Without Sin (27 page)

‘About eight years ago –’ Mr Snape gripped the lapels of his gown again – ‘Mr Rodwell, who of course was known to the family through his tenancy of Mr Finch’s
properties, began to pay court to Miss Finch.’ There was the sound of laughter, quickly stifled.

‘At this stage, it has to be said—’ Mr Snape’s tone made it sound as if he were reluctant to say this – ‘it has to be said that the defendant conducted the
courtship with decorum. He approached Mr Finch for his permission and, this being given, he began to call at the Hall on a Sunday afternoon and sometimes on a Saturday evening after the close of
– er – his business to dine with the family. During the first two years he observed the proprieties, the niceties, of such a courtship, their meetings always being in the presence of a
third party.’

Again, from the public gallery came the sound of muffled laughter.

‘Six years ago the couple, with Mr Finch’s approval, became officially engaged. An announcement was made in the newspaper informing the whole world of the impending nuptials.’
Mr Snape waved a newspaper in the air. ‘And a small dinner party was held at the Hall to celebrate the event. If necessary, I can call several witnesses who were present on this happy
occasion.’

He paused, cleared his throat and continued. ‘The defendant purchased a ring. Not a ring of any great value, I hasten to add, though Miss Finch—’ he inclined his head towards
his client with an ingratiating smile –‘declared herself happy with the token of their betrothal.’ He cast a baleful glance at Percy, who was sitting with his head bowed and hands
clasped before him. ‘Of course, my client would not say so for herself, but she is a modest soul, not of a grasping or a self-seeking nature. Miss Finch,’ he declared resonantly,
‘was most certainly not attaching herself to the defendant for his money.’

Now for the first time Mr Snape turned slowly and deliberately raised his eyes to seek out Meg, sitting in the front row of the gallery and it seemed to her that every eye in the vast room
turned to look at her.

Mr Snape’s opening speech continued until the judge adjourned for lunch.

By the time Meg had struggled through the throng, ignoring the nudges and whispers around her, and fought her way to Percy and Mr Henderson, she was seething. ‘It’s not what
he’s saying,’ she ranted, pacing up and down the small room, ‘it’s the way he’s saying it. He’s so scathing, so . . . so . . .’ She couldn’t think of
the words to describe the way in which Mr Snape was besmirching poor Percy’s character. ‘So . . . awful,’ she finished.

She sat down beside Percy and took his hand in hers. ‘Oh, Percy, this is all because of me. I’m so sorry.’ Whilst she knew, deep in her heart, that she was not in love with
Percy Rodwell and never would be, she was very fond of the man who had been so kind to her. Watching her, Mr Henderson recognized her concern as being genuine. About Percy’s regard for his
young wife he had never been in doubt, but until this moment he had been unsure of the young woman’s. Now Mr Henderson smiled, knowing that later on that day – if Mr Snape ever finished
his opening speech – he would be able to stand up and speak just as eloquently as his adversary, safe in the knowledge that there was real affection between the couple.

After lunch the courtroom filled up again, buzzing with excited chatter. Many there had never been inside a court before and none had ever seen a breach of promise case.

‘She’s a hard-faced shrew, that Clara Finch,’ the few men there muttered to one another, their sympathies all with the defendant when they compared his former fiancée
with his pretty young bride. ‘Only thing is, I can’t see what that young lass sees in him.’

‘Money, that’s what. He may not be in Theobald Finch’s league, but he’s a good catch as far as that young ’un’s concerned. She’s from the workhouse,
they say.’

‘Wasn’t it her father who ran off with farmer Smallwood’s daughter . . . ?’

And so the gossiping and the tittle-tattling went on, the men siding with Percy, whilst the women, for the most part, found themselves siding with the jilted woman.

As the judge entered the room, all present rose as the whispering subsided and every eye turned eagerly towards Mr Snape. What juicy morsels would he reveal this afternoon?

Mr Snape resumed his demolition of Percy’s character subtly but effectively. He went into lengthy detail about the courtship’s progress. According to his client, every attempt on her
part to set a date for the marriage had been met by prevarication from the defendant. ‘His excuses ranged –’ here Mr Snape waved his hands expressively – ‘from being
too occupied with building up his business – a business in which, I might add, your honour, my client made it only too obvious that she would be willing, nay happy, to help. The defendant
–’ not once, Meg noticed, did Mr Snape refer to Percy by his name now – ‘also gave the excuse that his home was not suitable for a lady of Miss Finch’s standing in the
community.’ Here Mr Snape paused and smirked. ‘For once, your honour, I find myself in agreement with the defendant.’

