Demon of Mine (13 page)

After a few more questions clearly
intended to determine that it had, in fact, been Damon that Elsie
had seen, the lawyers and the judge finally moved on to the next
witness; a business associate of the Remingtons’ who vouched for
Damon’s good character. The Remington family’s rather intimidating
reputation was already branded into the minds of most Londoners,
but as it was Damon’s word against Griffith’s, the wealthy man’s
smoothly and eloquently delivered character assessment surely
couldn’t do any harm. Damon had chosen – and surely paid – well. No
doubt the man’s favor would be returned during subsequent business
dealings, if not in an outright sum.

There were no more witnesses to
confirm Damon’s lack of presence at the club shortly before three,
and no one to confirm his whereabouts elsewhere, either. The
deficiency was perplexing, to say the least. Was Elsie really the
only person who’d seen him late that night – or at least, the only
one who would admit to it? He was known for his mysteriousness, but
it seemed a little much. A slight shiver raced down her spine as
she recalled the feeling of her blood fleeing her veins, being
drawn into his mouth. Perhaps any other activities or meetings he’d
had that night had been understandably secret.

But why hadn’t Damon gathered men from
the club to testify that he hadn’t left with Lord Griffith – that
he’d in fact left nearly three hours earlier? It seemed like an
obvious first move. That he’d neglected to do so didn’t make any
sense. Could the members of Green’s perhaps be so under Griffith’s
thumb that none of them dared testify on Damon’s behalf? Or was
Damon relying on his bribe money to secure the verdict? Elsie
buried a tooth in the soft flesh of her inner lip, trying to
determine what could possibly render the younger Griffith more
formidable than Damon Remington.

The screeching of the courtroom doors
interrupted her increasingly circular thoughts. She turned
automatically toward the entrance, where a female figure had
appeared. A brief moment of silence was followed by an explosion of
half-whispered conversation that put the hubbub that’d occurred
during Elsie’s testimony to shame. “What is it?” Elsie leaned to
speak into Jenny’s ear.

“
Well she
looks
like a prostitute,”
Jenny whispered, her voice high with a sort of shocked
disapproval.

“
How can you be sure?”
Elsie asked, squinting at the figure in green skirts.

Jenny pulled herself together with a
slight huff of a breath, settling into a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s
clear as day that she wears no stays, and her breasts are in
serious danger of escaping her bodice altogether. What’s more, her
face bears more paint than most houses, and by the looks of it
she’s had it on over a very lively night.”

The woman lurched forward, pried her
fingers from the edge of one door and tottered precariously, as if
she were walking on a tightrope instead of a perfectly even floor.
“She looks as if she’s going to fall!” Elsie exclaimed. Even to her
eyes, the woman’s gait was painfully graceless. After half a dozen
unsteady steps, she floundered, her arms milling through the air in
frantic circles. A collective gasp ensued as she seemed to defy
gravity for a moment.

An anonymous man darted forward just
in time, catching her before she hit the floor. Though he looked to
be making an effort not to hold the woman too near to his body, she
completely thwarted his cautiousness by throwing an arm around his
neck and clinging to him. The sound of tearing fabric ensued. “His
coat!” Jenny explained, whispering into Elsie’s ear. “She’s torn
it!”

The silence that followed was broken
by a hiccup.

“
She’s drunk!” Jenny’s
explanation was rendered useless by the chorus of barely subdued
murmurings that sprung up around them, the loudest of the
day.

“
Order!” The judge called
attention back to the front of the room with a barked command and a
few swift fells of his gavel. “Gentlemen, ladies,
please
spare a thought
for decorum. This is a courthouse, not a menagerie!”

Appropriately shamed, the buzzing
audience quieted. Mostly.

The judge laid his gavel down. “Now,”
he said, his tone wary, “who have we here?”

