Читать книгу Sophie's Treason - Beverley Boissery - Страница 9

Luc’s optimism was contagious. For the first time in a couple of weeks, Sophie didn’t cry herself to sleep. The next morning Lady Theo was as good as her word. She assigned not only John Coachman to go to court with Luc and Sophie, but Thomas, one of the new footmen she’d hired, as well.

“I’ll come as soon as I can,” she assured them before leaving for the city herself. “I’m hoping for some definite news at long last about your papa, Sophie. Then, I have a meeting with your trustees, Luc. Don’t worry about luncheon. I’ve told the men they are to escort you to Orr’s.” She smiled a little at Sophie’s reaction to the name of the hotel. “Don’t pout, child,” she went on. “No one will remember you from that incident.”

Luc shook his head vigorously. “Begging your pardon, my lady. You’re wrong. People wouldn’t forget anyone who threw manure at people in a Montreal street. They certainly haven’t forgotten a pretty girl doing it. Particularly in front of the second best hotel in the city.”

Sophie blushed and slid a little lower in her chair. “I don’t want to go there. Not so soon. Can’t we go to Rasco’s?” She had nothing but fond memories of Montreal’s best hotel.

“Orr’s is closer to the courthouse,” Lady Theo answered. “Just hold your head high, Sophie, and don’t show your embarrassment. I’ve reserved a private parlour. It’s the best I can do.”

Sophie pouted for another moment, then realised that her problems were minor compared with those of Luc and Lady Theo. She smiled in apology. Before she could say anything, Luc got up and walked around the table to Lady Theo. “Thank you for what you’re doing for us, my lady,” he said gruffly. “Lunch in a private parlour, even one in Orr’s, will be more than welcome.” Then, to Sophie’s great astonishment, he raised Lady Theo’s hand and kissed it in a very formal, very French way.

“Oh, be off with you,” Lady Theo said, albeit with a smile. “You’d better hurry if you want to get a seat. And remember, keep your mouths shut. Both of you. You saw what people were like yesterday. If they even suspect someone’s a rebel, they won’t care whether they’re guilty or innocent. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself. Not with what you know.”

When they entered the courtroom about half an hour later, Sophie found it less intimidating. For one thing, Mr. Christie had managed to save a couple of places for them, and for another, she realized that she could ignore Alf and his friends at the back of the room. Luc’s obvious confidence in his brother’s defence gave her a sense of hope.

Her optimism faltered a little after the officer-judges marched in and the court martial recommenced. Almost immediately she saw that several prisoners looked angry and frustrated. A couple seemed to object to what was happening, but Sophie couldn’t understand what they were saying until Mr. Christie translated their objections for her. To that point all the testimony and bickering back and forth between the lawyers had been in English. She’d thought that natural. Mr. Christie, though, wondered how many of the men actually spoke or understood English. Sophie asked Luc.

“Probably only four,” he answered angrily but softly. “I don’t see why they can’t have interpreters.”

Mr. Christie shrugged. “That’s only one of many things I don’t understand,” he answered dryly. “These men are farmers, not soldiers. If this were a criminal court, their lawyers could speak for them. Instead, as we’ll see today, they have to be their own lawyers while the government uses two of the best in the entire province. It’s madness,” he finished, shaking his head in disgust.

Sophie immediately thought of her papa. She knew that, even as clever as he was, he’d find it difficult to act as his own lawyer in front of this court martial. She turned to Luc, wondering if he’d known exactly what handicaps Marc faced. To her amazement, he didn’t look perturbed. “Don’t worry, Sophie,” he told her a little smugly. “Marc can take care of himself. You’ll see.”

Although the testimony that morning had little to do with Marc, it was still fascinating. Most of the defendants had been involved in a curious incident the Saturday night before the rebellion began. In Châteauguay, a neighbouring village of Beauharnois, the rebels had been led by Joseph-Narcisse Cardinal, a lawyer. Like Marc, Cardinal wasn’t one of the top leaders, although, again like Marc, he appeared to know their plans. What he hadn’t known, however, was the part he and his men should play in the rebellion.

By listening to the testimony, Sophie pieced together their story. When they met the Saturday night of 3 November, they dithered and dilly-dallied about what they’d do. Some wanted to be part of the attack on Edward and Jane Ellice’s manor house in Beauharnois, others wanted to go off to join the main rebel group in Napierville. Eventually they decided to get some extra weapons from the Mohawks on the nearby reserve of Caughnawaga.