Though the judge did not even smile, this time he made no move to quell the ripple of laughter that ran around the court.

‘So we come to the events leading up to this unhappy breach of promise action. The defendant, in his wisdom,’ Mr Snape added sarcastically, ‘decided to employ a young girl from
the workhouse. Perhaps –’ he spread his hands again – ‘he wished to act charitably, to give a pauper the chance of a lifetime. Perhaps we should not condemn him for that
action.’ It was the closest the man had come to praising Percy, yet Meg could still detect the sarcasm in his tone. At his next words, she realized his intention. ‘And oh, your honour,
what a chance of a lifetime that turned out to be.’

‘This young . . .’ he paused, searching for the right word to describe Meg. ‘This scheming hussy –’ a startled gasp echoed through the courtroom –
‘played upon the defendant’s sympathies. She seduced him, your honour. There is no other way to describe—’

‘That’s not true!’ Meg was on her feet, shouting at the prosecuting solicitor. ‘Don’t listen to him, your honour. It’s not true what he’s saying about
me or about Percy – Mr Rodwell.’

An excited buzz ran through the public gallery and the judge banged on his bench with his gavel.

‘Young woman, sit down or else I shall have you put out of court.’

‘But, sir—’

Another angry bang. ‘It’ll be a charge for contempt of court if you utter another word. Sit down and be quiet.’

Meg glanced towards where Percy was sitting with his head in his hands. Mr Henderson was looking at her and frowning. He gave a little shake of his head and patted his hand in the air,
indicating that she should sit down. Then he put his fingers to his lips. Meg subsided back into her seat, her face red. Now everyone was looking at her. She could feel their stares on the back of
her neck and hear the whispers. The judge banged again and there was silence.

‘Pray continue, Mr Snape.’

Mr Snape gave a little bow towards the bench. ‘Thank you, your honour.’ He glanced towards his opponent and Percy and then briefly up to the front row of the gallery towards where
Meg was sitting. Smirking, he said, ‘May I crave your indulgence, your honour. The girl is, of course, so
very
young!’ It was neatly done, turning Meg’s impetuous outburst
against her.

The judge, whose white bushy eyebrows were almost meeting above the bridge of his nose in a frown, merely grunted and nodded to the plaintiff’s lawyer to proceed.

Mr Snape droned on for another hour, extolling the virtues of his client as a woman of independent means, of a certain standing in the community who would bring nothing but respectability and
stability to her future husband in both his personal and business life. In comparison, he painted a lurid picture of Meg as a woman who would bring disgrace and eventual ruin to the defendant.

At last he sat down and the court buzzed again, until Mr Henderson rose slowly to commence his opening speech.

‘Much has been made of the plaintiff’s standing in the community, but let us, for a moment, consider the position of my client. Mr Rodwell’ – Mr Henderson stressed the
use of Percy’s name – ‘was born here, in this town, in the rooms above the premises where he now conducts his business. He now lives in a small town house on Church Street. A
modest dwelling by some standards –’ he glanced towards the prosecution – ‘that is true. Mr Rodwell is not a wealthy man. He makes no claims to be. He is, indeed, a modest
man in all ways. Modest in wealth, modest in character. And, following in his family’s footsteps, he runs a modest enterprise in, as we have heard, rented property. Rented, as we have also
heard, your honour, from the plaintiff’s brother. I’m sure there is no one in this courtroom’ – Mr Henderson’s glance swept the public gallery and around the court
– ‘who would deny that my client runs a respectable, though modest, tailoring business’ – his voice became a little louder and his tone firmer, ‘in a fair and honest
manner. But consider for a moment, if you will, the position my client must have found himself in some eight years ago. We are led to believe that it was my client, Mr Rodwell, who began to court
the plaintiff. In fact, your honour, it was the plaintiff who made the first – er – shall we say – approach to my client. Of course, there is no shame in this. Was it not our late
and much lamented Queen Victoria – correct me if I am wrong – who was obliged to make the proposal of marriage to her beloved Albert because of her superior position?’

