Jack, Knave and Fool (46 page)

Eventually, his case came up for trial. Lord Murray, who wanted no part of a matter involving anyone who had even a claim upon a title, handed the case to one of his lesser judges, Francis Seward. Having no such compunction, Justice Seward dealt swiftly with Mr. Paltrow. The defendant undertook his own defense. Among the witnesses called against aim wire Mr. Poole, Constable Bailey, and Mrs. Pugh. The first two established that the shooting had taken place, and that Peter Pugh was the victim, though Paltrow had sought to hide the identity of the man he had killed. Mrs. Pugh gave the motive for murder, repeated the confession she had heard from Paltrow’s lips, and told of the shot he had aimed at her. It became obvious in his cross-examination of Mrs. Pugh, or so I understood from Mr. Talley’s later report, that Mr. Paltrow’s line of defense was that he was justified in shooting Peter Pugh, for in demanding money from him Mr. Pugh was committing a crime. This was made quite explicit in a statement Paltrow had prepared in his own defense which the judge permitted him to read. “In effect,” his statement concluded, “this man Pugh was attempting to rob me of two hundred pounds, a considerable amount—a small fortune—just as surely as if he had held a knife to my throat. Had this happened on some dark street, would I not have been justified in protecting myself and my money? Of course I would! You, gentlemen of the jury, would have done the same, would you not? Of course you would!”

He seemed most confident at that point, but later Justice Seward put to him a few questions which caused him some embarrassment.

“Mr. Paltrow,” said the judge, “Mr. Pugh did not hold a knife to your throat, did he?”

“No, I used that merely as an analogy.”

“He used the force of revelation, did he not? That was the analogical knife to your throat? “

“Well, yes, but I — “

“Then this revelation must have had the strength of deadly force. Now we know from Mrs. Pugh’s testimony that the information with which her husband threatened you was your purchase of great amounts of arsenic, which is a poison. Why, sir, was it of such urgent importance to you to keep that information away from investigating authorities? Why did it have the strength of deadly force?”

“With all due respect, my lord, I’d rather not go into that.”

“You decline to answer? I must caution you that there is only one basis on which you may do that and that would be if, in answering, you ran the risk of incriminating yourself. Is it on that basis that you decline to answer?”

A silence ensued. Arthur Paltrow seemed quite tortured by the decision put to him. At last said he: “Then, if I must, I decline on that basis.”

Wherewith, Justice Seward charged the jury and sent them out to make their deliberations. They returned a verdict of guilty in about a quarter of an hour’s time. Mr. Paltrow was sentenced to be hanged the day next but one. All his property was made forfeit to the Crown.

Allowed then to have a final word, the condemned man said something which struck me as strange and rather pathetic. “All I did,” said he, “was done for my daughters, that they might make good marriages.”

Then was he carted off to Newgate, whence, the day next but one, he was hanged on Tyburn Hill in the company of thieves and burglars. His left arm was still in a sling when the noose was put about his neck.

What became of his wife (the putative Lady Laningham), and the daughters for whom he did all, I never heard. Managing to salvage sufficient funds from the uncle’s fortune, perhaps they, too, may have shipped off for the American colonies.

I recall the evening well. We had just supped well on mutton and spring potatoes. There were, as there had been for near two months, five of us round the table, for Clarissa Roundtree was still with us. Inquiries had been put out on her behalf to a number of houses; none seemed suitable —at least not to Lady Fielding. And so, the matter of her future had hung fire for a number of weeks. For her part, Clarissa was outwardly much different; physically, she was not just recovered from her illness but in the full bloom of good health, as well. She had put weight onto her spare frame, her cheeks had taken on some color, and her face had filled out a bit so that she no longer appeared quite so like a waif. Inwardly, however, it was difficult to tell, for she was one, it seemed to me, who hid her true feelings well. She would be laughing at table at some story of Annie’s of choir practice or her lessons with Mr. Burnham, and I would catch a watchful look in Clarissa’s eye as she glanced about the table, as if she might be asking herself if it was proper to laugh, or laugh quite so boldly. She seemed always anxious of the impression she might make upon the others. For that matter, she had made an excellent impression upon Lady Fielding. She pitched in to relieve Annie and me of some of our more burdensome household tasks, helping with the cooking and proving herself capable as a floor scrubber; indeed, after dinner each night she and Annie retired to their room, where she drilled her on her reading lessons; and she had made herself quite useful to Lady Fielding, both in our household and at the Magdalene Home, writing letters, running errands, doing in short whatever she was asked. With me, to whom she had come nearest to presenting her true self, she was for the most part unchanged. She was civil, even easy with me in the presence of others. Yet she had thrown up an invisible wall — nay, something more in the nature of a scrim —between us; I could not penetrate it, and she apparently had no wish to.

