The Trial of Marie Montrecourt (28 page)

Marie slowly rose and then, with a cry, flung herself into Daphne’s arms. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t believe it. I never thought I’d see you again.” Her voice was muffled against Daphne’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She pulled back and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “I’m being so silly. I know you think it’s stupid to cry.”

“Cry away,” Daphne said airily, peeling off her gloves as she took in the surroundings. “Just don’t expect me to join in. Slightly better than my cell at Holloway, but not by much. I was in there for three days for breaking a window.”

“Oh Daphne, how did you manage to persuade them to let you in?”

“I have my ways.” She sat on the bench and pulled Marie down to sit beside her. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch. The WSPU has been taking up all my time. I read about the trial in the newspaper. I couldn’t come here earlier because of my commitments, but Sir Herbert appears to know what he’s doing.”

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he?” Marie had her emotions more under control now. “I didn’t believe in him at all in the beginning. Now I think he’s doing as well as anyone can be expected to do under the circumstances. And I suppose I should be grateful to Evelyn for sending him to me.” She’d let the name slip out before she’d realised it and was angry with herself.

Daphne looked astonished. “Evelyn? Who’s Evelyn? I sent Sir Herbert to you.”

It was Marie’s turn to look astonished. She was temporarily at a loss for words. “I’m sorry… I… Sir Herbert never said…”

“He’s far too fond of mysteries, that man,” said Daphne, with some irritation. “He really is annoying sometimes. He occasionally handles cases for the WSPU. That’s why I chose him.”

“
You
sent him?” She was bewildered. So Evelyn had nothing to do with it. Did that mean he’d turned his back on her after all? Daphne was oblivious of the impact of her words.

“You mustn’t mind my interference,” she said. “My father died a year ago and I inherited everything. I’m afraid I’m rather well off now, so I can afford Sir Herbert.”

Marie drew breath to say that she couldn’t accept her friend’s kindness. Daphne mistook her intention and held up her hand.

“No, don’t concern yourself about my father’s death. He was no great loss to me. He always made it plain that he regretted having a daughter and if there’d been anyone else he could have left his money to, he would have done so. I really won’t discuss it anymore.”

Given the truth, Daphne’s generosity was hard to bear. “I can’t let you do this.”

“I’ve done it and it’s too late to stop it now,” she said, dismissively. “It’s tomorrow you give your evidence, am I right?” Marie nodded. “Are you feeling strong enough to face it?”

“Not really.” Marie could hear her voice trembling. “At night, when I’m alone, I become very frightened. I start to imagine what it will be like to hang. I can’t help it,” she said, as Daphne pulled a face. “I wonder, is it painful? Is it quick?”

“Stop it. This is maudlin claptrap – you must snap out of it. Be positive. I come with good news. The WSPU is prepared to give you its full support. We will confront Parliament if necessary.”

“No, Daphne. No. No. No. Stop.” Marie stood up and put her hands over her ears. She couldn’t drag anyone else into this pit she’d dug for herself. “Stop it. If you hired Sir Herbert on behalf of the WSPU so that you can use my case for the Women’s Movement, then you’ve made a terrible mistake. I’m not worthy of it.”

“Nonsense. You have to fight this, Marie.”

“If the jury find me guilty,” Marie said, quietly, “and if the world agrees with them, your movement will face public criticism for becoming involved with my case. It will be accused of clambering on the back of the trial simply to gain publicity. You mustn’t let that happen. There are better causes than mine that need your help.”

“It’s you I want to help and I will not walk away,” Daphne said fiercely. “I left you once before to fend for yourself after the fire, and see what a mess you’ve made of everything. I fled to my father’s, my tail between my legs, and you ended up here.”

“I’m not here because of you, and you’ve done more than enough to help me already. You sent me Sir Herbert.”

“Do you know why I sent him?” Marie shook her head. “I’ve never forgotten that you helped me once. You risked your life to drag me out of the fire. You could have left me to fend for myself but you didn’t. You stayed by me. Thanks to you I have a future, and I’m trying to repay that debt by giving you a future, too. Sentimental rubbish, I know, but there you have it.”

Marie looked at her without speaking for a moment. “You make me feel very ashamed. I’m not a good person, Daphne. I can’t seem to…” she hesitated. “I’m not a good person. I think I was born with a badness inside me.” Her voice became a barely audible whisper. “And I’m so frightened of it.” Daphne placed an arm around her shoulders. “I have made terrible mistakes. Do you understand me?”

