But Clare Dysart, Lady Rainsborough. A sweet, harmless young woman who had clearly never looked at another man. From just the little she had revealed, and he was sure he hadn’t heard everything, he felt sick to his stomach. There had been madness in Justin Rainsborough, and unfortunately, society and the law gave him the right to express it.
Andrew finally looked over at Giles, his brows knitted together and Giles said quietly: “That bad?”
“Not good, Giles. Not good.”
“What happened? Were you able to get a coherent story?”
“Oh, yes. It seems Lord Rainsborough has been beating his wife these past two years with increasing regularity.”
Giles buried his head in his hands.
“Last night, or to be more accurate, these past few weeks, it had escalated. Evidently he had threatened to kill her several times while he choked her almost insensible. Last night she believed he truly meant to do it. And then call you out and kill you.”
“Me!”
“It seems Rainsborough was beyond reason, jealous of any attentions paid to his wife, especially yours.”
“But I have hardly
seen
Clare,” Giles protested.
“Yet you called on her yesterday and spoke with her privately at the Petersham ball. That was more than enough to set him off. He threatened to kill her if she didn’t admit you were lovers and then to challenge you to a duel. He was a crack shot, I understand?”
“Clare denied it, of course?”
“For a while. But then he promised to stop the torture if she admitted you had been intimate and gave her word never to see you again. So she did.”
Giles groaned.
“He put a pistol to her head, and she had enough courage ...” Andrew looked over at Giles with an expression of wonder mixed with admiration. “I don’t know where she got it from, Giles. And of all women, Clare. She hit him over the head with a brass candlestick. Had she stopped there ...”
“Had she stopped there,” said Giles, almost spitting the words out, “had she stopped there he would be alive to do it again. She might well have been dead by the end of the Season,” he added wonderingly.
“Yes, perhaps you are right. At any rate, she shot him twice with his own dueling pistols.”
Giles looked horrified. It was one thing to be glad Clare had defended herself. It was another to imagine the details.
“She likely would have shot him again, Giles,” said Andrew with an ironic grin, “had she known how to reload. She wasn’t convinced he was dead until Sabrina went down to see the body and reassure her.”
“Oh, God. I should have been there, Andrew.”
“No, you shouldn’t. The worst thing in the world for my case is for you to involve yourself. No, you must let Sabrina act the friend for both of you.”
“I don’t know if I can stand it. Clare needs me.”
Andrew thought to himself that the last thing in the world Clare needed at this time was a man, old friend or not, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
“She is all right, Giles, I promise you.”
“You will do everything you can? Spare no expense, Andrew. I will assume the costs.”
“The Marquess of Howland will assume the costs, Giles,” Andrew reminded him dryly.
“Yes, of course.”
“I will have to question the servants. Her abigail.”
“Liza is relatively new, you know,” said Giles thoughtfully. “In fact, now that I think of it, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rainsborough had Martha dismissed.”
“Martha?”
“Her former abigail was Martha Barton.”
“Hmm. Well, I will try to find this Martha. The more eyewitnesses to her husband’s treatment of her, the better.”
“Can you win, Andrew?”
“I will do my best, Giles.”
* * * *
Andrew went directly from the Whittons’ to Clare’s father and told him all. The marquess seemed to age five years as he listened to his daughter’s ordeal.
“I know it is somehow our fault,” he told Andrew. “She was a late arrival, a surprise, actually. We did not quite know how to deal with her. It was as though we had forgotten what a young child needed.” He was silent for a moment or two. “It was why we sent her to the Whittons. She needed young people around her. If only she had married Giles. Had never met Rainsborough. Why did she never tell us what he was doing to her?”
“She seems to have felt hopeless that anyone on the outside could help her. And, at the same time, hopeful that the situation might change, that Rainsborough would go back to being the man she married.”
“They seemed so happy together. They were notorious for being in one another’s pockets.”
“Yes, well evidently the doting husband turned into a violently jealous one under the influence of spirits,” said Andrew. “You will not be hearing a very pretty story at the inquest, I am afraid, my lord.”
“Can you help her?”
