Chapter Eleven 1895 #4
Has a murder been committed when there was no intention to kill?
George Hibbert most assuredly did not mean to kill his brother.
He could not have expected a single blow from his fist to be fatal, and his grief and repentance are plain to see.
To hang him as a murderer is to compound this tragedy, rather than to assuage it.
The law, in this case, has been misused; else the law, as Mr Dickens would have it, is a ass.
He’d shown his notes to the editor at the newspaper, just as Lily had suggested.
He was told to stick to the round-ups. He’d persisted – written a draft of a comment, and left it on the editor’s desk.
Just one paragraph, flagging up an unjust verdict and asking readers to reflect upon the possibility that any one of them might at some point find themselves at the mercy of a capricious set of circumstances and a bad-tempered judge.
He’d been made to rewrite it three times, but it had run.
The next one too; and then it became a weekly column.
He was paid by the word, and the amount had been increased twice.
Lily was teaching at a boarding school in Newcastle, and enjoying it thoroughly.
She usually had to wait for one of the thrice-yearly holidays before she could visit, but the school had shut unexpectedly due to an outbreak of scarlet fever, so she was on the sleeper at that exact moment, and due into London the following morning.
Toby thought he might take her skating on the Thames – he still hadn’t got used to the novelty of seeing the river frozen solid.
The cold had lasted so long, it felt like it would never thaw.
Warped tracks between Waterloo and Salisbury had given him a good excuse not to go home that Christmas; he’d sent a card and some gifts, and had gone north to the Womersleys instead.
Lily had still never been to Hallewell. It never seemed the right time.
He showed her his comment about the Hibbert brothers – in print – as they walked along Victoria Embankment three days later.
Frost had carved the London planes in white, unearthly against a Wedgwood sky.
The cold was dry that day, and the stillness made it bearable; the city seemed cleaner, the river sanitised.
He’d been made to take out the remark about the law being misused, since that was a direct criticism of the judge in question, but there had been several letters to the paper, from men of influence, in response to the piece.
‘This is wonderful, Toby,’ Lily said, pausing her stride to hold the paper closer. The typeface was punishingly small.
The sun had no heat but it blazed on her hair, and lit her eyes like polished rosewood. Her figure, in her fashionable blue dress – narrow through the waist and hips, with gigot sleeves that widened like legs of mutton – drew surreptitious glances from several passing men.
She looked up at Toby, her face sombre. ‘What a tragic, desperate case. Do you think the sentence of death may be changed?’
‘I imagine every effort will be made.’ Toby tried not to sound too pleased with himself. ‘A lawyer has come forward to act on George’s behalf, pro bono.’
‘As a result of your piece?’
‘The publicity can only have helped.’
‘Oh Toby, well done!’
‘I only pointed out what should have been obvious.’
‘But somebody must point out such things, and nobody else did.’
Toby tucked the newspaper into his coat.
He planned to send it down to Hallewell for his parents to read.
There was a long pause, which Lily would normally fill with a funny story about a pupil, or about Tom.
Instead, she stared straight ahead, eyes narrowed to the glare, with her lips pressed together in that way.
‘Lily? Is everything all right?’
She opened her mouth as though to speak, but didn’t. In the end, she simply nodded. Toby took a nip of brandy from his hip flask, then offered it to her. She shook her head.
They’d reached a pier where an enterprising couple were renting out ice skates.
‘What do you say?’ Toby said. ‘Shall we have a go?’
Lily still seemed reserved, but she nodded. ‘I’m game if you are.’
She was far more graceful on the ice than he was, swooping in wide circles around him with her hands clasped behind her back, while he scuffed along.
Gradually, Toby improved, trusting his balance more, and after an hour he supposed they were making an attractive pair, arm in arm, hardly wobbling at all.
The city on either side looked magnificent, with the sky so blue and the roofs so white.
A thousand skeins of smoke rose from a thousand chimneys, straight up into the air.
It all glittered, and was briefly magical.
‘Have we had enough?’ Lily said. ‘These boots are giving me blisters.’
