William Monk 03 - Defend and Betray

you are—and I cannot relieve you of it. Go and make it. Make it with prayer, with pity, and with honor!
    “Thank you.”
    Lovat-Smith came forward and addressed the jury, quiet, stating the law. His voice was subdued, wrung with pity, but the law must be upheld, or there would be anarchy. People must not seek murder as a solution, no matter what the injury.
    It was left only for the judge to sum up, which he did gravely, using few words, and dismissing them to deliberate.
    The jury returned a little after five in the evening, haggard, spent of all emotion, white-faced.
    Hester and Monk stood side by side at the back of the crowded courtroom. Almost without being aware of it, he reached out and held her hand, and felt her fingers curl around his.
    “Have you reached a verdict upon which you are agreed?” the judge asked.
    “We have,” the foreman replied, his voice awed.
    “And is it the verdict of you all?”
    “It is, my lord.”
    “And what is your verdict?”
    He stood absolutely upright, his chin high, his eyes direct. “We find the accused, Alexandra Carlyon, not guilty ofmurder, my lord—but guilty of manslaughter. And we ask, may it please you, my lord, that she serve the least sentence the law allows.”
    The gallery erupted in cheers and cries of jubilation. Someone cheered for Rathbone, and a woman threw roses.
    In the front row Edith and Damaris hugged each other, and then as one turned to Miss Buchan beside them and flung their arms around her. For a moment she was too startled to react, then her face curved into a smile and she held them equally close.
    The judge raised his eyebrows very slightly. It was a perverse verdict. She had quite plainly committed murder, in the heat of the moment, but legally murder.
    But a jury cannot be denied. It was the verdict of them all, and they each one faced forward and looked at him without blinking.
    “Thank you,” he said very quietly indeed. “You are discharged of your duty.” He turned to Alexandra.
    “Alexandra Elizabeth Carlyon, a jury of your peers has found you not guilty of murder, but of manslaughter—and has appealed for mercy on your behalf. It is a perverse verdict, but one with which I have the utmost sympathy. I hereby sentence you to six months’ imprisonment; and the forfeit of all your goods and properties, which the law requires. However, since the bulk of your husband’s estate goes to your son, that is of little moment to you. May God have mercy on you, and may you one day find peace.”
    Alexandra stood in the dock, her body thin, ravaged by emotion, and the tears at last spilled over and ran in sweet, hot release down her face.
    Rathbone stood with his own eyes brimming over, unable to speak.
    Lovat-Smith rose and shook him by the hand.
    At the back of the courtroom Monk moved a little closer to Hester.

With fifteen William Monk novels under her belt and two more in the pipeline, celebrated mystery writer Anne Perry chats with Mortalis about her famed amnesiac detective, self-portraits, and the life of a writer.
    Mortalis : You have been crowned the “queen of British historical mystery” (
Chicago Tribune
). That must be gratifying!
    Anne Perry : I didn’t know that. It’s very nice.
    M : For you, what are the ingredients of a good mystery?
    AP : Tension, conflict, and characters that you care about. If you don’t care about people, it doesn’t matter who did the actual crime. It has to be about
why
, how did this happen? For me there has to be a distinct moral dilemma where I can believe that a person had no alternative. One reason I like writing mysteries is that it’s not just about who committed the major crime, but what you discover about all of the other characters under the pressure of investigation.
    We all have things we’d rather not have made public; it might not be something seriously wrong but just jolly embarrassing. You don’t want to walk down Main Street with no clothes on. The question becomes, Will you lie to protect those you love? There’s always the temptation to evade the truth, fudge it, not to admit to something embarrassing. How honest will we be, how brave? What happens to our integrity when we’re pushed to the edge of admitting something embarrassing? Also, how will we deal with disillusion? Do we blame everyone else? Maybe we expected something unfair of someone and now must face the truth.
    So I’d say it’s conflict and what we discover about the whole cast. And it must be