The Bride Wore Spurs (The Inconvenient Bride Series, Book 1) (40 page)

"And when did Mr. Winterhawke inform you that he was related to Laramie's very successful William Braddock, a man who is listed in Triggs City Directory as a capitalist and one of our wealthier citizens?"

"Hawke ne'er mentioned the man was his uncle. I did not know."

Silver uttered a muffled chuckle, then turned to the jury with a cynical smile. "Now, Mrs. Winterhawke. Do you really expect any of us to believe that a, well, half-breed like your husband didn't go around bragging on the fact that he was related to such an esteemed man as William Braddock? It hardly seems likely."

"Hardly or no, Mr. Silver, 'tis the truth."

"I certainly hope so." He stopped directly in front of her and banged his fist against the witness box. "You did vow to tell the whole truth and nothing
but
the truth, did you not?"

The little bubble of confidence she'd managed to work up burst. "Aye, and I'm telling it, sir."

Looking slightly disappointed, the attorney paced in a small circle, his hands behind his back before he looked at Lacey and asked, "Not much of what I'm hearing about you is making sense, little lady. Perhaps we should start at the beginning so the court can get a better idea of what we're dealing with here."

"Mr. Silver," Judge MacIver said. "Were you paying attention when I asked Mr. Webber to keep things moving along? I had high hopes of getting this trial over with before the afternoon heat renders us all addle-brained."

"Begging the court's indulgence, your honor, I'm having just a little trouble understanding a few things. I will, of course, examine the witness with all due haste."

Permission granted with a wave of the judge's hand, Silver turned to Lacey again. "One of my biggest problems is how a lovely young girl like you came to marry this Winterhawke fellow. Did he compromise you in some way or—"

"I came from Ireland with Kate Quinlin to be a mail-order bride, sir." Her back up, Lacey forged ahead even though the attorney was preparing to ask another question. "My husband is a very honorable man, and I would appreciate it if you would apologize for the slander of his good name."

One of his finely arched eyebrows shot up at the request, but that was the only indication the lawyer gave that he'd been slightly taken aback by her demand. "Do forgive me, Mrs. Winterhawke. I meant no unkindness towards your husband, who I'm sure is a fine man, even if he didn't see fit to inform you he had family in Laramie. Now then." He strolled around in front of the jury, gauging their reactions to his last comment, then asked Lacey another question. "You say Mr. Winterhawke sent for you as a mail-order bride?"

"Well, not exactly. Kate was to be Caleb Weatherspoon's bride. She brought me along for a neighbor of his who turned out to be Hawke—ah, Mr. Winterhawke."

His eyes narrowed in contemplation at her words, then Silver walked right up to the witness box as if he suddenly smelled a little secret hidden in there. "You say that Kate 'brought you with her' as if she'd done some wonderful favor for you." Again he looked her over. "I can't imagine why you would have any trouble finding yourself a husband in Ireland—just what did Kate take you away from, Mrs. Winterhawke?"

Frantic to find Hawke now, again Lacey's gaze swept the gallery. On her second pass through the throngs of spectators, she caught sight of Kate and Caleb. With a little gasp of surprise, she looked back at the attorney and said, "She—she took me away from St. Josephine's Hospital for Women in County Tipperary, sir."

He chuckled lightly. "You say that as if the hospital was your home. Where did you live, Mrs. Winterhawke?"

"I object." declared Webber, jumping to his feet. "This has no relevance to the case whatsoever."

"Counselor?" the judge said to Silver. "Is there a really good reason for this line of questioning?"

"I believe there just might be if you'll bear with me a few moments more."

"Just a few, mind you," the judge cautioned. "Proceed."

"You haven't answered my question, Mrs. Winterhawke. Where did you live in Ireland?"

Lacey lowered her gaze and bowed her head. "At St. Josephine's Hospital for Women, sir."

"That seems rather odd. Why would a healthy-looking girl like you be living in a hospital? Were you injured in some way?"

She glanced at her palm. "Burned a little is all, sir."

"Burned," he repeated glancing down at her scar. "And how long did you live at the hospital for treatment of this little burn?"

Her head down, Lacey held out as long as she could.

"Answer the question, Mrs. Winterhawke," Judge MacIver insisted. "You are holding up these proceedings."

After a deep breath and a long sigh, Lacey admitted, "A wee bit more than... thirteen years, sir."

Both slender eyebrows shot up at this. Then Silver licked his thin lips like a predator. "Surely you're not trying to tell me you were being treated for such a small injury during that entire time."

"No sir, I am not." Giving it all up, Lacey raised her head and looked the attorney straight in the eye. "I was there most of that time because I was considered to be a mad girl."

"A mad girl? You mean—insane?"

After another long pause, she murmured, "Aye. They thought me insane."

The crowd came to life at that, the mass buzzing like a beehive, but above the sudden din, a female voice could be heard. "No, lass, 'tisn't true they thought that of ye."

Judge MacIver banged his gavel. "Order. Madam, sit down and be quiet, or I will have you thrown from this courtroom."

Kate dropped back down into her chair, and Silver turned on Lacey again. "There seems to be some conflicting statements regarding the state of your mental health. What, may I ask, prompted the doctors in Ireland to pronounce you as insane, Mrs. Winterhawke?"

Unable to look anyone in the eye now, not even the pompous attorney, Lacey softly whispered her answer.

"What, Mrs. Winterhawke? I'm afraid the court did not hear you."

"Because," she stated a little louder. "I killed my mum and da."

The audience of bees became hornets as they swarmed about circulating their chatter and shocked outrage. Again Kate jumped to her feet, this time speaking even louder as she proclaimed, "No, lass. 'Twasn't ye caused yer parent's deaths."