And so we sat, all of us at table, on that particular evening. We had reached a kind of comfortable hiatus between the completion of our meal and the clearing of the table. It was in this space of time that Lady Fielding leaned forward toward Clarissa and said in a manner not in the least unfriendly, “My dear, I wonder, would you mind leaving the table and going upstairs to your bedroom?”

Clarissa rose without hesitation, or even surprise, and said simply, “Yes, mum.” She moved swiftly across the kitchen and disappeared up the stairs. A moment later we heard the bedroom door close.

“Was that necessary?” asked Sir John of his wife. “What is it we have to discuss that she ought not to hear?”

“Yes, Jack,” said she, “I think it was necessary, for it is her future I wish to discuss, and I wish us all to feel free to speak without the restraint we should naturally feel if she were present and listening.”

“Ah, well, I see. Since you have initiated this, you must have something quite particular to say. By all means, Kate, let us hear it.”

With that, she took a deep breath and expended it all in a short sentence. “Jack, I need a secretary.”

“A what?”

“A secretary, one to help me at the Magdalene Home with correspondence and to keep things in order there, ordering my schedule, reminding me of what must be done on a particular day or during a certain week. And …” Here she hesitated but a moment, then went bravely on: “And young though she may be, I believe that Clarissa could perform such work for me. Why, she’s already demonstrated it! My office was in chaos, my desk piled with unanswered mail and unpaid bills, and in those days she has spent there with me, she has put everything right, showed me where I might look to find everything. The girl has a knack for it. It’s something that can’t be taught— or not easily, in any case. In short, I would like her to stay with us here. She could spend, oh, a certain number of days each week with me there, and the rest of the time she could help out with housework here.”

“You wish, then, to give up the notion of placing her in service?”

“Girls in service have an uncertain future at best,” said Lady Fielding. “You know that as well as I. Besides, even if we found the best possible place for her in all London, one free of the usual influences, putting her in service would still be a waste of her talents — her reading, her writing, her mind. The girl has a fine mind, and it should not be wasted.”

“Hmmm,” said Sir John, and only that for a long moment. At last he spoke up: “I understand your point now in sending her away. This is a matter that concerns us all. The bit of extra food she eats is of no concern to me. We can well afford it. She shares a bed with Annie. But to add permanently to our number a new person, a new personality, that is something that affects us all. I should like to hear from Annie and Jeremy on this matter. Annie? What say you?”

“I’m for her,” said Annie, quite immediately. “She’s been a good chum to me, helped me with my reading and with my cooking, as well. Oh, but not just for that. We get along well, well as any two who ain’t the same age can. And for a girl who’s had a life hard as she has, she knows how to make a bit of fun. She can set me laughing anytime she wishes.” She paused then, frowning. “And, well, she’s a good bedmate, too —doesn’t pull off the covers of a cold night. That’s all I can think of to say.”

Sir John took all that without comment, simply nodded a number of times, thrusting out his lower lip in deep consideration. At last he said: “And you, Jeremy?”

I had dreaded the moment when I, too, would be asked to speak, and I had resolved to say as little as possible.

“I have no objection,” said I.

“No objection?” repeated Sir John. “Does that mean you are for it? Do you wish her to remain with us permanently?”

“Well …yes.”

“Forgive me, Jeremy, if I mistake, but have I not detected something strained and distant between you and Clarissa in the past weeks?”

