The Silent Cry

"Yes… more or less." It was a terrible admission, and she could not make it easily. Her voice sounded tight and brittle.

"I see." He sat silently for several moments, deep in thought, and she did not interrupt him. He looked up. "Have they anything to link Rhys or his companions who are they, do you know?”

"Yes, Arthur and Marmaduke Kynaston. They answer the descriptions given, and one girl, who actually named Rhys, named them also, Arthur and Duke. He is known as Duke.”

"I see." He nodded very slightly. "Were they injured at the time Rhys was, do you know?”

"Yes, I do know, and no, they do not appear to have been." She realised what he was thinking. "But that only makes them cowards as well!”

"I am afraid so. But can anyone place any of the three in Seven Dials, or co

"Not so far as I know.”

"And is there evidence to prove these rapes are not random, committed by several people? There must be many rapes in London in a week.”

"I don't think many are carried out by three men together, answering the descriptions of one tall and slight, one average and one slender, and all three gentlemen, arriving and leaving by hansom," she said bleakly.

He sighed. "You sound as if you believe him guilty, Hester. Do you?”

She did not want to answer. Now that the question was put so bluntly, and she faced Rathbone's clever, subtle gaze which would not permit evasion, and to whom she could not lie, she must make a decision.

He waited.

"He says he didn't," she answered very slowly, choosing her words. "I am not sure what he remembers. It frightens him, horrifies him. I think maybe when he says that, he is saying what he wishes were true.

Perhaps he does not entirely know.”

"But you think physically, for whatever reason, he committed the act,” he said.

"Yes… yes, I think so. I can't avoid it.”

"Then what is it you wish me to do?”

"Help him… I…" Now she realised how much she was being emotional rather than rational, not only regarding Rhys, but in her plea to Rathbone. Still she could not turn aside from doing it, even now she was aware. "Please, Oliver? I don't know how it happened, or why he should have let himself fall into such a desperate situation. I… I can't argue anything in mitigation for him… I don't know what there is, I just have to believe there is something." She looked at his face with its humour and intelligence, sometimes so cool and just now, gazing back at her, so gentle.

She forced herself to think of Rhys, his terror, his helplessness.

"Maybe it is not justice I'm asking for, but mercy? He needs someone to speak for him…" She gave a painful little laugh. "Even literally! I don't believe he's purely evil. I've spent too many hours with him, close to him. I've watched his pain. If he did these things, there must be some reason, at least some cause, which explained it to him! I mean…”

"You mean insanity," he finished for her.

"No, I don't "Yes, you do, my dear." His voice was very patient, trying not to hurt her more than he had to. "A young man doesn't rape and beat women he doesn't know, then murder his father because he found out, if he is anything that ordinary men and women would recognise as sane. Whether the law will make the same nature of distinction I don't know. I very much doubt it." His eyes were filled with sadness. "It is precise as to what insanity is, and the fact that Rhys attacked his father suggests he knew very well that his violence against the women was wrong, which is what the law will view. He knew what he was doing, and that is the crucial factor.”

"But there must be something else!" she said desperately. "I can't let it go at that! I've watched him too often, too long…”

He rose to his feet and came around the desk towards her. "Then let me make arrangements to come and see him for myself, that is if Mrs. Duff wishes me to represent him…”

"He's not underage!" she said hotly, rising also. "It is if he wants you to!”

He smiled with dry, rueful amusement. "My dear Hester, if he ca

"His father was wealthy! He will have been left provided for!" she protested.

"Not if he killed his father, Hester. You know that as well as I do.

If he is convicted for the crime, he ca

She was furious. "You mean he ca

He put both hands on her shoulders, holding her so firmly she was obliged to face him.

"I did not say that, Hester! I think you know me better than to imagine I work only for money…”

She swallowed. She had cause to be ashamed. She had come to plead with him to take on an impossible case, because she believed he would.

"I am sorry.”

"But I do work within the law," he finished. "In the circumstances I shall have to speak first to his mother." His lips twisted with genuine humour. "Although I imagine that with you in the house, and doubtless in charge, I shall find her co-operative.”

She blushed. "Thank you, Oliver.”

He said nothing, but made a little sound of acquiescence.

It was mid-evening before Rathbone arrived at Ebury Street. Hester had informed Sylvestra of his willingness at least to consider the case, and Sylvestra had been too confused and unhappy to argue. She had consulted her own solicitor, a mild man skilled in the matters of property, inheritance and finance, and totally out of his depth where the criminal law was concerned. He was to brief anyone recommended to him, and willing to undertake such an unpromising cause.

"Sir Oliver Rathbone," the butler a

"How do you do, Mrs. Duff," he said with a very slight smile. "Miss Latterly.”

"How do you do, Sir Oliver," Sylvestra replied with a commendable calm she could not have felt. "It is good of you to have come. I am not sure what you can do for my son. Miss Latterly speaks most highly of you, but I fear our situation may be beyond any help. Please do sit down." She indicated the chair opposite and he accepted.

Hester sat on the sofa, a little removed from them, but where she could watch both their faces.

"One does not always know what a defence will be until one begins, Mrs.

Duff," he replied calmly. "May I assume that you wish your son to have any assistance that is possible, in his present tragic circumstances?" He looked at her patiently, gently, as if his words had been a simple question and without pressure.

"Yes…" she said slowly. "Yes, of course. I…" Her face was composed, but it was plain from the shadows under her eyes and the fine lines of stress around her lips that it cost her very dearly. It would be inconceivable that it should not.

Rathbone smiled immediately. "Of course you ca

Duff is represented by someone who will fight as hard for him as if they believed him valuable, capable of hope and of pain, and deserving every opportunity to explain himself.”

Sylvestra frowned. "You are already a brilliant advocate for him, Sir Oliver. I could not possibly disagree with anything you have said. No one could." She sat without moving, a touch of immobility in spite of the emotion which must be tearing inside her. It was an extraordinary self-discipline, learned over the years to have the strength to apply now. "What confuses me is why you should wish to represent my son,” she continued. "And it is obvious from your presence here, let alone your words, that you do. I know better than to imagine you are some young man seeking to make a career and a name for himself… not that you would choose this case if you were. Nor are you so hungry for business that you would pursue any case at all. Why my son, Sir Oliver?”