"Order!" shouted the judge, his gavel pitting the top of the bench. "I will have order in this courtroom, by God!"

By then, Kate had handed the baby to Caleb and made her way to the center aisle where she stood, tears streaming down her face. "'Twas me, lass. 'Twas me robbed ye of yer family."

The law is a sort of hocus-pocus science, that smiles in yer face while it picks yer pocket.

—Charles Macklin

Chapter 21

In the chaos caused by Kate's statement, Judge MacIver's gavel could not be heard. He ordered the guards to clear the courtroom of everyone except for Lacey, Hawke, and the Weatherspoons.

Now that his courtroom was quiet once again, the judge turned to Kate Weatherspoon, who was standing on the gallery side of the gate, and speared her with a sharp-eyed gaze. "Now then, madam. Can you give me one good reason why I should not have you jailed for contempt of this court?"

"Begging yer pardon, yer honor, sir, but I couldna allow the jury or the people of Laramie to think of the poor lass as a murderer before her trial could e'en begin." Kate clutched her breast, aware her husband had been staring at her in abject shock since she'd made her confession. "The fire at O'Carroll castle is a burden of guilt I've carried inside me lo these many years, one I thought to take to the grave with me." She glanced at Lacey. "I canna believe ye carried the same burden, lass. What e'er made ye think ye'd had a hand in the fire?"

Before she could answer, Judge MacIver stepped in. "Am I to assume, madam, you feel the need to clear this matter up before the trial can proceed?"

"Aye, and I think 'twould be best in all fairness."

He sighed heavily, then leaned back in his chair. "In that case, since it's becoming quite apparent to me that we are
not
going to have a speedy trial in this courtroom on such an ungodly hot afternoon, we might as well have a fair one. Do proceed, but please—don't drag this on any longer than necessary."

"I thank ye for yer consideration." Again she turned to the witness box. "Why, lass, are ye taking the blame for burning down yer family home?"

Lacey glanced at her palm, then out to the first row of spectator seating where Hawke sat beside Caleb. She saw no look of censure or disappointment in her husband's expression. Just a heavy sadness. Looking back at the woman who'd practically raised her and wondering why she was trying to take the blame for something Lacey herself had done, she answered the question.

"I can not remember anything of the night my parents died or of the fire that burned me. I only remember the nurses whispering amongst themselves. They thought I could not hear or understand what they said, but I could at first. They pointed at me, some saying I should be locked up but good for setting fire to the O'Carroll castle and killing off my parents. I thought it must be true."

"Lord forgive me, lass, but I swear by the cross o' Christ that I ne'er
dreamed
yer head was full up with such lies." Kate buried her face in her hands and wept into them. After she'd collected herself, she wiped the moisture from her cheek with her daughter's burping cloth. "Do ye remember anything of me whilst ye were a wee thing growing up in the castle, lass?"

The question was so outlandish, Lacey thought for a moment that perhaps Kate was the one who'd gone mad. "No, why would I have known you then?"

She shrugged. "I seen ye once or twice. I was the low cook in the kitchen, working for yer dear mum and da, the one got ordered about by the higher-up cook to clean the messes and chop the onions."

Lacey was surprised—not by the fact she hadn't recognized Kate as an O'Carroll employee since she'd never been allowed to visit the kitchen—but to hear that the woman had once worked for the family. Wondering briefly if Kate had burned the castle down by setting fire to the kitchen the way she had at Winterhawke, Lacey asked, "Why have you ne'er told me this?"

"Because I hoped that ye truly had forgotten me, and didn't want to stir up yer memory." Ignoring another urge to glance at her husband and beg for his understanding, Kate went ahead with the story she'd hoped to take to the grave. "I don't know how to say this politely, lass, so I'll just be tellin' ye right straight—whilst a cook in your home, I caught yer father's fancy." She averted her gaze, unable to look Lacey in the eye as she went on. "I canna say I'm proud of myself, but I give him free rein with me, him countin' on my soft heart with stories of how yer mum turned him away night after night."

Lacey couldn't stifle a sudden gasp that was at least half whimper.

"I'm sorry to be tellin' ye this, lass, but if I don't, ye will not understand the rest. I turned up..." She canted her head, again drawn to beseech understanding from her husband, but quickly looked back at Lacey. "The night of the fire, I had just told yer father that I was to be havin' his child."

Lacey's mouth dropped open, but absolutely no sound came from her throat.

"'Tis the truth, lass." Kate went on easily now, free of her burden. "As ye might imagine, he didn't take it too well. Neither did..." She lowered her head and frowned at the memory. "Neither did yer mum."

"You told my mum all this?" Lacey didn't know at that moment whether she was more hurt or outraged.

"I was young at the time, lass, and foolish enough to believe yer father wanted to cart me off as his very own. I ne'er meant for any of this to happen, but it did." She closed her eyes to ward off yet another wave of tears. "May God forgive me someday, it did."

Fanning herself with her free hand, Lacey thought that God might forgive the woman, but she wasn't sure she could. "Are you saying that when my da would not carry you away, you decided to burn him up?"

Kate stared across the suddenly vast distance between herself and Lacey, her shoulders slumped, and wearily said, "Ye'll probably have trouble believing me now, but the fire were an accident. Yer mum, da, and I had a terrible row in the upstairs study late that night after all the help had gone to the servants quarters. It ended with yer mum chasing after me threatenin' all kinds of bodily harm. I was afraid for my life, so I ran out of the room. At the very second I closed the door, something heavy made of glass shattered against it. I were sure then that she was trying to kill me. Panicked, I turned the key in the lock so she couldna follow me, and fled the house."