And so they set off, about eighty of them, in the dark. As they stumbled their way through the woods, they lost track of each other and were heard by a native woman searching for a lost cow. She ran back to her village and told the elders about the large number of men in the woods. About dawn the Mohawks challenged some of Cardinal’s men. As the rebels prepared to fight, one of their leaders, Maurice Lepailleur, stepped forward. “Don’t shoot,” he told the men. “We’ve come to get guns, not hurt anyone.”

The Mohawks quickly rounded them up and took them at gunpoint across the frigid St. Lawrence to Montreal in their canoes. Thus, these would-be rebels were in jail before the rebellion even broke out. After the Mohawks finished testifying, a local magistrate named John McDonald corroborated the story, adding his reason for the whole fiasco: rebellion against the queen.

Sophie thought that was ridiculous. How could an attempt to borrow guns be rebellion? Obviously, though, the officer-judges thought it was if the captain closest to Sophie was any indication. She’d never seen anyone sit at attention before. She hadn’t thought it possible until she’d seen him. He stared at the prisoners with a supercilious look on his face and not once did she see him blink. His folded arms were held slightly in front of his medalled chest and he sat so rigidly that he might well have been a statue.

Once the prisoners began cross-examining the witnesses against them, Sophie wondered if, secretly, he might have found the goings-on as silly as she did. It was like a three-ring circus. The accused asked their questions in French. These were first translated into English for the officer-judges, then into Mohawk for the witnesses. The answers were translated into English only.

After realizing this, Sophie turned to Luc. “It doesn’t seem fair. No one tells them the answers. What’s more, I can’t see what Marc had to do with any of it. None of them have even mentioned him.”

She’d no sooner got the words out of her mouth than Magistrate McDonald was recalled to the stand for the sole purpose of implicating Marc. A tall, very thin man, he swaggered to the witness stand with mincing, self-important steps. Once there he nodded to the officer-judges as though he was trying to let them know he was on their side. Marc Moriset, he testified, had crossed the St. Lawrence in the early hours of Sunday morning, the fourth of November. Sophie smiled as she thought it must have been an incredibly busy time on the river. At first light, the Mohawks had been paddling their canoes north with guns aimed at their prisoners. It must have been quite a sight and she wondered if Marc might have seen it when he was supposedly travelling south. She stopped grinning, however, as Mr. McDonald elaborated on his previous testimony.

He’d been captured by the rebels and taken to a makeshift prison in Châteauguay early that Sunday morning. Peering through a narrow slit in a boarded-up window, he had seen Marc teach military drills to the Châteauguay men and drill them daily for the rest of the week. Finally, the magistrate went on, shuddering dramatically as he seemed to remember the horrors of Saturday, November 10, Marc took him and the other captives to the main prison in Napierville.

“We were all important men,” he went on, preening a little, it seemed, for the benefit of the officer-judges. “Men like Mr. Ellice of Beauharnois, as well as myself. Yet we were herded onto a cart like cattle, gagged and handcuffed.”

Sophie bit back a giggle as she wondered how anyone could handcuff cattle. Mr. McDonald, however, didn’t seem to notice that he had said anything ridiculous. “I will remember that morning to my dying day.” His voice wavered pitifully. Probably, Sophie thought, so that everyone could imagine how horrible an experience it had been. He paused, then pointed dramatically at Marc. “And that man, there, was in charge of the convoy. He personally walked beside the cart. Every now and then he spoke. Every time he did, it was an insult to me and my queen.”

“He’s lying,” Sophie whispered fiercely. “He has to be.”

She hadn’t cared much for the man until that point. But when he’d mentioned Mr. Ellice’s name, her dislike escalated into something like hatred.

After her papa became engaged to Lady Theo, she’d met a lot of people like this Mr. McDonald. They floated around the fringes of English society. Generally, they would ignore her. That is, until they found out her connection to Lady Theo and, of course, to Lady Theo’s brother, the Earl of Hornsby. Suddenly, she became their new best friend. Everything she said was clever. They laughed at every joke she made, told her she looked beautiful. She’d smile and try not to let her irritation show. Lady Theo had told her that was the way a true lady behaved but, inwardly, she despised them.

