Chapter Twenty-Four
Sir William sprang to his feet. “My learned friend is deranged! On what possible grounds can you bring such a charge? You have provided no evidence whatsoever that my client’s mind is unsound!
His mother’s death and its possible cause have no relevance at all to this case!
My Lord Chancellor, I implore you to restore order and common sense to these proceedings and have done with these flights of fantasy! ”
Tindal’s pleased expression faded, and he nodded reluctant acquiescence. “As the Lord Chancellor pleases.” He sat down.
Jerome pulled himself together with an effort and stood to face the house.
His legs felt shaky, but he fancied it didn’t show in his demeanor.
He took his oath and commenced his story.
Sir William had coached him in this, and he kept his voice steady as he pushed away the events of the last few minutes and relayed his first meeting with Charis Dunsenay, his impression that she was older than her actual years, and he admitted to striking up a flirtation with her.
“She was a very pretty young woman, my lords, and in those days—I was twenty-six at the time—I will admit, I liked pretty women, and in general I might be permitted to say with no false modesty that they liked me.
Although I also knew that their liking had as much to do with my title and wealth as it did to any other attributes I have.
Miss Dunsenay was bold well beyond her years, and I was surprised at the latitude her parents allowed her.
“To put it bluntly, my lords, it wasn’t long before I realized they were throwing her at me.
She was very willing, too. I do not wish to blacken the young lady’s name more than it already is by these sordid circumstances, as I believe she was motivated by an infatuation for me.
You see our estates march together, and it is quite likely she had seen and heard of me before we met formally at her parents’ home.
“The other guests had departed the property on the morning of the 11th, but I was persuaded to stay one more night. It was on that night that I woke from a sound sleep to find Miss Dunsenay naked in my bed.” This statement caused loud murmurs, and the occasional stifled laugh.
“I was not drunk, my lords. I’d had a glass or two of wine with dinner and a couple of ports.
Those who know me well will attest to the fact that is not enough to make me drunk.
I also did not—I must repeat most emphatically, did not—make any assignation with Miss Dunsenay or invite her to my bedroom.
I was shocked and dismayed to find her there.
Particularly in her state of undress. Before I could take any action, Lord Mostyn burst in upon us and accused me of ruining his daughter.
And he demanded that I do the right thing and marry her. ” He paused to gather himself.
“My lords, I confess at this point I did behave in an ungentlemanly manner, because it was plain to me that the Dunsenays had used their daughter to entrap me. This was motivated, I now believe—although I didn’t know this at the time—by Dunsenay’s financial distress.
My lords, those of you who have found yourselves the target of ambitious debutantes may lend me some sympathy here.
I succeeded to my father’s title and wealth at the age of seventeen.
From that age I was beset by ambitious women desiring to marry my wealth and title.
I became cynical and hardhearted toward women who employed tactics to entrap me, and believe me I was subjected to many attempts, although this was the most blatant.
“That is a long-winded way of saying that on this occasion, I allowed my temper to get the better of me. I refused Dunsenay’s demand, packed my bags, and left the house to spend the remainder of the night at a local hostelry.
My house at that time was not habitable.
However, upon reflection in the morning, I realized the error I had made.
I had behaved in a most ungentlemanly fashion.
I had contravened every precept of honor I had been raised with and returned to Dunsenay’s house to say that I would, in fact, marry Miss Dunsenay.
” He stopped again and gathered himself for the final part.
“When I arrived, I learned that Miss Dunsenay had left the house at some point in the night and not returned. Her parents were naturally concerned for her safety. Her father and I then left to go in search of her. Dunsenay said that she loved the coast and would likely have gone there.
“We headed there and split up. I found her standing on the cliff’s edge, looking at the water.
I called out to her, and she turned toward me.
I dismounted from my horse and approached her.
She was visibly shivering. There had been rain in the night.
Her cloak was wet and there was a strong breeze coming off the sea.
“I have thought long and hard about my recall of the next sequence of events, for it all happened very quickly, and the circumstances were very emotionally charged. To the best of my ability to remember, this is what happened:
“I approached her and reassured her that I would marry her. I apologized for my temper the previous evening, and I asked for her forgiveness. As I got closer, I could see she was crying. I was about to take her in my arms and comfort her when a cry behind me alerted me to her father’s presence.
I turned to see him, and when I looked back—she must have taken a step back, for the cliff suddenly gave way beneath her feet.
I lunged for her to grab her, but she had lost her balance and—”
He stopped again, swamped with remembered horror.
“I will never forget her look of terror as she fell backward into thin air.
Her scream is etched on my memory forever.
Her body plunged into the raging sea below.
It was tossed about by the waves and dashed upon the rocks.
I had to wait until low tide to retrieve her lifeless body.
“That, my lords, is what happened. I do not claim to be entirely blameless in these proceedings, but I swear I did not murder Charis Dunsenay. I tried to save her.”
A moan from Lady Mostyn, who had collapsed in her chair, broke the silence that ensued when he stopped speaking.
Sir William rose to his feet and said quietly, “My lords, I put it to you that this is a true account of what happened on the night of the 11th and the morning of the 12th of July 1812, and that my client is not a murderer. He was entrapped by his hosts in a plot to force him to marry their daughter in order to save Dunsenay from debt. I also put it to you that Miss Charis Dunsenay’s death was a tragic accident, which my client failed to avert despite his best efforts.
I further put it to you that there is insufficient evidence to convict my client of murder in any case, as the only witnesses to the alleged crime are both dead.
In support of my client’s veracity, I will now call the Duke of Troubridge, a gentleman of exemplary character, well known to you all.
The duke is also my client’s brother-in-law, as Ravenshaw is married to his sister, Lady Ava. ”
Robert rose from his seat and approached the table, where he gave his oath.
“My lord duke,” said Sir William, “how long have you known my client?”
“Since we were fifteen, Sir William.”
“And would you say he was a man of honor?”
“I would, my lord, of the highest degree.”
“Do you believe his account of these events?”
“I do, my lord. If I did not, I would never have allowed him to marry my sister.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” He bowed to Robert, who bowed back and resumed his seat.
Sir William tidied his papers and said simply, “The case for the defense rests, gentlemen. Lord Chancellor, I would move that the house now take a vote as to the guilt or innocence of my client of the crime for which he stands accused, bearing in mind all the points I have raised that discredit this case in the eyes of the law.”