Painting The Darkness (41 page)

The case of
Norton versus Davenall
was rapidly assuming for Russell a disastrous character. He had accepted it because Warburton was noted for backing winners, because Norton himself was so disarmingly plausible and because such a
coup de théâtre
was exactly what his hopes of political office required. He had not sat in Parliament for the past two and a half years out of love for his constituents; rather, because it rendered him eligible for the post of Attorney-General which he so coveted. To be non-suited at the hearing stage by a former law officer of the opposing party might be tolerated if it were merely embarrassing. But, if, as seemed likely, it would prove fatal to his ambitions, then it was not to be endured.

‘I am not sure, Mr Norton,’ he said with a determined effort to suppress his anger, ‘that you appreciate how perilously we are placed.’

‘On the contrary,’ Norton replied, ‘I appreciate it very clearly.’

‘If you had not insisted on deleting all reference to Sir Gervase—’

‘Would you have had me drag my father’s name through the mire?’

‘To save your own from the same fate, yes.’

Norton sat back in his chair and drew on a cigarette. ‘Well, I can hardly change my tune at this stage, gentlemen – now, can I?’

‘No,’ Mr Russell conceded dismally. ‘Indeed you cannot.’

Warburton, who had been standing by the window, advanced slowly to his desk and, stooping over it, regarded Norton levelly. ‘It is not too late to subpoena Mrs Trenchard. We might request an adjournment for the purpose.’

‘I have undertaken to leave her out of this.’

‘If forced to testify, would she acknowledge you?’

‘I believe she would.’

‘Then, I suggest you break your undertaking. It’s your only hope.’

‘Surely not my only hope, Mr Russell?’

Russell took a deep breath before replying. ‘Your refusal to answer Giffard’s question is a severe handicap. If there was just one other person besides Miss Pursglove to testify for you, I would entertain hopes of overcoming that handicap. As it is, we will have to rely on breaking down a defence witness. In my view, the possibility is remote.’

‘Poor Nanny,’ said Norton musingly. ‘She was terribly upset afterwards, you know.’

‘If I were Giffard,’ Russell continued, ‘I would reserve the defence and defy the judge to say there is a case to be answered. An hour from now, we may have been non-suited. The defence cannot lose today, Mr Norton. It can only fail to win. For us, on the other hand, there is no second chance.’

Norton smiled. ‘For me, you mean. You paint a bleak picture of my prospects, Mr Russell.’

‘That is because—’

There had come a sharp rap at the door. Warburton, who had given instructions that they should not be disturbed, looked up irritably at the clerk who entered. ‘What is it?’

‘There’s a gentleman in the outer office, sir, wishing to see Mr Norton as a matter of extreme urgency.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Mr Richard Davenall, sir.’

Warburton was thunderstruck. What business the defence solicitor had calling on the plaintiff at such a crucial stage he could not imagine. If not unethical, it was certainly unorthodox, and Richard Davenall was neither. What could the fellow be thinking of? ‘Tell him—’ he began.

‘Tell him I’ll be out to see him directly,’ Norton interrupted.

‘That would be unwise. There’s no knowing—’

‘I’ll see him.’

Warburton compressed his lips and nodded curtly to the clerk. ‘Put him in Mr Thrower’s room for the moment.’

‘Very good, sir.’

As soon as the door had closed behind the retreating clerk, Warburton let fly some of the resentment he felt of a client who had rejected his advice once too often. ‘You must let me deal with this. It would be quite improper for you to speak to him at this point.’

Norton rose from his chair and smiled blandly. ‘Nevertheless, I will speak to him. And I will speak to him
alone
.’

‘That would be the height of folly. You have no idea what proposals he may make.’

‘My mind is made up. Don’t worry, Mr Warburton. I won’t blame you if it turns out badly. Now, please excuse me, gentlemen.’ With that, he walked swiftly from the room, leaving Warburton and Russell to gape at each other in amazement.

III

Norton followed the clerk’s directions to the end of a straggling corridor and opened the door of Mr Thrower’s room. It was more cluttered and less businesslike than Warburton’s, narrow at the entrance, with a step down to where the vast desk stood piled with pink-bound parchment and an oriel window looked out across the grey censorious roofs of Holborn.