She looked at Luc. Surely, she thought, he has to realize the magistrate’s testimony could mean the hangman’s noose for Marc. This wasn’t a silly attempt to borrow guns. Mr. McDonald had told the officer-judges that Marc drilled men to fight; he acted like a rebel when he commanded the Napierville escort. Luc should have been worried out of his mind. Instead, he smiled as Mr. McDonald added details to his story.

When the magistrate finished, the prisoners began, one after another, to cross-examine him. He waited for their questions with a supercilious smile. Sophie thought it was his way of letting them know that he understood more law than they did. The magistrate also seemed to take great delight in pretending that he didn’t understand French, answering some questions with a dismissive shrug, others sarcastically. He was cruel as well, Sophie thought. One man had a stutter and it took him a long time to get his question out. McDonald answered them in French. Even Sophie, with her poor knowledge of the language, realized that he mocked the man by imitating his stutter.

Finally, Marc stood. Both Luc and Sophie leaned forward on the edge of their seats. In stark contrast to the prisoner before him, he analyzed the testimony against him systematically. “Mr. McDonald, did you really see me drilling men on the village square on Sunday the fourth? Is it possible you could have been mistaken, seeing that you had only a narrow slit to look through?”

The magistrate raised an eyebrow. “I was not mistaken. I saw you drill the men, just as I’ve testified.”

Marc tried unsuccessfully a couple of times to get him to change his story. “Tell me then,” he went on, seeming to give in, “why are you so positive that I was in charge of the group that escorted you from Châteauguay to Napierville the following Saturday? How is it possible that you didn’t see me between the Tuesday and the Saturday?”

Mr. McDonald smiled contemptuously. He looked first to the officer-judges and then back at Marc. “Just because I didn’t see you doesn’t mean that I couldn’t hear you,” he replied. “And, when you seemed away from the village, I assumed you were off fighting Her Majesty’s forces somewhere.”

Marc refused to be shaken. “Sir, was I or was I not in the village on the Thursday and Friday?”

“You were in the village for part of the time.”

“How do you know that, Mr. McDonald?”

“I know it because I saw you.”

“And on the Saturday, are you sure you are not mistaken? Remember, sir, you are still under oath. Are you positive that I commanded the men who took you to Napierville?”

This time the magistrate made no attempt to hide his contempt as he looked first at Marc and then at the officer-judges. “How many more times must I tell the court this? You were the man who walked beside me, taunting me the whole way.”

Marc obviously sensed the officers’ patience running out. “How can you be so certain it was me?” he asked hurriedly.

General Clitherow raised his gavel, but Mr. McDonald plainly was relishing his chance to be the centre of attention. “Because,” he replied, grandstanding once more as he pointed at Marc. “You, sir, have a face that once seen is not easily forgotten.”

Everyone laughed and Marc blushed. That last bit, about Marc’s good looks, Sophie thought, was the only part of the magistrate’s testimony that sounded true. Marc was exceptionally good-looking.

After Mr. McDonald was excused from the witness box, he strutted towards a seat in front of Sophie and Luc and sat there, smiling complacently. He had done his job. Deep in her heart, even Sophie wondered why Marc had challenged him by asking so many questions. He must have realized that the answers made his conviction more certain. Certainly, his cross-examination had not shaken the magistrate at all.

Luc’s smile, though, was wider than ever. “Why are you so happy?” she whispered. “What on earth do you have to smile about?”

Before he could answer, General Clitherow adjourned the court for luncheon. Everyone stood as the officer-judges left the room. Then Mr. Christie turned towards Luc and Sophie. “May I take you to lunch today?”

Sophie frowned, not sure if Lady Theo would approve. Luc, though, had no hesitations. “Sir, we’d be honoured if you would be our guest. We have a private parlour reserved at Orr’s, which is, I believe, your hotel.”

During lunch, while Luc told funny stories about his school, she distracted herself by looking around the private parlour. It was almost a replica of one at Rasco’s. Did every parlour in Montreal hotels look the same? she wondered. Well, not exactly the same, but they all seemed to have the same decor. At Rasco’s the striped wallpaper above the wainscoting was blue, to match its prized Wedgwood Willow patterned china. Here, at Orr’s, the wallpaper’s stripes were a soft wine colour and cream.

