occupied that she had yet to see the distinguished newcomer. She relied on her sisters to keep her supplied with news.
“He is certainly an imposing figure,” I said, trying to temper my annoyance with justice. I do not recall such a fuss being made among the ladies when Ifirst arrived in Morganton. “Nicholas Woodfin is a man of medium stature, with dark eyes and features in the Greek mold, I believe you would say. His hair is very dark, though already it is flecked with gray.”
“What a pity,” said Elizabeth.
“Not at all, my dear. The last thing a young lawyer should wish to look like is—a young lawyer. Age suggests wisdom and experience. His clients find his mature countenance very comforting, I expect.”
“And has he seen his most important client yet?”
“Mrs. Silver? Yes, I believe so. He must interview her before the trial begins, of course. It must have been an interesting encounter. I wonder what they made of each other?”
“How so, Burgess?”
I shrugged. “I cannot imagine two people more dissimilar than Nicholas Woodfin and the rawboned backwoods girl whom he must defend. It must have been a memorable meeting for both of them. There he is, smelling of lavender soap and pressed linen, standing over her in his spotless wool suit and polished calf-leather boots, an attorney of law, well educated and mannered, conversant in Latin, and acquainted with the most prominent gentlemen in Carolina . . . and there sheis—greasy-haired, lice-ridden, and unwashed from her months in a straw-floored cell of our Burke County jail: a scrawny, graceless girl, unable to read or write, and scarcely able to understand what is happening to her, I’ll warrant.”
“The poor girl must see him as a knight in shining armor,” said Elizabeth.
“If she has ever heard of such a thing, yes.”
“But, Burgess, I have heard that despite all her deprivations in prison, Mrs. Silver is very pretty, too.”
“I doubt if Mr. Woodfin would notice if she were the Queen of Sheba,” I replied. “He will have quite enough on his mind with a murder trial to prepare for. It is a great responsibility to have someone’s life in your hands. And he is such a young man. I do not envy him one bit!” I said these words with all the more force because they were not true.
There were other less notorious cases to be settled in the first few days of the Superior Court session, although nobody paid them much mind. All talk centered on the final day’s business: the State v. Frances Stewart Silver, scheduled to be tried on Thursday.
I saw Thomas Wilson in court, of course, for he had other cases on the docket to attend to, but it was several days before we managed to find a moment for conversation other than the perfunctory courtesies one utters in passing.
I saw him one morning walking from his office to the courthouse, and I fell into step beside him. After wishing him good day, I said: “I hear talk of nothing but the Silver case, Mr. Wilson. Someone said that if we could sell tickets to the trial, we could do away with Burke County’s property taxes for a year.”
He permitted himself a trace of a smile. “I fear that such an avid interest in the case is a misfortune for the accused woman. Strong interest means strong feelings, and the jury will feel pressured by that, whether they admit it or not.”
“At least you will not have former sheriff Tate to contend with. Having served on the grand jury, his obligation is discharged. I would not have wanted to try a murder case with his cold stare trained on me.”
He nodded. “Well, I will not be pleading this case before the court. The stares are Mr. Woodfin’s concern, but I do not think he minds. He is a great playgoer, is Mr. Woodfin. He says that a defense attorney is the principal actor in a tragedy. He even went so far as to say that clergymen ought to attend the theatre and pay close attention to the dramatic orations, as it would greatly improve their style of preaching.”
“He seems to have some unorthodox opinions for such a young man.”
“Yes, but I think he is very able. And I’m not sure that I don’t agree with him about the importance of being a dramatic orator. Juries feela great deal more than they think,it often seems.”
I protested, “Surely a logical argument, well presented—”
Wilson smiled again. “If you ever stand in