The following day Quinta was crushed with others behind a wooden barrier. Her mother was in the courtroom proper, preparing herself to speak on Patrick’s behalf. Quinta wished she were older so that she could do that for him. The court was noisy but became less so when Sir William came in and took his seat behind the long polished magistrate’s bench. He dealt quickly with a succession of drunkards who had damaged property or injured others. She was alarmed at the violence that went on in town.
Sir William kept glancing at a timepiece that he carried in his waistcoat pocket. He looked harassed by the morning’s proceedings and seemed impatient to be finished with his duties. Quinta guessed that the clerks were all hungry for their dinners, too.They were eager to join others in the Red Lion and discuss the business of the town’s dignitaries.
She was truly shocked by Patrick’s appearance when he was brought in to stand before the magistrate. He was dirty and dishevelled from his time in the crypt. His feet were shackled in irons and his hands were chained together.
‘Patrick!’ she called. ‘Over here!’
His eyes roved around the courtroom and when he saw her his unshaven face broke into a smile. She tried so hard to return it cheerfully, but how could she? His features fell into a puzzled frown, and he searched the court again, recognising her mother, who, to Quinta’s dismay, was sitting next to Farmer Bilton on the witness bench. Patrick’s frown deepened.
The courtroom went silent as the clerk read the charge. ‘How do you plead?’
‘I am not guilty, Sir William.’ To Quinta’s relief, his voice was strong and steady.
‘Explain yourself,’ Sir William demanded. ‘I saw the tracks where you had dragged the beast across the brook.’
‘The deer was on Top Field land when it was shot, sir. It fled injured through the brook to the shelter of Five-acre Wood. It was dying and in great distress. I was obliged to hasten its end.’ Patrick was articulate and Quinta noticed a few raised eyebrows in the court.
Sir William responded, ‘The landlord of Top Field was a witness to the shooting. Farmer Bilton? Stand up.’
He did. ‘I was there, Sir William. I ride by Top Field every day. It is my duty, sir, to know my tenants are safe and well, especially since I heard there were vagrants in the area and Mrs Haig being a widow now—’
‘Yes, yes, Mr Bilton,’ Sir William interrupted. ‘What did you see on the day in question?’
‘The young deer was in the wood and drinking at the stream. This ruffian fired two shots at it and it fell. Stone dead, it was. I saw it all.’
‘That’s a lie!’ Quinta called out. ‘It was in my garden!’
‘Silence!’ Sir William struck his gavel, looked in her direction and recognised her. He seemed startled for a moment but recovered quickly. ‘Miss Haig, I saw the beast with my own eyes and the trail of blood where the prisoner had dragged it from the trees.’
‘But it—’ she protested.
The gavel descended again. ‘Miss Haig, please be quiet.’
She saw her mother’s worried expression and Farmer Bilton’s satisfied sneer as he stepped down.
Patrick stood proudly when he was called on again and he repeated the truth. ‘The first shot was fired to scare the animal and it was injured by accident. I only did what any responsible gamekeeper would have done.’
Sir William listened and frowned. ‘You refused to produce the gun when ordered, yet you admit you fired it.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘How did you come by the gun?’
‘It belongs to my father. He was a rifleman in the war with France.’
‘Indeed?’ Sir William commented. ‘And where is your father now?’
Patrick looked around the courtroom. ‘He is here, somewhere. He must be.’
He gazed across at Quinta with raised eyebrows and she shook her head. She had to press her lips together firmly to stop them trembling but her eyes were glassy with tears. She could not give him such sad news across an open court. His expression changed to one that Quinta had not seen before: at first puzzled surprise and then a naked fear haunted Patrick’s face. Quinta felt so helpless. She wanted to reach out and hold him.
Her mother rose as the clerk announced that the widow Haig would speak for the prisoner. She looked haggard and gaunt and now as old as her years.
‘The - the prisoner is honest and hard-working, sir. He has tilled my land these past months and returned it to profit.’
‘He is a vagrant, is he not, madam?’
‘He and his father arrived as such. They took lodging in my cowshed.’
‘I saw no sign of the soldier when I was there. Where is he now?’
Quinta saw her mother close her eyes to stop the tears spilling out. ‘He is . . .’ Her voice was hoarse.
‘Speak up, madam.’
