The Trial of Marie Montrecourt (27 page)

“Were you shocked when Peter told you his final version of what had happened?” Sir Herbert asked. “That the accused had tried to seduce him?”

“I was disgusted.”

“But his first story was that they were playing the piano. Why believe the one rather than the other? Because it suited you to believe the final version? You decided to keep quiet about it and not tell Stanley. Why?”

Geoffrey flushed. “I didn’t think our Stanley could cope with the truth.”

“Because he was already depressed about the death of his mother and the failure of his business,” Sir Herbert suggested, and pressed on before Geoffrey could express an opinion. “Later on, there was the added stress of the death of the baby that his wife was carrying. That would be enough to drive anyone to despair.” Geoffrey shook his head in denial, but Sir Herbert had no intention of letting him speak yet. “You’ve admitted to enticing an innocent and vulnerable young woman into a marriage with your brother so that you could profit from it. After taking her money, you, like the rest of your family, abandoned her to a husband who was killing himself with chloroform, who used violence against her, and to a brother-in-law who tried to take advantage of her innocence.”

“She wasn’t innocent. She’s never been innocent. ” Geoffrey was incensed to find himself on trial like this. “Peter didn’t have to force his attentions on her, did he? He told me so. And as for this miscarriage, I believe the baby wasn’t Stanley’s. I believe it was Peter’s. And I believe she got rid of it.”

Marie was so distressed by such a shocking accusation that she covered her face with her hands.

“You know that to be true?” Judge Pollard asked.

Geoffrey thumped the rail in front of him. “I suspect it.”

“Did Peter ever admit to it?” Sir Herbert remained calm.

Geoffrey failed to reply. The judge turned to the jury. “No regard must be paid to this witness’s last statement.”

Marie gripped the rail in front of her as the courtroom echoed with the crowd’s shocked reactions. One of the wardresses leant forward to ask her if she was all right. She nodded, struggling to sit upright. She had longed for that baby, more than she had longed for anything. How could anyone believe she would have harmed it?

Sir Herbert raised his voice over the noise in the courtroom. “My Lord, this is an abomination. I must insist that there is no foundation for such a statement. No proof. It’s an attempt to blacken the character of this innocent young woman in the eyes of the jury. Every statement he’s made has been designed to do that.”

“I have said that I agree. I have asked that the jury will disregard it.”

Marie sank back in her chair, her eyes closed. She wasn’t sure she could take much more.

Excused from the witness box, and aware of the sorry figure he’d cut, Geoffrey hurried from the court to take refuge in The George across the street from the Town Hall.

After the dramatic revelations made by Geoffrey, it was something of an anti-climax when Martin Godson was called to give evidence. He confirmed that Stanley had lost money on the tea room and The Emporium, but that he’d received an excited letter from Stanley a week before he’d died, detailing his future plans.

“Not the letter of a man about to commit suicide then?” Redcar said, with which Martin agreed wholeheartedly.

Sir Herbert rose to ask Martin why he had left Stanley’s employ and Martin reluctantly admitted that Stanley had been getting difficult to work with.

“Didn’t you say at the inquest that you were concerned about his state of mind?” Martin acknowledged that he had. “You asked for an increase in your wage, didn’t you, and he refused? You thought he was going bankrupt, didn’t you?”

“For a while, but I was proved wrong,” he added quickly. “After he sold The Emporium, everything was all right.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because of the letter he sent me, like I said.”

Sir Herbert addressed the jury, “We know that the deceased was under the influence of chloroform and that this can result in mood swings that range from the suicidal to the euphoric in the space of a few hours. The inability to face up to reality is also recognised behaviour of an addict.”

Jenny Godson was called by Redcar and she described the walks she used to take with Marie. She admitted that once Peter joined them, she’d begun to feel excluded and had stopped accompanying them. “I felt awkward in their company.”

