The Silent Cry

Rathbone smiled, and there was a very faint touch of colour in his cheeks.

"For Miss Latterly's sake, Mrs. Duff. She feels very strongly for Rhys's plight, regardless of whether he should prove guilty of this or not. She persuaded me that he needs the best defence he can obtain.

With your agreement, I shall do all in my power to see that he has it.”

Hester felt the blood burn up her own face and she looked away, avoiding Rathbone's eyes, in case he should glance in her direction.

She had used his feeling for her, perhaps even misled him, because she was uncertain of her own emotions. She was guilty, but she did not regret it. She would do the same again. If she did not fight for Rhys, there was no one else who could.

Sylvestra relaxed at last, the rigidity easing out of her shoulders.

"Thank you, Sir Oliver, both for your honesty and for your compassion for my son. I fear there will be few others, if any at all, who will feel the same for him. He… he will be regarded… I think… as a monster." She stopped abruptly, unable to go on. The words were too hard, too painfully true, and it was a future which loomed within days, not weeks. It would be the pattern of life from now on. The world would be changed for ever.

Hester wanted to argue, just to offer any comfort at all, but it would be a lie, and they all knew it. Anything she said would only belittle the truth and imply that she did not understand.

Rathbone rose to his feet. "It will be my task to see that everything that can be said for him is put as eloquently as possible, Mrs. Duff.

Now I would like to speak to Rhys myself. Perhaps you would allow Miss Latterly to take me upstairs.”

Sylvestra rose also, taking a step forward.

Rathbone held up his hand in a very slight gesture.

"If you please, Mrs. Duff, I require to see him in effect alone.

What passes between a barrister and his client is privileged and must be confidential. Miss Latterly will be party to it only in her capacity as his nurse, in case he should become distressed and need her. She will be bound by the same absolute rules.”

Sylvestra looked taken aback.

"It is necessary," he assured her. "Otherwise I ca

Reluctantly she fell back, her face still filled with uncertainty, her eyes moving from Rathbone to Hester.

"I shall see he is not distressed more than is absolutely necessary in order to learn what we must," Hester promised.

"Do you really think…" Sylvestra began, then faltered. She was afraid. It was stark in her eyes, afraid of the truth. She hesitated on the brink of telling Rathbone not to seek it. She turned to Hester.

Hester smiled at her, pretending she did not understand, and walked to the door.

She led Rathbone upstairs and aft era knock on Rhys's door, merely as a courtesy, she led him in.

"Rhys, this is Sir Oliver Rathbone. He is going to speak for you in court.”

Rhys stared at her, then at Rathbone. He was lying on his back, propped up on pillows as she had left him, his splinted hands on the covers in front of him. He looked frightened and stiff.

"How do you do," Rathbone said with a smile and an inclination of his head, as if Rhys had replied quite normally. "May I sit down?”

Rhys nodded, then looked at Hester.

"Would you pre ferme to leave?" she asked. "I can go next door and you can knock the bell off if you need me.”

He shook his head immediately and she could sense his anxiety, his loneliness, his feeling almost of drowning under the weight of confusion inside him. She retreated to the corner of the room and sat down.

"You must be honest with me," Rathbone began quietly. "Everything you tell me will remain in confidence, if you wish it. I am bound by law not to act other than in your interests, as long as I remain honest myself. I ca

Rhys nodded.

"The same applies to Miss Latterly. That is her bond as well as mine.”

Rhys stared at him.

"Do you know what happened the night your father was killed?”

Rhys winced and seemed to shrink within himself, but he did not move his eyes from Rathbone's face, and he nodded slowly.

"Good. I know you can indicate only "yes" or "no". I shall ask you questions and if you can answer them so, then do. If you ca

Giles, and when there use the services of prostitutes?”

Rhys bit his lip, and then nodded, a dull flush of pink in his cheeks.

His eyes remained steady on Rathbone's face.

"Did you at any time injure any of these women, fight with them, even accidentally?”

Rhys shook his head violently.

"Did either Arthur or Duke Kynaston do so?”

Rhys remained still.

"Do you know if they did or not?”

Rhys shook his head.

"Did you also go with them to Seven Dials?”

Rhys nodded very slowly, uncertainly.

"You want to add something?" Rathbone asked. "Did you go often?”

Rhys shook his head.

"Only a few times?”

He nodded.

"Did you injure any women there?”

Again he shook his head, sharply, his eyes angry.

"Did your father go with you?”

Rhys's eyes widened in amazement.

"No," Rathbone answered his own question. "But he knew you went, and he did not approve?”

Rhys nodded, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. There was rage in it and hurt and a blazing frustration. He tried to speak, his throat muscles knotting, his head jerking forward.

Hester started up from her chair, then realised she must not interrupt.

She might protect him for the moment, and damage him for all the future. Rathbone must learn all he could, however painful.

"Did you quarrel about it?" Rathbone continued.

Rhys nodded slowly.

"Here at home?”

He nodded.

"And when you went to St. Giles the night of his death?”

Again the sharp, violent movement of denial, and the jolt forward as if he would laugh, had he the power.

"Did you quarrel about something else?”

Rhys's eyes filled with tears and he banged his broken hands up and down on the bedclothes, his body locked in an i

Rathbone turned to Hester, his face white.

She moved forward.

"Rhys!" she said sharply. She sat down on the bed and took hold of his wrists, trying to force him to be still, but his muscles were clenched so hard she could not. He was stronger than she had expected, and his whole body was caught in the emotion. "Rhys!" she said again, more urgently. "Stop it! You'll move the bones again. I know you think you don't care, but you do! Please…”

He unclenched his hands slowly, and the tears spilled over his cheeks.

He stared at her, then turned away, and she saw only the back of his head.

"Rhys," she said firmly. "Did you kill your father?”

There was a long silence. Neither Hester nor Rathbone moved. Then slowly he turned back to her and shook his head, his eyes intent on her face.

"But you know who did?" she pressed.

This time he refused to answer even by a look.

She turned to Rathbone.

"All right, for now," he conceded, standing up. "I will consider what to do. Try to rest and recover as much as you can. You will need your strength when the time comes. I will do everything I can to help you, that I promise.”

Rhys looked at him without blinking and Rathbone looked back for a long moment, then with a slight smile, not of hope but only of a kind of warmth, he turned and left the room.

Outside on the landing he waited until Hester had joined him and closed the door.

"Thank you," she said simply.

"I may have been a little rash," he acknowledged with a tiny shrug, his voice so low she could only just hear him.