Weighed In The Balance Part 32

"Yes."

"And the rest of the gathering?"

"I spent the afternoon with Stephan von Emden. I'm not sure about anyone else."

"But you are sure about Friedrich and Gisela?"

"Yes. I could see the croquet lawn from where I was." Harvester rose to his feet.

"My lord, all the witness is establishing is that Prince Friedrich and Princess Gisela were devoted to each other, which the world already knows. We have all watched their meeting, their romance, their love and the sacrifice it has cost them. We have rejoiced for them and wept for them. And even after twelve years of devoted marriage, we now know that their love had not dimmed in the slightest. If anything, it was even deeper and more total than before. Countess Rostova herself acknowledges that Prince Friedrich would never have returned home without his wife, and she was as abundantly aware of that as was anyone else."

He waved expansively towards Zorah in the witness stand. "She has said that she does not understand how even Count Lansdorff could so delude himself as to keep any hope of his mission's being successful. She has told us she knew of no plans he had to overcome that obstacle, nor did Count Lansdorff himself. Princess Gisela could not physically have poisoned her husband, and she had no possible motive whatever for wishing to. The defense is wasting everyone's time proving my case for me. I am obliged, but it is unnecessary. I have proved it for myself."

"Sir Oliver?" the judge asked. "Surely this expedition of yours cannot be as pointless as it seems?"

"No, my lord. If the court would be patient a little longer?"

"A little, Sir Oliver. A very little."

"Thank you, my lord." Rathbone bowed his head a fraction, then turned back to Zorah. "Countess Rostova, the evening, if you please." He had hoped this would be unnecessary, but now he had no weapon left but this. "What happened in the evening?" he asked.

"There was a dinner party, and we had games to entertain us afterwards. There were several guests. It was an excellent meal, nine or ten courses, and a magnificent choice of wines. All the women wore their best gowns and jewels. As usual, Gisela outshone us all, even Brigitte von Arlsbach. But then Brigitte was never ostentatious, in spite of being the wealthiest person present."

She looked at the wooden paneling above the heads of the farthest row of the gallery, recalling the party to her mind's eye.

There was complete silence again. Everyone was straining to catch each word.

"Gisela was very entertaining that evening." Her voice was tight in her throat. "She made us all laugh. She became more and more daring in her wit...not vulgar, I have never known her to be vulgar. But she could be very outspoken about other people's weaknesses. She had an acute insight into what made people vulnerable."

"That sounds a little cruel," Rathbone observed.

"It is extremely cruel," she corrected. "But when coupled with a sharp enough wit, it can be very funny as well-to anyone except the victim."

"And who was the victim on this occasion?"

"Mostly Brigitte," she answered. "Which was possibly why neither Stephan nor Florent laughed. But everyone else did. I a.s.sume they did not appreciate what was involved and knew no better. The wine flowed freely. Why should they care about the feelings of a baroness from some obscure German princ.i.p.ality, when one of the most glittering and romantic figures of Europe was holding court at the dinner table?"

Rathbone did not express his opinion. His stomach was knotted tight. This was going to be the worst moment of all, but without it there was no case.

"And after dinner, Countess Rostova?" His voice sounded almost steady. Only Monk and Hester, sitting in the gallery, could guess how he felt.

"After dinner we played games," Zorah answered with a half smile.

"Games? Card games? Billiards? Charades?"

The judge was looking at Zorah, frowning.

Zorah's mouth tightened. "No, Sir Oliver, rather more physical than that. I cannot recall every game, but I know we played blindman's buff. We blindfolded each of the gentlemen in turn. We all fell over rather often and ended on couches or on the floor together."

Harvester rose to his feet.

"Yes, yes," the judge agreed. "The point of all this, Sir Oliver? Young people do play games which to some of us are of a bawdy and somewhat questionable nature."

He was trying to rescue the situation, even to rescue Rathbone from himself, and he knew it.

For a moment Rathbone hesitated. Escape was still possible, and with it defeat, not only for Zorah but for the truth.

"There is a point, my lord," he said quickly. "The rest of the evening, if you please, Countess Rostova."

"We played hunt the thimble," she went on obediently. "It was hidden in some extremely indiscreet places..."

