Beyond the Veil of Tears (43 page)

Angeline’s gaze searched the room for Marmaduke, and there he sat, at the very back of the court, his eyes fixed on his wife. Even from that distance it was clear how much he adored her,
and Angeline was amazed he had agreed that Mirabelle should come here today.

Oswald was now sitting up straight, his back rigid and his face as dark as thunder, and Angeline noticed that the father of his fiancée was leaning forward in his seat, his gaze locked on
Mirabelle.

And what Mirabelle said was damning. With no prompting by Mr Havelock, after stating her name and address, she said in a voice that easily reached the back of the room, ‘I was not asked to
come here today to speak for Mrs Golding, but when I found out about this case, I contacted her solicitor and asked if I might do so. My husband and I have known Mr Oswald Golding for some years
– longer, in fact, than we have known his wife. At the time of his marriage to her, he told my husband and me that he was in a fix financially and needed a great deal of money. He
gambles,’ Mirabelle paused before adding, ‘among other pursuits. He was quite candid that he was marrying Angeline for the fortune she had inherited from her parents, and spoke about
her with little feeling. Coldly, in fact.’

Angeline found her eyes going to Marmaduke again. Oswald might well have confided in his mistress at the time of her marriage, but in Marmaduke? Never. Nevertheless, he was nodding slightly as
she spoke and was clearly supporting her story.

‘From the time he married her he was obnoxious and cruel, and although he was our friend at that point, his behaviour to a young innocent whom he had coaxed to fall in love with him both
disgusted and appalled us. Furthermore, to his shame he displayed no pangs of conscience about his treatment of her, which was abominable – so much so that my husband and I were forced to
take him to task several times when he was physically abusive, and that in our presence. What she had to cope with when they were alone, I dare not imagine.’

Angeline’s eyes were wide and she couldn’t believe her ears. Mirabelle was lying, or at the very least stretching the truth to breaking point.

‘He was not discreet about his other women; in fact one could say he seemed to take delight in taunting her in that regard. And what really sickened my husband and I, and persuaded us to
end our friendship with him for good, was that in front of certain members of our group he would behave like a devoted husband, all the while laughing behind his hand. It was too, too
distressing.’

‘Thank you for that background history, Mrs Jefferson. May I ask if you and your husband were aware of the circumstances in which Mrs Golding was forcibly locked away in Earlswood
Asylum?’

‘Not when it first happened, no. We knew of course that Mrs Golding had sadly lost the child she was carrying, and was ill unto the point of death. A great many of her friends were praying
for her at that time. Lord Gray’ – Mirabelle paused for a second, to let the name sink in with Justice Cook, knowing that such an illustrious and influential connection would do
Angeline no harm – ‘was particularly concerned, having suspected for some time that Mr Golding was not the husband that Mrs Golding deserved. Once Mr Golding had his wife locked away,
he kept up the pretence she was at home and too ill to see anyone. It was only Mrs Golding’s personal maid – or ex-maid, I should say – who had married and was living in this area
who discovered the truth. She came to see me in London, knowing my husband and I had been friends of the Goldings, and at that point my husband knew he had to do something about such a grave
injustice. One does not like to interfere between man and wife, but we realized that by adhering to that thinking we, along with the rest of Mrs Golding’s friends, had been as guilty as
Pilate was in washing his hands, so to speak. Unfortunately the fire that has been spoken of today occurred, and we were too late.’

‘I see. Thank you, Mrs Jefferson.’

‘May I just add something more?’ Mirabelle turned with queenly grandeur to Justice Cook. ‘As we speak, Mr Golding has huge debts. My husband knows this for a fact. And again
he’s set to marry a woman who has unlimited wealth . . . ’

Justice Cook hastily forbade Mirabelle from saying any more, but she had said enough. There was heated muttering between Oswald and his barrister, and after a few moments the barrister stood to
his feet. Angeline, along with everyone else present probably, had been wondering if Oswald would challenge Mirabelle’s description of his character. To do so could possibly dig a deeper hole
for him, but not to do so would be tantamount to admitting she was telling the truth.

‘Mrs Jefferson, have you ever heard the expression “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”?’

Mirabelle’s beautiful face did not move a muscle; her eyes, staring at the barrister, did not blink. After a moment she said disdainfully, ‘Of course.’

