Triple Jeopardy Page 6

  Kitteridge sat up perfectly straight. “No, sir. This is his affair, and he has asked me to take part in it, as…as a more experienced trial barrister.”

  “Hard to be less,” Marcus said drily. “Well, are you going to tell me about it? Or did you just come to hold the door for him?”

  Daniel could see Kitteridge’s muscles tighten all the way to his scalp as he spoke.

  “I will tell you myself, sir, but you may well wish to question him, as to further details.”

  “No doubt. Details of what, exactly?”

  “Of a case that began in Washington, in America, and has traveled across the Atlantic, for us to clean up.” Kitteridge went on too quickly for Marcus to interrupt, although from the look on his face he had clearly intended to. “A theft and assault occurred in the home of a distinguished American family. The daughter was robbed in her bedroom, in the middle of the night. The father says he saw and recognized the intruder. It was a young diplomat, Philip Sidney, stationed at the British Embassy in Washington.”

  Marcus was clearly fascinated, and furious, but he did not interrupt.

  Kitteridge swallowed. After five years in these chambers, he had earned his place, but Marcus still overawed him. Maybe he always would. Kitteridge was clever, and he worked hard, but he was a scholarship boy, socially awkward and unable to forget it.

  Daniel wondered whether to say anything himself. If he did, he would obviously be rescuing Kitteridge. He did not want to acknowledge that it was necessary.

  “He invoked diplomatic immunity,” Kitteridge went on after a moment. “And fled back here.”

  “Guilty,” Marcus said, in such a tone that Daniel did not know if it was a question or an answer.

  “It would all be irrelevant, at least to the law,” Kitteridge continued, “if he had not now been charged with embezzlement from the embassy while on his tour of duty in America.”

  Marcus sat bolt upright. “And arrested? They’re going to try him? Why, for God’s sake? Take the money back and keep their mouths shut! Do they want the whole world to know we employ such…wastrels…to represent us abroad?”

  “I’m afraid Tobias Thorwood will not permit that,” Kitteridge went on. “And more than that, neither will the American policeman who wanted to charge him with robbery and assaulting Miss Thorwood—”

  “What? Who did you say? What the devil has he to do with it?”

  “He’s over here in London, visiting with his English wife’s family…”

  “Kitteridge, is this your idea of an elaborate joke?” He turned to Daniel. “Pitt! Why are you standing there like a bloody footman?”

  “The American policeman concerned is my sister’s husband, sir. That is how I came to know about it. Patrick, my brother-in-law, wants to see the robbery and assault come out during the course of the embezzlement trial.”

  Marcus looked at him narrowly. “Are you skirting around what I think you are, Pitt?”

  Daniel breathed in deeply. “Yes, sir.”

  “Is he reliable, this brother-in-law of yours? And don’t play around with sophistry. I knew more about that than you do before you were even born!”

  “Yes, sir, I don’t know. I’ve made a few inquiries about Sidney, and his reputation is excellent…”

  “From whom? No! Don’t answer that! I don’t want to know your sources, especially if they are named Blackwell. So, you are sitting between a sharp rock of family loyalty and the very hard place indeed of the truth? You know your sister, but I’m guessing you don’t know this brother-in-law of yours all that well. And since he is American, you are not likely to. Have I got that right?” Marcus’s white eyebrows rose.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why are you doing this? To protect your sister?”

  Daniel knew there was no benefit in anything but the truth. Less than that would come back to bite him, probably very hard. “To begin with, I wanted to help Patrick,” he answered. “And I was furious and ashamed that an Englishman had behaved like that abroad. I wanted to fix it.”

  “You put it in the past tense. What now?”

  “I wish to hell I didn’t know anything about it.”

  The flicker of a smile crossed Marcus’s face. “That I believe to be the unvarnished truth, even if it is useless now. What do you propose to do about it?”

  “Defend Sidney, if he’ll accept us.”

