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Rathbone held up his hand in a very slight gesture.
“If you please, Mrs. Duff, I require to see him in effect alone. What passes between a barrister and his client is privileged and must be confidential. Miss Latterly will be party to it only in her capacity as his nurse, in case he should become distressed and need her. She will be bound by the same absolute rules.”
Sylvestra looked taken aback.
“It is necessary,” he assured her. “Otherwise I cannot proceed.”
Reluctantly she fell back, her face still filled with uncertainty, her eyes moving from Rathbone to Hester.
“I shall see he is not distressed more than is absolutely necessary in order to learn what we must,” Hester promised.
“Do you really think …” Sylvestra began, then faltered. She was afraid. It was stark in her eyes; she was afraid of the truth. She hesitated on the brink of telling Rathbone not to seek it. She turned to Hester.
Hester smiled at her, pretending she did not understand, and walked to the door.
She led Rathbone upstairs and after a knock on Rhys’s door, merely as a courtesy, she led him in.
“Rhys, this is Sir Oliver Rathbone. He is going to speak for you in court.”
Rhys stared at her, then at Rathbone. He was lying on his back, propped up on pillows as she had left him, his splinted hands on the covers in front of him. He looked frightened and stiff.
“How do you do,” Rathbone said with a smile and an inclination of his head, as if Rhys had replied quite normally. “May I sit down?”
Rhys nodded, then looked at Hester.
“Would you prefer me to leave?” she asked. “I can go next door and you can knock the bell off if you need me.”
He shook his head immediately and she could sense his anxiety, his loneliness, his feeling almost of drowning under the weight of confusion inside him. She retreated to the corner of the room and sat down.
“You must be honest with me,” Rathbone began quietly. “Everything you tell me will remain in confidence, if you wish it. I am bound by law not to act other than in your interests, as long as I remain honest myself. I cannot lie, but I can and will keep anything secret, if that is what you wish.”
Rhys nodded.
“The same applies to Miss Latterly. That is her bond as well as mine.”
Rhys stared at him.
“Do you know what happened the night your father was killed?”
Rhys winced and seemed to shrink within himself, but he did not move his eyes from Rathbone’s face, and he nodded slowly.
“Good. I know you can indicate only yes or no. I shall ask you questions and if you can answer them so, then do. If you cannot, then wait, and I shall reword them.” He hesitated only a moment. “Did you go with your friends, Arthur and Duke Kynaston, to the area of St. Giles, and when there use the services of prostitutes?”
Rhys bit his lip, and then nodded, a dull flush of pink in his cheeks. His eyes remained steady on Rathbone’s face.
“Did you at any time injure any of these women, or fight with them, even accidentally?”
Rhys shook his head violently.
“Did either Arthur or Duke Kynaston do so?”
Rhys remained still.
“Do you know if they did or not?”
Rhys shook his head.
“Did you also go with them to Seven Dials?”
