Hester saw the jury's faces harden, as if something inside had closed; from now on they would interpret a difference in her answers. One man turned curiously and looked at Alexandra, then away again, as if caught peeping. It too was a betraying gesture.
"Mrs. Pole?" Lovat-Smith prompted her.
"Yes, of course I was aware of it. Everyone was."
"And die cause? Think carefully: knowing your mother, as close to you as she was, did she say anything which allowed you to understand the cause of her anger?"
Rathbone half rose to his feet, then as the judge glanced at him, changed his mind and sank back again. The jury saw it and their faces lit with expectancy.
Sabella spoke very quietly. "When people are unhappy with each other, there is not necessarily a specific cause for each disagreement. My father was very arbitrary at times, very dictatorial. The only subject of quarrel I know of was over Cassian and his schooling."
"Surely you are not suggesting your mother murdered your father because of his choice of education for his son, Mrs. Pole?" Lovat-Smith's voice, charming and distinctive, was filled with incredulity only just short of the offensive.
In the dock Alexandra moved forward impulsively, and the wardress beside her moved also, as if it were even conceivable she should leap over the edge. The gallery could not see it, but the jurors started in their seats.
Sabella said nothing. Her soft oval face hardened and she stared at him, not knowing what to say and reluctant to commit an error.
"Thankyou, Mrs. Pole. We quite understand." Lovat-Smith smiled and sat down again, leaving the floor to Rathbone.
Sabella looked at Rathbone guardedly, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wary and miserable.
Rathbone smiled at her. "Mrs. Pole, have you known Mrs. Furnival for some time, several years in fact?"
"Yes."
"Did you believe that she was having an affair with your father?"
There was a gasp of indrawn breath around the courtroom. At last someone was getting to the crux of the situation. Excitement rippled through them.
"No," Sabella said hotly. Then she looked at Rathbone's expression and repeated it with more composure. "No, I did not. I never saw or heard anything to make me think so."
"Did your mother ever say anything to you to indicate that she thought so, or that the relationship gave her any anxiety or distress of any sort?"
"No - no, I cannot recall that she ever mentioned it at all."
"Never?" Rathbone said with surprise. "And yet you were very close, were you not?"
For the first time Sabella quite openly looked up towards the dock.
"Yes, we were - we are close."
"And she never mentioned the subject?"
"No."
"Thank you." He turned back to Lovat-Smith with a smile.
Lovat-Smith rose.
"Mrs. Pole, did you kill your father?"
The judge held up his hand to prevent Sabella from replying, and looked at Rathbone, inviting him to object. It was an improper question, since it had not been part of the examination in chief, and also she should be warned of the possibility of incriminating herself.
Rathbone shrugged.
The judge sighed and lowered his hand, frowning at Lovat-Smith.
"You do not need to answer that question unless you wish to," he said to Sabella.
"No, Ididnot," Sabella said huskily, her voice little more than a whisper.
"Thank you." Lovat-Smith inclined his head; it was all he had required.
The judge leaned forward. "You may go, Mrs. Pole," he said gently. "There is nothing further."
"Oh," she said, as if a little lost and wishing to find something more to say, something to help. Reluctantly she came down, assisted for the last two steps by the clerk of the court, and disappeared into the crowd, the light catching for a moment on her pale hair before she was gone.
There was an adjournment for luncheon. Monk and Hester found a man with a sandwich cart, purchased a sandwich each and ate them in great haste before returning to find their seats again.
As soon as the court reassembled and came to order the next witness was summoned.
"Fenton Pole!" the bailiff said loudly. "Calling Fenton Pole!"
Fenton Pole climbed up the stairs to the stand, his face set, his jaw hard in lines of utter disapproval. He answered Lovat-Smith tersely but very much as though he believed his mother-in-law to be guilty, but insane. Never even for an instant did he turn his head and look up at her. Twice Lovat-Smith had to stop him from expressing his view in so many words, as if it excused the family from any connection. After all madness was like a disease, a