“If you wish me to take the case, I will do my best. Much will depend on Clare’s ability to tell her story. And on any witnesses I can find.”
“If Giles called you in, then I am sure you are the best for my daughter,” said the marquess with a sad smile. “Please spare no expense or effort.”
“Thank you, my lord. I know a very good solicitor who will prepare the case, but he comes high. I do need some information from you.”
“Anything.”
“Clare’s former abigail was a woman called Martha?”
“Ah, yes. Martha. I always wondered why she was let go. Clare was very fond of her.”
“I would guess that Rainsborough dismissed her because she was equally fond of Clare. But I won’t know until I find her. Have you any idea how I could? Was she hired in London?”
“She was from the city, and I think she returned here shortly after she was dismissed.”
Andrew frowned. “Did she stay in service?”
“I think so, but let me ask my wife’s maid. She was the one who recommended Martha to us years ago and may still be in touch with her.”
Andrew rose. “Don’t bother to get up, my lord. I will see myself out. Please send me any information that you may obtain on Martha as soon as you can.”
“Of course. And Mr. More?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, my lord,” replied Andrew.
* * * *
It took two days and a hired Runner to find Martha Barker, now working as a parlor maid in the Winston household. While he was waiting, Andrew had his solicitor interview both Peters and Liza about the status of the Rainsborough marriage. At first they were both reluctant to speak, and even when they did, clearly were of the opinion that however distressing Lord Rainsborough’s treatment of his wife had been, it had been none of their business. Indeed, any comments or interference would have meant their jobs.
Andrew went back to the Rainsborough town house for another interview with Clare. She was beginning to look better physically: the bruises were fading, and her mouth was back to normal. She even had a little bit of color in her cheeks. But she was very subdued and unwilling to speak about her marriage. “It is all over now,” she whispered, her eyes on the floor. “Surely if I tell the coroner about that last night, it will be enough.”
She didn’t comprehend her danger at all, thought Andrew. And he wasn’t sure he had the heart to push her so soon after her ordeal. Yet if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he could get the coroner’s jury to acquit her. And if the case went to trial, she had even less of a chance to get off.
On his way out, he was stopped by Sabrina, who was just coming from a morning ride. She had moved into the town house “for the duration” as she put it, not wanting Clare to be alone.
“Andrew!” she exclaimed in surprise.
“Good morning, Sabrina.” Sabrina looked everything that Clare didn’t: healthy, glowing, vibrant, and energetic. The severe cut of her riding habit only made her contrasting curves more noticeable, and Andrew experienced the same stirring of attraction that he always felt in her presence.
“Will you have a cup of tea with me and tell me about your progress, Andrew?”
Andrew hesitated and then agreed.
“Do you mind waiting while I change?”
“Not at all, Sabrina.”
* * * *
When she came back down, it was hard to keep his face blank and the appreciation out of his eyes. She was dressed in a simple round gown of deep burgundy that complemented both her complexion and her eyes.
“Come sit down, Andrew. I will pour.” She suited action to words and handed him a cup of tea.
“I am afraid I have not much to tell, although we
have
found Martha and will be calling on her this afternoon.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” said Sabrina. “She should be very helpful in your case, shouldn’t she?”
“I hope so. Peters and Liza’s testimony will not do much for us. And Clare ...”
“What about Clare?” Sabrina asked protectively.
“You are like a lioness with her cub, Sabrina,” Andrew commented with appreciative humor.
“She needs protection,” replied Sabrina.
“Perhaps not quite so much,” Andrew said thoughtfully, after a moment. “She is a grown woman after all. She made a free choice to marry Rainsborough.”
“You don’t understand, Andrew. Clare has always called upon my protective instincts. And Giles’s. Especially Giles’s.”
“Well, neither you nor Giles can protect her from this, Sabrina,” said Andrew finally. “She will have to tell her story to a jury of twelve men who will be convinced that her husband was completely within his rights to chastise her. And I can’t get her to talk further about her marriage.”
“Isn’t telling them what happened the other night enough?”