When Mr. Christie laughed, Sophie switched her attention back to Luc. The morning’s testimony should have scared every wit he had, she thought sourly. Instead, it appeared to have made him deliriously happy. Sophie wasn’t sure how to react. She didn’t understand his manic need to laugh or joke. Neither, apparently, did Mr. Christie. After the dirty plates had been cleared and tea and cakes brought in, he cleared his throat.

“You seem very cavalier about this morning’s testimony, young man. I thought you might need consolation. Instead, I find myself entertained.”

Luc sobered almost immediately. “I’m sorry. I feel desperately sorry for Mr. Cardinal and the others. I do. But, I’m so happy for Marc. He told a friend that he was going to set a trap and I think Mr. McDonald walked right into it. Otherwise, Marc would never have repeated the questions.”

Sophie thought back to the magistrate’s testimony. “I didn’t see any trap,” she said. “I thought Mr. McDonald was oily. I looked at the officers, though. They seemed to find him convincing.”

“Convincing? You’ll see.”

To Sophie’s surprise, Lady Theo arrived. She looked momentarily disconcerted to find Mr. Christie with them, and as Sophie introduced them she wondered if another scolding lay in store for her when they went home. After Mr. Christie resumed his conversation with Luc, Sophie whispered to Lady Theo, “I hope you don’t mind — about Mr. Christie, that is. He’s been kind to us.”

“It’s fine, child. I’m not upset with you.”

But you are upset, Sophie thought. “Did you find out anything new about Papa?”

She bit her lips when she realized that her whispered question had captured Mr. Christie’s attention, and turned to Lady Theo with an apprehensive shrug. “Mr. Christie’s a lawyer. Maybe he can help us.”

Lady Theo’s mouth thinned into a polite smile. “I doubt it.”

Mr. Christie looked embarrassed. “I’m not aware of your problem, my lady. If it has a legal nature or is something to do with the current political state, I’d like to offer my services. I’m in a unique position, you see. Beholden to no one. I’ve retired from my practice in the city of Quebec. Furthermore, I have no aspirations to be a judge or to go further in my profession. This means I’m answerable to no one, my lady.”

He broke off for a moment and seemed to consider what he was going to say carefully. “If your problem concerns the events of the past month, I understand that legal representation might be difficult to obtain, things being the way they are. No one wants to go against the government. At the moment, its powers seem limitless. Two judges have already been punished for deciding a case according to the law instead of the governor’s command. And, of course, there’s the future. Governments seem to have long memories and can affect a man’s livelihood as well as his career.”

As he shrugged, Sophie wondered what he meant. Her papa had always grumbled about governments’ short memories, but Lady Theo nodded in agreement.

That small nod of her head seemed to encourage Mr. Christie, for he continued. “What I meant, my lady, is that the government cannot intimidate me. I have nothing to lose. So if I could be of service, I’d be delighted to help.”

Lady Theo looked at him carefully, and Sophie could see her thinking something over. After a few seconds she smiled. “Well, sir, if you can explain why habeas corpus doesn’t work in this city, I’d be grateful.”

At the question, Mr. Christie’s face lit up. “My lady, the whole issue of habeas corpus has become very murky indeed this past year.”

“So I’ve gathered,” Lady Theo said dryly.

Sophie and Luc stared at each other in total incomprehension. “What’s habeas whatever?” Luc asked.

Mr. Christie cleared his throat. It was Lady Theo, though, who after a quick look at her watch, rushed to answer. “What it means in England, Luc, is that if someone is arrested, his family has to be told what prison he is in or where he is.”

“You mean….” Sophie suddenly understood why Lady Theo looked so angry and frustrated. She must have been trying to get the lawyers to use this habeas thing to find out where her papa was, and they couldn’t do it. But before she could finish her question, Lady Theo rose from the table.

“It’s time we headed back to the courtroom,” she announced, putting a hand on Luc’s shoulder. “Are you prepared for this?”

“I can’t wait, my lady. I’m positive that Marc will get off.”

When he nonchalantly flicked a speck of dust from his jacket, Sophie felt afraid. She could easily see that he believed the afternoon court session would be just as trivial as that speck. As he led the way back to the courthouse, he swaggered, and Sophie became even more frightened for him and his brother.

The Loon stared into the mirror Sister Marie-Josephte handed him.