Inside the room, a man in his mid-fifties sat behind a wide mahogany desk. A younger, bespectacled clerk occupied a smaller desk nearby.
Two chairs had been set before the desk in a prominent position. In one sat Hannah, the accused. In the other, Lady Mayfield,her primary accuser. Additional chairs lined the side wall for those waiting to be heard.
Seated beside Marianna, Hannah was again reminded of the two women they had seen sitting side by side in the village stocks. A tremor of premonition passed over her.
Lord Shirwell was stout and had thinning hair. Good-looking in his day, Hannah guessed, though showing signs of dissipation. His gaze roved the room. “And where is Sir John Mayfield? He ought to be present to witness this hearing and to give evidence.”
Lady Mayfield spoke up. “Word has been sent, your worship. But we don’t know how long it will be until my husband can return from Bristol. He is an invalid, you see, and cannot easily travel such a distance.”
Had word been sent? Hannah wondered. By whom? Would the post have even reached him by now? She doubted it.
Lord Shirwell frowned. “Then what is the hurry in holding this hearing? The next assizes is not for several weeks.”
“Why, your worship.” Marianna blinked innocently, pressing a hand to her mounded bosom. She was wearing one of the gowns formerly in Hannah’s possession, now taken back out to fit her. “We only want to see justice done. We fear if there is a delay, the guilty party might very well abscond before then.”
“Theaccused, my lady,” Lord Shirwell said. “She has yet to be proven guilty.”
“Of course, your worship. Forgive me, I misspoke.” Marianna favored him with one of her winning smiles and the man’s cold gaze warmed appreciably. Hannah knew it did not bode well for her.
The magistrate cleared his throat. “So that all in attendance are clear, let me summarize what will happen here today. This is not a trial, per se. I will hear the evidence against this person. If I am satisfied there is a case to answer, I will then determineif there is sufficient evidence to commit the accused to prison to await trial at the assizes.”
Prison ...Hannah shuddered at the word.
He turned toward Marianna. “Perhaps, Lady Mayfield, as the bringer of these charges, you might begin.”
Marianna dipped her pretty head in acknowledgement. “Very well, your worship.” She took a deep breath, causing her bosom to swell.
Hannah guessed the act had been intentional.
“As you may know, my husband and I, Sir John Mayfield, made it our intention to move to this lovely county a few months ago. He owns a house near the best neighbors anyone could ask for in the Parrishes.” She smiled at Dr. and Mrs. Parrish. Mrs. Parrish smiled in return, while Dr. Parrish stared blindly ahead.
Marianna continued, “Once arrangements were made, Sir John returned to Bath to collect me. Our servants had no wish to relocate, and we relished the notion of hiring knowledgeable local people when we arrived.”
Lies, Hannah thought. Marianna had been vexed not to be able to bring her own servants. Hannah knew pointing it out, however, would not help her case.
“But just as we were preparing to leave Bath, this person, Miss Hannah Rogers, appeared at our door. She had left our employ about half a year before, without notice or explanation. Of course, now we know she left as her condition began to show—left to have a child in secret.” Marianna lowered her voice and managed to look properly shocked. “And her not married. But I am getting ahead of myself.” She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule before continuing. “When Miss Rogers came to me, she made no mention of a child. She said only that she was in dire need of a post. I consulted my husband, and we agreed. Although not our preference, we could not in Christian charity turn our back on a former member of our staff in need.”
Hannah squeezed the arms of her chair.More lies...
“So, Miss Rogers traveled with us in our chariot from Somerset to Devon, leaving her infant behind. Though had we known she was abandoning her child, we never would have agreed to take her with us.”
Indignation shot through Hannah. “I wasnotabandoning him—”
“Silence, Miss Rogers,” Lord Shirwell commanded. “You will have your chance to speak soon enough.” He returned his gaze to Marianna. “Go on, my lady.”
“Thank you, your worship.” She smiled wanly. “Now, you have likely heard of the terrible accident that befell us, when our carriage slipped from the road, over the cliff, and partway into the sea. And the unfortunate loss of the young driver. A loss I did not hear about until recently and which grieves me still to think of it...” Here she dabbed dry eyes with her lace handkerchief.
Hannah was surprised Marianna had not tried to blame her for the accident and the poor man’s death as well.
Marianna continued, “I don’t know exactly what happened immediately after the crash, for I believe I lost sensibility. I seem to remember Miss Rogers pulling my ring from my finger, but she says she grabbed my hand as the tide pulled me through a hole in the carriage and somehow the ring came off in her hand. Of course, she also claims to have lost all sensibility after the accident, so who can say how my valuable ring ended up in her possession? I believe I floated on a piece of wreckage, part of the broken carriage perhaps. By the time I awoke, I was a great distance away and quite disoriented. I must have sustained a near-fatal blow to my head, for I could no more remember my name than how I came to be floating in the Bristol Channel. Thankfully, God sent his angels in the form of fishermen. The men hauled me into their boat and revived me. They delivered me to the next port, in Wales, and left me with a kindly innkeeperthere. I stayed with her for some time, having no inkling of who I was. Eventually the good woman realized that with my gown, tattered as it was, and my speech and bearing, I was a person of education and breeding. She suggested I travel to London and see if anyone there might recognize me and help me learn my true identity. It was very frightening, traveling by stage, all alone, not knowing where I was going and what I might find awaiting me....”
Everyone hung on her words, Hannah saw. What a gothic storyteller she was. Had she rehearsed this, or was she making it up as she went along?
“In London, I began to have flashes of memory,” Marianna went on. “Then I happened into a man, a friend of Sir John’s solicitor, as it turns out, who recognized me. You cannot know what a relief it was to hear my own name and have it all come back. To remember my beloved husband and the life we had planned together here in Devonshire. As soon as I was able, I made plans to return to him.”
She even managed to explain the sighting of her in London, Hannah realized with mounting dread.
“Imagine my devastation when I arrived at Clifton House, hoping to be reunited with my dear husband, and the housekeeper informed me Sir John had left for Bristol, but I might see ‘Lady Mayfield’ if I liked. In came Hannah into my drawing room, as snug and smug as any duchess or Drury Lane actress—even wearing one of my gowns, made over to fit her. My former companion, posing as me, mistress of the place and Sir John’s wife. Imagine my shock.”