“So after that, after your withdrawal from those long walks on the moors, taken on a regular basis, they were left with just each other for company. But there was another reason why you felt awkward in Mrs Minton’s company, wasn’t there, Mrs Godson?” Jenny stared down at the floor. “Mrs Godson?” Redcar prompted.

“Yes. She… er… she has books. She showed me books that were not right for a lady to look at. I told my husband, Martin, and he said it wasn’t right and that I shouldn’t go back to the house.”

Sir Herbert was on his feet. “My Lord, Mr Redcar is leading every witness into blackening Mrs Minton’s character. He’s leading the witnesses.”

“I disagree, Sir Herbert,” Judge Pollard said firmly. “If I think he is leading the witness, I will intervene.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Redcar said. “My learned friend is intending to portray the accused as a naïve young convent girl, and it’s my intention to prove that she is certainly no such thing.” He turned back to address Jenny. “What was it about these books you found so shocking?”

“There were pictures and drawings of intimate parts of the body,” Jenny mumbled, wishing she could disappear.

“Intimate drawings of the male body and the female body?”

“Yes,” Jenny said faintly.

Marie remembered Jenny’s reaction when she’d shown her the books. She had been trying to help her, not alarm her.

Taking pity on her obvious embarrassment, Redcar said: “I won’t press you further, but these are the books, my Lord.” He waved his junior counsel to hand them to the clerk. “Detective Inspector Fowler found them in Mrs Minton’s bedroom. They are books of a sexually explicit nature.
Esoteric Anthropology
by T.J. Nicols has graphic descriptions and drawings of the naked body, and expresses a dubious morality. The other is
Exploring the Human Form
by Anne Robin, a most indecent book as you will see.”

Some of the ladies present surreptitiously made a note of their titles as Redcar stood down. Marie shook her head in amazement. The books were accepted medical texts, surely he understood that? Sir Herbert rose and pressed Jenny to describe to the jury any scandalous or suggestive incidents she’d observed between Peter Minton and his client on their walks.

Jenny thought deeply and then shook her head. “Nothing scandalous, no. They just seemed to laugh a great deal and I couldn’t always follow what they were saying. As I said, I felt excluded.”

“Before the arrival of Peter Minton, you used these walks to confide in Mrs Minton, didn’t you?”

Jenny glanced sharply at Marie, who frowned at Sir Herbert. What had passed between her and Jenny was private and she had told Sir Herbert so. “If you are to survive, I need to know everything,” he’d said to her. So Marie had disclosed how Jenny had expressed concern for baby Ralph. How worried she had been about his deformed foot.

After a pause, Jenny said: “Yes, I suppose I did confide in her.”

“And that was harder for you to do with Mr Peter Minton around?” Jenny nodded. “So the point of these walks, as far as you were concerned, had ended. That was the reason you didn’t go on them anymore, perhaps? For your own personal reasons; nothing to do with their behaviour?”

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“Neither do I,” the judge said, with some irritation.

“The books that Mrs Minton showed you. Why did she show them to you?” Jenny hesitated again. “Let me help you remember. Your child was born with a club foot, wasn’t he?”

Marie looked at him in horror and Jenny began to show symptoms of distress.

“I told Mrs Minton that in confidence.”

“And she told me in confidence,” Sir Herbert said coolly, “and now I’m breaking that confidence, because Mrs Minton is on trial for her life.”

Jenny brushed away a tear and her voice broke as she said: “He was, yes.”

“These were medical books that Mrs Minton was showing you, weren’t they? And she was trying to help you to understand why the foot was deformed, and trying to advise you on what a surgeon might do to cure it?”

“I don’t know. I was so embarrassed by the books that I didn’t listen. I made my excuses and left.”

Marie sensed compassion in the courtroom for Jenny and became aware of a wave of animosity directed towards her. Sir Herbert had handled this witness badly and he knew it. “I have no more questions, my Lord.”

