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‘It serves only to prove that she is telling the truth. Thank you. Oh, before you go! Did you find any evidence on the body of broken bones? Or scars from having been beaten?’
‘If I had, young man, I would have reported it, as a matter of course. There were old scars, well healed, which could have been caused in any number of ways. They are all at least twenty years old.’
‘Dating from the time of her marriage to Mr Graves?’
‘Apparently.’ A flash of interest crossed French’s face, then died.
‘Thank you, sir. That is all I have to ask you.’
French inclined his head in a slight bow, and left the stand.
Grisewood’s final witness was Graves himself. The man who climbed the witness stand was outwardly very different from the one who had sat in the dock only a short while ago. At that time, he had been angry, frightened and exhausted, alternating between hope and fear. Today, staying temporarily in London, he stood upright, dressed in an expensive and well-tailored suit, freshly pressed white shirt, and his hair was expertly cut. It altered the whole aspect of his face and his entire bearing.
Grisewood treated him with almost deferential respect. ‘After your recent ordeal, I’m sorry you have to experience this new distress. However, I have to ask you to relive the whole story of your marriage, your difficulties with Ebony Cumberford, and the facts that have brought you to this tragic place.’
Daniel felt a chill of apprehension. He glanced at Kitteridge and saw him shift in his seat, as if he too feared something as yet unknown.
‘You were married to Winifred Graves when you first met Ebony Cumberford, were you not?’
‘Yes. However, we were living apart,’ Graves answered.
‘Did you tell Miss Cumberford that you were married?’
‘Of course.’
‘You were attracted to each other?’
‘Yes, at that time she was a very attractive woman.’
Daniel studied Graves’ face. He did not seem in the least nervous. No one looking at him would see any tremor of fear, only a weariness at having his private grief examined yet again in front of strangers. Perhaps the jurors would sympathise with him.
‘And did you go through some form of marriage?’ Grisewood continued.
‘We had a ceremony. It was not a marriage. I was already married, as Ebony well knew. She was prepared to accept me, and the life I could offer her, in those circumstances. I admit, at first I was not willing to get involved in . . . a deceit. But she insisted, even after I had told her of the disadvantages. She said she would move to a place where Winifred was not known, and would not find us. I agreed, if that was what she wanted. She was . . .’ He bit his lips, as if momentarily embarrassed. ‘She was a beautiful woman then, and very . . . skilled in the arts of persuasion.’
‘Are you saying she seduced you, Mr Graves?’ Grisewood asked with as much innocence as he could contrive.
‘I suppose I am,’ Graves agreed.
‘So, you lived together for twenty years, and no one suspected?’
‘As far as I know, no one did.’
‘What changed, Mr Graves?’
‘I inherited a title, quite unexpectedly. It was not a direct ancestor, but someone on my mother’s side of the family. There were two deaths in a row, and the title passed laterally to me. With a considerable amount of both land and money.’
‘And Ebony was aware of this?’
‘Of course. I would not have kept such a thing secret from her.’
‘How did that change things? Why on earth would she want to run away from such good fortune? Was there some threat that your marriage arrangements would be exposed?’
‘None at all. But somehow or another Winifred found out, and she arrived to claim her place as my wife. She had fallen on harder times – and saw I was a famous man, about to have a title and even more wealth. I was worth much more to her, and she felt she had a right to her place.’
‘To be exact, to Ebony’s place,’ Grisewood countered with a smile.
‘Yes.’
