“That must be a great comfort to you,” Hester said, then found it sounded hollow the moment her words were out. “I mean to know that he was so admired.”

“We knew it anyway,” Felicia said without looking at her. “Everyone admired Thaddeus. He was a leader among men. His officers thought he was a hero, his troops would follow him anywhere. Had the gift of command, you see?” She looked at Hester, eyes wide. “He knew how to inspire loyalty because he was always fair. He punished cowardice and dishonesty; he praised courage and honor, and duty. He never denied a man his right, and never charged a man unless he was sure that man was guilty. He kept total discipline, but the men loved him for it.”

“Have to in the army,” Randolph added, glaring at Hester. “Do you know what happens when there is no discipline, girl? Army falls to pieces under fire. Every man for himself. Un-British! Frightful! A soldier must obey his superior at all times-instantly.”

“Yes I do know,” Hester said without thinking, but from the depth of her own feeling. “Sometimes it's glorious, and sometimes it's unmitigated disaster.”

Randolph's face darkened. “What the devil do you mean, girl? What on earth do you know about it? Damned impertinence! I'll have you know I fought in the Peninsular War, and at Waterloo against the emperor of the French, and beat him too.”

“Yes, Colonel Carlyon.” She met his eyes without flinching. She felt a pity for him as a man; he was old, bereaved, muddle-headed and becoming more than a little maudlin. But soldierlike she stood her ground. “And magnificent campaigns they were, none more brilliant in all our history. But times have changed. And some of our commanders have not changed with them. They fought the Crimea with the same tactics, and they were not good enough. A soldier's blind obedience is only as good as his commander's knowledge of the situation and skill in combat.”

“Thaddeus was brilliant,” Felicia said icily. “He never lost a major campaign and no soldier forfeited his life because of any incompetence of his.”

“Certainly not,” Randolph added, and slid a fraction farther down in his seat, hiccuping.

“We all know he was a very good soldier, Papa,” Edith said quietly. “And I am glad that men who served with him have written to say how grieved they are he is gone. It is a wonderful thing to have been so admired.”

“He was more than admired,” Felicia said quickly. “He was also loved.”

“The obituaries have been excellent,” Peverell put in. “Few men have had their passing marked by such respect.”

“It is appalling that this whole disaster was ever allowed to progress this far,” Felicia said with a tight expression in her face, blinking as if to avoid tears.

“I don't know what you mean.” Damaris looked at her perplexedly. “Progress to what?”

“To trial, of course.” Felicia's face puckered with anger and distress. “It should have been dealt with long before it ever got so far.” She turned to Peverell. “I blame you for that. I expected you to cope with it and see that Thaddeus's memory was not subjected to vulgar speculation; and that Alexandra's madness, and it must be said, wickedness, was not made a public sensation for the worst elements of humanity to revel in. As a lawyer, you should have been able to do it, and as a member of this family, I would have thought your loyalty to us would have seen that you did.”

“That's unfair,” Damaris said immediately, her face hot and her eyes bright. “Just because one is a lawyer does not mean one can do anything one likes with the law. In fact just the opposite. Peverell has a trust towards the law, an obligation, which none of the rest of us have. I don't know what you think he could have done!”

“I think he could have certified Alexandra as insane and unfit to stand trial,” Felicia snapped. “Instead of encouraging her to get a lawyer who will drag all our lives before the public and expose all our most private emotions to the gaze of the common people so they can decide something we all know anyway-that Alexandra murdered Thaddeus. For God's sake, she doesn't deny it!”

Cassian sat white-faced, his eyes on his grandmother.

“Why?” he said, a very small voice in the silence.

Hester and Felicia spoke at once.

“We don't know,” Hester said.

“Because she is sick,” Felicia cut across her. She turned to Cassian. “There are sicknesses of the body and sicknesses of the mind. Your mother is ill in her brain, and it caused her to do a very dreadful thing. It is best you try not to think of it, ever again.” She reached out towards him tentatively, then changed her mind. “Of course it will be difficult, but you are a Carlyon, and you are brave. Think of your father, what a great man he was and how proud he was of you. Grow up to be like him.” For a moment her voice caught, too thick with tears to continue. Then she mastered herself with an effort so profound it was painfully visible. “You can do that. We shall help you, your grandfather and I, and your aunts.”

Cassian said nothing, but turned and looked very carefully at his grandfather, his eyes somber. Then slowly he smiled, a shy, uncertain smile, and his eyes filled with tears. He sniffed hard, swallowed, and everyone turned away from him so as not to intrude.

“Will they call him at the trial?” Damaris asked anxiously.

“Of course not.” Felicia dismissed the idea as absurd. “What on earth could he know?”

Damaris turned to Peverell, her eyes questioning.

“I don't know,” he answered. “But I doubt it.”

Felicia stared at him. “Well for heaven's sake do something useful! Prevent it! He is only eight years old!”

“I cannot prevent it, Mama-in-law,” he said patiently.”If either the prosecution or the defense wishes to call him, then the judge will decide whether Cassian is competent to give evidence or not. If the judge decides he is, then Cassian will do so.”

“You shouldn't have allowed it to come to trial,” she repeated furiously. “She has confessed. What good can it do anyone to parade the whole wretched affair before a court? They will hang her anyway.” Her eyes hardened and she glanced across the table. “And don't look at me like that, Damaris! The poor child will have to know one day. Perhaps it is better we don't lie to him, and he knows now. But if Peverell had seen to it that she was put away in Bedlam, it wouldn't be necessary to face the problem at all.”

“How could he do that?” Damaris demanded. “He isn't a doctor.”

“I don't think she is mad anyway,” Edith interrupted.

“Be quiet,” Felicia snapped. “Nobody wants to know what you think. Why would a sane woman murder your brother?”

“I don't know,” Edith admitted. “But she has a right to defend herself. And Peverell, or anyone else, ought to wish that she gets it…”

“Your brother should be your first concern,” Felicia said grimly. “And the honor of your family your next. I realize you were very young when he first left home and went into the army, but you knew him. You were aware what a brave and honorable man he was.” Her voice quivered for the first time in Hester's hearing. “Have you no love in you? Does his memory mean no more to you than some smart intellectual exercise in what is legally this or that? Where is your natural feeling, girl?”

Edith flushed hotly, her eyes miserable.

“I cannot help Thaddeus now, Mama.”

“Well you certainly cannot help Alexandra,” Felicia added.

“We know Thaddeus was a good man,” Damaris said gently. “Of course Edith knows it. But she is a lot younger, and she never knew him as I did. He was always just a strange young man in a soldier's uniform whom everyone praised. But I know how kind he could be, and how understanding. And although he disciplined his men in the army, and made no allowances or bent any rules, with other people he could be quite different, I know. He was…” Suddenly she stopped, gave a funny little half smile, half sigh, and bit her lip. There was intense pain in her face. She avoided Peverell's eyes.