The Bride Hunt (27 page)

“No,” Prudence agreed. “But I’ll flutter my hands in a very Gallic fashion and wave a perfumed handkerchief around when I want it to seem that I’m distressed by the questions.”

“You’ll need some indignation,” Constance said. “To be credible.”

“Oh, I’m leaving that to Gideon,” her sister stated, walking to the stairs. “His role is the fire and brimstone, mine is the honey.” She turned, her foot on the bottom step. “I am not to come across as a bitter, ill-tempered, man-hating spinster, you see.” Then she walked up the stairs before her sisters could close their mouths and marshal their responses.

Chapter 18

Y
ou’re up early this morning, Father,” Prudence observed as she entered the breakfast room. Her father, in the most formal of morning wear, was already at the breakfast table, and judging by his empty plate had just finished his meal.

Lord Duncan regarded his daughter with a somewhat testy air. “Have you forgotten it’s the first day of Barclay’s libel suit? I’m to appear in court this morning.”

“Oh, yes,” Prudence said casually, going over to the sideboard. “It slipped my mind.” She looked at the dish of kedgeree and her already rebellious stomach gave a queasy lurch.

“Well, it’s a very important day,” her father declared, setting aside his napkin and pushing back his chair. “I shall not be in for luncheon, you may tell Jenkins.”

Neither would his daughters.
But Prudence merely nodded agreeably and sat down, reaching for the toast rack. Maybe a piece of dry toast would ease the nausea.

“Good morning, Father.” Chastity passed her father in the doorway. “You’re up early.”

“It’s Father’s day in court,” Prudence said before her father could reply. “Did you forget?”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Chastity said. “Good luck.”

“I can’t imagine why you would think luck is necessary,” Lord Duncan stated. “It’s an open-and-shut case. By the end of today, that disgraceful rag will be off the streets and out of business. You mark my words.” He gave a decisive nod and strode off.

“Oh, God, I hope not,” Chastity said, heaping kedgeree on her plate. “How are you feeling, Prue?”

“Sick as a dog,” her sister confessed. “How can you eat, Chas? This morning of all mornings.”

“To keep up my strength,” Chastity said. “And you should eat something more than dry toast, Prue. You’re the one who’s going to need the most strength.”

Prudence shook her head. “I can’t eat a thing. Even tea makes me want to vomit.” She pushed away her cup and plate. “I’ll go and get ready to leave.”

Chastity glanced at the clock. It was only seven-thirty. “We have an hour and a half before we have to be at Gideon’s chambers.”

Prudence merely shook her head and left the breakfast room. In her bedroom she examined her face in the mirror. Pale and wan was about the kindest thing that could be said for her complexion at present. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and black-shadowed. Even her hair seemed to have lost some of its vibrancy. Not that her physical appearance was in the least important at the moment. No one was going to get so much as a glimpse of it beneath the thick black-spotted veil.

Gideon, of course, would see her unveiled when they met this morning. But then, her appearance was no concern of his. His sparse communications over the last two weeks had dealt only with the upcoming suit, and were implicitly addressed to all three of them. He never mentioned Harriet, or Sarah, or indeed anything personal. They had made the clean break she had asked for. She was heart-whole. Not hurt, not diminished in any way by that momentary flight of passion.

It was not at all surprising that the strain of the last two weeks of waiting should show on her face, Prudence told herself. They had been looking over their shoulders for spies and detectives, suspecting every piece of mail that came into the house. They had ceased publication of
The Mayfair Lady
for the duration. She and Chastity had barely shown their faces outside the house, and Constance had performed only those social duties that her position as Max’s wife made necessary, even giving up her speaking engagements for the WSPU for these two weeks. They had sat for hours in the parlor, going over and over every detail of the case, anticipating hostile questions, as the barrister had demonstrated, Prudence practicing her fake accent until her tongue felt so thick and huge it barely seemed to fit her mouth anymore.

