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Grisewood was immediate. ‘It is not legal to burn a dead body until it is unrecognisable, my lord, even in London! No one can imagine that it is . . . if they can imagine any such thing at all!’
‘That has not been established either, my lord,’ Daniel replied. ‘My learned friend asked if Mrs Graves called the butler when she had a dead body . . . that is all.’
‘You are correct, Mr Pitt. Keep your questions in order, Mr Grisewood. You asked the witness if Mrs Graves called the butler when she found herself with a dead body. Mr Falthorne, you may answer.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ Falthorne said unhappily. ‘She did. She was extremely distressed, and told me—’
‘Yes, that will do, Mr Falthorne,’ Grisewood cut him off. ‘Did you see the body of Mrs Graves – the real Mrs Graves?’
‘I saw the body of a middle-aged woman. I had no idea at all, at the time, who she was,’ Falthorne replied punctiliously. He had years of training, of conducting himself, as required, and keeping his own emotions in check. Grisewood would not easily catch him off balance.
‘What you now know to have been th
e body of Mrs Graves,’ Grisewood said irritably. But he knew better than to be seen to bully a servant on the witness stand. ‘Was she burned in any way? What injuries did she have? Would you describe what you saw, please.’
‘I saw the body of a woman of middle years lying on the floor, with her head by the edge of the hearthstone, and a considerable amount of blood on the hearthstone, and on the carpet beside her.’
‘Did you ascertain that she was dead?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘How?’
‘She had no pulse, and she was not breathing. The wound on her head appeared to be quite deep, but I did not touch it.’
‘Did Miss Cumberford make any request of you regarding the body?’
‘Not at that time, sir.’
‘Then later? Don’t make me pull teeth! Did she later ask you to assist her in disguising the body with her own clothes, to make it seem as if it were she who had been murdered?’
‘No, sir, murder was never mentioned. She told me what happened, that the woman was indeed Mrs Graves, her husband’s first, and, as it turned out, only wife—’
‘I did not ask you to discuss the testimony that—’ Grisewood interrupted.
‘I beg your pardon, sir. I thought that was exactly what you did ask.’
The judge almost hid his smile, but not enough that Daniel missed it, and no doubt the jury did not, either.
‘Mr Grisewood,’ the judge began. ‘You must either make your questions more specific, excluding what you wish Mr Falthorne to omit, or put up with his fuller answers. I do not see the point of your objection. If he does not answer that on your examination, Mr Pitt will hardly fail to ask him on cross-examination. Make yourself clearer, sir.’
Grisewood flushed with annoyance, but he was obliged to obey. ‘Yes, my lord. Mr Falthorne, let me be plain. Was the body, as you saw it the last time, in any way burned?’
‘No, sir.’
‘So, the burning, the disfiguring of her face and the upper body, happened to her after she was dead.’
‘It must have, sir.’
‘Did you have any part in it?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Did any of the servants?’
This time Falthorne was caught. Daniel knew it. He would be as loyal as he could to Ebony, but he would not allow any of the other servants to take the blame for something he was sure they had not done. The conflict was clear in his face, probably to the whole court, but certainly to anyone who knew him.
‘Mr Falthorne?’ Grisewood prompted.
