EXCERPT: Cometh the Hour

Excerpt // Cometh the Hour by Jeffrey Archer

THE JURY WAS OUT.

The judge had asked the seven men and five women to make one final effort to reach a verdict. Mrs Justice Lane instructed them to return the following morning. She was beginning to think a hung jury was the most likely outcome. The moment she stood up, everyone in the well of the court rose and bowed. The judge returned the compliment, but it wasn't until she had left the court that a babble of chatter erupted.

'Would you be kind enough to accompany me back to my chambers, Mrs Clifton,' said Donald Trelford, 'so we can discuss the contents of Major Fisher's letter, and whether they should be made public.'

Emma nodded. 'I'd like my husband and brother to join us, if that's possible, as I know Sebastian has to get back to work.'

'Of course,' said Trelford, who gathered up his papers and, without another word, led them out of the courtroom and down the wide marble staircase to the ground floor. As they stepped out on to the Strand, a pack of baying journalists, accompanied by flashing cameras, once again surrounded them, and dogged their steps as they made their way slowly across to the QC's chambers.

They were finally left alone once they'd arrived at Lincoln's Inn, an ancient square full of neat-looking town houses that were in fact chambers occupied by barristers and their clerks. Mr Trelford led them up a creaky wooden staircase to the top floor of No.11, passing rows of names printed neatly in black on the snow-white walls.

When Emma entered Mr Trelford's office, she was surprised to see how small it was, but then there are no large offices in Lincoln's Inn, even if you are the head of chambers.

Once they were all seated, Mr Trelford looked across at the woman who sat opposite him. Mrs Clifton appeared calm and composed, even stoical, which was rare for someone who was facing the possibility of defeat and humiliation, unless . . . He unlocked the top drawer of his desk, extracted a file and handed copies of Major Fisher's letter to Mr and Mrs Clifton and Sir Giles Barrington. The original remained locked in his safe, although he was in no doubt that Lady Virginia had somehow got hold of the copy he had with him in court.

Once they had all read the letter, hand-written on House of Commons paper, Trelford said firmly, 'If you will allow me to present this as evidence in open court, Mrs Clifton, I am confident we can win the case.'

'That is out of the question,' said Emma, handing her copy back to Trelford. 'I could never allow that,' she added with the dignity of a woman who knew that the decision might not only destroy her but also hand victory to her adversary.

'Will you at least allow your husband and Sir Giles to offer their opinion?'

Giles didn't wait for Emma's permission. 'Of course it must be seen by the jury, because once it has, they'll come down unanimously in your favour and, more importantly, Virginia will never be able to show her face in public again.'

'Possibly,' said Emma calmly, 'but at the same time, you would have to withdraw your candidacy for the by-election, and this time the Prime Minister won't be offering you a seat in the House of Lords as compensation. And you can be sure of one thing,' she added. 'Your ex-wife will consider destroying your political career a far greater prize than defeating me. No, Mr Trelford,' she continued, not looking at her brother, 'this letter will remain a family secret, and we will all have to live with

the consequences.'

'That's pig-headed of you, sis,' said Giles, swinging round. 'Perhaps I don't want to spend the rest of my life feeling responsible for you losing the case and having to stand down as chairman of Barrington's. And don't forget, you'll also have to pay Virginia's legal costs, not to mention

whatever compensation the jury decide to award her.'

'It's a price worth paying,' said Emma.

'Pig-headed,' repeated Giles, a decibel louder. 'And I'll bet Harry agrees with me.'

They all turned towards Harry, who didn't need to read the letter a second time, as he could have repeated it word for word. However, he was torn between wishing to support his oldest friend and not wanting his wife to lose her libel case. What John Buchan once described as being 'between a rock and a hard place'.

'It's not my decision to make,' said Harry. 'But if it were my future that was hanging by a thread, I'd want Fisher's letter to be read out in court.'

'Two to one,' said Giles.

'My future isn't hanging by a thread,' said Emma.

'And you're right, my darling, the final decision is mine.'

Without another word, she rose from her place, shook hands with her counsel and said, 'Thank you, Mr Trelford. We'll see you in court tomorrow morning, when the jury will decide our fate.'

Trelford bowed, and waited for the door to close behind them before he murmured to himself, 'She should have been christened Portia.