After a moment, Daphne said: “I understand one thing and it’s the only thing that matters. Any badness is not of your making. You are a fine person and whatever you do, whatever you say, nothing will ever persuade me otherwise.”

Marie was so moved that she couldn’t speak. She could never burden Daphne with the truth, not now, although she wondered how much of the truth her friend suspected.

Daphne held her tightly. “I have seen people – lost souls – who, through no fault of their own, have been driven to extremes. But given a second chance, they have achieved remarkable things.”

“If they hang me, I won’t have a second chance,” Marie said quietly.

“Which is precisely why you have to fight.”

“Fighting comes naturally to you.” Marie was remembering the march on the factory.

“Does it? Perhaps it does.” Daphne released Marie and stared silently ahead for a moment. “You know, somebody else said that to me some years ago. Fighting comes naturally… well, something similar.”

She paused as a wardress passed, her keys jangling. A distant door slammed shut with a metallic clang.

“It was Dora who said it to me, before she left for India. She said: “If you love me, you’ll leave here and come to India with me. And when I said there were still too many battles to fight in England and that I couldn’t turn my back on them, she said: “See, you don’t really love me. You’re only happy when you’re fighting for some cause, and then you lose sight of the individual. It’s only the fight that matters to you, not the person.” And she was right. Only it’s too late to tell her that now. I had a letter a few days ago telling me she had died in India. So, you see, I want to prove to her and to myself that I can care more about the person than the cause. And that’s why I paid for Sir Herbert to represent you.”

Marie took her friend’s hand and held it for a while without speaking. “It gets inside your head a place like this, doesn’t it?” she said. “In places like this, and at times like this, the past drags you by the heels into darkness.”

They remained still, sitting in silence together, side-by-side.

The next day Marie left the Black Maria at the side of the Town Hall as usual. As she was being led towards the prison entrance, Daphne suddenly emerged from the group of people who had gathered to catch a glimpse of her. Before she could be stopped, she hugged Marie.

“I’m here for you,” she muttered. To her astonishment, Marie felt an envelope being thrust into her hand. Then Daphne was hustled away and Marie, with the envelope concealed in her hand, was ushered to the holding cell.

Once she was alone, she looked at the folded note. It was addressed to Mrs Marie Minton, but she instantly recognised the writing – it was Evelyn’s. She tore it open. It began:
I believe in you. Be strong.
Those first two sentences were all she needed to know.
I believe in you. Be strong
. She quickly scanned the rest of the note.

As you will be aware by now from the bearer of this message, Daphne hired Sir Herbert to defend you. It had been my intention to hire counsel for you, but she was ahead of me. I have made enquiries and I am now reassured that Sir Herbert’s only motive is to serve you well. I made contact with Miss Senior through John Pickard, who she believes is the author of this note. Miss Senior knows nothing of my involvement in this matter. However, if you ever need me, you only have to send me word and I will come at once.

He hadn’t signed it. He was right not to have signed it.

As she heard the footsteps of the wardress approaching the cell, she thrust the note into the pocket of her dress. Just to know it was there would give her the courage to face what was to come.

*

As Marie entered the court, the first person she saw was Geoffrey Minton. He’d been absent since giving his evidence, but he was back and he’d found a seat that gave him a clear view of the witness box. To her relief, Sir Herbert was already in his place. She waited for him to acknowledge her as usual, but it seemed that he was far too absorbed in the papers in front of him to do that. Redcar was in deep conversation with his legal team and did not look up.

She saw Daphne sitting on the front row of the gallery. Her friend smiled encouragingly at her. Marie nodded an acknowledgement. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her dress to touch Evelyn’s note. It gave her comfort. The court rose as Mr Justice Pollard entered.

It was now the turn of the counsel for the defence to call its witnesses, but first Sir Herbert stood to give his delayed speech outlining the case for the defendant. It was a short speech, but he made it with passion and conviction. He would show, he said, that far from being the perpetrator of a terrible crime, Marie Minton had been the victim of a family who had offered her their protection, but instead had taken her money and abandoned her to a husband who had destroyed her life by an evil act of self-destruction. He was a powerful orator and no one moved as he spoke.

“I call Mrs Minton,” said Sir Herbert.

There was a stir of excitement through the court as people stood to get a better view of the accused. Her silence during the inquest meant that this was the first time anyone had heard her give a full version of events, and speculation was rife as to what she would say. Silence fell as Marie entered the witness box, extremely pale and visibly nervous. She took the oath, swearing to tell the truth.