Towards these Richard Davenall had been gazing till, at the sound of Norton closing the door behind him, he turned, nodded a diffident greeting and said: ‘You came, then.’

‘Of course.’ Norton advanced across the room. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’

‘I thought Warburton would advise you not to see me at this juncture.’

‘He did.’ Norton paused on the step and looked down at Richard with no hint of artifice in his open quizzical face.

‘He gave you good advice.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because I might be here to offer you a last-minute compromise, a face-saving formula. I might be here to do a deal.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘For two reasons. First, I have no doubt Hugo believes he can defeat me. He wants nothing less than outright victory. He has no need of saving face. Second, even if he had, I don’t think you would agree to act as his messenger. Not now.’

Richard stroked his beard. ‘You’re right. On both counts.’

‘Then, what brings you here?’

‘I have something to say to you.’ Richard rounded the desk and placed himself in front of Norton, gazing up candidly into his face. He swallowed hard, as if plucking up his courage, then said: ‘I want you to know that I believe you to be James.’ He smiled uncertainly. ‘You would say I’ve known all along and, in a sense, I suppose I have. But you must realize how difficult it’s been for the family to come to terms with the fact that you’re alive. God knows, like them, I’ve tried to pretend that you’re an impostor, but it hasn’t worked. I’ve spoken to you, I’ve listened to you, I’ve heard you testify in court: every day I’ve grown more and more certain that you are my cousin. And now I can’t stand by any longer and let others deny what I know to be true.’ He held out his hand. ‘Will you forgive me for not acknowledging you from the first?’

‘Forgive? Will
I
forgive?’ Norton stumbled down from the step and moved unsteadily to the desk. He stooped across it, his hands pressed flat against the surface, breathing heavily and jerking his head aside when Richard touched his shoulder.

‘James?’

‘It’s all right. Give me a moment.’ With a tremor, he stepped back, then raised himself upright and let out a
long
breath of regained composure. ‘I’m sorry. Excuse that display. In order to survive, I have inured myself to rejection. Nowadays, only acceptance is too much for me.’ He turned, smiling broadly, and shook Richard’s hand. ‘God bless you, cousin, for accepting me.’

‘I could not let the Law denounce you as an impostor, when I know you are not.’

‘The Law may still say I am.’

‘Not after I’ve testified for you this afternoon. What I intend to say will ensure you do not lose.’

‘You will testify for me?’

‘After we parted last night, I came to realize that I had no honourable alternative.’

‘My mother and brother will never forgive you.’

‘They will, in time.’

‘I don’t think so. This will split our family irrevocably.’

‘I pray not. But, if it does, so be it. I’ve taken the easy way out too often in my life. Eventually, a man has to face the consequences of his actions. For me, that time has come.’

‘I know how much this means to you, Richard. You have my admiration as well as my gratitude.’

‘There is nothing admirable in what I’m doing, James. I should have done it weeks ago, when I first knew, in my own mind, that you were who you claimed to be. Even now, I’m not sure I’d have found the courage to come forward if it hadn’t been for Constance. She’s the one you should be grateful to.’

‘Constance?’

‘I’ve just left her. Come and see.’ Richard led him to the window. Looking out, they saw below them in the small garden of Staple Inn two women seated on a bench beside the fountain: Emily Sumner, glancing anxiously from side to side and twitching at her bonnet, and her sister Constance, a still, slender figure in grey fur coat and lilac dress gazing pensively into the sprinkling waters of the fountain whilst a stray breeze stirred the feathers on her hat.

Norton frowned. ‘I made it clear that I would not involve her. Why is she here?’

‘Because she loves you.’

‘I love her, too. That’s why I wanted to spare her this.’

‘She does not wish to be spared. Don’t you understand? She wants to prove that she loves you.’

‘I require no proof.’ He looked at Richard intently. ‘Surely, if you will speak for me, that will suffice. There’s no need for Constance to do so as well.’

‘Her hope is that the effect of she
and
I testifying will be to persuade Hugo to give in without the public agony of a full trial. Her hope is that it will convince him he cannot win.’

