Soul

‘Order in court!’ the judge commanded. ‘Pray continue, Miss Copper.’

‘Anyhow, that’s when I saw the mistress tipping something into the Colonel’s snuffbox. I knows what I saw ’cause I’d checked earlier to see whether the snuff needed topping up, and the box was full. I’m telling you, it weren’t snuff she was mixing in with the master’s tobacco, that’s for certain.’

An audible gasp ran through the court. Lavinia gazed straight ahead, her face deliberately emotionless.

The judge glanced sternly around the murmuring spectators as the jurors filed in. Lavinia dared not look at the twelve men who had been in discussion for over four hours behind closed doors. Whatever the verdict, she was determined to consider herself free—free of the burden of guilt, free spiritually.

She looked across at Aloysius. The two of them were locked into this dreadful moment of waiting; her growing anxiety smashing against the court walls with each passing minute. She closed her eyes, imagining a different future: a small bridge over a river somewhere on the other side of the world, with the three of them standing together on it—Aloysius, Aidan and herself.

‘Have the jury reached a verdict?’ the judge asked.

A short man with a handlebar moustache whose edges reached to the winged tips of his collar, and who looked as if he’d be more comfortable behind the desk of a counting house, stood. ‘We have, Your Honour.’

The juror handed a slip of paper to the clerk, who passed it to the judge. A terrible silence fell upon the room as the judge opened the slip then began reading.

‘In the case of Aloysius O’Malley, accused of conspiring with Mrs Lavinia Huntington to murder her husband, the jury finds the accused not guilty.’

Up in the public gallery, Samuel sounded a solitary cheer. The exclamation echoed around the hushed space, as, their breath held as one, the rest of the spectators waited on the next verdict.

The judge cleared his throat.

‘In the case of Mrs Lavinia Elspeth Huntington, the jury finds her guilty of murder—’

Uproar broke out amongst the onlookers. While members of the Press, anxious to be the first to reach the printing room, pushed past the young American coachman who was now holding his head in horror. The Reverend Kane, in a sea of shouting people, began muttering the Lord’s Prayer. Meanwhile, the two accused stared at each other, motionless.

The judge placed the black cap on his head.

‘The condemned will be taken from these premises and shall be hung by the neck until pronounced dead.’

A great roar rose up in Lavinia’s head and the world ran away from her into sudden darkness.

Upon seeing her daughter collapse, Meredith Murphy pushed her way to the front of the court.

Lavinia’s face was chalk against the grey of her flannel dress. Mr Cohen and his clerk crouched beside her. Kneeling, Meredith reached into a pocket and placed a vial of smelling salts under Lavinia’s nose.

‘I am most dreadfully sorry, Mrs Murphy.’ The defence lawyer laid his hand gently upon the Irishwoman’s shoulder. ‘The jury and the whole of England was set against her from the start.’

‘You did your best, Erasmus, but even you cannot change the ways of the land, nor the travesty that often passes for marriage.’ She looked down at her daughter’s gaunt face, now resting upon her knee. ‘Sir, I have not wept for fifteen years, and I’ll be damned if I give them the satisfaction of seeing me weep now.’

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small

cloth bag filled with guineas. ‘You’ll be wanting this.’

The barrister handed the money back.

‘Dear woman, I will be as saddened as you to see her hang.’

77

Los Angeles, 2002

GABRIEL RUSHED INTO THE DINING room. Julia stood holding a gun, staring at the shattered window opposite. Klaus was sitting in front of her, cowering, his hands covering his head.

‘I shot to miss, deliberately. I stopped myself,’ Julia murmured, amazed. Gabriel pulled the gun out of her hand.

Klaus stood slowly and dabbed pointlessly at his wine-stained shirt. Then, as the full realisation of what had happened rushed through him, he swung around to Julia and started yelling.

‘You’re fucking crazy! I’m going to press charges—this will be the end of your career!’