"Did anyone object?"

"I don't think so. Brigitte didn't play, nor, I think, did Rolf. Brigitte was rather conspicuous by remaining sober. By about midnight or a little after we were playing horse races."

"Horse races?" the judge inquired, nonplussed.

"The men were on hands and knees, my lord," Zorah explained. "And the ladies rode astride them."

"They raced in that manner?" The judge was surprised.

"Not to any effect, my lord," she said. "That was not really the purpose. There was a great deal of laughter, perhaps a little hysterical by then. We fell over rather often."

"I see." The look of distaste on his face made it apparent that he did indeed see.

"And Princess Gisela joined in with this entertainment?" Rathbone persisted. "And Prince Friedrich?"

"Of course."

"So Gisela was in high spirits? She was totally happy?"

Zorah frowned very slightly, as if thinking before she answered.

"I don't think so."

"But you have said she was involved in the...fun!" Rathbone protested.

"She was...she rode Florent...and fell off."

There was an outburst from the gallery, almost instantly choked off.

"Was Prince Friedrich annoyed or distressed by the attention that was paid to her?" Rathbone asked with dry lips.

"No," Zorah replied. "He loved to see her the center of laughter and admiration. He had no jealousy over her, and if you are thinking he feared she might respond too willingly to anyone's advances, you are mistaken. She never did. Never have I seen her respond unbecomingly to any other man, nor have I heard from anyone else that she did. They were always together, always speaking to each other. Often he would sit so close to her he would reach out and touch her hand."

There was conspicuous movement in the gallery now.

The judge looked totally confused. Harvester was openly perplexed.

"And yet you are not sure that she was happy?" Rathbone said with as much disbelief as he could manage. "Why do you say that? It would seem to me she had everything a woman could desire."

An expression of rage and pity filled Zorah's face, as an emotion entirely new to her swept away all old convictions.

"I saw her alone, standing at the top of the stairs," she answered slowly. "The light was on her face, and I was in shadow at the bottom. She did not know I was there. For a moment she looked utterly trapped, like an animal in a cage. The expression on her face was terrible. I have never seen such despair before in anyone. It was a complete hopelessness..."

There was a silence of incredulity in the court. Even the judge was stunned.

"Then a door opened behind me," Zorah went on, almost in a whisper. "And she heard the noise, and the look vanished. She made herself smile again, and came down the stairs with a sort of forced sparkle, her voice brittle."

"Did you know the cause of this emotion, Countess?"

"Not at the time. I imagined then that it was fear that Friedrich would succ.u.mb to the pressure of family and duty, and that he would indeed return to Felzburg-and put Gisela aside. Even so, that would not explain the sense of panic I saw, as if she were...caged, fighting to escape something which clung and suffocated her." She lifted her chin a little, and her voice was tight in her throat. "She was the last woman on earth I wanted to pity, and yet I could not forget the look I saw in her eyes as she stood there."

There was silence in the court, a tension palpable in the air.

"And the rest of the evening?" Rathbone prompted after a moment.

"We continued drinking, playing games, laughing and making risque jokes and cruel remarks about people we knew, or thought we did, and went to bed at about four in the morning," Zorah answered. "Some of us went to our own beds, some of us didn't."

There was a growing rumble of disapproval from the gallery and looks of discomfort in the jury box. They did not like having their betters spoken of in such terms; even if some accepted it was true, they preferred not to be forced to acknowledge it. Others looked genuinely shocked.

"And that was a typical day?" Rathbone said wearily.

"Yes."

"There were many like that?"

"They were almost all like that, give or take a detail or two," she replied, still standing very upright, her head high in spite of having to look slightly down to the body of the court. "We ate and drank, we rode on horseback or in carriages or gigs. We raced a little. We had picnics and parties. We played croquet. The men shot birds. We rowed on the river once or twice. We walked in the woods or the garden. If it was wet, or cold, we talked or played the piano, or read books, or looked at pictures. The men played cards or billiards, or smoked. And, of course, they gambled on anything and everything-who would win at cards, or which servant would answer a bell. In the evenings, we had musical entertainment, or theatricals, or played games."

"And Friedrich and Gisela were always as devoted as you have described?"