  “By us, do you mean Kitteridge, with your assistance?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “To do what? What possible use is such a dubious case to fford Croft and Gibson? Sidney may be innocent of the embezzlement, and it’s that case that is being brought to trial.”

  “To discover the truth. Either that he did do what Thorwood accuses him of, or that he didn’t. And, of course, defend him of the embezzlement charge, sir.”

  “God help us! We’re barristers, not crusaders, Pitt. I suppose the best we can hope for is that Sidney won’t have you! Slim chance. This is the best firm in London for hopeless cases. You’ve seen to that with your last foray. Well, don’t just stand there! Get on with it, then! I imagine you’ll be no use for anything else, until you’ve finished.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You mean no, sir?”

  Daniel stared at him.

  Suddenly, Marcus beamed. “Another Gordian knot! You are never a bore, Pitt, I’ll say that for you. Now get out!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  CHAPTER

  Six

  JEMIMA ENJOYED HER days with her family. They explored some of the old squares in London, reading the plaques to commemorate once-famous people, both men and women. Charlotte had researched them and explained who they were to Patrick, and incidentally to everyone else. Sophie went out in a pram Charlotte had borrowed for her granddaughter, while Pitt insisted on carrying Cassie on his shoulders. She loved the attention paid to her, repeating much of what Charlotte said but in simpler language. Patrick watched and, with an effort, did not reclaim his daughter. Jemima smiled at him with silent praise.

  They played simple games that Cassie could join and laughed a lot. They prepared lunch that could be packed up as a picnic and took it out onto the lawn.

  Patrick spent almost all his time with them. Charlotte was utterly charmed with her grandchildren and interested in hearing everything about Jemima’s life in America. Pitt worked only as hard as his conscience drove him. He had no urgent cases at the moment and could happily delegate most of what there was to his juniors. Therefore, it wasn’t until after a late supper, for which Daniel joined them, when they finally went up to bed, that Patrick had the opportunity to speak to Jemima alone.

  “I’ve been waiting for the chance to tell you,” he said, drawing the bedroom curtains across the night sky.

  “Tell me what?” she asked. She had not caught any urgency in his voice. She looked at him now and realized that she had missed a tension that might have been there all day. Had she unintentionally paid too much attention to catching up on family he did not know, and ignored him? She was annoyed with herself. She had believed that she had no wish to remain in London, but the familiarity of it was easy and comfortable, and there were some good things she had missed. They were trivial: chocolate biscuits, meat pies, the sight of policemen’s helmets characteristic only of London. Red postboxes. Crossing the road without having to think whether the traffic was traveling from the left or the right.

  It was the first time Patrick had been out of America. He must feel as strange as she had there at first. She had been unmindful of that, and she regretted it now. She smiled and gave him her full attention.

  “Thank you for being so patient while I catch up on the news of Aunt Emily and all the other people you’ve not met.”

  He relaxed a little. “I guess they’re my family, too, now. Just like Aunt Bridget is yours!” He smiled widely. “And Uncle Cor
mac.”

  “Who’s Uncle Cormac?” she asked, puzzled. Aunt Bridget she could never forget, try as she might.

  “A treat in store.” His smile twisted and became rueful. “But I wanted to tell you that Sidney has been arrested for embezzlement, from the British Embassy in Washington. That’s British soil, technically, and he can be tried here.”

  “Embezzlement? Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure!”

  “How do you know?”

  “You think he wouldn’t stoop to such a thing?” There was a definite shadow in his face.

  “No, of course not!” She heard a sharpness in her voice that she had not intended, at least not intended to show. “I didn’t think he’d be so stupid as to do such a thing in the embassy and get caught!”

  “Perhaps he meant to tidy it up, so it was invisible, and he didn’t have time,” Patrick suggested. “He left pretty quickly. He had no choice. He didn’t expect to get caught, obviously,” he added with a degree of contempt. “Arrogant bastard. People don’t hide things if they really think they’ll never have to pay. A lot of them aren’t anywhere near as clever as they think.”