Now there was a gale of laughter around the courtroom and the judge banged his gavel irritably.

‘As we have heard, the plaintiff is a genteel and respectable lady. But when she invited Mr Rodwell to dine at the Hall with herself and her brother, was that not placing my client in
something of a dilemma? Apart from not wishing – quite understandably – to upset this genteel and respectable lady, he is also her brother’s tenant and would feel, no doubt, under
some kind of obligation to accept their kind invitation.’ He paused to allow these thoughts to filter into the minds of all those listening. Meg glanced at Clara and saw her whispering
urgently in her solicitor’s ear, but Mr Snape was shaking his head and patting her arm as if to quieten her. Meg smiled wryly. Miss Finch wanted to argue with the opposition’s
statements just as she herself had done so rashly.

‘Events moved on,’ Mr Henderson continued, ‘and the invitations to dine, to parties, to Sunday afternoon outings became more frequent, so frequent, in fact, with refusal
unthinkable, that in the eyes of the community there must be some kind of – er –
understanding
between the plaintiff and my client. This modest and unassuming man found himself
drawn into a relationship with the plaintiff that had really not been of his making. But let us be fair – we must not forget that the plaintiff is a genteel lady. I have no doubt that her
motives were
most
respectable.’

Again a ripple of laughter ran through the courtroom, quickly silenced by the judge’s frown.

‘Perhaps at this time the plaintiff’s brother – my client’s landlord – took a hand in moving matters forward by pointing out to my client that his frequent visits
to the home of the lady in question were putting her reputation at risk. Now, imagine my modest and unassuming client’s feelings at this point. He has no wish to offend his landlord. The lady
in question is . . .’

Here Mr Henderson paused and turned to look at Clara. He regarded her for some moments, his silence drawing the attention of everyone present to her: to her gaunt face, to her hooked nose, to
her hard, beady eyes, to her thin and shapeless figure. He cleared his throat and continued, ‘. . . as we have been repeatedly told, is a genteel and respectable lady. And Mr Rodwell had, at
that time, no other – er – prospect.’

There was a titter from the gallery.

‘He lived alone and ran his business alone. His only social life was comprised of invitations from the plaintiff. And so he becomes betrothed to this lady of means, of standing in the
community, and the event is duly celebrated and becomes common knowledge. But this engagement, your honour, lasts six years. It would appear to an outsider, would it not, that there was nothing to
stand in the way of the nuptials between these two – er – young lovers?’

More laughter from those present and even the judge allowed his lips to twitch.

‘But if the prosecution is to be believed it was my client who prevaricated, with the weak excuse that he had nothing to offer his lady love. And indeed –’ Mr Henderson puffed
out his chest and gestured towards Clara – ‘in comparison with this lady of independent means, of superior standing in the community, what has a modest tailor in rented business
premises and living in a tiny cottage got to offer her?

‘But in all this, your honour, we have not heard one word of the emotions between the plaintiff and my client. Oh, much has been made of the plaintiff’s suitability. Who could argue
that she is an undoubted catch?’

Now there was loud, insulting laughter from the gallery. The judge bowed his head as if to hide his face. Then he banged his gavel, but there was still stifled sniggering from the gallery.

‘We have heard no mention of love between them, of unbridled passion that could not wait for blissful union—’

‘Mr Henderson,’ the judge warned, and Percy’s solicitor bowed, acknowledging that his turn of phrase might be becoming indelicate.

‘Your honour,’ he murmured. ‘But then,’ he continued, ‘into my client’s life comes this young woman – an impoverished young woman, your honour, with not
a penny to her name, with nothing to offer a prospective husband. She has no standing in the community, she comes from the workhouse.’ He paused to allow this information to sink in.
‘But one day, in an effort to pull herself out of the mire, she dresses herself in the only clothes she has and walks all the way into town to Mr Rodwell’s shop. She has been told, by a
friend of the plaintiff’s I might add, Miss Pendleton, the matron at the workhouse’ – Clara whispered urgently into Mr Snape’s ear, but Mr Henderson continued –
‘that Mr Rodwell might be looking for a female assistant to serve his lady customers with . . .’ Mr Henderson coughed delicately, ‘underwear. And so, with a hopeful heart, this
young girl sets out to better her circumstances with no further thought in her pretty head than that of securing a respectable, though lowly, position and being able to support herself and her poor
mother.