‘He was lately at the surgeon’s house, sir. His knee has pained him since he was brought down by a French musket at Waterloo. The surgeon advised . . .’ Her voice broke and Quinta reached forward over the barrier as though this effort would give her mother strength. Laura continued, ‘He - he took off the leg a few days ago.’
‘No.’ A strangled groan came from Patrick and his face contorted with pain. He’d known - they all had - that this was a possibility. Quinta met his eyes with a tortured expression of her own. A sympathetic murmur spread through the courtroom.
Laura Haig choked on her words. ‘Sergeant Ross is dead, sir,’ she croaked. ‘He passed away yesterday morning - at - at the surgeon’s house.’
‘No!’ Patrick let out a yell of protest and sagged against the wooden rail surrounding his stall. ‘No,’ he cried again. ‘It cannot be!’ His head dropped and his body slumped sideways.
Quinta could bear it no longer. She climbed over the barrier. Her heart was breaking for him and she could not contain herself. She had to hold him and comfort him and say how much she loved him and how she would help him. She knew the agony of his loss and she grieved for him. She pushed herself forward, past the court clerks, stretching out her arms.
‘Patrick!’ she cried. But she was prevented from reaching him by the constable’s men. Two of them came from she knew not where, took her arms and stilled her progress.
He recovered and leaned forward, reaching towards her with his hands. She struggled like a madwoman and loosed one of her arms. She was close enough to see the shine in Patrick’s eyes as his tears welled.Their fingers touched and clasped briefly before she was dragged away and he was hauled back upright by a guard.
Her own tears rolled freely down her face. ‘He is innocent, sir,’ she cried. ‘I shot the deer. It was me!’
The gavel fell again. ‘Miss Haig, you must control yourself and be silent in my court, or I shall be obliged to ask the constable to remove you.’ Sir William’s soft tone disarmed her. He did not speak so kindly to others in his court. ‘This is indeed sad news, but it does not excuse the prisoner’s crime. Nor will it influence my verdict.’ He addressed the constable’s men. ‘Miss Haig may sit on the witness bench.’
She shook free her other arm, brushed down her gown with her hands and took her seat next to Farmer Bilton. Patrick’s chains rattled as he attempted to wipe the tears from his face. His eyes were deep, haunted pools in sunken sockets.
‘Continue, Mrs Haig.’
‘Sergeant Ross was a hero, sir. He was a brave soldier who fought at Waterloo.’
‘His regiment?’
‘I do not know.’
‘I do, sir,’ Patrick answered. ‘The Ninety-fifth, sir. He was in the infantry square that drove off French cavalry at the end.’
‘Ah yes, brave indeed.They suffered heavy losses from cannon.’
‘The battlefield surgeon judged he would not live, sir.’
Quinta allowed herself a vestige of hope for Patrick as Sir William considered this new information.
Her mother composed herself and continued. ‘Sergeant Ross was a respectful gentleman, sir. I should not have let him stay otherwise. His son, too, is trustworthy, I assure you. He is to marry my daughter, sir.’
‘Is he, by God?’ Sir William looked affronted, as though this information caused him offence.
Farmer Bilton leaped to his feet. ‘No he is not! Her late father promised the old Squire - I mean your father, sir - that she would be mine.’
‘He didn’t!’ Quinta cried, jumping to her feet. ‘He didn’t, did he, Mother?’
‘Quinta!’ her mother whispered loudly. ‘Do be quiet. Please.’
The gavel came down again. ‘I shall have order in my court. Sit down, Mr Bilton.’
Quinta had been shaking her head emphatically as Farmer Bilton spoke. Patrick was in despair. His fingers gripped the wooden surround until his knuckles turned white. ‘I’ll not wed him,’ she called out. ‘I love you.’
He managed a smile. ‘I love you, too.’
Sir William looked harassed. He glanced at Quinta and then frowned at his prisoner. ‘Mrs Haig, as soon as this court is finished you will take your daughter home and out of harm’s way. You may sit down,’ he concluded.
Laura took her place beside Quinta and held her hand as they sat.
Sir William raised his voice. ‘I have listened to the witnesses, and I have my own testimony. I saw the results of this crime while the beast was warm. There is no doubt in my mind that the prisoner is guilty of this charge.’
The courtroom was silenced by this decision. Poaching was a hanging offence. Quinta’s throat constricted and she gripped her mother’s hand tightly.
