Chapter 39: Mary

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A cold glass was pressed to my lips, I looked up to see the cool, grey eyes of Mr Marshall Hall peering at me. They were the eyes of a kind man, I could tell from the way his crow's feet had etched into his face. I raised my hands up to push the glass away.

"Drink this," he said. "It is only water."

Mustering my strength, I sat up. I looked around the unfamiliar room, oak-panelled and full of books. I obeyed his direction to drink, sipping delicately at the water. There was a heaviness in my limbs and a heaviness in my heart.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You fainted on the witness stand," he said. "And now you are in the judge's quarters. I carried you in here, in a way that I hope to be described as 'surprisingly dashing' in tomorrow's paper."

Mr Marshall Hall gave a broad grin, I gave a weak smile in return and drank some more. He put his hand on my forehead, like my father had done many years ago. Had my father lived, he would have been a similar age.

"Well, you don't have a fever," he said. "I suppose we can chalk this up to an excess of emotions."

He glanced behind him and spoke in a low voice.

"Do you remember what was said before you fainted?"

I nodded miserably, feeling sicker every moment. I remembered that day in Paris, when even seeing Daniel unexpectedly had made me vomit with anxiety. Now that feeling, that shame came crashing down on me once more. I had always been so good at controlling my emotions; taking a bad feeling, putting it in a box and burying it deep down. I needed to regain the composure, I needed to be the ice queen that Fred had once called me before he had thawed my heart. My love had made me weak.

"In one minute, I am going to walk through that day and argue with the judge that the prosecution must retract that statement and all records of it removed," he said. "Before I do that, I need to know one thing."

I must have trembled because he took my hand gently in his.

"Mrs Wilkes, I do not need to know if it is true. You have been asked too many indelicate questions today and I am sorry for it. I only need to know if there is any written mention of such an allegation? Any letter from you or the victim?"

I shook my head.

"That is good. Rest on the sofa a little longer, you'll need strength to finish your testimony."

When he had left, I looked around for a mirror to ensure I did not look too much of a mess. There was none, so I made do with the reflection in a glass-fronted bookcase.

"In all my years, Your Honour" I head Mr Marshall Hall's voice in the next room. "I have never seen a prosecutrix say such shocking things to a lady. A society lady of unimpeachable moral character no less."

"Calm down, counsel," the voice belonged to the judge. "Let's get to the root of this matter, is there justification to carry on this line of questioning."

"It is establishing a motive, Your Honour."

"With no evidence whatsoever," Mr Marshall Hall. "Or prosecution would have submitted it."

"There was an anonymous letter that arrived this morning."

"An anonymous letter? An anonymous letter!" Mr Marshall Hall sounded incredulous. "Your Honour, this case is on the front page of every newspaper. Do you have any idea the number of tips and letters my chambers has received? People with theories such as Mordaunt killed himself staggered to the window and threw the gun in the bushes, that it was a gang of Scottish jewel theives, an international espionage conspiracy, the Algerian maid dressed in her master's clothes and sneaked back to the house and, my personal favourite, the ghost of one of the former owners who died in a duel seeking revenge."

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