"Always."

Harvester rose to his feet. "My lord, this is intrusive, unproven and still totally irrelevant."

Rathbone ignored him and hurried on, speaking over the other lawyer's protest, almost shouting him down.

"Countess Rostova, after the accident, did you ever visit Prince Friedrich in his rooms?"

"Once."

"Would you describe the room for us, please?"

"My lord!" Harvester was shouting now as well.

"It is relevant, my lord," Rathbone said even more loudly. "I a.s.sure the court, it is critical."

The judge banged his gavel and was ignored.

"My lord!" Harvester would not be hushed. He was now on his feet and facing Rathbone in front of the bench. "This witness has already been impugned by circ.u.mstances. Her own interest in the matter is the issue before us. Nothing she says she saw-"

"You cannot impugn it before it is said!" Rathbone cried furiously. "She must be allowed to defend herself-"

"Not by-" Harvester protested.

The judge held up his hands. "Be silent!" he roared.

They both stopped.

"Mr. Rathbone," the judge said, resuming a normal tone. "I hope you are not about to add a further slander to your client's already perilous situation."

"No, my lord, I am not," Rathbone said vehemently. "Countess Rostova will not say anything which cannot be substantiated by other witnesses."

"Then her evidence is not the urgent matter you stated," Harvester said triumphantly. "If other witnesses can say the same thing, why did you not have them do so?"

"Please sit down, Mr. Harvester," the judge requested firmly. "Countess Rostova will continue with her evidence. You will have the opportunity to question her when Sir Oliver has finished. If she makes any remarks detrimental to your client's interests, you have the recourse which you are presently taking. Proceed, Sir Oliver. But do not waste our time, and please do not push us to make moral judgments of issues other than the death of Prince Friedrich and whether your client can substantiate the terrible charge she has made. That is your sole remit here. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, my lord. Countess Rostova, will you please describe Prince Friedrich's bedroom and the suite of rooms he and Princess Gisela occupied during his illness at Wellborough Hall?"

There was a whispering of consternation and disappointment from the crowd. They had expected something far more t.i.tillating.

Even Zorah looked a little puzzled, but she began obediently.

"They had a bedroom, dressing room and sitting room. And, of course, they had the private use of a bathroom and water closet, which I did not see. Nor did I see the dressing room." She looked at Rathbone to know if this was what he wished.

"Would you describe the sitting room and bedroom, please." He nodded to her.

Harvester was growing impatient, and even the judge was beginning to lose his tolerance. The jury were clearly lost. Suddenly the proceedings had degenerated from high tension to total ba.n.a.lity.

Zorah blinked. "The sitting room was quite large. It had two bay windows, facing west, I think, over the knot garden."

"My lord!" Harvester had risen to his feet again. "This cannot possibly be of any relevance whatsoever. Is my learned friend going to suggest that Princess Gisela somehow climbed out of the sitting room window and down the wall to the yew walk? This is becoming absurd, and it is an abuse of the court's time and intelligence."

"It is precisely because I respect the court's intelligence that I do not wish to lead the witness, my lord," Rathbone said desperately. "She does not know which piece of her observation pertains to and explains the whole crime. And as far as time is concerned, we would waste a lot less of it if Mr. Harvester did not keep interrupting me!"

"I will allow you another fifteen minutes, Sir Oliver," the judge warned. "If you have not reached some point of relevance by then, I shall entertain Mr. Harvester's objections." He turned to Zorah. "Please make your description as brief as possible, Countess Rostova. Pray continue."

Zorah was quite obviously as confused as everyone else.

"The carpet was French, at least in design, of a variety of shades of wine and pink, as were the curtains. There were several seats, I do not recall how many, all upholstered in matching fabric. There was a small walnut table in the center of the floor, and a sort of bureau over by the farther wall. I don't remember anything else."

"Flowers?" Rathbone asked.

Harvester let out a very clearly audible snort of disgust.

"Yes," Zorah replied with a frown. "Lily of the valley. They were Gisela's favorite. She always had them when they were in season. In Venice she had them forced, so she could have them even in late winter."

"Lily of the valley," Rathbone repeated. "A bunch of lily of the valley? In a vase? A vase full of water?"