

There was a long pause and then Geoffrey mumbled: “I gave him money for his passage, yes.” Marie looked at the jury triumphantly, but their attention was still on Geoffrey, who immediately returned to the attack. “But they
were
having an affair. They weren’t playing the piano the night Ma died, so what were they doing?”