‘Do you share that hope?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘You seriously think he will capitulate?’

‘Hugo has no stomach for a losing battle. If his defeat here is comprehensive, I believe he will give it up. Far better that than the ordeal a trial would mean for all concerned.’

Norton grew thoughtful. For several moments, he looked down at the patient expectant figure in the garden. Then he stepped back from the window as if his mind were made up. ‘I must go to her.’

‘There isn’t much time.’

‘There’s enough. Will you wait here for me?’

Richard nodded his agreement. As Norton hurried from the room, he subsided gently into the chair behind the desk and waited for solitude to remind him of the enormity of what he had agreed to do. If only, for him, it could be as simple as the love those two young people shared. But Richard’s motives were obscure even to himself, his every action a confusion of meaning and purpose. Had James appealed to his conscience, or to the self-destructive instinct of a man appalled by his own hypocrisy? Did he want justice for James, or a swift symbolic end to all the shams he had lived?

Richard craned back in the chair and looked out of
the
window again. Constance was alone now. Emily must have seen James coming, for she was bustling off in the direction of Chancery Lane. And there was James, emerging from the overhang of the building and moving purposefully towards the bench on which Constance sat.

IV

‘May I join you?’

‘Of course.’

He sat down beside her. ‘It’s cold out here. I hope you’ve not been waiting long.’

‘Not long.’ She looked at him. ‘Not nearly so long as you’ve waited for me.’

‘Twenty-five days, since we met beneath Achilles.’ He glanced down. ‘Every one of those days, I thought of you and wished I could be with you.’

‘It was the same for me.’

‘I understand why you wouldn’t see me in Salisbury. Believe me, I do understand.’

‘James—’

There was an explosion of rustling from the next bench. A man who had been throwing crusts to the pigeons screwed up the empty packet, rose and walked away.

‘I think we frightened him off,’ Constance said, as soon as he was out of earshot.

James smiled grimly. ‘If he feeds the pigeons regularly, he should be used to it. Half the park benches in London serve as secret rendezvous for star-crossed lovers.’

‘Is that what we are?’

He gave her his answer in the fixed and hopeless longing of his stare. ‘Fate has dealt with us cruelly, Connie. With every fibre of my being, I wish we could be man and wife, as we were once destined to be.’

She returned his stare, with all its intensity. ‘The longer I have spent trying to forget you, the better I have remembered that destiny.’

Her hand had found its way into his. He seemed about to raise it to his lips, when something stopped him. ‘If only we were free to obey our emotions. But we are not. Simply by sitting here and talking, we are in breach of solemn trusts. I promised your father I would not involve you. And you promised your husband you would not see me.’

‘William has forfeited the right to hold me to that promise – or to any other.’

‘How so?’

She glanced away. ‘In time, I will be able to speak of it. For the moment, all I can say is that I no longer regard him as my husband.’

‘Do you realize what you’re saying?’

She gripped his hand tightly. ‘Yes, James. I do.’

‘It was never my wish to come between you.’

‘Simply by being alive, you come between us. As soon as I knew you had returned, I realized that, in the end, I would have to choose.’

‘Between duty … and happiness?’

Her glance fell. ‘If that had been the choice, I could have resolved to sacrifice happiness.’ When she looked up again, her eyes were brimming with tears. ‘But I will not obey a husband who insults me. And I will not allow your family to deprive you of your birthright.’

Then, at last, he did kiss her hand. He raised it gently to his lips and, as they touched the gloved fingers, he frowned. ‘What’s this?’ he said, tracing with his thumb the protuberance beneath the thin leather of a ring on her third finger. ‘You wore only your wedding ring when we last met.’

‘I wear it no longer.’

He peeled off the glove and gasped in amazement. On her third finger glistened the fine encrusted diamonds of an engagement ring.

‘Don’t you recognize it?’

For a moment, he stared at her hand in silent concentration, then looked up into her eyes. ‘Of course I
recognize
it. I gave it to you the night of the hunt ball at Cleave Court, when you said you would be my wife.’

‘I am the same person who made that promise, James, and you are the person I made it to. So, at this time of your greatest trial, where would you expect me to be, but by your side, wearing the ring you gave me?’