“Frankly, no. It could be seen as an aberration: ‘Doting husband becomes insanely jealous after wife’s tête-à-tête with ex-lover.’ ”
“Giles and Clare were
never
lovers,” protested Sabrina, incensed by the suggestion.
“You and I know that, Sabrina. But will the coroner’s jury believe it? No, however painful it is, Clare must give the whole history of her marriage. And it would help me enormously if you would support her in this instead of hovering over her protectively. She killed a man, my lady. However justifiable, it was a murder.”
Sabrina’s face flushed with anger. “It is easy for you to speak so, Andrew. You are a man. You do not become someone’s property upon marrying him.”
“Is that why you have never married, Sabrina?” he asked dryly.
“I have never married ... it is none of your business why I have never married,” she replied, furious with him. “You do not know Clare as we do.”
“No, I do not,” he admitted in softer tones. “Nor do I know what it would be like to be in a woman’s shoes. But despite the law, Sabrina, we both know women and men who live in very happy marriages. Your parents, for one. Mine. Yes, the law protected Justin Rainsborough, but surely he is an aberration.”
“Perhaps. But perhaps he was an extreme example of how a man can abuse the power he has over a woman.”
“I cannot single-handedly change the law, Sabrina. I can only work within it. But I tell you, I cannot defend Clare Rainsborough if she is not willing to speak of her last two years. I would advise you that the way to protect her, to be her friend, is to encourage her to speak.” Andrew rose. “Thank you for the tea, my lady. I am sorry that all our conversations seem to end in disagreements about Lady Rainsborough.”
Sabrina said a cool good-bye, and Andrew left, wondering why, since their disagreements kept the desired distance between them, he felt so frustrated.
* * * *
After Andrew had gone, Sabrina found herself reconsidering his words. He was a most annoying man, it was true, with little or no understanding of who Clare was and what she had been through. On the other hand, he was a good friend of Giles’s, and, she must presume, a good lawyer or her brother would not have recommended him. He knew the law and the courts. Perhaps he was right about Clare. Perhaps she
did
have to tell the whole story of her marriage in order to prove her innocence. And if that were true, then she, Sabrina, should be encouraging her to cooperate with Andrew.
And so, while Andrew’s solicitor was interviewing Martha, Sabrina spent the afternoon with her friend, hoping that she could discern whether Clare was strong enough to do what she had to do.
The two women were bent over embroidery, when Sabrina looked over at Clare and said: “I spoke with Andrew More this morning. I find him annoyingly opinionated, but I do trust him. What do you think of him, Clare?”
Clare kept her eyes on the French knot she was working and said quietly: “Giles chose him, so I must trust him. And my very life is in his hands,” she added.
“Perhaps it is also in your own, Clare,” replied Sabrina, putting her hand on Clare’s arm. “Andrew seems to think that unless you are willing to speak of your marriage from the early days, you will not gain enough sympathy to get off. At first I was annoyed at him, but now I am not so sure that he is wrong. Is it so painful to tell your story, Clare?”
Clare looked up at her friend. “There are some things I just ... I can’t imagine saying them in public.”
“Could you tell them to me, Clare? That might be a first step.” Sabrina held her breath.
Clare pushed her needle very carefully through the linen, completed her knot, and bit the thread off with her teeth. Reaching over for a small velvet pincushion, she disposed of her needle and folded up the small square of embroidery.
She folded her hands just as carefully in her lap and said: “I will try, Sabrina.” She sounded composed. She looked composed unless one noticed how her hands were folded over her belly, as though to protect her most vital parts.
“Tell me when all this started,” Sabrina asked. “You and Justin seemed so happy together.”
“We were, at first. And even afterward, as strange as that may seem.” Slowly and haltingly, Clare began to tell Sabrina about the past two years. There were times during her story when Sabrina thought she would choke on her own horrified reaction, but she sensed that any response might silence Clare.
At one point she felt literally nauseated and had to breathe slowly and intentionally in order not to retch. There was nothing to say at the end except, “Clare, I am so sorry.” She started to put her arms around her friend, but Clare stiffened at her touch and Sabrina immediately withdrew.