"You knew-?"

"That Eleanor was accustomed to meet Robert there? That Rosamond was conceived in one of the Crowne's chambers?" Her smile was faint and tinged with sadness."That small mystery, at least, I was capable of solving. No doubt you paid our hostess well, but she has no skill at hiding her reactions. I saw at once that she recognized Eleanor. Then there was Fulke's behavior. Deception does not suit him. He looked guilty every time he saw me and even lost some of his enjoyment in trying to beat Bates at cards."

"Staying at the Crowne was not Eleanor's doing."

"I never thought it was. Annabel selected the inn. Fulke admitted she'd asked him where Robert stayed in the old days. Once she had out of him its connection to Eleanor, she deliberately chose the Crowne."

Walter wondered why. The most obvious reason was to pressure Eleanor into revealing what little she knew of Robert's activities as an intelligence gatherer from the days before Rosamond's birth. "For all her charm and sense of humor," he said aloud, "we would be wise to remember that Annabel MacReynolds is in the pay of France."

"And yet she has seemed content to do no more than keep Catherine company these last few weeks in London."

"Seemed," Walter agreed. "She has found time to visit the Scots amba.s.sador and stop at the French emba.s.sy."

"Oh, most suspicious!" Her eyes twinkled. They both knew it would have been more unusual if Annabel had not done so.

"I will find out more. We have time yet before the quarter sessions begin."

"Less than a fortnight." She left him to wander the room. He'd never seen her less able to remain still.

"Robert's killer has made a mistake," he said in a soft voice. "Indeed, we may be able to use the fact that you were attacked as evidence that you did not poison your husband, that you have made whoever did... nervous."

"A tenuous argument at best." Walter did not think he'd ever heard Susanna sound so discouraged.

"You are tired. You have been through an ordeal. And it grows late. I will send for an armed escort to take you back to the Crowne."

"Back to where a murderer may also lodge."

"Bates will be more watchful now. And he will explain the situation to Fulke, who will help him." He gave the guard a meaningful look. "It would be best, however, not to tell anyone else what happened this evening. Whoever paid your attacker may make a foolish mistake in an attempt to discover why and how he failed to kill you."

"And there is no sense in frightening the others." She nodded. "Agreed."

When Susanna and Bates had gone, Walter had to face the fear that had been gnawing at him all the while they'd been with him. If Eleanor had tried and failed to bring about Susanna's death, there was a possibility she might have taken her own life rather than face his questions.

Once before he had been the cause of a woman's death. Her image simmered in his mind's eye, a tall la.s.s with a porcelain pallor, coltlike features, and red-gold hair. A maidservant in his father's house. She had been Walter's first woman. And his brother's. One of them had gotten her with child. She'd died trying to rid herself of the babe. Whether the suicide had been intentional or not, it had been regarded as such by the church. She had been buried at the crossroads instead of in the churchyard, a stake driven through her heart to prevent her from coming back to haunt the living.

With trepidation that bordered on dread, Walter entered his bedchamber. He'd heard not a whisper of sound from the other side of the door in all the time Susanna had been in the outer room. At first, he'd convinced himself that was good. He'd not wanted Susanna to learn of Eleanor's presence.

Now he feared the worst. How distraught had Eleanor been? His heart gave a painful lurch when he parted the bed hangings and saw her lying so still.

Asleep, he realized after an agonizing moment. Only asleep. The sleep of the innocent?

He let the curtains fall back into place. He loved her. He loved Eleanor, and he might lose her.

The most logical argument Susanna could present in court to prove herself innocent would point the finger of suspicion at Eleanor.

Unless he himself confessed.

The idea shocked Walter at first but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He had it in his power to save both Susanna and Eleanor. All he had to do was stand up in court and swear he had murdered Robert Appleton.

The reason? There was fine irony. He could say, with truth, that all those weeks ago he'd wanted Robert dead so that Susanna would marry him. Had he but known Robert was still alive to be killed, that motive might indeed have been sufficient to tempt him to murder.

