"Papa told me it was something women didn't understand, and I should never tell her." He took a deep breath and suddenly his composure dissolved.
"Why not?"
He sniffed. "He said she would stop loving me if she knew. But Buckie said she still loved me."
"Oh, Buckie is quite right," Rathbone said quickly, his own voice husky. "No woman could love her child more; I know that myself."
"Do you?" Cassian kept his eyes fixed on Rathbone, as if to prevent himself from knowing his mother was there, in case he looked at her and saw what he dreaded.
"Oh yes. I know your mother quite well. She has told me she would rather die than have you hurt. Look at her, and you will know it yourself."
Lovat-Smith started up from his seat, then changed his mind and subsided into it again.
Very slowly Cassian turned for the first time and looked at Alexandra.
A ghost of a smile forced itself across her features, but the pain in her face was fearful.
Cassian looked back at Rathbone.
"Yes sir."
"Did your rather go on doing this - this new thing, right up until just before he died?"
"Yes sir."
"Did anyone else, any other man, ever do this to you?"
There was total silence except for a low sigh from somewhere at the back of the gallery.
"We know from other people that this is so, Cassian," Rathbone said. "You have been very brave and very honest so far. Please do not lie to us now. Did anyone else do this to you?"
"Yes sir"
"Who else, Cassian?"
He glanced at the judge, then back at Rathbone.
"I can't say, sir. I was sworn to secrecy, and a gentleman doesn't betray."
"Indeed," Rathbone said with a note of temporary defeat in his voice. "Very well. We shall leave the subject for now. Thank you. Mr. Lovat-Smith?"
Lovat-Smith rose and took Rathbone's place in front of the witness stand. He spoke to Cassian candidly, quietly, man toman.
"You kept this secret from your mother, you said?"
"Yes sir."
"You never told her, not even a little bit?"
"No sir."
"Do you think she knew about it anyway?"
"No sir, I never told her. I promised not to!" He watched Lovat-Smith as he had watched Rathbone.
"I see. Was that difficult to do, keep this secret from her?"
"Yes sir - but I did."
"And she never said anything to you about it, you are quite sure?"
"No sir, never."
"Thank you. Now about this other man. Was it one, or more than one? I am not asking you to give me names, just a number. That would not betray anyone."
Hester glanced up at Peverell in the gallery, and saw guilt in his face, and a fearful pity. But was the guilt for complicity, or merely for not having known? She felt sick in case it were complicity.
Cassian thought for a moment or two before replying.
"Two, sir."
"Two others?"
"Yes sir."
"Thank you. That is all. Rathbone?"
"No more, thank you, for now. But I reserve the right to recall him, if it will help discover who these other men are."
"I will permit that," the judge said quickly. "Thank you, Cassian. For the moment you may go."
Carefully, his legs shaking, Cassian climbed down the steps, only stumbling a little once, and then walked across the floor and disappeared out of the door with the bailiff. There was a movement around the court, murmurs of outrage and compassion. Someone called out to him. The judge started forward, but it was already done, and the words had been of encouragement. It was pointless to call order or have the offender searched for.
"I call Felicia Carlyon," Rathbone said loudly.
Lovat-Smith made no objection, even though she had not been in Rathbone's original list of witnesses and hence had been hi the court all through the other testimony.
There was a rustle of response and anticipation. But the mood of the crowd had changed entirely. It was no longer pity which moved them towards her, but pending judgment.
She took the stand head high, body stiff, eyes angry and proud. The judge required that she unveil her face, and she did so with disdainful obedience. She swore the oath in a clear, ringing voice.
"Mrs. Carlyon," Rathbone began, standing in front of her, "you appear here on subpoena. You are aware of the testimony that has been given so far."
"I am. It is wicked and malicious lies. Miss Buchan is an old woman who has served in my family's house for forty years, and has become deranged in her old age. I cannot think where a spinster woman gets such