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“Please proceed, Mr. Argyll,” the judge said with exaggerated weariness. “Wherever the good doctor was born, or studied, is neither here nor there. I assume you are not going to say that he knew Miss Latterly in either place? No, I thought not. Do get on with it!”
Argyll was not in the slightest disturbed. He smiled at the judge and turned back to Moncrieff.
“And you encountered Miss Latterly while you were in the Crimea, Doctor?”
“Yes sir, on many occasions.”
“In the pursuit of your mutual profession?”
The judge leaned forward, a sharp frown between his brows making his face look even longer and narrower.
“Sir, this court requires that you be precise. You are misleading the jury. Dr. Moncrieff and Miss Latterly do not have a mutual profession, as you well know; and if you do not, then let me inform you. Dr. Moncrieff is a physician, a practitioner of the art of medicine. Miss Latterly is a nurse, a servant to such doctors in their care of the sick, to roll bandages, make beds, fetch and carry. She does not diagnose disease, she does not prescribe medicines, she does not perform operations of even the slightest nature. She does as she is told, no more. Do I make myself clear?” He turned to the jury. “Gentlemen?”
At least half the jurors nodded sagely.
“Doctor,” Argyll said smoothly, addressing Moncrieff. “I do not wish you to presume upon jurisprudence. Please confine yourself to medicine as your skill, and Miss Latterly as your observation.”
There was a titter around the room, hastily suppressed. One man in the gallery guffawed, and someone squeaked with alarm.
The judge was scarlet-faced, but events had overtaken him. He searched for words, and found none.
“Of course not, sir,” Moncrieff said quickly. “I know nothing about it, beyond what is open to every layman.”
“Did you work with Miss Latterly, sir?”
“Frequently.”
“What was your opinion of her professional ability?”
Gilfeather rose to his feet. “We are not doubting her professional ability, my lord. The prosecution is not charging she made any error in judgment as to procedure. We are quite sure all her acts were precisely what she intended them to be, and with full understanding of the consequences … at least medically speaking.”
There was another nervous giggle somewhere, instantly stifled.
“Proceed to what is relevant, Mr. Argyll,” the judge directed. “The court is waiting to hear Dr. Moncrieff’s testimony as to the character of the prisoner. Relevant or not, it is her right to have it heard.”
“My lord, I believe that competence to perform one’s duties, and to place the care of others before one’s own safety, while in great personal anger, is a profound part of a person’s character,” Argyll said with a smile.
There was a long, tense silence. No one in the gallery moved.
In spite of himself Rathbone’s eyes flickered up to Hester. She was staring at Argyll, her face white, the shadow of hope struggling in her eyes.
He felt an overwhelming sense of despair, so total for a moment he could hardly catch his breath. It was as if someone had knocked the air out of his lungs.
Perhaps it was as well Argyll was conducting the case. He cared too much to be in command of himself.
The jury was waiting, all fifteen faces turned towards the judge. This time their emotion was with Argyll, and it was plain to see.
The judge was tight-lipped with anger, but he knew the law.
“Proceed,” he said curtly.
“Thank you, my lord.” Argyll inclined his head and turned back to Moncrieff. “Dr. Moncrieff, I ask you again, what is your opinion of Miss Latterly’s professional ability, in all circumstances with which you are acquainted and competent to form a judgment?”
“Excellent, sir,” Moncrieff answered without hesitation. “She showed remarkable courage on the battlefield when there were enemy skirmishers about, working with the wounded when her own life was in danger. She worked very long hours indeed, often all day and half the night, ignoring her own exhaustion or hunger and cold.” A shadow of amusement crossed Moncrieff’s handsome face. “And she had exceptional initiative. I have on occasions thought it is unfortunate it is impossible to train women to practice medicine. More than one nurse, in cases when there was no surgeon, has performed successful operations to remove musket balls or pieces of shell, and even amputated limbs badly shattered on the field. Miss Latterly was one such.”
Argyll’s face registered the appropriate surprise.
“Are you saying, sir, that she was a surgeon … in the Crimea?”
