Delphine looked on the verge of tears. "And she is innocent of everything!" she said desperately. "It is so unfair!" Her eyes swept across the jury and then back to Sacheverall. "How could he do this to her-to anyone? It is wicked beyond belief! I can hear them already, beginning to ask each other what can be wrong with her. What does he know about her that he is not saying?" She looked at him defiantly. "And there is nothing! Nothing at all! She is modest; clever enough, but not too clever; lovely but not too proud or self-obsessed; and as honorable as it is possible to be." She gulped, and her voice dropped huskily. "And she was so in love with him. It is so wicked I just cannot imagine why he is doing it! You have to find out! You have to prove it is Killian Melville, not Zillah, who is evil and perverse."
"We shall do, Mrs. Lambert," Sacheverall said gently. "We will prove to the court, and to society, that Miss Lambert has been wronged without cause. Her reputation shall be restored. It would be monstrous that she should have her entire future ruined because of one young man's irresponsibility at best, dishonesty or immorality at worst. Will you be so good as to remain there in case Sir Oliver wishes to ask you anything? Thank you, Mrs. Lambert." He turned to Rathbone invitingly.
The expression of confidence in his face was sufficient warning. Rathbone knew he would get nothing from Delphine Lambert. Almost alone she had built the case. And she had done it without exaggeration. Such breaking of a betrothal after what seemed to everyone a natural love affair would suggest to even the well disposed that there was something profoundly wrong with Zillah Lambert but that Melville was too much of a gentleman to expose her.
Rathbone rose to his feet. He dare not fail to speak to her. That would be an open admission of defeat.
There was a rustle of anticipation in the room. The jurors were watching him.
"We sympathize with you in your concern, Mrs. Lambert," he said courteously, his mind racing for anything whatsoever to mitigate her testimony. "Perhaps you will tell me something more about these wedding arrangements that you mentioned..."
"All made!" Her voice rose again. "Of course, the official invitations had not gone out, but everyone knew who was invited, so it comes to virtually the same thing! I have never been so mortified in my life. You cannot imagine the humiliation of having to tell people!" She flung her arms out, hands graceful even in her extreme emotion. "How do I explain? What is there anyone can possibly say? Poor Zillah." She turned to the judge. "Can you begin to imagine how she feels? Every time anyone laughs, if we didn't hear the reason, we think it is at our misfortune."
Rathbone forced himself to remain friendly. "I am sure that is natural. We have all experienced such fears when we are aware of some..." What word could he use without seeming critical? He had given himself an impossible sentence to finish. She was looking at him again. "Self-consciousness is to be expected," he said instead. "But to these arrangements, Mrs. Lambert..."
"The dressmaker, the wedding attendants, the church, of course, the flowers in season," she listed them off. "I spent hours seeing that everything should be perfect. It is the most important, the most exquisitely beautiful day of a woman's life. I would have given anything T had to ensure that nothing whatever went wrong for her. No time, trouble or expense was to be spared. Not that it was the money. Never think for an instant that it was that." She dismissed it with a wave of her hand.
Curiously, he believed her. It was honor which concerned her. What should have been entirely happiness and beauty instead had become a source of embarrassment and cruel jests, the golden future tarnished beyond repair. She had not mentioned it, maybe she had not even thought of it yet, but it was not impossible that the sense of rejection which Zillah felt would make it hard for her to believe the next man who claimed to love her. No one could say what seeds of future misery had been sown.
"I am sure that is so, Mrs. Lambert," he agreed soothingly. "I do not doubt it. But my question is, how much did Mr. Melville participate in all these plans and decisions?"