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‘No, sir.’
‘So, we may conclude it was not conceivably an accident, or part of her death, and none of the other servants was responsible. Was there anyone else in the house, apart from Miss Cumberford, and her daughter, Sarah, and her son, Arthur?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Thank you, Mr Falthorne, that is all.’ He turned to Daniel. ‘Your witness, Mr Pitt.’
Daniel rose to his feet. Grisewood had left the door open, just an inch, for Daniel to push, if he dared. Did he? Was it a trap? The sweat trickled down his body, and his hands were clammy. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to begin. He had had no time to prepare for this change to the charge. The first judge had believed Ebony; clearly the prosecutor for the case did not.
Daniel must take the chance. ‘Mr Falthorne, we must deduce from your testimony so far that only Mrs Graves, as she believed herself to be, and possibly her daughter, Sarah, were responsible for disfiguring the body of Winifred Graves.’
Falthorne looked at him as if he had betrayed his trust. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Not Arthur Graves – or whatever his name now is?’
‘No, sir. He is confined to a wheelchair.’
‘It seems an extraordinary thing to do, without reason by Mrs . . . may I refer to her as Ebony? The situation is confusing. Can you think of any reason whatever why Ebony, with the help of Sarah, should change Winifred’s clothes, and dress her sufficiently that she could pass for Ebony? If she had left the body alone, it would have been clear enough that she had slipped and fallen, injuring herself fatally. Why did Ebony not do that? Why on earth disappear?’
Falthorne hesitated.
Before Grisewood could object, Daniel spoke again. ‘Mr Falthorne, if you are afraid of someone, it is your duty to tell the court.’
A glimmer of understanding shone for a moment on Falthorne’s face.
‘My lord?’ Daniel appealed to the judge.
‘You must answer the question, Mr Falthorne, if you can.’
Falthorne straightened up. ‘Yes, my lord. I believe that . . . I can only think of her as Mrs Graves . . . was afraid of Mr Graves, sir. He had treated her with considerable violence on many occasions—’
‘Objection!’ Grisewood was on his feet, his face twisted with anger.
Daniel interrupted. ‘My lord, my learned friend opened the door by asking—’
‘Yes, yes. Indeed, he did. You may answer, Mr Falthorne, if it is of your own knowledge, and not hearsay.’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ Falthorne replied. He looked back at Daniel, his expression completely altered. ‘I dislike speaking of it, sir, but most of the servants were aware that Mr Graves, on many occasions, over the years, beat Mrs Graves, and even Miss Sarah. And, at least, to our knowledge, he even beat Mr Arthur, when he was young, before he became an invalid confined to a wheelchair.’
‘As butler, how did you become aware of this while carrying out your duty, Mr Falthorne?’
‘I was frequently upstairs, sir, because I attended Mr Arthur. His mother was able to do everything for him when he was a child, but at a certain age it was no longer appropriate. I was aware of what occurred because I was frequently close to . . . close enough to hear.’ His emotion almost overcame him, and he suppressed it with difficulty. ‘And certain injuries are impossible to hide. The lady’s maid confided in me, in extreme distress, the first time Mr Graves actually beat Mrs Graves so hard he broke bones in her shoulder and her arm.’
‘The first time? There were others?’ Daniel did not even try to keep the emotion from his voice.
‘Yes, sir. I am not exactly sure. Five or six, I think. And Miss Sarah, also. Only one that I’m sure of with a broken bone.’
‘So, you understood Ebony’s desire for him to consider her dead, and not pursue her?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You do not deny helping her, at least insofar as you did not enlighten anyone in the police that she was alive, and therefore that Mr Graves could not be guilty of having murdered her?’
‘No, sir. I am prepared to be judged on that account. I knew you were defending him, sir, and I believed that you would be successful in saving Mr Graves from the gallows.’
‘Thank you,’ Daniel said slowly. ‘You had greater trust in me than I had in myself. That is all the questions that I have for you.’
Grisewood rose to his feet, looked at the jury, saw their faces, and sat down again.
