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The judge leaned forward. “Mr. Sacheverall, there is no need to state your case. We require you simply to prove it, if you will be so good,” he said gently. “If you will give us the facts, we shall draw our own conclusion. We assume all parties to be honorable, until shown otherwise. Please provide your evidence.”
Sacheverall looked taken aback. Apparently he did not know Mr. Justice McKeever.
Rathbone knew him only by repute. He hid his smile.
“My lord,” Sacheverall acknowledged. “Mr. Lambert, will you please tell the court how you first made the acquaintance of Killian Melville, and in what circumstances he was introduced to your daughter, Miss Zillah Lambert, upon whose behalf you are bringing this suit.”
“Of course,” Lambert said gruffly, and cleared his throat and then coughed, raising a large hand to his mouth. “I had a little capital I wanted to spend. Create something beautiful out of what I had earned.” He looked at Sacheverall for approval and continued when he saw him nod. “I thought of a building … something real handsome … different … new. I had several architects recommended to me.” He moved uncomfortably. “Saw all their plans. Young Melville was one of ’em. Liked his the best, by a long way. The others were adequate … but pedestrian compared wi’ his.” He took a deep breath, filling his lungs. “I sent for him. Liked him straight off. Modest enough, but sure of ‘imself. Looked me straight in the eye.” He coughed again. “He wanted the job, I could see that, but he wasn’t going to curry favor for it. His designs were good, and he knew it.”
“You commissioned him to draw the plans for your new building?” Sacheverall concluded.
“Yes sir, I did. And it was the admiration of all my acquaintances, and many strangers, when it was built. In Abercorn Place, it is, in Maida Vale.” There was a ring of pride in Lambert’s voice when he said it. Whatever his feelings for Melville currently, he still regarded his work with delight. “You may have seen it …” he added hopefully.
“Indeed I have,” Sacheverall agreed. “It is very beautiful. Was it at this time that you came to know Mr. Melville socially and invited him to your home?”
“It was. Not at first, you understand,” he explained, “but as the building was nearing completion. Naturally he had to come and consult with me from time to time. Very diligent, he was. Left nothing to chance.”
“Not a careless man?” Sacheverall noted.
Rathbone knew what he was doing, but he could not stop him. He looked at the jurors’ faces. They were all men of property, by definition, or they would not be jurors. They would understand Lambert’s feelings and identify with them, even if their own estates were on a vastly smaller scale.
“Not at all,” Lambert said vehemently. “Wouldn’t employ a careless man. I couldn’t have got where I am, sir, if I couldn’t judge a man’s ability in his profession.” He took another deep breath, as if steadying himself. “Thought I could judge a man’s personal character as well. Would have sworn Melville was as honorable as any man I’ve known. Looks as if I’m not as clever as I thought, doesn’t it?”
“I am afraid it does, sir,” Sacheverall agreed. “Did you introduce Melville to your family, most specifically to your daughter, Miss Zillah Lambert?”
“I did.”
“Forgive me for asking you this, sir, when it must sound highly indelicate, but did you introduce Mr. Melville as a socially acceptable person, a fit companion for your daughter, a friend; or as an employee, a person of inferior rank?”
“Certainly not!” Barton Lambert was affronted. Of all things, he was not socially arrogant. No one impressed him by birth or rank, except Her Majesty the Queen. She was an entirely different matter. He was intensely patriotic, and she was the head of his country and the seat of his ultimate loyalty. “Killian Melville was good enough to speak to anyone, and I introduced him as such,” he said sharply. “My daughter was brought up to respect a man who earned his way and left the world a better place than he found it.” It was said with a note of challenge, and he swiveled around to look at the jurors as he spoke. If he had to parade his family’s shame before the gentlemen of society, he would do it with his head high and his standards unmistaken by any.
Against his will, Rathbone liked the man already.
“Quite.” Sacheverall nodded, inclining his head a trifle towards the jurors. “You introduced him to your home and family as an equal. You offered him complete hospitality.” That was a statement, not a question. He proceeded to the point. “And he became friendly with your wife and daughter?”
“He did.”
“He visited regularly and was at ease in your company …” Sacheverall glanced at Rathbone. “Or should I say he appeared at ease?” he corrected.
“Yes sir.”
“You became fond of him?”
“I always liked him,” Lambert acknowledged. In all the time he had been on the stand he had not looked at Melville. Rathbone was acutely aware of it, and he was certain Melville was also.
“Did you take him with you to social events outside your home?”
“From time to time. He wasn’t one for a lot of dining out and polite conversation, and I don’t think he danced.”
Rathbone stood up. “My lord, no one disputes that Mr. Lambert and his family were gracious and friendly towards Mr. Melville and showed him the greatest hospitality, and that Mr. Melville in turn was grateful to them and held them in the highest personal regard. The only matter of issue is whether he feels himself suited to marry Miss Lambert, desired to do so, and actually contracted such an agreement. Mr. Melville contends that Miss Lambert mistook the nature of his regard for her and Mrs. Lambert assumed something that was not in fact so. It is even imaginable that Miss Lambert herself knew this but did not feel able to extricate herself from what had become an embarrassing situation.”
Mr. Justice McKeever smiled. “All manner of things are imaginable, Sir Oliver. We will restrict ourselves to what is demonstrable. However, Mr. Sacheverall, I take Sir Oliver’s point that no one disputes the fact that a warm friendship developed between Mr. Melville and Mr. Lambert’s family, especially his daughter. Such friendships do not always end in marriage. Please proceed with your case.”
Sacheverall bowed, but he turned back to Lambert with perhaps a fraction less confidence in his stance and the set of his shoulders.
“During the course of their friendship, did Mr. Melville on occasion escort your daughter to certain functions, keep her company, walk and talk with her, tell her of his exploits, adventures, plans for the future? Did he share ideas with her, tastes in art, literature and music? Did he read poetry together with her, show her the drawings of his work, share jokes and humorous episodes? In general, did he pay court to her, Mr. Lambert?”
Rathbone glanced sideways at Melville, but he was staring straight ahead.