‘Of course – you should have said something sooner.’
‘Yes,’ she said flatly.
Toby halted, turning to face her. ‘Lily, what is it? You must say.’
She took a deep breath. Her face was paler now, despite the exercise.
‘Perhaps it is time. Toby, I . . . I release you from our engagement.’
Toby stared for a moment, speechless. Once the meaning of her words had sunk in, panic shot through him. His heart lurched to full speed, and his stomach dropped.
‘Lily—’
‘There – I knew it!’ Her voice trembled. ‘I guessed that I would know from the look in your eyes whether I was right or wrong to do this, and I see that I am right. Aren’t I?’
‘Lily, I—’ He had no idea what to say.
She made an exasperated sound. ‘Must I always be the one to speak? Toby . . . you do not love me—’
‘I do.’
‘No, you don’t. Not as you should. Not as a husband.
Oh, I’m sure you like me well enough; I’m sure I’m eminently suitable.
And I’m amply aware that you love my brother.
But I don’t want to be liked, Toby. I don’t want to be suitable.
I want to be adored – worshipped! I want the man I marry to dream of taking me in his arms and devouring me.
I want him to be unable to resist it. And that isn’t how you feel, is it, Toby? Tell me truthfully.’
Toby felt as though the ice were splintering beneath him. Protestations crowded his head, begging to be said.
‘That isn’t how I feel,’ he confessed quietly.
Lily sagged, her chin dropping as she absorbed the blow.
‘Damn and blast,’ she murmured. ‘I’d so hoped you’d be staggered, and contradict me in the strongest possible terms. I mean, I knew you wouldn’t, but I still hoped.’
‘Lily, I am so sorry.’
‘Well, don’t bother to be!’ she said bitterly.
‘It’s my fault – I suspected from the start that what you liked most about me was that I was Tom’s sister, but I .
. . I let myself believe you would come to love me, eventually.
But it’s been three years, and only an idiot would wait another three years, and then another .
. . So, let’s call it quits while I still have my looks. ’
‘I don’t know what to say. You are so . . . decent, Lily. And so wise.’
Tears glimmered along her lashes. ‘Oh, God save me from being decent and wise! In fact, I’ve been an utter fool. I thought you were so strong, and principled. I thought you were brave, but you aren’t! You’re a coward, Toby Meriwether.’
This stung him to silence for a beat. Lily turned abruptly and skated away, back to the pier, where she climbed from the ice, batting away his efforts to help her.
‘Stop it!’ she snapped. ‘Stop trying to be gallant, when you aren’t!’
‘Lily, please . . . I feel wretched—’
‘Do you? Good!’
She laced her boots with fingers that shook, then set off towards Tom’s apartment, refusing to look at him, her face pinched with misery.
Toby followed along helplessly. ‘Lily,’ he said, as she reached the building and thumped on the door. ‘Forgive me. Please. I wanted so much to—’ He searched for some way to make it better. ‘I’ll . . . I’ll always be your friend, Lily Womersley.’
She paused, and eventually cast a glance back at him.
‘And I so wanted to be yours, Toby,’ she said tremulously. ‘I . . . I hope you find one. Somebody you can tell all your secrets to. Perhaps then they won’t weigh so heavily upon you. Or upon the people who love you.’
She didn’t look back again as the door closed behind her.
Toby bought a bottle of brandy on the way back to his room.
He lit the fire and pulled up his chair as the sun set behind the rooftops, briefly casting the window in a delicate rose gold.
He felt relieved, in part; and grateful to Lily for releasing him.
A weight of responsibility he’d hardly been aware of had lifted, and he felt incredibly light without it.
But he knew he had failed – failed Lily, and failed Tom.
Guilt and anxiety churned his guts. His engagement, and eventual wedding, had been the only fixed point in his future; without it, he felt himself stumbling back towards that shapeless, unnavigable morass. It frightened him.
He began a hasty letter to Tom, then thought he ought to let Lily speak to him first and allow the news to settle; then he wrote his letter anyway, in preparation. Apologising, begging to be forgiven, and to see his friend soon.