Death at Balfefield Abbey

Chapter 29, Dublin, 1904

Sir Clive was leaving the cells below the courtroom as Sullivan arrived. "Ah, very good," he said, "so my clerk managed to find you before you'd left the courtroom."

"Is Miranda alright?" asked Sullivan. The note passed to her by the clerk requested she come urgently but provided no explanation."

"Yes, yes, quite capital, under the circumstances. Waiting for a jury's verdict is a trying business, even for the most stout-hearted. I thought she'd benefit from the company of a friend in her hour of need."

"Of course. The situation must be unbearable," replied Sullivan. She had never quite thought of herself before as Miranda's friend, but she supposed, having spent so much time with her in Kilmainham Gaol while gathering material for the book, she was now the closest to such a thing in the other woman's life. "Are you optimistic about the verdict?"

Sir Clive gave her a quizzical look, before saying, "If the jury takes an impartial view of the evidence and testimony presented during the trial, they cannot do otherwise than exonerate my client and find her not guilty of the charge."

"I am not asking you as a correspondent looking for a quote, but out of genuine concern for Miranda."

Sir Clive thought for a moment and exhaled deeply before he answered. "The truth is juries are far less predictable than one would imagine. It only takes one or two jurors to have a strongly held opinion on guilt or innocence, often based on nothing other than their inherent prejudices, and the rest of the flock will follow their lead. All we can do now is hope and plead with the almighty. The only thing I can be certain of is my gout is playing up today. Never a good omen."

When Clara entered the cell, Miranda rose from her chair at a table in the center of the room and rushed towards her, and took both her hands. The room was cool, but the hands of the prisoner were hot and clammy. The guard clanked the heavy door shut, leaving the two women alone.

"Thank you so much for coming," said Miranda. "I so longed to see a friendly face."

Clara could not recall, during the many visits to her cell, ever seeing Miranda, so lacking in that self-assured poise that was always so apparent. "Have they told you how long it may take before the jury will return with a verdict?"

"No. All Sir Clive would advise is for me to be patient. He thinks the longer they take the more likely they will find in my favor. Apparently, men are quite squeamish when it comes to sending a woman to the gallows. If they are still out by this evening, I'm to be returned to the gaol and brought back here in the morning."

They sat in silence for a while, on either side of the small table, Miranda still holding her hand.

"Many people are wondering, myself included I must admit, why you didn't take to the witness stand," said Clara.

"It was a possibility for a while and I was perfectly willing to do so, but it was Sir Clive's advice that it was unnecessary. In his opinion, sufficient inroads had been made into the Crown's case. Then your revelations about Parker and Turnbull really set the cat among the pigeons. Placing me on the stand, according to him, would have presented the prosecution with the opportunity to undermine me in the eyes of the jury."

"How so?"

"If he were the prosecutor, Sir Clive told me, he would question me in great detail—first about my relationship with Matthew, then about my feelings for Arabella. It would quickly become obvious to the jury that I still held my brother in higher regard than poor Arabella. Unless I lied or pretended otherwise—something the jury might sense, and it could prejudice their view of me."

"When a defendant takes the stand, Sir Clive told me, it's usually out of desperation, a last throw of the dice, and he didn't feel it was a justifiable risk in my case."