After ascertaining that Redcar had no desire to recall the witness, the judge declared an end to that day’s proceedings. The court emptied slowly as a heated discussion divided the departing crowd – some had sympathy for the accused, others angrily condemned her.

For Marie, the day had been one unbroken nightmare. She wasn’t sure how many more days she could endure. She tried to stand, but fell back weakly. One of the wardresses, seeing her difficulty, took pity on her.

“Come on, Mrs Minton, lean on me,” she said.

Gratefully, Marie took her arm.

*

Evelyn looked up as Wilson showed Renfrew into the library at Carlton Terrace. “I received your note, Lord Renfrew. You’ve been abroad?”

“Yes,” Renfrew said. “Got back yesterday.” He noted the signs of strain on Evelyn’s face. His desk was covered with newspapers, and every one of them was opened on an account of the trial.

“Your note said you needed to see me urgently?” Evelyn said.

“Yes. It’s about the…” Renfrew gestured towards the newspapers “court case.”

“I can’t even imagine what she must be going through.” Evelyn had barely slept since the trial had begun. “My only comfort is that Sir Herbert appears to be doing a reasonable job, given the circumstances. I still feel I should be there.”

“No, you should not,” Renfrew said in alarm. “Now more than ever you need to remain distant and objective. The gutter press would pounce on the slightest hint of a connection between your family and hers. They’re a pack of hyenas. God knows what they would make of it, but I’m certain they’d find some way of using it to destroy her,
too.”

“Men like Harlik would,” Evelyn said angrily. “He’s already sniffed out some of the dirt. He knows I was looking for Marie. I’m astonished he hasn’t gone into print with that already.”

“Don’t worry about Harlik,” Renfrew said grimly. “He’s in the debtor’s prison where he can do no harm.”

Evelyn was about to question Renfrew further about that, but the look on his lordship’s face suggested that a query wouldn’t be welcome. There were more pressing problems to worry about.

“Everything seems to be under control,” Evelyn said instead. “And I’m not ungrateful for your help, Lord Renfrew. You made a wise choice when you hired Sir Herbert Manners.”

Renfrew cleared his throat, uneasily. “Yes – there’s just one problem, Evelyn. Sir Herbert wasn’t my choice. Before I went abroad, I approached Sir Russell Walters and asked
him
to take the case. I assumed, as I hadn’t heard from him, that this was going ahead. I only discovered on my return that Sir Herbert Manners was acting for the girl instead.”

It took a moment for Evelyn to take it in. “So who’s paying for his services?”

“I don’t know and I can’t find out. More worrying still, Manners is a friend of Campbell-Bannerman and a passionate Whig supporter. So I ask myself: is this a political move? Has Sir Herbert discovered something about Majuba, about Hortense, about your father, which he intends to use against us at some stage?

Evelyn was unable to contain his disgust. “For God’s sake, this is Marie’s life we’re talking about – not some political matter.” He began to pace the room.

“Calm down, sir,” Renfrew commanded and Evelyn attempted to obey. “At the moment, there’s no indication that Manners is acting against her interests or ours. He knew about the marriage agreement between Stanley and Pickard, but he hasn’t pursued it. I believe he knows nothing about your family’s involvement. Pickard has continued to remain discreet. There may be no political agenda at all.”

“But who is paying him, and why?”

Renfrew shrugged. “No idea, but at the moment not even Sir Russell Walters could serve us better.”

The trial was now in its third day and curious onlookers had gathered outside the Town Hall to gaze at the major players as they arrived. They had no tickets to get them into the courtroom itself. For those inside the court, there was the hope of more sensational revelations to come.

Mr Gilpin’s testimony had already created a stir. In the view of the reporters, the disappearing chloroform bottle was damning evidence against Marie – followed as it was by the laundry woman’s statement that, after she’d laid out Stanley’s body, she had changed and washed the sheets on the deceased’s bed. There was no doubt in their minds that Marie had something to hide.