The door opened behind her and she spun around, feeling for some reason rather self-conscious, as if caught in an embarrassing activity . . . as if there was something odd about self-scrutiny. Chastity gave her a rather puzzled look. “Do you have any spare hairpins, Prue? I can’t seem to find any and I need to fix this veil to my hat.” She half lifted the black veil on her arm.

“Yes . . . yes, of course.” Prudence rummaged through a drawer in her dresser. “I had a new pack in here somewhere.”

“Father’s just left,” Chastity said.

“That’s a bit early isn’t it? The court doesn’t even open until ten.” Prudence found the pack of pins and handed them to her sister.

“I think he’s as nervous as we are,” Chastity said, tucking the pins into her skirt pocket. “I got the impression he’d rather walk around the square for an hour than hang around the house.”

“I share the feeling,” Prudence said. “Do you mind if we leave a little early? I’m going crazy just waiting.”

“No, of course not. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.” Chastity whisked herself from the room and Prudence returned to her mirror, this time to put on her hat and try the effect of the veil for the umpteenth time.

They took a hackney to the Embankment and then walked up and down the Temple gardens, saying little to each other until it was time to meet Constance. It was a cloudy day, the river gray and sluggish, a sharp wind blowing the last remaining leaves from the trees. Prudence huddled into her coat, turning up the collar, but she still shivered.

“Are you nervous about seeing him?” Chastity asked suddenly.

Prudence didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about. “No, why should I be?”

“I don’t know. I just thought you might be.”

“He’s our barrister, Chas. I’m only nervous that he won’t succeed in defending us.”

“Yes, of course,” Chastity agreed. “Ah, here’s Con.” She gestured to where their sister was hurrying across the leaf-strewn, damp grass towards them.

“Am I late?”

“No, we were early. I couldn’t stand to stay in the house another minute,” Prudence said.

Constance looked at her sister. “Are you ready for this, Prue?”

Prudence knew she was not referring to the court appearance. “You’re as bad as Chas. Of course I am. Gideon is our barrister. Other than that, he’s nothing more to me than the memory of a brief fling in Henley-on-Thames that I’ve had two weeks to get over. And I’m sure it’s the same for him. Let’s go.”

Big Ben chimed nine o’clock as they reached the street door to the barrister’s chambers. They climbed the stairs in single file. The door at the top stood open and Thadeus was on his feet, clearly awaiting them, his eyes on the wall clock.

“Good morning, ladies.” He bowed. “Sir Gideon is waiting for you.”

But Gideon was already opening the door to the inner chamber. “Good morning,” he said pleasantly. “Come in. Thadeus, bring coffee, will you?”

And Prudence knew that she was over nothing. The sound of his voice was all it took to bring memories surging to the surface. Unconsciously, she stiffened her shoulders and said neutrally, “Good morning, Gideon.”

They filed past him and took the three seats awaiting them. Gideon went behind the table and took his seat, but not before he had given them all a swift, assessing glance. His gray gaze lingered for a minute longer on Prudence. She was aware of it and resisted the ridiculous urge to look away, instead forcing herself to meet his eye until he turned his attention to the papers on his desk.

He looked tired, she thought. Almost as tired as she felt.

Gideon thought that Prudence looked exhausted. He was weary himself, but she looked dead on her feet. The last two weeks had been the worst he could ever remember passing, and not only because of the chaos Harriet’s reappearance had wreaked on Sarah’s equilibrium. Prudence had certainly been right on that score. Keeping himself away from Prudence had been one of the hardest things he had ever made himself do. But she had made her wishes clear. Instead he had thrown himself into the libel case, working longer hours on it than he would normally devote even to a case that would guarantee him a substantial fee. Prudence would not have an opportunity to question his professionalism again.

“Forgive me for saying so, Prudence, but you don’t look very robust this morning,” he observed.

“It’s been a stressful two weeks,” she said. “I haven’t slept well. And to be brutally honest, I’m quite sick with nerves this morning, as you might imagine.” There was faint accusation in the last statement.

“That is only to be expected,” he said so calmly, she once again had the urge to throw something at him. “Have you eaten this morning?”

