William Monk 03 - Defend and Betray

Pole and her husband, Fenton Pole. She was immediately rude to her father, the general.” Louisa’s faceshadowed very slightly but she forbore from more than the vaguest of implied criticism. She knew it was ugly and above all she would avoid that. “Of course she has not been well,” she added. “So one forgave her readily. It was an embarrassment, no more.”
    “You did not fear it indicated any dangerous ill will?” Lovat-Smith asked with apparent concern.
    “Not at all.” Louisa dismissed it with a gesture.
    “Who else arrived at this dinner of yours?”
    “Dr. Charles Hargrave and Mrs. Hargrave; they were the last.”
    “And no one else called that evening?”
    “No one.”
    “Can you tell us something of the course of events, Mrs. Furnival?”
    She shrugged very delicately and half smiled.
    Hester watched the jury. They were fascinated with her and Hester had no doubt she knew it.
    “We spent some time in the withdrawing room,” Louisa said casually. “We talked of this and that, as we will on such occasions. I cannot recall what we said, only that Mrs. Carlyon picked a quarrel with the general, which he did all he could to avoid, but she seemed determined to bring the matter to an open dispute.”
    “Do you know what it was about?”
    “No, it seemed to be very nebulous, just a longstanding ill feeling, so far as I could judge. Of course I did not overhear it all …” She left it hanging delicately, not to rule out the possibility of a raging jealousy.
    “And at dinner, Mrs. Furnival,” Lovat-Smith prompted. “Was the ill feeling between General and Mrs. Carlyon still apparent?”
    “Yes, I am afraid it was. Of course at that time I had no idea it was anything serious …” For an instant she looked contrite, abashed at her own blindness. There was a murmur of sympathy around the courtroom. People turned to look at the dock. One of the jurors nodded sagely.
    “And after dinner?” Lovat-Smith asked.
    “The ladies withdrew and left the men to take port and cigars,” Louisa continued. “In the withdrawing room we simply spoke of trivial things again, a little gossip, and a few opinions of fashion and so on. Then when the men rejoined us I took General Carlyon upstairs to visit my son, who admired him greatly, and to whom he had been a good friend.” A spasm of pain passed over her immaculate features and again there was a buzz of sympathy and anger around the room.
    Hester looked at Alexandra in the dock, and saw hurt and puzzlement in her face.
    The judge lifted his eyes and stared over the heads of the counsel to the body of the court. The sound subsided.
    “Continue, Mr. Lovat-Smith,” he ordered.
    Lovat-Smith turned to Louisa. “Did this occasion any response that you observed, Mrs. Furnival?”
    Louisa looked downwards modestly, as if embarrassed to admit it now.
    “Yes. I am afraid Mrs. Carlyon was extremely angry. I thought at the time it was just a fit of pique. Of course I realize now that it was immeasurably deeper than that.”
    Oliver Rathbone rose to his feet.
    “I object, my lord. The witness—”
    “Sustained,” the judge interrupted him. “Mrs. Furnival, we wish to know only what you observed at the time, not what later events may have led you to conclude, correctly or incorrectly. It is for the jury to interpret, not for you. At this time you felt it to be a fit of pique—that is all.”
    Louisa’s face tightened with annoyance, but she would not argue with him.
    “My lord,” Lovat-Smith acknowledged the rebuke. He turned back to Louisa. “Mrs. Furnival, you took General Carlyon upstairs to visit with your son, whose age is thirteen, is that correct? Good. When did you come downstairs again?”
    “When my husband came up to tell me that Alexandra—Mrs. Carlyon—was extremely upset and the party was becomingvery tense and rather unpleasant. He wished me to return to try to improve the atmosphere. Naturally I did so.”
    “Leaving General Carlyon still upstairs with your son?”
    “Yes.”
    “And what happened next?”
    “Mrs. Carlyon went upstairs.”
    “What was her manner, Mrs. Furnival, from your own observation?” He glanced at the judge, who made no comment.
    “She was white-faced,” Louisa replied. Still she ignored Alexandra as if the dock had been empty and she were speaking of someone absent. “She appeared to be in a rage greater than any I have ever seen before, or since. There was nothing I could do to stop her, but I still