‘However, the prisoner is a strong and hard-working fellow,’ Sir William went on. ‘Perhaps he is lacking only in discipline. We shall see. Were his father here, he would understand my thinking.’ He turned to face Patrick and continued: ‘Patrick Ross, I find that you were observed to kill and take a deer belonging to the Swinborough estate by shooting it in Five-acre Wood.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I do not hang poachers in my court. Nor do I add to our overcrowded gaols, when our empire can use such men as yourself in the colonies.’
Quinta’s heart turned over. Sir William was going to transport Patrick to the other side of the world on a convict ship! No! He must not do that - Patrick was innocent! He did not steal the deer. It was not fair!
‘Prisoner, you have been found guilty of poaching. You are sentenced to serve as a soldier in the King’s army for as long as His Majesty shall need you.’ His gavel came down for the final time and he said, ‘This court is adjourned.’
Quinta would never forget Patrick’s haunted look of wretched misery and pain as he was led away from the courtroom. He struggled at first until he was overcome by two hefty guards.
‘He is innocent,’ she cried as she jumped to her feet. ‘It was me! I shot the deer.’
‘I’ll write to you, Quinta!’ he called over his shoulder. ‘I promise! Do not give up hope ...’
Those were the last words she heard him utter before he was bundled through a door at the back of the courtroom. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her and she sank on to the hard wooden bench. ‘He is innocent,’ she whispered, collapsing against her mother.
The court clerk was impatient for his courtroom to empty so he could get to his dinner. ‘Come on now, miss, and you, madam. It’s better than a convict ship,’ he muttered. ‘He’ll get clothes for his back, boots for his feet and food in his belly. He’s one of the lucky ones, if you ask me.’
‘Where will he go?’ Quinta asked.
‘I can’t rightly say. We’ve had no fighting in Europe since Old Boney was defeated. India, I should think.’
‘Where’s that?
‘T’other side of the world. Now move along, miss, if you please.’
‘But how long will the King need him?’
The clerk stopped and grimaced.‘Depends how long he stays alive. His Majesty won’t need him when he’s dead, will he?’
‘You mean he will be killed?’ Quinta asked in horror.
‘Or die of some foreign fever,’ the clerk answered briskly and gave her a push. ‘Now take your ma and clear out.’
But Quinta would not leave. ‘I want to see him before he goes. Where have they taken him?’
‘He’ll be away as soon as the papers are signed. Sir William always favours the army. Our own Yorkshire regiment is recruiting in the Riding. He’ll be marching with them before the day is out.’
‘But surely they will let him stay for his father’s burial?’ Laura protested.
‘He’s a criminal, madam. Guilty as charged.’
‘He is not. My daughter spoke the truth.’ Laura staggered and grasped the side of the door for support. Quinta took hold of her mother’s shoulders.
‘You must rest, Mother. You are not well.’
‘I’m tired, my dear. I have had little sleep of late.’ She opened a small bag she was carrying. ‘This is a letter for Patrick.’ She gave it to the clerk. ‘It contains his father’s last wishes. Will you see that he gets it?’
‘Can he read, then? We don’t get many poachers through here that can read. It’ll go in with his papers.’ The clerk heaved a sigh as he took the letter and opened his ledger again.‘I should forget about him if I were you, miss. Why don’t you go and wed old Mr Bilton there, like your father wanted you to?’
‘I should listen to what he says, Mrs Haig.’
Every muscle in Quinta’s body tensed as she recognised Farmer Bilton’s voice. She closed her eyes to shut out the memory of his behaviour at the cottage when he had made that vile suggestion to her. She could not trust herself to speak to him in a civilised manner and moved away. She heard her mother say, ‘My daughter says you lied to the court, sir. You could not have seen Patrick shoot the deer.’
‘I heard the shots, though. And I saw him drag it stone dead from the trees. Same thing.You might think on me a bit different now with both the travellers gone. My offer still stands, you know.’
‘Good day to you, sir,’ Laura replied stiffly. ‘Quinta, dear, would you give me your arm? We’ll go back to the Crown.’
They walked slowly across town and up the High Street in a shocked silence. ‘I think Sir William had made his decision before Patrick was heard,’ Laura said eventually. ‘He didn’t approve of him at all.’