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Levington plunked back down in his chair, expression grumpy.
The judge turned to Richard. “The Court thanks you for your testimony, Mr. Carmichael. If you have nothing more to add, you may be seated as well.”
Richard hesitated.
Hope welled in Samuel. Desperately, he prayed for Richard to choose to do what was right.
After a long moment, Richard shook his head. Dropping his gaze, he made his way back past Samuel and up the aisle. He didn’t look at Samuel as he passed.
“If there is no more to add at this time, I will retire to my chamber to consider what we’ve heard.”
The judge looked from Levington to the prosecutor, then to Samuel.
Standing again, Levington said, “Your Honour, I would like to emphasise that the journal in question is not of a military nature, and none of the published pages contained any state secrets.”
“And I would like to remind you, Mr. Levington, that the magistrate has already considered that argument, when deciding if this case should come before me. A general is an agent of the Crown, and theft against the Crown is treason.”
“But, Your Honour—”
“But nothing, Mr. Levington. Retake your seat.”
Levington sat, glaring at the judge. The silence of many people breathing filled the courtroom.
Anger flared in Samuel. He’d begged his mother not to become involved, but he’d made no such demand of anyone else.
Aside from Levington, would no one stand up for him? And Richard… in his heart, Samuel had cherished a flicker of hope that his brother would come through in the end.
If Richard wouldn’t tell the truth, maybe Samuel should. What had he to lose? His pride? His brother’s love? One would do him no good with a noose about his neck and the other seemed already gone. And if he didn’t speak, and the judge truly did declare him a traitor, what would become of their mother?
Samuel surged to his feet just as a rustle of fabric proclaimed someone else did the same, deeper in the room.
A familiar, strident feminine voice called, “I have something to say. In fact, I have a very great deal to say.”
Murmurs of, ‘the Duchess of Aspen’, went through the room even as joy surged through Samuel. Ellie. He swivelled to face her.
She wore a gown obviously her own, simple and cream coloured, and it suited her to perfection. A form and face as lovely as she possessed needed no bright colours or heavy embroidery, feathers or gems. Ellie was perfect exactly as she was, chin raised and eyes flashing. Her gaze met his and she smiled.
“If you have something to say, you are not going about it properly, young lady,” the judge said. “A courtroom is a very serious place. I must ask you to leave.”
Ellie returned her focus to the judge and her eyes narrowed.
Chapter Seventeen
Ellie glared at the pompous, wrinkled old gentleman under his silly curled wig, trying to decide what words would get her heard. Beside her, the Dowager Duchess rose, her giant black gown a sea of darkness. She towered over Ellie but for once the Dowager’s height didn’t make Ellie feel small. Instead, the older woman’s strength bolstered her.
“The courtroom is indeed a serious place, Christopher,” the Dowager boomed out. “And I seriously recommend you listen to what Miss Ellsworth has to say, for it will benefit not only Mr. Carmichael’s case, but the Crown.”
That brought a fresh murmur from the assemblage. The judge, the Right Honourable Christopher Bishop, whom the Dowager said used to play in the fishpond with her when they were six, gaped at them like one of the carp. The judge cleared his throat.
“The Crown, Your Grace?”
“Indeed,” the Dowager replied with every ounce of gravitas Ellie had ever seen her bring to bear. “Information of such import that, should the magistrate have been aware of it, this matter would never have reached the point of trial.”
The judge looked about the room, taking in the increasingly agitated babble bubbling through the onlookers. “We will adjourn to my chambers so I may assess this development. If you will, Your Grace, Miss Ellsworth.” He gestured as well to Samuel and the two attorneys before he peered at the back of the room. “And you, Mr. Carmichael.”
Ellie noted all this, and worked to pay proper attention, but she couldn’t look away from Samuel. She wore a rather giddy smile, she knew. She could feel the silly expression stretching her lips. She could summon no means by which to dispel it, however. Not with Samuel before her, so tall and more handsome even than she recalled, and looking at her with such joy.
In a voice no less commanding for all it was pitched too low to carry beyond them, the Dowager said, “Come, Miss Ellsworth, Mademoiselle Petit.”