“Well … perhaps.” And I thought we had kept it so well hid. The man amazed me.

“Why, Jeremy,” spoke up Lady Fielding, clearly disturbed, “I had no idea! Whatever could you — “

“Please, Kate, those are matters with which you are not acquainted.” .And then to me: “Does she blame you for what happened to her father?”

“Partly, I think, yes.”

“Did you tell her his part in the crime?”

“No, I told her that only you should do that.”

“Well, you were right in saying so. Nevertheless, you should not have carried that burden all these weeks. But do you stand by what you said? That you have no objection to Clarissa joining our household? That you wish her to remain with us permanently? “

“Yes, I wish her with us. I know she has a great desire to do so. I know that she is bright and has great talents. .And I know, or suspect, that what Lady Fielding said is true, that girls who go into service have an uncertain future at best. .And I believe that whatever difficulties Clarissa and I may have between us will be resolved with time.”

“But Jeremy,” said Sir John, most insistently, “doyou want her here?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“Well and good,” said he, “it is settled then. Clarissa Roundtree may remain with us if she chooses. The division ol her time between the Magdalene Home and here can be worked out satisfactorily. I’m sure. If you like, you may go up and tell her that, Kate.”

“Why don’t you tell her, Jack?”

He sighed. “Yes, perhaps I should.” He rose and started across the kitchen. At the stairs he paused. “We may be a while,” said he.

We heard him knock upon her door, a few murmured words, and then there were footsteps in the upstairs hall, just a few. I knew that he had taken her to the small room between the two bedrooms which he called his study. He would invite her to light a candle il she liked or sit in the dark, tor it was all the same to him. And then he would tell her that she was welcome to remain with us if that was her wish. After she had said that indeed it was her wish, he would tell her that since that was the case, it was only fitting that she know the truth about her father. I was as sure as could be that this, or something quite like it, was what would pass between them.

As I cleared the table, Annie busied herself stowing the leftover mutton for tomorrow’s stew, then heated the water for my washing up. Lady Fielding left us, giving a curious look to me as she bade us good night. She went straight to her bedroom and shut the door. Once the water was warm, Annie took it off the stove and set it out for me there to do what more had to be done. Then, in taking leave of me, she grasped me by the hand.

“You did right, saying what you did, Jeremy,” said Annie. “Sometime you must explain to me that matter between you and Sir John about her father.”

“Sometime perhaps I shall.”

And so Annie, too, left the kitchen and went up the stairs.

The task of washing up seldom took much more than half an hour under ordinary circumstances. On this night I lingered over it a bit, giving extra effort to the greasy pan in which the mutton had been cooked; grease, fat drippings, blackened bits of meat covered the bottom of it. With soap and brush I won the battle, however, and I was just drying it down with one of the rags I kept for that purpose, when quite without prior notice Clarissa appeared next me, giving me a bit of a start.

“It’s only I,” said she. “I did not mean to startle.”

I laughed in embarrassment. “Only that I was surprised,” said I. “I heard no closing of the door, no step on the stair.”

“You were busy banging that pan about. Making a terrible racket, you were. You couldn’t hear me coming for all the noise you made.”

“Well, you might have whistled a tune, or at least cleared your throat— something to let me know you were near.”

Then and only then did I notice the tears that dampened the corners of her eyes, and I remembered where she had come from and what she had no doubt heard.

“You must forgive me. I fear I’m a bit tetchy this evening,” said I.

“No,” said she, “it is you, I hope, will forgive me, for I misjudged you and took for ill what you meant in kindness. I do apologize to you most sincerely.”

“Were you urged to make this gesture? Told to say what you’ve just said?”

“Of course not. Then it would not be a sincere apology.”

“True,” said I. “So I accept and offer you my hand on it.”

Briefly we clasped hands and made peace, each with the other.

“This will do much better,” said she, “for I’ve been driven near to distraction being always so cheerful, so falsely cordial, with you. What I’ve missed most is our quarrels.”

“I’m sure,” said I, “that we shall have time in the future to make up for all those lost opportunities.”