“Not really,” Chastity answered for her. “She ate barely a crumb of dry toast.”

Prudence shot her sister an annoyed look. “So I have no appetite. That’s no one’s business but my own.”

“Now, there I beg to differ,” the barrister said. “If you faint in the witness box, it becomes mine.”

“I will not faint,” she retorted.

“Would you eat some toast and honey now?” he asked, his tone both conciliatory and sympathetic. A tone, Prudence decided, carefully calculated to achieve his objective.

She sighed, unwilling to appear petulant. “I’m not hungry, but if you insist . . .”

“No, I don’t insist. I merely advise,” he said, rising from the table and going to the door to make the request of Thadeus. He returned to his seat. “Now, let me explain what will happen this morning.”

They listened as he gave them the order of business. Prudence was so absorbed that she had eaten most of a piece of toast and honey before she realized it, and rather to her chagrined surprise, she did feel stronger and less queasy.

Gideon wisely refrained from comment. “So, to sum up,” he said. “Sir Samuel has notified us that he’ll be calling
The Mayfair Lady
as a hostile witness. He’s going to try to discredit the publication in the eyes of the jury before I get a chance to put on a defense. You can expect some very aggressive questioning, Prudence, but if he does any significant damage, I will have the opportunity to rectify it under my cross-examination.”

Prudence, who was wondering what kind of damage he was anticipating having to rectify, merely nodded.

Gideon gave her an encouraging smile. “If I can damage Barclay’s credibility sufficiently under my cross-examination, it’s possible you might have a relatively easy ride.”

“Unless they know who we are,” Prudence said. “We don’t think they do, but we can’t be sure.”

“They don’t,” he said.

“How do you know?”

He smiled. “There are ways in this business to find out certain germane facts.”

“I suppose it didn’t occur to you that it would have made life easier for us if we’d known that?” Prudence asked.

“I had to wait until the last minute to be certain. Things can change up until the eleventh hour.”

“I see your point,” Constance said, drawing Sir Gideon’s attention away from Prudence. “But we’ve been on tenterhooks.”

“I understand, but there was nothing to be done about it before.” He lifted his fob watch and glanced at it. “We’ll talk about how the morning’s gone at the luncheon recess.”

Prudence nodded, willing simply to be relieved that they didn’t have to worry about their identities coming out. She found she had no thought now for inconvenient memory surges. “Should we go?”

He stood up. “Yes, we should. Constance, you and Chastity should sit in the gallery at the very back. Try not to be visible to anyone in the witness box, I don’t want you to distract Prudence, even inadvertently. I’d prefer it if she almost didn’t know that you were there.”

“I will, though,” Prudence said. “I couldn’t possibly do this without them being there.”

“No, I understand that. Nevertheless, you have to accept what I say. I do in this instance know what I’m talking about.” He was putting on his gown and wig as he spoke.

There was the faintest emphasis on
in this instance
and Prudence wondered what it meant. It couldn’t be a reference to anything personal between them, he’d given not the slightest indication this morning that they had any kind of shared history. And her own first reaction to seeing him had been an aberration, one best forgotten.

The libel case was being heard in a small courtroom in the Old Bailey, a location that limited spectators, which, as Gideon had told them, was all to the good. There were bound to be some press, some gossip columnists, maybe even some inquisitive members of London society, but there couldn’t be too many of them. He did not tell the sisters that Thadeus on his principal’s instruction had arranged this with his colleague, the clerk of the court responsible for allocating courtrooms.

In a small antechamber, the sisters donned their veils. The time for words was over now. They merely touched hands briefly and then Constance and Chastity left Prudence and went up to the gallery, which was already filled with a whispering, shifting crowd. They sat behind a pillar in the very back row.

Prudence waited for Gideon to come for her. She no longer felt sick. She no longer felt nervous. It was as if she had entered some quiet space quite separate from the bustling world around her.

“Are you ready to go in now?” Gideon had opened the door so quietly, she hadn’t heard him, and she turned from the little window where she’d been standing staring at the blank wall visible beyond.