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“In the November wind, on a deserted riverbank?” she said a trifle sharply. “I went for help, to find a policeman if I could, or anyone else with the power to do something. I passed a nursemaid with children, but she could hardly help me. Eventually I found a policeman and repeated the whole incident to him. He was helpful, but by then there was little he could do. By the evening, Harry—Mr. Exeter—had received the ransom demand.”
“Just so. Did you have any reason to suspect, any reason at all, that he already knew of the kidnap, or that he had any part in it, Miss Darwin?”
Her voice was very quiet. “None at all.”
“Then, or at any other time?”
She was silent for several moments. What was she waiting for? Hooper stiffened.
“No,” she said finally.
“Did the police take you to see if you could identify the man we now know as Lister, when he was dead?”
“Yes. It was the man I saw talking with Kate.”
“You’re quite sure?”
“Yes.”
Rathbone hesitated a moment, then continued. “Did you see Mr. Exeter after Kate’s death, Miss Darwin? I mean anytime after? To express your condolences, to show your grief, to be of any assistance that you might?”
“Of course. I saw him several times. I was most concerned for him.” She took a deep breath, as if saying something that was difficult for her. “I saw his grief and I…I wished to offer any comfort I could. To…share my own grief. He visited me and was quite devastated.”
Hooper sat forward in his seat. That was not what Celia had said to him. She had said Exeter had largely shut her out of his feelings altogether. Had she deliberately protected his moment of complete vulnerability, out of character for him, because she had been aware that Kate’s friendship with her had irritated him? Celia had not been specific about it to Hooper. She would consider that indelicate to discuss, even a betrayal of Kate in some way. Could he have misunderstood her so completely? Her sensitivity in a way pleased him, but was it honest? Was she saying this to protect Exeter, now that he was charged with murder?
That would mean she did not believe he was guilty. But to lie about it? That was not the woman Hooper had thought he knew, even in so short an acquaintance. But how long does it take to fall in love?
Rathbone was speaking to her again.
“Miss Darwin, I realize it must be difficult for you. There has been more than enough tragedy in your family over the last months, but I need to ask you in some detail, you understand? To dispel the notion of Harry Exeter that my learned friend for the prosecution has presented, and replace it in the minds of the men who are to judge him with the picture you see. You have known him for years. You saw him during the time of the greatest grief and trial in his life. Perhaps you will begin with his reaction to his wife’s death, if you please?”
It was several seconds before Celia started her reply. Hooper ached for her. She was being asked to relive her own pain and her observation of Exeter’s distress, which should have been exquisitely private, a man at the extreme of his emotional agony. It seemed like a total betrayal, and yet it was necessary to save his life.
Hooper glanced for a moment up at the dock and saw the tension in Exeter. To look at him seemed intensely intrusive, even prurient, at such a time, and he turned away.
There was not a sound in the entire court. Not a person even shifted position.
Celia began in a low voice, making a visible effort to speak clearly and loudly enough to be heard, perhaps dreading having to do it again if she failed.
“At first he was totally distraught. He wouldn’t see anyone. I think he could not face the reality of it, could not bear…what he saw…what had to be in his mind. The recollection of it was…awful, unspeakable. It takes time to face reality. I did not see her body…” she gulped, “slashed and…” She shivered and took a moment to get her voice under control.
Hooper longed to be able to help her, even to tell her she did not have to do this. But he knew that she did. In her mind, she was telling the truth, regardless of her own feelings and whether she liked Exeter or not. Hooper had felt certain that she did not, but she would not let him hang for a crime she profoundly believed he had not committed. Did she believe it was Doyle behind Kate’s kidnap and murder? How she must loathe him! But she would not let fear of him or the pain of reliving that time make her keep silent.
“I did not want to disturb him, and I knew sight of me would distress him,” she continued. “I was deeply, terribly grieved myself. Kate was…” She struggled against tears for a moment or two, then mastered herself. “Kate was my only close relative and my dearest friend. She was like a younger sister to me. I think that was…” She took a deep breath. “That was what made Harry come to see me at all. He understood my grief. He looked terrible. He looked twenty years older, and ill…terribly ill. I think we just sat silently that first time. Later, we talked…about Kate, how she was. What she enjoyed, what made her laugh, the flowers she cared for, wildflowers…” She could not stop the tears now, and she did not try. “Hawthorne in bloom, the smell of it, the bees. And bluebells in the spring, the beech woods full of them till there was nowhere to put your feet. So much birdsong!”
Rathbone interrupted her. “Thank you, Miss Darwin. You have explained to us very clearly, so that we feel as if we knew Kate as well. So, you sat together and shared your happy memories of the woman you both had loved.”
It was a moment or two before Celia overcame her emotions. Finally, she lifted up her head. “Yes.”
“Did it ever occur to you that Harry Exeter himself might be responsible for her death?”
“What?” She took a deep breath. Her whole body was shaking. “Of course not! The idea is…preposterous and repulsive.”
“Were you a
cquainted with Miss Bella Franken?”
“Who?” She looked totally confused.