Chapter 38.

The Crowne Inn May 4, 1565 Susanna looked up in surprise when Catherine burst into the inn's parlor.

"Annabel is gone," she cried.

"What do you mean gone?" Walter demanded.

A glance around proved she was the only one missing. Bates and Fulke suspended one of their endless games of Put to stare at Catherine. Jennet continued to mend a sleeve by the light from the window, but she was alert and listening. Walter had been pa.s.sing the time at chess, playing against Matthew Grimshaw, while Susanna and Eleanor talked together in a quiet corner.

Over the last week, Susanna had attempted to teach Rosamond's mother all she knew about managing an estate. The trial was only days away, and the prospect of acquittal grew ever more remote. Susanna had learned nothing new about Robert's murder since the attack on her in Billingsgate. She had even begun to wonder if the two crimes were connected.

"My guess is that Annabel is halfway to Dover by now," Catherine said. "The weather has been fair and dry since May Day. She'll make good time." Her voice broke under her distress. "I was so sure Annabel was sincere when she said she wanted to help, but she left without a word and took her escort and all her possessions with her."

Matthew Grimshaw gave a crow of triumph. "Check," he said. And then, "There's your poisoner, I warrant. Flight from justice is proof of guilt."

Susanna saw his eyes dart to Eleanor in hope of praise for this clever deduction. When Eleanor did not notice, Grimshaw's face took on an expression of longing so pained that Susanna almost pitied him. He had to know that Eleanor favored Walter Pendennis. Everyone else did.

"There's a chance yet to catch her," Walter said. "A woman traveling with an escort of six brawny Scots should be easy to spot." He left the room to arrange to send men after them.

"She's guilty," Grimshaw repeated. "Mark my words, she poisoned Sir Robert."

"Difficult to prove if she eludes Sir Walter's men." Given the threatening expression on the intelligence gatherer's face, Susanna almost hoped Annabel did manage to cross the Narrow Seas ahead her pursuers.

"There might be another reason to go to France." Catherine brightened. "Perhaps she has gone to ask Queen Catherine to intervene on Susanna's behalf."

"What influence does a Frenchwoman, even a queen, have in England?" Grimshaw scoffed. "Running away proves her guilt, I say. Clear and simple."

Catherine turned on her cousin. "Why don't you just go back to Lancashire. No one wants you here. You'll be no help whatsoever when it comes to defending Susanna."

"Defend her? But no lawyer can do that. Did you not realize? This is a criminal trial. Those accused of murder are not permitted any legal representation. And although the accused may call witnesses, they are not sworn. The prosecution case is, by definition, a.s.sumed to be unanswerable."

"What nonsense!" Catherine's protest was echoed by Jennet but Walter, who had returned to the room in time to hear Grimshaw's words, said nothing.

Grimshaw shrugged. "Such is the law. Ask Sir Walter if you do not believe me. He is no lawyer, but he is familiar with trials. He will confirm what I say."

Susanna sent a considering look in Walter's direction, noted how uncomfortable he looked, and suggested that it was time the two of them spoke in private. A short while later, in her bedchamber, Susanna steeled herself to hear the whole truth.

"How will my trial proceed?" she asked. "Spare me no detail."

Walter took the window seat. Susanna sat on the bed. Jennet, who had slipped into the room uninvited, remained by the door, quiet as a mouse but listening intently to every word.

"About a half dozen persons are tried at a time," he told them, after he reminded her that her case had already been presented to a grand jury. The presentment had become an indictment when it had been written down in the prescribed Latin form. "A jury is impanelled only after enough prisoners have been arraigned. The sheriff has jurymen in attendance and they are called into court one by one. As each juror steps forward, his name is marked with a dot by the clerk. A prisoner has the right to challenge up to a total of twenty of these jurors without giving any reason for the challenge."