The woman clinging to her reluctant
rescuer straightened a little, tossing her head in an exaggerated
gesture that further evidenced her inebriation. When she spoke, her
voice was surprisingly loud. “Amelia White.” She paused to hiccup
again, then apparently remembered her manners. “Your
Honor.”

“
And have you any
particular reason for entering this courtroom, Miss
White?”

“
I am here to give my
testimony.”

The judge still sounded cautious.
“Have you some information regarding the death of Lord
Griffith?”

“
Oh yes. I saw him murdered
with my very own eyes.”

The judge beat a preemptive tattoo
against his desk, quelling any inclinations the rest of the room’s
occupants may have had to discuss the latest development. “Indeed?
You’ll need to be sworn in before you speak further.”

Apparently aware of the graveness of
the matter, Amelia White managed to swear her honesty without a
single hiccup. Afterward, a breathless sort of silence filled the
room as everyone awaited her testimony.

“
I was out for a bit of
fresh air, perhaps a quarter of an hour before three that morning,”
Ms. White began, eliciting a few snorts from the otherwise quiet
crowd. “I passed by Green’s gentlemen’s club, and was just rounding
the corner when I heard a frightful noise.” She paused, perhaps for
dramatic effect, or perhaps only to stifle another hiccup. “It was
a plea for mercy. When I worked up the courage, I peered around the
corner and saw a man towering over another in the alleyway behind
Green’s, holding a knife to his victim’s throat. The man holding
the knife demanded money, and when the other said he couldn’t pay,
he stabbed him through the heart. It was a frightful sight. I
nearly fainted.”

A strangled sound came from the
vicinity of Lord Griffith. At first, Elsie thought he might have
been struck by a sudden bout of stomach pain, or perhaps an
aneurism. Then she remembered the constable’s account of finding
the elder Griffith’s corpse in the alley. He’d been stabbed through
the gut, not the heart. Elsie was apparently not the only one to
realize Ms. White’s mistake. The courtroom burst into a chorus of
noisy explanations, and the judge tamed the uproar with half a
dozen hearty fells of his gavel and several vehement
admonitions.

Ms. White was apparently oblivious,
perhaps thinking that the commotion was due to her bold testimony.
She stood there, hapless, and the judge continued. “Where were you
when the constable arrived?”

“
I’d fled by then. After
witnessing the murder, I was afraid for my life.
Naturally.”

“
And the two men. Can you
identify them?”

“
Oh yes. The man who was
stabbed was Lord Griffith, and the one who killed him was Damon
Remington.”

“
You were able to identify
them by sight, in the dark?”

“
My eyes are quite
accustomed to the darkness, Your Honor.”

A few people in the crowd
tittered.

The judge brought his gavel down
half-heartedly onto his desk before continuing. “And you were
familiar with the appearances of both men?”

“
Yes.”

“
How?”

She answered with alacrity, seemingly
unaware of the mildly scandalized murmurs rolling through the
crowd. “I have traveled the street outside Green’s often enough,
and Lord Griffith engaged me in conversation once or
twice.”

“
Conversation indeed,”
someone muttered under his breath.

The judge, if he had even heard the
remark, chose to ignore it. “And Damon Remington?”

Elsie’s already considerable interest
peaked, her curiosity undercut by incredulousness. Surely Damon
hadn’t had any associations with this uncommonly classless woman.
Her heart tightened curiously as she listened with bated
breath.

“
No one who’s laid eyes on
Damon Remington is likely to forget his face. And though he never
favored me with his company,” – her tone was tinged with something
that might have been disappointment – “as I said, I’ve walked the
street in front of Green’s often enough.”

Elsie’s heart felt remarkably light as
the courtroom buzzed softly with renewed conversation. She turned
her head to peer at Damon, who stood a few yards to her right, but
couldn’t quite make out his facial features.

The judge spoke above the din, and all
fell quiet. “You said you heard Mr. Remington demand money from
Lord Griffith before he killed him. What was the sum?”

