Page 69 of Speculations in Sin

“Yes, I know where it is.” Sir Rupert’s eyes lit. “A historic museum is good. They went to improve their minds and fell in love.”

“I suppose.” Joanna had gone because I’d told her about the curiosities collected by Mr. Soane, the architect who’d lived and worked about a hundred years ago. My mother had scrubbed floors in the museum. Sam had chosen to enter, he explained to me years later, because he’d seen Joanna stroll inside. He’d thought her the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and decided to take a chance and speak to her.

I didn’t correct Sir Rupert. Sam happening upon Joanna while seeking to improve his mind made him sound a more upright character than a man who’d simply seen a pretty girl and followed her.

“He eschewed his old life and reformed himself for her, did he?” Sir Rupert went on.

“As you say.” This was more or less the truth. Sam had already decided to shuck his former acquaintances and embrace thestraight and narrow at that point, but meeting Joanna had set him more firmly on this path.

“They married respectably in a church and settled down to have a family,” Sir Rupert went on.

Why he needed my view when he had already decided on the tale, I didn’t know. “They did,” I said. “Two boys and two girls. Mr. Millburn worked in a shop, and one of the Daalman’s bankers was a regular customer. He thought Mr. Millburn trustworthy enough to recommend him for a post at the bank.”

“That was Mr. Kearny, wasn’t it?” Sir Rupert said. “He might make a decent character witness. Staked his reputation on Millburn, and knew he was a good man through and through.”

“Mr. Kearny is of nervous disposition,” I said. “He might dither in the witness box.”

“I will note that, Mrs. Holloway. Though I think you would face judge and jury without a qualm.”

“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind,” I said quickly. I’d never been on trial at the Old Bailey, but my time against a magistrate at the Bow Street nick had made me never want to enter a courtroom again.

“It might not be necessary,” Sir Rupert assured me. “If I can put together a pattern of Millburn’s movements that morning, and prove he was far from the bank at the time in question, then the prosecution will be hard-pressed to make a case.”

“He went out for eggs.” I gave him the tale Sam had told me.

“Hmm.” Sir Rupert looked less hopeful. “Well, we will find witnesses to place him every step of the way, including the vendor from whom he purchased the eggs.”

“In Leadenhall Market,” I said glumly. “Which is around the corner from the bank.”

“Ah. Well, he certainly was determined to fit himself up for murder, wasn’t he?” Sir Rupert ran a hand through his darkhair. “It is not hopeless, ladies,” he added. “Good job Miss Townsend sent forme, isn’t it?”

He thought much of himself, did Sir Rupert, but as long as he fought for Sam, I wouldn’t complain about his arrogance.

“I’m surprised whoever it is decided to try to get Mr. Millburn on murder,” Sir Rupert mused. “Always hard to prove, unless the person is seen plunging the knife into the body, and even then, a good barrister can make the witnesses uncertain of what actually happened. Embezzlement is easier to foist on another, especially if the accused is found with coffers of money buried in his cellar and living in a beautiful house with a carriage and four horses, his wife in silks and jewels.”

“None of that will be found with Sam,” I said. “They are happy they can pay the rent on their small house off Cheapside.”

“Then what happened to the money they say he took, eh?” Sir Rupert asked the question to the air, not expecting an answer. “Something for Mr. Crowe, the solicitor, to diligently investigate.”

I had some ideas about the money and planned to diligently investigate myself, but I said nothing about that.

“As you can see, Mrs. Holloway, the way we will go at this case is to focus on Millburn’s character. A moral man who has wrested himself from his terrible past and now lives a blameless life. Picked out as a scapegoat by whatever villain stole money from this bank and killed a man inside it, precisely because Millburn hails from the laboring classes. Snobbery by the high-and-mighty in the bank. The jury will like that. They probably are tired of haughty bankers looking down their noses at them every time they go to make a withdrawal. Everyone worries about their overdraft.”

Another reason I kept my money myself. People teetered on the brink of bankruptcy all the time using funds they didn’thave, on the promise that they’d eventually put the money into their accounts. I could not live with that uneasiness.

“I say, Rupes,” Cynthia broke in. “Shouldn’t we find out who actually committed the murder and the embezzlement? Then Mr. Millburn will be absolved of all wrongdoing.”

Sir Rupert sank deeper into the sofa, stretching his arms across its back. “That is the job of the police,” he said comfortably. “Oftentimes, a murder is never solved, at least not satisfactorily. My task is to sow enough doubt in the minds of the jury that they return a verdict of Not Guilty. Nothing more.”

“Which he will do,” Miss Townsend assured me in her quiet tones.

Sir Rupert winced. “When Judith says one must accomplish a thing, one must. And so, I will.”

I wondered what sort of favor Sir Rupert owed Miss Townsend. Quite a large one, from the wry resignation with which he viewed her.

I had little doubt that Sir Rupert was a very good barrister. He likely would make certain the jury sympathized with Sam. It depended on the prosecutor as well—a hostile and determined one could turn the tide at any moment. The judges, from what those who had gone through the process had told me, often sided with the prosecutor. The notion that if a man was truly innocent, he’d never be arrested at all was a hard held one in many people’s minds.

Sir Rupert had me go over again what a good, kind, loving husband and father was Sam. Only one of his many questions unnerved me.

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