‘Is it not true that you were, in fact, the mistress of Oswald Golding before his marriage to Mrs Golding and that, when you were discarded, you vowed to make him pay for his treatment of
you?’

Mirabelle allowed herself a cuttingly contemptuous glance at Oswald, which was more effective than any ranting or raving. ‘How utterly ridiculous and insulting that suggestion is. I have
never been Mr Golding’s mistress, and it shows the worth of the man that he can claim such a thing in order to discredit me and, ultimately, the truth about his poor wife. My husband and I
were friends of Mr Golding, as I have explained, and our group of friends spent a great deal of time in each other’s company. A “falling-out” such as you have insinuated would not
have been tenable. Any number of people can confirm this.’

‘Not if the “falling-out” occurred at the same time as Mrs Golding’s pregnancy and miscarriage. Obviously everything changed at that point, and Mr Golding claims he has
been somewhat ostracized in later years.’

‘Excuse me?’ Mirabelle’s voice was as sharp as a scalpel. ‘Are you telling me that Mr Golding claims this imaginary relationship was happening at the time he was
married
to Mrs Golding? That he was committing adultery?’

The barrister, who had clearly been unhappy at being instructed to go down this line, cleared his throat. ‘Yes.’

‘Let me make one thing perfectly clear.’ Mirabelle’s eyes were flashing, but her voice was controlled and clear. ‘My husband and I are deeply in love and have been from
the day we met. This ostracism by Mr Golding’s group of friends, which he speaks of, might well be true, but it is due purely to the nature of the man himself. He is a womanizer, a gambler
and a drunkard. It is well known that he ill-treats his servants, is violent and is possessed of a fiendish temper, but when this abusive behaviour was seen to include his wife, even his friends
could not stomach it.’

Again Mirabelle paused, drawing herself up, and with her voice holding an unmistakable ring of truth she declared, ‘Mr Oswald Golding is not a gentleman – not in any sense of the
word. This has never been more obvious than in this courtroom. I came here today because of a great injustice, even though I was warned Mr Golding might well react like a savage dog does when it is
cornered. Well, an animal might have the excuse of being led by primal instinct and not knowing any better, but a man with Mr Golding’s education and breeding has no excuse whatsoever. Mr
Golding is guilty of adultery, but not with me.’

‘Damn you to hell, Mirabelle! You and the rest of those mealy-mouthed cretins!’

The barrister was now physically restraining Oswald as he fought to reach Mirabelle, a clerk of the court rushing to help, as the enraged man lashed out and caught the barrister with a
resounding slap on the face, which echoed around the court.

Justice Cook had his work cut out to call the proceedings to order, such was the buzz of noise and excitement. And Jack, careless of Mr Havelock, leaned across and gripped Angeline’s hand
for a moment. ‘Bless Myrtle and Albert,’ he whispered. ‘They took it upon themselves to go and see the Jeffersons, but the husband didn’t want her to come today, worried
about what might come out, I think. But she was magnificent, wasn’t she?’

Yes, Mirabelle was magnificent. Angeline’s gaze met Mirabelle’s for a moment, and the redhead, although white-faced and showing strain for the first time, smiled at her. And so was
Myrtle; dear, dear Myrtle. And there had also been Verity, and May, and other strong women whom she had met since escaping the asylum. Mrs Burns, the farmer’s wife – where would she and
May be right now, if she hadn’t helped them? She had so many women to thank for making her into the person she was today; women who had touched her life briefly, like Verity, and others who
were with her now.

She smiled back at Mirabelle, silently mouthing, ‘Thank you.’ Somehow Mirabelle had emerged with her reputation intact, and Angeline didn’t begrudge her that, not for a moment.
She didn’t know what Oswald had done to make his onetime mistress hate him so fiercely, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that there was now surely enough doubt in Justice
Cook’s mind to ensure that she wasn’t dispatched herewith to another asylum.

