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Sacheverall had nothing more to add. He was wise enough not to press the issue. He was wi
It was already late for luncheon. The court adjourned.
Rathbone walked out with Melville. The crowd stared at them. There were several ugly words said quite clearly enough to hear. Melville kept his eyes straight ahead, his face down, his cheeks flushed. He must have been as aware of them as Rathbone was.
"I didn't know about the wedding until it was all pla
"I know that sounds ridiculous," Melville went on. "But I didn't listen. My mind was on my own ideas: arches and lintels, colo
"How can you have been so stupid?" Rathbone snapped, losing his temper at the idiocy of it, all the u
"Because I suppose I wanted to," Melville answered with astounding honesty. "I didn't want it to be true, so I ignored it. If you care about one thing enough, you can exclude other things." Now they were outside in the sharp wind and sunlight. His eyes were the blue-green of seawater. "I care about buildings, about arches, and pillars and stone, and the way light falls, about color and strength and simplicity. T care about being able to design things that will long outlast me, or anyone I know, things that generations after us will look at and feel joy."
He pushed his hands into his pockets hard and stared at Rathbone as they walked along the street towards the busy restaurant where they could purchase luncheon. They brushed past people barely noticing them.
"Have you ever been to Athens, Sir Oliver?" he asked. "Have you seen the Parthenon in the sunlight?" His eyes were alight with enthusiasm. "It is pure genius. All the measurements are slightly off the true, to give an optical illusion of perfect grace to the observer… and it succeeds brilliantly." He flung his arms out, almost hitting a middle-aged man with a gray mustache. He apologized absently and continued to Rathbone. "Can you imagine the minds of the men who built that? And here we are two thousand years later struck silent with awe at its beauty."
Unconsciously he was walking more rapidly than before, and Rathbone had to increase his pace to keep up with him.
"And Tuscany!" he went on, his face glowing. "All Italy, really-Venice, Pisa, Sie
"The restaurant," Rathbone interrupted.
"What?"
"The restaurant," the barrister repeated. "We must have luncheon before we return."
"Oh. Yes… I suppose so." Obviously it had slipped Melville's mind. It was an irrelevance.
The first witness of the afternoon was Zillah Lambert herself. She took the oath with a grave, trembling voice and looked up to face Sacheverall. She was very pale, but so far composed. She wore cream trimmed with palest green and it complemented her perfectly. Her glorious hair was piled richly on her head rather than tied severely back, and she looked vulnerable and very young. Yet there was a brightness about her like the glancing sunlight of April, as if she brought a breath of the spring countryside with her.
Without realizing, the jurors smiled at her. She was utterly unaware of them, looking only at Sacheverall. Not once did her eyes stray to Melville, as if she could not bear to look at him. No one could have failed to be aware of it.
"I regret the necessity for this, Miss Lambert," Sacheverall began, as Rathbone had known he would. "But it is absolutely unavoidable, otherwise I should not subject you to this embarrassment, and an ordeal which must be terribly distressing to you."
"I understand," she whispered. "Please do what you must."
Sacheverall smiled warmly at her. "Miss Lambert, has Mr. Killian Melville been a constant visitor at your home over the last two years?"
"Yes sir."
"To see only your father, or also your mother and yourself?"
"He spent a great deal of time with us too," she replied. "He often dined with us and would stay afterwards late into the evening. He and I would talk of all ma
A certain tightness pulled Sacheverall's mouth and his eyes were sharp.
"Quite so," he said tensely. "In short, Miss Lambert, one might say he courted you." That was a conclusion, not a question. He went straight on. "He spoke of his feelings, he shared his hopes for the future, he showed an extraordinary trust in you that we may assume he did with no one else. Did he make it unmistakable that he cared for you deeply, whatever ways, or words, he chose to use?"
"Yes… I believed so." She was obliged to reach into her reticule for a handkerchief with which to dab her eyes. "Excuse me."
"Of course." Sacheverall was instantly tender. “I imagine every man in this room will understand how you feel-except for Melville, and possibly his counsel."
Rathbone considered objecting, but it was not worth the trouble. The remark had already been made, and its impact would be less than that of Zillah herself. One could feel the sympathy for her filling the room. Even the gallery was totally silent. If anyone had been disposed to laugh or feel any sense of satisfaction in her misfortune, either they had changed their minds or they had sensed the atmosphere and wisely concealed it.
"Miss Lambert," Sacheverall continued, "was Mr. Melville fully aware of all the wedding plans and arrangements?"
She sounded surprised. "Of course."
"He was present when you discussed such matters as the choice of church? He was consulted in that, wasn't he?"
"Yes, of course he was." She gazed back at him. "Do you imagine we would arrange such a thing without making certain of his feelings?"
"No, I do not, Miss Lambert, but Sir Oliver seems to have considered it the case." His very slight sneer derided it. "Did Mr. Melville at any time give you the slightest idea he was going to break your agreement?" He jerked his head in Melville's direction.
"No," she said simply.
"And has he since offered you any reason for his behavior?" Sacheverall persisted.
"No." She was having difficulty restraining her emotions and it was plain for everyone to see. Some of the jurors were staring at her intently, others were embarrassed for her and did not wish to seem to intrude into her distress. If Sacheverall was not careful he would risk losing their sympathy towards himself. Perhaps that did not matter to him, as long as he retained it for her. What Rathbone knew of his reputation suggested he was a man who wished to win, even if it should be at considerable cost.