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It was not an appeal as to a matter of error in the law, but that was how it seemed at the outset.
Kitteridge looked nervous, although he could hardly fail.
‘My lord, Russell Graves has been found guilty of murdering his wife, Ebony Graves. To prove that it is incorrect in law, I would like to call one witness, if it pleases your lordships.’
There was a moment of total silence, then one of the three judges of appeal nodded very gravely. ‘You had better be certain of your facts, beyond a doubt, Mr Kitteridge. Who is your witness,
and how are they relevant to this case?’
‘My witness is Mrs Ebony Graves, my lord,’ Kitteridge said perfectly steadily.
There was a moment of blank disbelief, then gasps; someone cried out in denial. There were shouts and the sound of movement as several journalists shot to their feet and stumbled out, making for the street. Daniel turned to look back and up at the dock. Graves was paralysed with shock. He was leaning forward, as if he could not believe what Kitteridge was saying.
At last the presiding judge leaned forward. ‘I will not tolerate levity in this extremely serious matter, Mr Kitteridge. Be warned, should you fail, your client is due to be hanged very soon. And you will be severely punished if this is done in anything but the best good faith.’
‘My lord, my witness is Mrs Ebony Graves, or was so, to the best of my knowledge and belief, until earlier this year,’ Kitteridge replied.
The judge’s temper was clearly frayed. ‘I don’t know what you mean. You had better proceed, but if you are acting in anything but the best possible faith, not only will your client pay for it with his life, you will pay for it with your career.’
‘Yes, my lord. I call Ebony Graves to the stand.’
There was utter silence as Ebony appeared. She was dressed in dark grey, even though it was a bright May morning. She looked sober, but not bowed. She walked with her head high and her black hair gleaming in the courtroom lights. Her expression was composed, and at a glance you would have thought she was without nerves. But Daniel could see the stiffness of her shoulders, and the hand nearest to him was clenched, knuckles white.
She took the witness stand and was asked to swear to her name.
‘You are Ebony Graves?’ Kitteridge asked.
‘No,’ she said very quietly. ‘I thought I was, but I discovered at the beginning of March this year that I am not. Our marriage was bigamous, all twenty years of it. And therefore, both my children are illegitimate. I am still Ebony Cumberford, as I was born.’ She was having difficulty controlling her emotions, and it showed in her face and a very slight unsteadiness in her voice.
‘But until then, you thought you were Ebony Graves?’ Kitteridge asked.
‘Yes.’
‘There was no one else by that name, to your knowledge?’
‘No.’
‘How did you discover this situation that you are in? Do I call you Miss Cumberford?’
‘I suppose you do. I have no other name – now.’
‘How did you discover your situation?’ Kitteridge repeated.
‘A woman came to visit me, at my home – or I believed it was my home. She introduced herself as Winifred Graves. Only when she was inside, upstairs.’
‘Upstairs?’ Kitteridge interrupted.
‘Yes, sir. I have a private sitting room upstairs, for family guests. It is less formal.’
‘I see. Please go on.’
‘At first I assumed she must be my sister-in-law. My husband had not spoken of his family; I knew that he had a sister.’ She drew a deep, shaky breath. ‘Only when we had been speaking some little while, and I had mentioned to her my two children, Sarah and Arthur, did she laugh and say it was a pity for them.’
‘What was she referring to?’
‘It was then she told me Graves was her married name. She was not my sister-in-law, she was my husband’s first and only wife. He had married her nearly thirty years ago, and the marriage had never been dissolved. She was still Mrs Russell Graves. And now that he had inherited a title, and considerable lands and money, she had decided to take her share of it – which, as far as I was concerned, was all of it. I, and my children, would be out in the street.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Kitteridge said with deep feeling. He waited a moment before continuing.
