William Monk 03 - Defend and Betray

intrude.
    “Will they call him at the trial?” Damaris asked anxiously.
    “Of course not.” Felicia dismissed the idea as absurd. “What on earth could he know?”
    Damaris turned to Peverell, her eyes questioning.
    “I don’t know,” he answered. “But I doubt it.”
    Felicia stared at him. “Well for heaven’s sake do something useful! Prevent it! He is only eight years old!”
    “I cannot prevent it, Mama-in-law,” he said patiently. “If either the prosecution or the defense wishes to call him, then the judge will decide whether Cassian is competent to give evidence or not. If the judge decides he is, then Cassian will do so.”
    “You shouldn’t have allowed it to come to trial,” she repeated furiously. “She has confessed. What good can it do anyone to parade the whole wretched affair before a court? They will hang her anyway.” Her eyes hardened and sheglanced across the table. “And don’t look at me like that, Damaris! The poor child will have to know one day. Perhaps it is better we don’t lie to him, and he knows now. But if Peverell had seen to it that she was put away in Bedlam, it wouldn’t be necessary to face the problem at all.”
    “How could he do that?” Damaris demanded. “He isn’t a doctor.”
    “I don’t think she is mad anyway,” Edith interrupted.
    “Be quiet,” Felicia snapped. “Nobody wants to know what you think. Why would a sane woman murder your brother?”
    “I don’t know,” Edith admitted. “But she has a right to defend herself. And Peverell, or anyone else, ought to wish that she gets it …”
    “Your brother should be your first concern,” Felicia said grimly. “And the honor of your family your next. I realize you were very young when he first left home and went into the army, but you knew him. You were aware what a brave and honorable man he was.” Her voice quivered for the first time in Hester’s hearing. “Have you no love in you? Does his memory mean no more to you than some smart intellectual exercise in what is legally this or that? Where is your natural feeling, girl?”
    Edith flushed hotly, her eyes miserable.
    “I cannot help Thaddeus now, Mama.”
    “Well you certainly cannot help Alexandra,” Felicia added.
    “We know Thaddeus was a good man,” Damaris said gently. “Of course Edith knows it. But she is a lot younger, and she never knew him as I did. He was always just a strange young man in a soldier’s uniform whom everyone praised. But I know how kind he could be, and how understanding. And although he disciplined his men in the army, and made no allowances or bent any rules, with other people he could be quite different, I know. He was …” Suddenly she stopped, gave a funny little half smile, half sigh, and bit her lip. There was intense pain in her face. She avoided Peverell’s eyes.
    “We are aware of your appreciation of your brother, Damaris,” Felicia said very quietly. “But I think you have said enough. That particular episode is far better not discussed—I’m sure you agree?”
    Randolf looked confused. He started to speak, then stopped again. No one was listening to him anyway.
    Edith looked from Damaris to her mother and back again.
    Peverell made as if to say something to his wife, but she looked everywhere but at him, and he changed his mind.
    Damaris stared at her mother as if some realization almost beyond belief had touched her. She blinked, frowned, and remained staring.
    Felicia met her gaze with a small, wry smile, quite unwavering.
    Gradually the amazement waned and another even more powerful emotion filled Damaris’s long, sensitive, turbulent face, and Hester was almost sure it was fear.
    “Ris?” Edith said tentatively. She was confused as to the reason, but aware that her sister was suffering in some fierce, lonely way, and she wanted to help.
    “Of course,” Damaris said slowly, still staring at her mother. “I wasn’t going to discuss it.” She swallowed hard. “I was just remembering that Thaddeus could be … very kind. It seemed … it seemed an appropriate time to—think of it.”
    “You have thought of it,” Felicia pointed out. “It would have been better had you done so silently, but since you have not, I should consider the matter closed, if I were you. We all appreciate your words on your brother’s virtues.”
    “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Randolf said sulkily.
    “Kindness.” Felicia looked at him with weary patience.