The foreman approached the bench.

The judge said: “Have you reached a verdict?”

“We have.”

Mack held his breath.

“And how do you find the prisoner?”

“We find him guilty as charged.”

Lady Hallim said: “Your feeling for this miner is rather strange, my dear. A husband might find it objectionable.”

“Oh, Mother, don’t be so ridiculous.”

There was a knock at the dining room door and a footman came in. “The Reverend Mr. York, madam,” he said.

“What a lovely surprise!” said Mother. She had always been fond of York. In a low voice she added: “His wife died, Lizzie—did I tell you?—leaving him with three children.”

“But what’s he doing here?” Lizzie said anxiously. “He’s supposed to be at the Old Bailey. Show him in, quickly.”

The pastor came in, looking as if he had dressed hastily. Before Lizzie could ask him why he was not at the trial he said something that momentarily took her mind off Mack.

“Lady Hallim, Mrs. Jamisson, I arrived in London a few hours ago, and I’ve called on you at the earliest possible moment to offer you both my sympathies. What a dreadful—”

Lizzie’s mother said, “No—” then clamped her lips tight.

“—blow to you.”

Lizzie shot a puzzled look at her mother and said: “What are you talking about, Mr. York?”

“The pit disaster, of course.”

“I don’t know anything about it—although I see my mother does.…”

“My goodness, I’m terribly sorry to have shocked you. There was a roof collapse at your pit, and twenty people were killed.”

Lizzie gasped. “How absolutely dreadful.” In her mind she saw twenty new graves in the little churchyard by the bridge. There would be so much grief: everyone in the neighborhood would be mourning someone. But something else worried her. “What do you mean when you say ‘your’ pit?”

“High Glen.”

Lizzie went cold. “There is no pit at High Glen.”

“Only the new one, of course—the one that was begun when you married Mr. Jamisson.”

Lizzie felt frozen with rage. She rounded on her mother. “You knew, didn’t you?”

Lady Hallim had the grace to look ashamed. “My dear, it was the only thing to do. That’s why Sir George gave you the Virginia property—”

“You betrayed me!” Lizzie cried. “You all deceived me. Even my husband. How could you? How could you lie to me?”

Her mother began to cry. “We thought you’d never know. You’re going to America—”

Her tears did nothing to blunt Lizzie’s outrage. “You thought I’d never know? I can hardly believe my ears!”

“Don’t do anything rash, I beg you.”

An awful thought struck Lizzie. She turned to the pastor. “Mack’s twin sister …”

“I’m afraid Esther McAsh was among the dead,” he said.

“Oh, no.” Mack and Esther were the first twins Lizzie had ever seen, and she had been fascinated by them. As children they were hard to tell apart until you got to know them. In later life Esther looked like a female Mack, with the same striking green eyes and the miner’s squat muscularity. Lizzie remembered them a few short months ago, standing side by side outside the church. Esther had told Mack to shut his gob, and that had made Lizzie laugh. Now Esther was dead and Mack was about to be condemned to death—

Remembering Mack, she said: “The trial is today!”

York said: “Oh, my goodness, I didn’t know it was so soon—am I too late?”

“Perhaps not, if you go now.”

“I will. How far is it?”

“Fifteen minutes’ walk, five minutes in a sedan chair. I’m coming with you.”

Mother said: “No, please—”

Lizzie made her voice harsh. “Don’t try to stop me, Mother. I’m going to plead for Mack’s life myself. We killed the sister—perhaps we can save the brother.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Lady Hallim.

* * *

The Sessions Yard was crammed with people. Lizzie was confused and lost, and neither York nor her mother was any help. She pushed through the crowd, searching for Gordonson or Mack. She came to a low wall that enclosed an inner yard and at last saw Mack and Caspar Gordonson through the railings. When she called, Gordonson came out through a gate.

At the same time Sir George and Jay appeared.

Jay said in a reproving tone: “Lizzie, why are you here?”

She ignored him and spoke to Gordonson: “This is the Reverend Mr. York, from our village in Scotland. He’s come to plead for Mack’s life.”

Sir George wagged a finger at York. “If you’ve got any sense you’ll turn around and go straight back to Scotland.”

Lizzie said: “And I’m going to plead for his life, too.”

“Thank you,” Gordonson said fervently. “It’s the best thing you could possibly do.”

Lady Hallim said: “I tried to stop her, Sir George.”

Jay flushed with anger and grabbed Lizzie by the arm, squeezing hard. “How dare you humiliate me like this?” he spat. “I absolutely forbid you to speak!”

“Are you intimidating this witness?” said Gordonson.

Jay looked cowed and let go. A lawyer with a bundle of papers pushed through the middle of their little group. Jay said: “Do we have to have this discussion here where the whole world can see?”

“Yes,” said Gordonson. “We can’t leave the court.”

Sir George said to Lizzie: “What the devil do you mean by this, my girl?”

The arrogant tone maddened Lizzie. “You know damn well what I mean by it,” she said. The men were all startled to hear her swear, and two or three people standing nearby turned and looked at her. She ignored their reactions. “You all planned this riot to trap McAsh. I’m not going to stand by and see you hang him.”

Sir George reddened. “Remember that you’re my daughter-in-law and—”

“Shut up, George,” she interrupted. “I won’t be bullied.”

He was thunderstruck. No one ever told him to shut up, she was sure.

Jay took up the cudgels. “You can’t go against your own husband,” he stormed. “It’s disloyal!”

“Disloyal?” she repeated scornfully. “Who the hell are you to talk to me about loyalty? You swore to me that you would not mine coal on my land—then went ahead and did exactly that. You betrayed me on our wedding day!”

They all went quiet, and for a moment Lizzie could hear a witness giving evidence loudly on the other side of the wall. “You know about the accident, then,” said Jay.

She took a deep breath. “I might as well say now that Jay and I will be leading separate lives from today. We’ll be married in name only. I shall return to my house in Scotland, and none of the Jamisson family will be welcomed there. As for my speaking up for McAsh: I’m not going to help you hang my friend, and you can both—both—kiss my arse.”

Sir George was too stupefied to say anything. No one had spoken to him this way for years. He was beetroot red, his eyes bulged, and he spluttered, but no words came out.

Caspar Gordonson addressed Jay. “May I make a suggestion?”

Jay gave him a hostile glare but said curtly: “Go on, go on.”

“Mrs. Jamisson might be persuaded not to testify—on one condition.”

“What?”

“You, Jay, should plead for Mack’s life.”

“Absolutely not,” said Jay.

Gordonson went on: “It would be just as effective. But it would save the family the embarrassment of a wife going against her husband in open court.” He suddenly looked sly. “Instead, you would look magnanimous. You could say that Mack was a miner in the Jamisson pits and for that reason the family wishes to be merciful.”

Lizzie’s heart leaped with hope. A plea for mercy from Jay, the officer who had quelled the riot, would be much more effective.

She could see hesitation flicker across Jay’s face as he weighed the consequences. Then he said sulkily: “I suppose I have to accept this.”

Before Lizzie had time to feel exultant, Sir George intervened. “There’s one condition, which I know Jay will insist upon.”

Lizzie had a bad feeling that she knew what was coming.