Justice Cook waited for absolute silence before he spoke. Then, when you could hear a pin drop, he opened with, ‘This case has deeply saddened me, but I cannot close my eyes to the fact
that it is perhaps indicative of a great wrong in society that we have ignored for a long time. Greater and greater numbers of cases concerning marital violence and the maintenance of children are
being dealt with each year. And, to our shame, as many as ten thousand maintenance or separation orders were called for last year. These parties could not, of course, remarry, and the women
involved are often put in the most difficult situations. Whilst it is necessary to emphasize that matrimony is the most holy and noble of institutions, a case such as this one today begs the
argument that a double standard of fidelity exists.’

He joined his fingers together, his stern gaze sweeping the court and resting for a moment on Oswald, on whom it narrowed and became icy.

‘The existing law supposes that a wife may condone her husband’s lapses from strict marital propriety, while it imposes no such exercise of lenity or forbearance upon the husband.
The reasons for this distinction abound: adultery by a wife is more serious, because she may conceive a child by her lover; a husband is humiliated if his wife yields to another man what belongs to
him, whereas a wife is merely slighted in favour of a rival; and so on. An unfaithful wife’s husband may sue the third party for monetary damages, but no wife can sue her husband’s
mistress.’

He now placed his hands palm-down on the bench, peering at the court. ‘Mrs Golding will be granted a separation order, on the grounds of her husband’s persistent cruelty, because I
believe she attempted to report his assaults on her more than once, but this was ignored. Should Mr Golding decide to challenge this ruling, I would advise him to be very careful, in view of what
we have heard today. And in view of the character of the man, which has been clearly revealed, I can only applaud Mrs Jefferson for having the courage of her convictions to do the right thing, with
no thought for herself. Mr and Mrs Jefferson can leave this court with no stain on their character whatsoever. I fear the same cannot be said for Mr Golding.’

In spite of herself, Angeline’s eyes were drawn to Oswald as Justice Cook spoke, and his maddened gaze met hers. She saw that Lord Argyle had his arm round his daughter, who was leaning
into him and away from Oswald, and that the barrister was holding his bruised face, his back turned to his client.

Oswald’s eyes sent her a message that made her stiffen, his face contorted and ugly. He didn’t need to voice the threat, for the desire for vengeance was plain to read. She dragged
her eyes away from his, shaken to the core.

This was not over yet.

Oswald had gained control of himself by the time he left the court, but as he watched Lord Argyle bundle the weeping Wilhelmina into a cab, he knew his hopes in that direction
had been dealt a death-blow.

The earlier drizzle of rain had become a steady downpour, but he didn’t move towards Randall and the stationary coach situated a little way down the road. He was waiting. For her. It was
clear to him now that from the first time he had met Angeline she had been a blight on his life. He ground his teeth together, his barrister sweeping past him without so much as a
by-your-leave.

Jumped-up little upstart! Oswald’s lip curled. Eager enough to take his money, but as useless as the rest of them. And to accuse him of not revealing the full facts – whose side was
he on, anyway? One thing was for sure, this so-called learned gentleman would wait till hell froze over before he got his fee. As for Angeline, his dear, dear wife . . .

He adjusted his top hat more securely on his head, drips of rain running down his neck. She wouldn’t win, not while he had breath in his body. He wouldn’t rest until she was six feet
under, and this time he would make sure there was no chance of her resurrecting herself. He’d see his day with her, and this time she would stay dead.

More folk left the building, and Oswald saw Randall jig the reins and bring the coach towards him. As it came closer, Angeline emerged from the courthouse in the middle of a throng of people.
The Jeffersons weren’t there, for they had been among the first to leave and had disappeared before Oswald had come outside, but he recognized Angeline’s onetime maid, along with the
nurse – Ramthorne or Ramshaw, or some such name – and Angeline’s old governess. A man he took to be the maid’s husband was holding the woman’s arm, and the solicitor
and his clerk were talking animatedly with Angeline. Everyone appeared elated. Oswald’s teeth ground together again. He’d wipe the smiles off their faces. Scum, the lot of them.

He saw Angeline hesitate as she caught sight of him, but then the solicitor’s clerk with whom Oswald had had the run-in, when he had gone to the offices in Newcastle, urged her on.

Oswald stepped forward, deliberately blocking their path, and as he did so Angeline stopped again, and this time so did everyone else. ‘Think you’ve got the better of me, don’t
you?’ He glared at Angeline, his fists bunched at his side. ‘I’ll make sure you rue this day, if it’s the last thing I do.’