Page 64 of Romancing the Scot
“And not one of them wields as handsome a cane as this one.” She shook the walking stick threateningly at him. “So if you’ll be so kind as to put me down, m’lord, I’ll use it to accompany you to your study.”
Hugh took the last step and gently stood Grace on her feet. He loved winning her over.
Before they could move a step, Mrs. Henson appeared out of nowhere to ask about the injured ankle. No sooner did the housekeeper have an answer than the butler arrived and wished to know if Miss Grace would be joining the family in the dining room tonight. Hugh knew Jo had already curtailed invitations to outside guests, and he watched Grace’s face as Simons told her that “aside from the immediate family, the only guests would be Mr. and Mrs. Truscott.”
When she hesitated, Hugh was about to answer for her, but thought better of it. Grace had an independence unlike any other woman he’d ever known. She’d looked after her father’s affairs on the Continent and in America, during the chaotic times of war and since the peace. Her insight and bluntness that night in the library about his blind prejudice had forever changed him. She was accustomed to thinking and making decisions for herself, regardless of how trivial or how significant.
“Thank you, Mr. Simons,” she replied after a pause. “I’d like to join the family this evening, if it’s not too much trouble.”
In response, the butler practically cooed. Hugh would have done the same if she’d turned her blue eyes on him and smiled.
“Pray tell me about this ‘tricky’ case, m’lord,” she said, as they started off toward his study.
As they walked, Hugh told her about Jean Campbell’s case, explaining that the Irish woman, a deaf-mute, had been charged with the drowning murder of her child. Because of her situation, she’d not been able to make a statement. Confused and generally distraught, the woman had been held in the Glasgow prison for six months while the judges remained in a deadlock over whether she was fit to stand trial. And now the case had been referred to his court.
“So she doesn’t know how to read or write.”
“That’s correct,” Hugh replied. “And I’ve received more information that damages the case for the defense, negligible as it is already. Her neighbors in Glasgow speak fondly of her. They assert that she’s hardworking and always showed herself to be an affectionate mother to her children.”
“How does that hurt her defense?”
“Because they also say that just days before allegedly throwing her three-year-old into the River Clyde, she’d been betrayed and deserted by her husband.”
“So you think a jury would see revenge as the motive for her action. She wanted to strike back at him by killing his child.”
“Exactly.” Hugh could not help but admire her mind. Grace had an astuteness that lent itself to the legal business. “And unfortunately, juries are not sympathetic to afflictions such as hers. The common prejudice is that her deafness is some punishment ordained by God. Some hidden moral failure. Added to that, because most Scots learn to read and write as children; this woman’s lack of education—along with the fact that she’s an Irish immigrant—will surely taint a jury’s view of her. If she stands trial, her chances of acquittal are practically nil.”
They walked into his study. He motioned to a chair next to the wall of bookcases, and she took a seat.
“But if she doesn’t stand trial because she’s unfit,” he told her, “she’ll be confined for the rest of her days in an asylum.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Is it because of what I said? Is it because she’s Irish?”
Hugh thought about that for a moment. “I was ignorant of her plight until you reminded me of my duty. But I’m doing it because I believe that a person is innocent until proven guilty. I don’t know all the facts, but I don’t want the law to imprison or execute this woman unjustly, no matter where she came from.”
Hugh moved an upholstered bench in front her and, before she could protest, carefully lifted and placed her injured leg on it.
“So this woman may not even know what she’s being charged with,” Grace said. “And she’s been unable to give her side of what happened. How can she defend herself?”
“This is at the heart of the matter. She can’t. She will have no able lawyer to represent her because she’s poor and because she’s unable to speak for herself.”
“Someonemustspeak for her,” Grace exclaimed. “Someone needs to communicate with her.”
“My thinking exactly. I know a man by the name of Kinniburgh who runs the Edinburgh School for the Deaf and Dumb. My clerk Branson is arranging for him to meet with Mrs. Campbell. I’m hopeful Kinniburgh will be able to converse with her.”
Hugh paced the room.
“But it may not be enough. Before this case goes to trial, if it does, we must provide the defense that she cannot. We must see that the law actsforher as much as it actsagainsther.” He stopped and faced Grace. “As it stands now, a woman who may be innocent will either hang for murder or rot in a madhouse, which would be a fate worse than death. And with either outcome, her children will go to the workhouse and, if they survive that, eventually wind up on the street.”
The effect of his words cast a shadow across her fair features. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to findeverydecided case in Scottish law in which a deaf-mute person faced criminal charges. I need a summary of the facts of each case, the arguments presented that are relevant to the defendant’s affliction, and the rulings of the court.”
Grace turned to her task. “Where should I start?”
Hugh took down three large volumes. “You must start by becoming a better lawyer than anyone who might be dragged forward to represent her. These two books contain David Hume’sCritical Commentarieson Scottish criminal law. The third contains hisSupplemental Notesand cases. Start with those.”
He moved along the wall.