Whether the judge actually believed
that Ms. White might have really witnessed the murder or was simply
allowing Ms. White to dig her own grave, Elsie didn’t know, but she
listened raptly anyway.

“
Oh.” The woman’s initial
reply was half-hiccup. “One hundred and fifty pounds, it
was.”

The buzz that ensued failed to
completely muffle another strangled-sounded exclamation that came
from the direction of Griffith and his lawyer, followed swiftly by
a curse that Elsie doubted would ever make it into the court
transcript. Elsie couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. It had
already been established by both Griffith and Damon that the late
Lord Griffith had owed Damon just fifty pounds. Any hope that Ms.
White might be at all credible had been thoroughly destroyed – not
that Elsie had believed her for a moment in the first place. No
doubt the woman’s false testimony had been bought as easily as her
body.

“
Order!” The judge abused
his desk brutally with his gavel. “That will be all, Ms. White,” he
said when the room had quieted.

Elsie was still basking in relief when
the woman tottered back down the aisle.

“
There aren’t any other
witnesses hiding in the corridors, are there?”

No one answered the judge’s slightly
exasperated inquiry.

“
Very well. Then the jury
is dismissed.”

Elsie sighed and squeezed Jenny’s arm
in relief. “Thank God that’s over.”

“
There’s still the
verdict,” Jenny replied cautiously.

“
As if Griffith has a
chance after that fiasco!”

Jenny shrugged, but didn’t seem
completely convinced. “I suppose not.”

Elsie fought down a wave of
irritation. Did Jenny always have to be so contrary? No one could
possibly declare Damon guilty after what they’d just witnessed.
Could they? Worry began to gnaw at her confidence, slowly
obliterating it. If all the gentlemen at Green’s could be paid off
or intimidated, perhaps the jury could be as well. She grasped
Jenny’s arm tightly, praying for a favorable verdict. She’d barely
finished her silent imploration by the time the jury
returned.

“
How do their faces look?”
Elsie whispered into Jenny’s ear, aware of the anxiety in her own
voice.

“
Bleak,” Jenny said
flatly.

What did that mean? No matter, the
judge had lifted his gavel once again. The hammering he gave his
desk was merely a formality – the courtroom was as silent as death,
the tension heavy as the verdict was awaited.

“
Damon Remington, you have
hereby been found innocent of the murder of Lord Jeremiah
Griffith.”

The judge abused his desk with his
gavel, but was unable to bring silence.

****

“
Aren’t you glad?” Jenny’s
neat white cap and blue eyes invaded the corners of Elsie’s
vision.

Lying down in the maids’ quarters,
Elsie looked up at her friend, who sat perched on the edge of the
bed beside her. “Of course I’m glad.”

“
You’ve been markedly
dispirited ever since we left the courthouse.”

Elsie shook her head. “Not dispirited.
Thoughtful.”

Jenny widened her eyes in silent
question.

Elsie’s stomach promptly tied itself
in knots. Yes, she’d been lost in thought since the trial had ended
an hour and a half ago. Part of her mind still lingered in the
court house, contemplating the ridiculous and mercifully just
trial. But another part of her consciousness – a larger part – had
found new worries to consider – namely, concerns centering around
Damon’s mysterious fiancé.

She sighed, shifting her gaze from
Jenny’s face to the ceiling. She didn’t dare close her eyes. Every
time she did, she was plagued by vivid memories of Damon embracing
her in the garden, kissing her and – most tantalizingly of all –
asking to make love to her. For the first time, she felt truly
miserable over the decision that lay before her, though the only
thing that had changed was that she now knew of Damon’s
engagement.

Apparently, Damon was not put off by
his betrothal. Elsie couldn’t muster the same indifference. Any way
she looked at the situation, she was reminded of what a fool she’d
been. Why did Damon’s engagement torture her so? Honestly, she
wasn’t worrying out of deference to his nameless, absent fiancé.
Her reason was selfish. She was bothered because the fact that he
was promised to another meant that she could never have
him.