He stopped speaking and looked thoughtful.

"If every prisoner exercised this right, it would delay the trial. If they took their challenges in turns, it would become near impossible to try any one. A panel of 132 would be needed to exhaust all the challenges of only six offenders."

"What purpose would delay serve?" Susanna asked. "And why, if this method is so effective, is it not done by all prisoners all the time?"

"Few try this means to delay the trial because they have no one to advise them it might work. Grimshaw was correct to say you are allowed no counsel. You will be told you have nothing to lose and everything to gain from telling your story yourself."

"And if I attempt this challenge?"

"The justices could deal with it by giving you a separate jury."

She thought that sounded sensible, but from the look on Walter's face deduced it was a bad idea. "Am I permitted to ask questions of the witnesses against me?"

"Aye."

"Good. I have given some thought to that fellow Higgins from the Black Jack. Is it possible that, faced with several women, all hooded, he might admit he could not be sure he saw me that night?"

Jennet, who had stood silent till now, startled Walter when she spoke up. "You could force them to be present. Alys and Eleanor and, can you but capture her, Annabel."

"Even if they all agree to cooperate," Walter said, "Higgins will not be inclined to help. A Crown witness can be punished if he gives evidence that leads to the acquittal of a prisoner."

Jennet protested the unfairness of such a policy but Susanna said nothing. Perhaps, she thought, she should have inquired into trial procedures at an earlier date. Then another thought struck her. "I am permitted witnesses, am I not?" Grimshaw had said so, but he had little experience with this sort of law. Most of his business in Manchester dealt with wills and land disputes.

"Aye. Since Queen Mary's time, those who can be brought in to speak in favor of the accused are heard, though no law requires this. But although such witnesses are exhorted to stand in fear of G.o.d and tell the truth, they are not sworn, as Crown witnesses are, and this makes all they say suspect."

"I had thought to bring Vincent Cheyne in, to swear to the time I left my horse with him."

"Even if he noted the time, those in the Black Jack did not." Walter looked pained. "Besides, once Cheyne's ownership of the Sign of the Smock is revealed, the jurors will a.s.sume he is a 'knight of the post,' a hired perjurer."

"I feel the need for one! All you say makes it clear I am found guilty before my trial had even begun."

"It is the general belief in law that the Crown does not make mistakes." He hesitated, then added, "That is why it is rare for a case to take long to hear. Most are dispensed within a few minutes, a few hours at most."

"I might be found not guilty," Susanna argued.

"That is devoutly to be hoped, for acquittal is final and cannot be questioned by the Crown. But jurors are wary of letting accused persons go free. They risk finding themselves in difficulty if they go against the prosecution."

"Trial by ordeal might be simpler," Susanna said with a wry smile. "An old way, and full of superst.i.tion, but mayhap fairer than the present system."

"You would be proven innocent," Jennet said staunchly.

Susanna drew in a deep breath. "What about the neck verse?" she asked. "I can read. Will that save my head from the noose?"

"Benefit of clergy does not apply in your case for a number of reasons, the most obvious that you are a woman. Unless you can prove you were once a nun, literacy will not save you. There is a chance a case may be extended if the jury cannot agree, or if a juror is taken ill, but either event is rare."

"Go on. Tell me the rest. What will happen after I am proven guilty." She no longer said if.

"The law does not require proof of guilt to convict an accused felon, only the appearance of it. And once a conviction is handed down, even the fairest judge has no choice in the sentence he gives."

"There is no appeal?"

"There are one or two things left to do." Walter's lack of enthusiasm for trying them was all too evident. "You may ask for allocutus, in other words plead for arrest of judgment before sentence is given." He frowned. "This provides an opportunity to allege anything that might prevent the court from ordering your execution. The most common ploys are for the accused to claim insanity. Or, in the case of a woman, that she is with child. The latter condition delays carrying out the sentence until she is delivered."

