Twenty-One Days (Daniel Pitt #1)(86)

‘Your husband did not help you in any way – I’m sorry, I mean Mr Graves – did not help you?’

She looked surprised. ‘No, of course not! If he had, he’d have known I was not dead, and would never have tolerated being accused of having killed me, let alone come within days of being hanged.’

Kitteridge looked thoughtful. ‘But Winifred Graves was as much a threat to him as to you, surely?’

She looked blank. ‘She could not make him illegitimate, or rob him of his means to live.’

Kitteridge tried to suppress a twisted smile, and did not entirely succeed. ‘No. And I presume his parting from Winifred Graves was not against his will, to put it mildly. But his marriage to you was bigamous, although you did not know it. Bigamy is a crime.’

‘I didn’t know!’ she protested.

‘Not for you, Miss Cumberford, for the person committing it, Russell Graves. It might have remained a secret if Winifred had not presented herself at your home.’

She struggled with temptation. It was visible in her face.

The judge leaned forward and was about to speak, when she finally answered.

‘He did not know anything about it. It was I who . . . who damaged her face so she would not be recognised. I dressed her in some of my clothes, and set fire to her, and—’

Kitteridge did not allow her to finish. ‘How did you that, Miss Cumberford? It must have taken great nerve, and strength.’

‘I suppose so.’

Kitteridge had to make the judge believe him. Daniel had seen his reluctance before the hearing began.

‘You dressed her in your clothes, and then put her back where she fell, so it would still look like the accident it was. How did you make her clothes and flesh burn? Clothes I can see, but flesh?’

Ebony looked so pale now that Daniel was afraid she might faint. He knew that Kitteridge noted it, too, and he felt a sharp pity for him. Not something he had thought he would ever do.

‘I . . . I took some of my son’s art supplies,’ Ebony continued in hoarse voice. ‘Linseed oil and some oiled silk that I had. It is waterproof, you know. I knew they would burn. I put down some old cotton sheet, soaked in the oil, and the silk, and set fire to them.’

‘I see. And you did all this alone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Think hard, Miss Cumberford. Not only Russell Graves’ life depends on this, but your own does also. I want to believe you, but I find it hard. Winifred was a larger woman than you are, even if not by much, and a dead weight. You managed to strip her of her own clothes and dress her in yours, then lay her back in exactly the same position, without any help at all? Please . . . tell me the truth. Are you sure Mr Graves did not help you?’

‘I am certain! Do you think he would be prepared to hang, rather than admit that I was still alive, and he had had a part in making Winifred look like me? He does not love me enough to die for me! He does not love me at all. I don’t think he ever did. Or he wouldn’t have beaten me . . .’

‘Then who helped you?’

She stood silent.

‘Was it Falthorne, your butler?’

‘No! Do you think I would—’ She stopped abruptly.

‘Trust him? Yes, I do. But I do not think you would allow him to be blamed for something he did not do. I believe it was your daughter, Sarah, who knew how Russell Graves had beaten you, because he beat her also. I think the two of you saw your chance to escape from him, and you took it. I don’t think you thought further than that. I don’t think you foresaw Russell Graves being hanged for murdering you, or what would happen to Arthur and Sarah after that, the guilt that might hurt the rest of their lives. I think you have come forward now precisely to prevent that, no matter the cost to you. But you would have borne it all, and chance she could not help you, as absurd as that seems. I cannot blame you, Miss Cumberford, but neither can I believe you.’

She did not answer him.

He turned to the judge. ‘My lord, that is all the evidence I have to offer the court that Russell Graves is not guilty of having murdered Ebony Cumberford, whom the court believed to be Ebony Graves.’

‘Thank you, Mr Kitteridge, it is not necessary for us to retire to consider our verdict. Quite clearly, Miss Cumberford, or Mrs Graves, is alive and well. The verdict of guilty against Russell Graves is reversed. Appropriate action will be taken to that effect.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

‘However, that is hardly the end of the matter. Charges must be made against Miss Cumberford. I think circumstances do not require that Miss Sarah . . . Cumberford . . . be charged as an accessory to the desecrating of Mrs Winifred Graves’ body. There is no proof that she did any more than assist her mother in the most tragic circumstances. No doubt she was shocked and frightened. She came forward before it was too late.’

‘Thank you, my lord,’ Kitteridge said fervently.

‘However, Ebony Cumberford will be taken into custody and held for trial on the defacement of a corpse, with the intention to portray an accident as a crime, and allow her common-law husband to be tried and sentenced for a crime that did not exist. This court is adjourned.’

Daniel waited for what he knew was inevitable. Ebony was arrested and charged. It was more lenient than he had feared it might be. Sarah was free, but she was so concerned for her mother that her own escape hardly registered with her. She looked at Daniel with terror in her eyes – and guilt.