When she was little, she used to cross her fingers behind her back so that God would know she had no intention of keeping any promise she was about to make. She didn’t think it would help her today. She tried to speak clearly and calmly as she described how she was an orphan who had been brought up in a convent. How she knew nothing about her parents. How, when she’d left the convent and arrived in England, it was to find that a guardian had been charged to look after her and had arranged for her to marry Stanley Minton. She had no idea where the money came from. That was a bitter disappointment to the reporters.

“Would you say you were in love with Stanley Minton when you married him?” Sir Herbert asked.

“I respected him and I believed he respected me.” She looked down at her hands, at the wedding band on her finger, at the diamond and sapphire engagement ring that she still wore. “He seemed a kind man and I wanted our marriage to work. You see, I was to be part of a family at last and as I had never known my own parents, that was important to me.”

“You moved into The Laurels where Stanley Minton lived with his mother and father?”

“Yes.”

“Describe life in The Laurels if you would, Mrs Minton.”

She glanced towards Geoffrey Minton who was sitting on the edge of his seat, glowering at her.

“Stanley’s family made it clear that they didn’t like me. I hadn’t realised at the time of our marriage that my husband had accepted money to marry me and that it was to be invested in his business.”

She glanced up to the gallery and saw Daphne listening intently. So far, she had told nothing but the truth.

“And no one discussed the state of your husband’s business with you?” Sir Herbert prompted.

“No.”

“So there was no way you could know that your money was the only thing that was saving him from ruin?”

The judge leant forward to curb the line of questioning, so Sir Herbert changed the subject. He would like, he said, to ask her about her relationship with Peter Minton. The judge subsided and everyone else in court leant forward, eager to hear what she would say.

“Did Mr Peter Minton know that the relationship between you and your husband was in name only?”

She answered awkwardly: “Yes. He knew I was a wife in name only, at that time.”

“Would you say that your relationship with Peter Minton was of an intimate nature?”

She paused. A lady in the gallery could be seen fanning herself in some agitation. “No. It was not.”

“Did you seduce Peter Minton?”

“No, I did not. It was Peter who pursued me. The night that Mrs Minton died, he asked me to pay for his passage to America. He suggested we run away together, but I looked on him as a pleasant companion and nothing more – and I refused.”

“When he left for America, did he write?”

“No.”

“He had the money he needed from Geoffrey so he had no further use for you, I suppose?”

There was a ripple of appreciation from the listening crowd. The judge leant forward to admonish him. “Sir Herbert, you are asking her to speculate.”

“I apologise, my Lord.” He turned back to Marie. “Relations between you and your husband improved, didn’t they? How was that?”

“It was the death of his mother that changed his attitude towards me. He missed her and he turned to me for comfort. I moved into his room. I became his wife in truth.” Sir Herbert had warned her that he would have to ask questions of an intimate nature, but she felt deeply embarrassed at having to discuss something so personal in public. “I conceived, but the baby died. It was a great shock to us both.”

“I am sorry to have to ask you this, Mrs Minton, but who was the father of your baby?”

“My husband, Stanley Minton,” she said, clearly and distinctly. She looked straight at Geoffrey as she said it.

“Thank you, Mrs Minton, I wanted to clear that matter up. Your husband’s business continued to fail, didn’t it, despite the input of your money? Did your husband’s health deteriorate at the same time?”

“Yes, it did. He had stomach pains and he said he had an ulcer that was causing his increasing ill health. After we moved to Leeds, however, I discovered that my husband had become addicted to chloroform.”

A murmur ran through the court and Marie saw Geoffrey shake his head violently from side to side in denial. She turned away from him to look at the jury and described how she had found the bottle of chloroform.

“When I realised what it was, I went to look it up in
Farnsworth’s Medical Dictionary
and what I read frightened me a great deal. I realised it could kill him. That it surely
would
kill him.”

“What were your feelings about that?”

“I had committed myself to the marriage. My future lay with my husband. I didn’t know how I would manage if he died. We had no money, and I had no other family but Stanley. I suspected I wouldn’t receive help from his brother or his father.”

“Did you talk to your husband about your discovery of the chloroform?”

“I tried. He refused to discuss it. He said it hadn’t killed him yet and nor would it.” She hesitated. “He insisted his illness was due to the ulcer, yet he refused to do anything about it. He rejected Dr Hornby’s suggestion of surgery. When I challenged him about that…” She broke off and looked up to the gallery. She wasn’t sure she could continue. Daphne leant forward willing her to go on.

“Yes, Mrs Minton,” Sir Herbert prompted, gently. “You were saying?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “When I challenged him, he became violent.”