“Was it your suggestion to Mrs Minton to clean the sheets?” Redcar had asked. The laundry woman replied that it was. “And did Mrs Minton accept the offer eagerly?” he asked.

“She seemed very pleased with the idea,” agreed Mrs Wilkinson.

Marie couldn’t understand why that was so important, until Sir Herbert took Redcar’s place.

His only question was to ask the witness if there was any sign of vomit on the sheets, to which she replied: “Not that I noticed.”

It was Detective Inspector Fowler’s turn to give evidence today. He repeated the testimony he’d given at the inquest, telling how he had searched the Minton’s rooms and found no trace of the blue bottle that Mr Gilpin swore he saw on the mantelpiece.

“The rooms were locked immediately after the post-mortem and a thorough search done. There was no glass bottle. So between six o’clock when Mr Gilpin saw it, and eight o’clock when Dr Hornby arrived, it was removed from the premises.”

“Would the accused have had an opportunity to dispose of the bottle during that period?” Redcar asked.

“Yes, when she left the house to fetch the doctor,” Fowler replied.

There was a murmur throughout the crowded gallery. Marie stared straight ahead, her face expressionless. The book,
Farnsworth’s Medical Dictionary
, was now being passed to the clerk for the judge and jury to inspect.

“This book was found in Mrs Minton’s room. As you will see, the page headed chloroform has obviously been read many times by the accused,” Fowler said.

Marie closed her eyes in resignation. She’d explained to Sir Herbert that while she’d been looking up the effects of chloroform, she’d knocked over a bottle of witchhazel and it had made the page stick. The page had torn, and that had made it seem as if she had frequently consulted it.

“Was there anything else found in the bedroom of the accused that gave you cause for concern?” Redcar asked.

“There were several books of a nature I would not expect to find in anyone’s bedroom, let alone the bedroom of a well-brought-up young lady.”

“What were the books that you found, Detective Inspector?”

“Books of a sexually explicit nature, as has already been described.
Esoteric Anthropology
by T.J. Nicols, and
Exploring the Human Form
by Anne Robin – the latter of which was the subject of a court case for indecency some years ago.”

Then it was Sir Herbert’s turn to question the policeman. “Detective Inspector Fowler,
Esoteric Anthropology
is considered a serious medical work, is it not? Some people in the medical profession set great store by it.”

“Some do, I suppose,” Fowler admitted, reluctantly. “Doctors might.”

“And as for
Exploring the Human Form
– although a charge of indecency was brought against it, the charge was dropped, was it not? It was accepted as a book that pushed back the boundaries of medicine, isn’t that true?”

“It may have been, but I would still not expect to find such books in the bedroom of a young woman.”

“Not even if she has an interest in medical matters, as appears to be the case with Mrs Minton?”

“It doesn’t seem right to me, that a woman should take an interest in such matters.”

There was a stir in the back of the gallery. A woman’s voice cried out, “Shame!” Marie glanced up, surprised by this unexpected outburst.

“I will not have interruptions,” growled Mr Justice Pollard.

“Thank heavens it isn’t Florence Nightingale you have in your sights, Detective Inspector Fowler, or where would our poor soldiers in the Crimea have been?” Sir Herbert asked.

That comment was greeted by cheers and clapping from four women at the back of the gallery, to the annoyance of those around them. It appeared that Mrs Minton’s case had caught the attention of the Women’s Social and Political Union, and some of its members had managed to get hold of tickets. Mr Justice Pollard made it clear that he intended to make an example of those women if they became unruly.

Dr Hornby was the next to take the stand, and Marie couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. He looked like a broken man. He’d shown her kindness and, as a result, he was being made to look like an incompetent fool. He was unhappy to find himself called as a witness for the prosecution and Redcar knew he would have to work hard to get him to admit that he’d been wrong about the ulcer, which was proving to be the case.