"You could lie," Jennet suggested.

They both turned to look at her. "An immaculate conception," Susanna murmured. "Doubtful."

"She would be... examined." Walter cleared his throat, ill at ease with the turn their discussion had taken. "And there is another drawback."

"Only one?" The sarcasm slipped in before Susanna could stop it, but Walter's serious mein did not alter.

"If the plea for arrest of judgment is denied, the judge pa.s.ses sentence at once instead of waiting until the end of the term."

Susanna felt her throat close for an instant as she comprehended the significance of this. Short as it might be, that little time between conviction and sentencing might mean the difference between life and death. "With opportunity to prepare before judgment is given, we might discover some way to challenge the verdict."

"Or escape," Jennet mumbled. Susanna ignored her.

"The court of the Queen's Bench has the authority to reverse the judgment of a lower court for an error in the records. A mistake in the wording of the charge, which is in Latin, might be enough, which is one reason prisoners, in particular the better educated ones, are not permitted to see the written indictments."

Susanna acknowledged this with a small, rueful smile. If it were that simple, no one would reach Tyburn.

"There is also something called a special verdict but in that case legal doubts must arise before conviction. Jurors refuse to render a verdict and submit the question of guilt to the court. The trial judge, together with other judges, decides the case in an informal, private meeting." At Susanna's hopeful look, he shook his head. "It is rare for this to happen. A better possibility is what is called a reserved case. The prisoner is reprieved until the next a.s.sizes while judges review the case. If they think the conviction is wrong, they recommend a pardon."

This mention of a pardon reminded Susanna that the Lady Mary had promised to ask for one on her behalf. Did she dare count on the queen's mercy? Her Majesty did not know Robert had been a traitor to the Crown. And she was fond of the earl of Leicester, who had been quick to blame Susanna for his old friend's death.

Susanna considered the Lady Mary's motives. Had she acquired a suitor? Or was that story a lie to cover her involvement in Robert's death? Robert had tried to extort money from her. What if she had talked of a pardon only to a.s.suage her own guilt? When it came to making good on her promise, she might decide her own safety demanded Susanna die for the crime.

There was no need to ask what would happen if she was sentenced to death and not pardoned. The keeper of Newgate's bloodthirsty wife had been happy to provide those details.

A shudder racked Susanna's frame. The emotional defenses she had constructed so carefully over the last months began to crumble. When she felt tears welling up at the backs of her eyes, she sent both Jennet and Walter away.

As soon as they left, she threw herself flat on the soft featherbed and lay there staring up at the ceiler. She did not see it.

Opening her mind, she let in the full horror of what might lie ahead. She heard a call for silence, saw a judge a.s.sume the square cap all judges put on before they p.r.o.nounced judgment. For petty treason the words were uncompromising and blunt: "Thou shalt go to the place of execution, and there thou shalt be burnt with fire till thou be dead."

Her hands went to her mouth to keep her from screaming out in terror and denial as she visualized every dreadful detail of death by fire. She was drawn to the gallows in a dead cart, sitting on her own casket. A symbolic rope was put round her neck and then she was fastened to a stake by an iron chain which encircled her body. f.a.ggots were laid. The sheriff ordered the fire lit. It took, she had been told, three hours to reduce a living person to ashes.

Tears streamed unchecked down Susanna's cheeks. But she had faced it now, the worst that could happen to her. An odd sort of calm enveloped her.

"I can always bribe the executioner to strangle me," she muttered as she wiped the moisture from her face.

She had never understood the term gallows' humor until that moment. Although it brought no comfort, she did notice a diminution of her panic. Her mind began to function in a rational manner. As she had remarked to someone when she was first accused, the threat of imminent death did force one to focus on what was essential.

She had a few days left in which to reconsider everything she had seen and heard these last months. She must sift through each detail, no matter how insignificant it seemed. Somewhere there was a clue she had missed. This time she must find it.