A Sudden, Fearful Death

"Please continue, Lady Callandra," Lovat-Smith prompted. She was not a hostile witness, but she was not helpful either. A lesser man might have been impatient with her. Lovat-Smith was far too wise for (hat. The court sympathized with her, thinking the experience would have shocked any sensitive woman. The jurors were all men, naturally. Women were not considered capable of rational judgment sufficient to vote as part of the mass of the population. How could they possibly weigh the matter of a man's life or death as part of a mere twelve? And Lovat-Smith knew juries were ordinary men. That was both their strength and their weakness. They would presume Callandra was an average woman, susceptible, fragile, like all women. They had no idea she had both wit and strength far more than many of the soldiers her husband had treated when he was alive. Accordingly he was gentle and courteous.

"I regret having to ask you this, but would you recount for us what happened next, in your own words. Do not feel hurried____________________"

The ghost of a smile crossed Callandra's mouth.

"You are very civil, sir. Of course. I shall tell you. Dr. Beck peered down the chute to see if he could discover what was blocking it, but he could not. We sent one of the nurses for a window pole to push down the chute and dislodge whatever it was. At that time…" She swallowed hard and continued in a hushed voice. "We assumed it was a tangle of sheets. Of course the window pole failed."

"Of course," Lovat-Smith agreed helpfully. "What did you do then, ma'am?"

"Someone, I forget which of the nurses, suggested we fetch one of the skivvies who was a child, and very small, and send her down the chute to clear it."

"Send the child down?" Lovat-Smith said very clearly. "At this time you were still of the belief it was linen blocking the way?"

There was a shiver of apprehension around the room. Rathbone pulled a face, but very discreetly, out of view of the jury. In the dock Sir Herbert sat expressionless. Judge Hardie drummed his fingers silently on the top of his bench.

Lovat-Smith saw it and understood. He invited Callandra to continue.

"Of course," she said quietly.

"Then what happened?"

"Dr. Beck and I went down to the laundry room to await the blockage."

"Why?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why did you go downstairs to the laundry room, ma'am?"

"I-I really don't remember. It seemed the natural thing to do at the time. I suppose to find out what it was, and see that the quarrel was resolved. That is why we intervened in the beginning, to resolve the quarrel."

“I see. Yes, quite natural. Will you please tell the court what occurred then?"

Callandra was very pale and seemed to require an effort to maintain her control. Lovat-Smith smiled at her encouragingly.

"After a moment or two there was a sort of noise…" She drew in her breath, not looking at Lovat-Smith. "And a body came out of the chute and landed in the laundry basket below it."

She was prevented from continuing immediately by the rustles and murmurs of horror in the public gallery. Several of the jurors gasped and one reached for his handkerchief.

In the dock Sir Herbert winced very slightly, but his eyes remained steadily on Callandra.

"At first I thought it was the skivvy," she resumed. "Then an instant later a second body landed and scrambled to get out. It was then we looked at the first body and realized quite quickly that she was dead."

Again there was a gasp of indrawn breath around the room and a buzz of words, cut off instantly.

Rathbone glanced up at the dock. Even facial expressions could matter. He had known more man one prisoner to sway a jury against him by insolence. But he need not have worried. Sir Herbert was composed and grave, his face showing only sadness.

"I see." Lovat-Smith held up his hand very slightly. "How did you know this first body was dead, Lady Callandra? I know you have some medical experience; I believe your late husband was an army surgeon. Would you please just describe for us what the body was like." He smiled deprecatingly. "I apologize for asking you to relive what must be extremely distressing for you, but I assure you it is necessary for the jury, you understand?"

"It was the body of a young woman wearing a gray nurse's dress." Callandra spoke quietly, but her voice was thick with emotion. "She was lying on her back in the basket, sort of folded, one leg up. No one who was not rendered senseless would have remained in such a position. When we looked at her more closely, her eyes were closed, her face ashen pale, and there were purple bruise marks on her throat. She was cold to the touch."

There was a long sigh from the public galleries and someone sniffed. Two jurors glanced at each other, and a third shook his head, his face very grave.

Rathbone sat motionless at his table.

"Just one question, Lady Callandra," Lovat-Smith said apologetically. "Did you know the young woman?"

"Yes." Callandra's face was white. "It was Prudence Barrymore."