“You were so convinced that you were right in your diagnosis that it blinded you to the truth,” Redcar accused, continuing his attack on the doctor’s professional judgment. “You never suspected Stanley’s Minton’s use of chloroform, because you’d already made up your mind about the cause of his illness. Perhaps if you’d kept a more open mind, Stanley Minton would still be alive today.”

When it was his turn to question the doctor, Sir Herbert had only one point he wanted to make. “How would you describe Mrs Minton’s state of mind when her husband died?”

“She was greatly distressed,” said Hornby, emphatically.

Of course I was, Marie wanted to shout out. Taking another person’s life was repellant to her, but at that moment she’d seen no other way out. Trapped, at the end of a dark tunnel, she had had nowhere to turn. Stanley wouldn’t have hesitated to destroy Evelyn, she was sure of that, and he was already killing himself. But how much harm would he inflict on an innocent man before he did?

It was Dr Shelton’s turn to give his evidence next. He repeated what he had said at the inquest and in precisely the same order. His final statement, as it was at the inquest, being: “And the smell of chloroform was overpowering when we opened up the stomach.”

“And this was the cause of death?” Redcar asked.

“Without a doubt.”

“Death was not caused by the perforation of an ulcer as Dr Hornby assumed?”

“There was a small ulcer in the intestines, but it had certainly not burst and was not the cause of death.”

Sir Herbert Manners took over the questioning. “Dr Shelton, you said when you opened up the body that you saw no signs of irritation or burning in the windpipe.”

“None.”

“Nor any signs of vomit?”

“None.”

“Isn’t that unusual? Wouldn’t you expect to see such signs where the deceased had swallowed chloroform?”

“I have never met a case where somebody has swallowed chloroform, but I would expect there to be signs of vomiting, and a burning of the windpipe and mouth.”

“Thank you.”

It had been completely unplanned, the means she’d used to end her husband’s life. It was seeing the Bunsen burner with its thin rubber tube still attached. She’d remembered seeing Sister Grace using a pipette in the infirmary to transfer liquid from one place to another. She would suck it up as if through a straw, put a finger over the top to stop it running out and carry it to its destination. Then she would remove the finger and release it.
A mere teaspoon, if ingested, can kill even a strong man
, Marie had recalled reading in
Farnsworth’s Medical Dictionary
.

She dragged her attention back to the courtroom. Dr Moore had now taken the stand. He was describing the contents of the stomach and the discovery, after the removal of the skullcap, of some abnormality in the ventricles of the brain. Complex though his testimony was, there wasn’t a sound in the courtroom during it.

When Dr Moore had finished his testimony, Redcar asked: “Is it possible to produce insensibility in someone by making them inhale during sleep?”

“It is.”

“Have you done that yourself?”

“No. It’s extremely dangerous.”

“Danger apart, have you any doubt that it could be done?”

“As I say, with some risk.”

“Is it possible to put liquid down the throat of a person who is in that insensible state?”

“Yes. You can put liquid down the throat of a person who is moderately under the influence of chloroform.”

“Would there be any insuperable difficulty in putting liquid down someone’s throat using a glass or a medicine bottle?”

“Not an insuperable difficulty. No.”

“So, it would be possible, if someone was made insensible by inhaling chloroform, in that relaxed state, it would be possible to pour chloroform down the throat of that same person?”

“It would be possible. Yes.”

“Thank you.”

At the time, she hadn’t given a thought to the possibility of failure. All she had thought about was the threat Stanley posed to Evelyn.

Henry Redcar resumed his seat to a murmur of excitement. All eyes, including Marie’s, turned to Sir Herbert. He remained seated for a moment, as if deep in thought.

That morning, before the sitting, Sir Henry had called on Marie in the holding cell. He was in a buoyant mood.

“The next few hours are going to be critical for us,” he said. “Everything will hang on how I handle things today. We’re reaching the heart of the case.”