  “That’s a circular argument,” she said, then immediately wished she hadn’t.

  “What does that mean?” he demanded.

  “It means that the ones you catch aren’t very clever. If they were, you wouldn’t have caught them.”

  “And the British police would?”

  “No one would. Nobody knows about them!”

  “Then how is it you do?”

  “I don’t! You’re trying to…” She stopped. This was only going to get worse. “What are you going to do about Sidney?”

  “I asked Daniel to defend him.” He ignored her startled look and the beginning of a protest. “He says he’s not experienced enough yet, and I have to accept that, but he said he’d get Kitteridge to, and Kitteridge is very good indeed.”

  Jemima drew breath to argue that Daniel was just as good, then realized how childish she was being, how very defensive. Patrick was right. It just hurt her that an Englishman, with the same name as one of her childhood heroes, was letting them all down so badly. How simpleminded she was. How territorial. How much she missed belonging! It was so much easier not to have to think about everything and, above all, not to be different.

  “Jem?”

  “Good.” She forced a smile. “Will Daniel help to get the result you want? It won’t be easy.”

  “Daniel cares,” Patrick answered her. “He thinks it’s as terrible as I do. And you! Don’t you?” That was a challenge again.

  “Of course I do! I…am just not sure this is going to work the way we want it to.” Suddenly, she was frightened, even chilled by the thought of all the ways it could go wrong. It could end by hurting Patrick in particular, more than any sense of justice or vengeance would be worth. “Patrick, above all, I want you to be safe.”

  The anger vanished from his face, as if washed away by a tide. “Jem, I’m not going to do anything wrong, or stupid. I care about you and the girls more than anything else! But I’m no use to you, or even to myself, if I let an injustice go by and don’t do all I can within the law to put it right.” He touched her hair gently. “If that had been you, instead of Rebecca, would you expect me to stand by and do nothing? If it was Cassie or Sophie, I’d want to kill him, and so would you! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t.”

  “I’d want you to do whatever was best for her.” Jemima was furious to hear her voice waver. She controlled it savagely, swallowing her feelings. “It isn’t always the obvious thing that works out best in the end. You want revenge, but you have to think further than tomorrow, or even next week, or next month.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “I like your mother!”

  “So do I, but I don’t always agree with her. And this isn’t revenge, it’s justice, and it’s about stopping it from happening again. What if Tobias hadn’t heard her scream? What would Sidney have done if he hadn’t been prevented? Have you weighed that in?”

  She hadn’t, but it wasn’t the whole argument. “Maybe nothing.”

  “Oh, really, you can do better than that!” he said with disgust.

  “You can’t condemn a man for what you think he might have been going to do.” She sounded very reasonable, and colder than she meant to. She was not thinking of some future possible victim; she was thinking of Rebecca and of the looks and sniggers she would get. The thinly veiled suggestions. The conversations that suddenly stopped when she appeared. And the young man she might fall in love with one day who would always wonder if it had been a tryst and she had changed her mind. She would not be the first woman to make a false accusation to end an affair that had been consensual to begin with.

  Jemima believed her, but she knew that not everyone would. Rebecca was very charming to look at. She was young, intelligent, fun to be with, and heiress to a great deal of both power and wealth. No matter how good she was, she would never be free of enemies. Didn’t Patrick know that? Perhaps not. He didn’t belong to a stratum of society that had possessed time and money for such considerations. The devil makes work for idle minds, even more than for idle hands.

  “I just think we shouldn’t make all the decisions for her, as if she hadn’t the wits or the courage to do it herself,” she said at last. “Now please, don’t let us talk about it anymore. What are you going to do tomorrow?”

  “I know what I’m going to do tonight!” He pulled her a little closer.

  “Oh, yes?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  She went to him, laughing and willingly, suddenly immensely relieved.