Geoffrey was on his feet. He couldn’t keep silent any longer. “Lies! She’s lying. Everything she has said is a lie. She wants to blacken Stanley’s name”

Daphne also stood up, with the intention of saying that if anybody could be said to be blackening another’s name, it was Geoffrey Minton and his family. However, Mr Justice Pollard was hammering on his desk and she didn’t get the chance.

“Mr Minton, I will not tolerate this behaviour. Will you leave or will you be quiet?”

Geoffrey collapsed weakly onto his seat, where he sat for the rest of Marie’s testimony with his head in his hands. She remembered what a shock it had been for her when she’d discovered Stanley’s addiction – so how much worse must it be for him.

Sir Herbert continued with his questions. “Why didn’t you seek help? Why not confide in Dr Hornby, for instance?”

“Stanley told me that decent people would reject us if they knew. We had very little money, but what we did have we would lose if it became common knowledge. He swore he was in control of the liquid.”

“And you believed him?”

“I had no choice.”

“And you continued to hide the truth from everyone?”

“Stanley said we would both go to prison if I didn’t. I was too frightened to say anything.”

“When it was obvious that Stanley was ill, you sent for Dr Hornby?”

“Yes. He said the symptoms suggested that Stanley was suffering from an ulcer and it could be about to burst. I accepted that, and saw no reason to mention the chloroform – for fear of the consequences I’ve just mentioned.

“In your own words, Mrs Minton, tell us what happened on the night of your husband’s death.”

This was the moment she’d been dreading. Until now, she’d spoken nothing but the truth – from now on, though, she would be lying under oath. She couldn’t look at Daphne. Her hand slipped into the pocket containing Evelyn’s note. She needed him to go on believing in her. She took a deep breath and began to repeat the story that Dr Hornby had introduced into the inquest in July.

“That night, my husband was ill, very ill. I sat by his bedside…”

Anyone who had come to court to wallow in the widow’s emotions felt cheated. There were no histrionics, no tears, because forcing herself to remain detached was the only way Marie could get through the ordeal.

“And when I woke the next morning” – she was nearly at the end of the story now – if she could just keep going a little longer – “I went to his room to see how he was and…” She faltered mid-sentence and Manners swiftly prompted her.

“And when you found him at six o’clock the next morning he was dead?”

“Yes. He was.”

“Mrs Minton, on the day of May 30th last year, did you buy a bottle of chloroform from Jackson, the chemist?” She didn’t reply. He said sharply, “Mrs Minton?”

With an effort, she said, “Yes, I did.”

There was a mutter from the crowd. She saw a movement in the gallery. Daphne Senior leant back with a groan.

“Stanley asked me to buy it,” she added quickly. “And a bottle of brandy.”

“Was it the first time you’d bought chloroform for him?”

“The first and only time.”

“Why did you agree to buy chloroform for him on that particular day?”

“At first I said no, but he insisted. He frightened me. He attacked me; he was choking me. Once I agreed to do it, he let me go. He gave me the address.”

“You didn’t tell anyone that he had become violent towards you?”

“Who would I tell? Besides, I’d heard that in this country a wife is considered her husband’s property. No one will interfere between them.”

“Well said!” shouted a voice, and Marie knew it was Daphne’s.

“Why did you agree to the laundry woman’s suggestion…” Sir Herbert glanced at his notes, “Mrs Wilkinson. Why did you agree to her suggestion that she should wash the bed sheets after she’d finished laying out Mr Minton?”

“I thought it was kind of her to offer. What else would I do with them?”

“You weren’t trying to hide evidence, like vomit, on the sheet?”

“No.”

Sir Herbert moved on to his next question. “There was a chloroform bottle in the bedroom when Mr and Mrs Gilpin arrived?”

“Yes.”

“But not when Dr Hornby arrived?”

“No. I disposed of it, because I saw no reason why anyone should ever need to learn of Stanley’s weakness.”

“How did you dispose of it?”

“After Mr and Mrs Gilpin left the room, I saw the bottle and I panicked. As I said, I wanted to protect my husband’s reputation, so I threw it in the river on my way to see Dr Hornby.”

“Because you still believed it was the ulcer that had killed him and the chloroform had nothing to do with it? What was your reaction when you discovered from the post-mortem that your husband had died by ingesting chloroform?”

“I was shocked.”

“Have you any idea how this chloroform came to be in his stomach?”

This was always going to be the hardest part, the direct question – the direct lie – but she’d come too far, been through too much, to lose her nerve now. “No.”

“Knowing that you are still under oath – did you give your husband chloroform?”

She saw Daphne’s white face staring down at her. “No,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, Mrs Minton.”