She was already nervous and his visit was making her feel worse. “What do you mean?”

“While Mr Henry Redcar KC has been preoccupied with making arrangements for his holiday in Nice, I’ve been spending night after night pouring over medical books and consulting with experts, trying to make the effects of chloroform on the body clear to me.”

“And are they clear now?” Marie asked.

“They are. I won’t lie to you – this is a difficult case, Mrs Minton. One that many of my colleagues thought I was a fool to take on. But if I’ve judged things correctly, and if I win, with so much set against me, my already formidable reputation will be increased. I shall see you in court.”

Without waiting for a reply, he whirled out of the cell, leaving her shaken.

Now, in the courtroom, as Sir Herbert slowly rose to face Dr Moore, Marie clenched her fists until her fingernails cut the palms of her hands. There wasn’t a sound in court, apart from the rustle of Sir Herbert’s papers.

“I would just like to clarify one or two matters, if you don’t mind, Dr Moore, in layman’s terms.”

Marie, like everyone else in court, scarcely breathed.

“Of course.”

“The trachea, or windpipe, is sealed by the epiglottis when swallowing occurs, so that what is swallowed passes into the mouth, down the pharynx or throat, and into the oesophagus and so on into the stomach. The epiglottis, by its closing, prevents whatever has been swallowed from going into the windpipe and then into the lungs and so on. Otherwise a person could choke. Is that correct?”

“That is correct.”

“If a person were made insensible, would the normal act of swallowing follow? I mean; in such a relaxed state would the epiglottis still seal the windpipe?”

“If the person were so insensible that there were no involuntary reactions, probably not.”

“In which case you would expect some of the liquid to have gone into the windpipe, which would have caused vomiting?”

“Yes.”

“You would expect to see burning in the windpipe?”

“Ah, but if the person were only
partly
insensible, then the involuntary closing of the windpipe by the epiglottis may still take place.”

“Partly insensible? I see. But chloroform burns, chloroform is bitter, would someone lie there, even if they were partly insensible, and allow such a liquid to be poured down their throat? Would they not cough; would they not react? Would this involuntary reaction, in itself, not open the epiglottis, and thus allow the liquid into the windpipe? Either way, wholly insensible or in part, there should be traces of burning in the windpipe and mouth?”

“Possibly, yes.”

“And suppose you yourself had to deal with a sleeping man and it was your object to get down his throat, without him knowing it, a liquid that would cause great pain to his lips and throat. It would be a very difficult and delicate administration, wouldn’t it?”

“It would be difficult. It would be very delicate. Sometimes it might fail, but equally, sometimes it might succeed.”

“I ask you again, Dr Moore, with the knowledge you have, would you feel confident of being able to administer chloroform in this way?”

“No. Not confident.”

“And we must remind ourselves that Mrs Minton knew something of medicine, so she would also understand the problems such a course of action would entail. Thank you, Dr Moore.”

Mr Justice Pollard brought the proceedings to an end for the day and the silence that had held during Dr Moore’s testimony was suddenly broken by a babble of voices. His evidence was sifted through, torn apart and then put back together again as neighbour argued with neighbour as to its meaning. Scarcely anyone noticed Marie being led out of the dock, down the stairs to the cells and out to the Black Maria that was waiting for her at the side entrance of the Town Hall.

*

Alone again in her cell in Armley Gaol, Marie sat on the bed and stared down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. They hadn’t stopped trembling since Dr Moore had taken to the witness stand.

“Someone to see you.”

Marie had been so deep in thought she hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps. “Ten minutes, that’s all.” The wardress stepped back and in swept Daphne Senior, her hair shorter than ever, her skirt even more severely cut, her double-breasted jacket revealing a white shirt and brightly coloured tie.

Marie was so stunned to see her she couldn’t speak. Daphne moved towards her, arms outstretched. “I was in the courtroom today. I came as soon as I could. To let you know you’re not without friends.”