  * * *

  —

  JEMIMA DELIBERATELY GOT up early the next morning, before Patrick awoke and, with any luck, before Cassie and Sophie awoke either. She slipped on a robe, borrowed from her mother, and went quietly down the stairs, to find Daniel sitting at the dining-room table. They had stayed up late, and he had been easily persuaded to sleep in his old room for the night.

  He looked up when she came in, surprised to see her. “Good morning. Going somewhere?”

  “No, at least not yet. Is that tea still hot?”

  “You want a cup?”

  “Please.” She picked up one of the cups and saucers set out at the end of the table and passed them to him to pour.

  He had finished the cooked part of his meal and had started on toast and marmalade. He poured the milk, and then tea. He did it without asking her. He knew how she liked it and assumed that it had not changed. It had, but she did not mention it.

  “Thank you. I came down because I wanted to see you before you went.”

  He froze halfway through buttering a slice of toast. “Oh?”

  She smiled. “Not that bad. Patrick told me about the embezzlement charge against Sidney, and that you and Kitteridge are going to defend him?” It was not really a question, but she made it one.

  “Yes…” Daniel said cautiously. She saw the apprehension in his face. She could read him so easily. He had no idea how swiftly his face reflected his emotions, especially his eyes.

  “All I want you to do is go and see Sidney as well. I mean, don’t let Kitteridge be the only one. You have to be sure of the justice of this case, that you’re doing the right thing…” She stopped. What she meant was, don’t let Patrick’s emotions run away with you, but she was not prepared to put it in such blunt words. How could she be sure that he understood?

  He looked at her and shook his head. “Stop it. I’ll always be younger than you, but it gets to mean less and less with every year that goes by. Of course I’ll go and see Sidney. I promise.” He took a deep breath. “Jem, is there something you know that you’re not telling me?”

  “No!” She looked at him and saw the seriousness in his eyes, in the tense fine lines in his face.
To her, he still looked so young. She could see the boy in him without even looking for it, especially at the crown of his head where his hair curled and would not lie flat. “I’m just not as sure as Patrick is that public disclosure of what happened would be good for Rebecca. I don’t know what she wants, but I mean to ask her.”

  “Do you know something that I don’t?” he said suspiciously.

  She burst into laughter. “Sweetheart! Of course I do! I know hundreds of things you don’t, and probably never will! I’m a woman…”

  “Yes. I noticed that about twenty years ago,” he said drily. “It doesn’t mean that much!”

  “Yes, it does! You tempt me to use language that would curl Mother’s hair! Men can order things, people, events. Women have to persuade, understand, even manipulate a bit…”

  “Never!” he said immediately, stifling his laughter with difficulty. “Not you, surely? Manipulate? Mother would be appalled!”

  She threw her toast at him and hit him and, thank heaven, he only burst into laughter.

  “Very subtle!” he said when he had stopped laughing and wiped the butter off his cheek. “And manipulative.” He picked up the toast from the floor, where it had landed. “You’re the only person I know who can do that: throw toast and have it land butter-side up.” He said it as if it were an achievement. Then suddenly, he was serious. “Jem, of course I’m going to look into it seriously, very seriously indeed. I’ve got some idea of what’s at stake. Justice for Philip Sidney, whatever that turns out to be. It is possible he’s innocent. Either way, it needs to be proved. And as much justice as possible for Rebecca, but only if she understands what that entails. Legal justice isn’t the same as public judgment. I want to make sure she knows that. Sidney has to be tried for the embezzlement now, but it isn’t too late to decide not to disclose anything about the assault. Once that becomes public, you can’t ever take it back. We have to make sure she understands that. And probably the most important to us—you and me—is that Patrick didn’t do something that looks like private vengeance, like he used police influence in the courts to exact a price he couldn’t get in Washington, where the crime that matters took place. I know all that, and I’ll see that he knows it, too. I like to win, but not at my client’s expense, and certainly not at my sister’s expense.”