Chapter Fourteen

Dick insisted Nancy and Judy wait at Matoax while he returned to Bizarre with only Jack for company. His public statement had immediate impact. With the scandal the talk of the county, local justices ordered the sheriff to arrest both Dick and Nancy Randolph, but when he arrived at Bizarre, only the men were at home. Jack wrote that his brother sat in a cell for four days before being charged with "feloniously murdering a child delivered of the body of Nancy Randolph, or being accessory to the same."

A week later, with Dick still in the jailhouse, Mr. Tucker took the sisters back to Bizarre.

"I wasn't sure I'd ever see this house again," Judy said, as he helped her out of the carriage.

"All will be well soon." Mr. Tucker held his hand out to Nancy while Judy walked ahead into the house.

"I'd welcome an opportunity to speak with you privately, sir," Nancy said. "Perhaps we might take a walk while my sister rests?" She led him down the familiar path to the kitchen garden and tobacco fields that fanned out behind the plantation buildings like long undulating rolls of cloth. "If I understand things correctly, you are shielding me."

"We are."

"I'm grateful. It strikes me that you are kinder to me than my own family."

"You are my family."

She smiled at him. "Am I?"

"How old are you, Nancy?"

"Eighteen."

"A mere child. No, hush." He squeezed on the cold fingers she had tucked in his arm. "I'm more than twice your age and have all the advantages of travel, experience and knowledge of the world. Let me tell you something, and then you may tell me anything you like and ask me anything you wish." When she nodded, he continued. "I first met Dick, Theo and Jack when they were only seven, six and four years old. I loved them, all three, without reserve. I loved their mother and saw her in them. I still do. I swore to protect them and to support them without reserve. When your sister married Dick, that oath extended to her. When you joined their household, that oath extended to you. And when you love someone, Nancy, truly love them, you don't love them less if they make mistakes or are at fault in some way. When someone you love stumbles, you help them recover. That is my belief, it was Frances, Dick's mother's belief, and it is Lelia's. There. Lesson over." Again, his hand pressed hers. "Enough from me. Now, you may talk."

She drew in a breath. "I will not speak of Glentivar. But I did write a letter for Dick. Did he tell you?"

"He did."

"He will not use it?"

"No."

She bit her lip. "It is my wish that he would."

"And it is mine — and his — that he will not. It was destroyed. And rightly so."

"Why?"

"For many reasons. But mainly because you're young and a woman."

"What will happen to Dick?"

"Nothing. He will be examined by the Cumberland County justices and exonerated."

"Are you sure?"

He smiled down at her. "I can't be truly sure, of course not. But on the balance of probabilities, I am confident. Let me see if I can set your mind at ease. Dick is accused of murder — a terrible crime, yes — but one where he is presumed innocent until proved otherwise. The burden of proof is on the court, not on the accused, and here we have a case with no body and no witnesses. Virginian law prohibits slaves being called to testify in a case where the defendant is white. And with Dick as the accused, his wife cannot be asked to testify against him as she might be if it were her sister on trial."

"Judy could say nothing that would harm me."

"No, but Dick and I both wish to shield her from the courtroom. It will not be pleasant listening. And now she's with child again, it's essential she's comfortable and at ease as much as possible."

Nancy pondered for a few moments. "It seems so risky."

"Believe me, it is sound strategy. When your family would not help, Dick and I talked through what would likely happen next. The rumors showed no indication of dying down. Once the story was the talk of Dick's peers, it was inevitable that there would be a call for his, and your, arrest. His letter in the Gazette provoked what was going to happen anyway, but it allowed us to at least control when things happened. By publishing as he did, Dick ensured that the scandal was the first point of order when the county authorities began their next session. He returned to Bizarre, you remained in Matoax beyond their reach. Dick ensured the judicial focus was on him, not you."

"But why not me? I—"

"Because the charge against you, my dear, would have been much harder to defend. You could be charged with infanticide, and Virginia law views that charge very differently to murder. Infanticide — the murder of a child conceived out of wedlock by its mother — requires the accused to provide a witness that the child was stillborn."

"There was no child born at Glentivar!" She threw him a defiant glance.

"When the case against Dick fails, we believe the justices will have no appetite or grounds to pursue a charge against you.We have the best lawyers working on Dick's behalf. Enough legal talent to convince a gaggle of rural Cumberland justices.We need to go through this process. And then we can talk about your future."

"I've considered that." Her voice sounded hollow. "My future is here, with Judy and Saint."

"We will see. After the examination, we can talk again."

"No."

Mr. Tucker stopped and turned to look at her. Nancy held his eyes. Nothing more was said, and they walked back to Bizarre.

The days until Dick's examination passed slowly. When Nancy wasn't needed in the house, answering the questions of Dick's much-lauded lawyers, Patrick Henry and John Marshall, she disappeared to the kitchen garden, pinning up her skirts and pulling on stout boots each morning. She left the house before Judy rose, leaving her sister to go through the day's tasks with Sarah and preferring silent hours of snipping, weeding and watering. Sarah's son, Billy, worked with her, taking on the hard work of digging, lifting and fetching. He had a habit of humming, and sometimes, she wondered if he longed to sing but could not when she was there. Would she like it if he did? Or would it be too familiar, embarrassing him, embarrassing them both? He was the same age as her, they worked side by side, but they could never be friends. Not like she and Phebe. She allowed a few flashes of memory from those terrible days, recalling Phebe's face, her eyes widening, her soft words, the squeeze of her hand.Phebe's eyes. They were the last thing Nancy saw every night, the first to greet her in the morning. Over Billy Ellis' muttered objections, she picked up a trowel and dug into damp soil. Think of nothing. Speak of nothing. Dig. Mr. Tucker had to be right. The trial must bring it to an end. Dick had to come home. She'd spend the rest of her days trying to make it up to Judy in any way she could. These terrible rumors had to be squashed. Dick had to come home to Bizarre.

* * *

Judy insisted they both attend the courthouse. She stood across the fireplace from Mr. Tucker with her arms crossed and refused to move or even sit until he had agreed to convey both her and Nancy there. She would walk otherwise. She made sure he knew she meant it.

"My presence will help, I'm certain," she told him, as the coach swayed away from Bizarre the following morning.

Mr. Tucker took her hands. "It will be a show of strength to the justices. To see you there will give Dick confidence also. Truly, I commend your bravery. But harsh things will be said of him. And of your sister."

Judy closed her eyes. The concern in his face was upsetting.

"How are you this morning, Nancy?" he asked. "Are you well? You've been quiet since your interview with John Marshall. He's a fine attorney."

Always this concern about Nancy.

"I'm sure she will be perfectly happy, as we all will, as soon as this charade of an investigation is over." Judy hoped he didn't catch the bitterness in her voice. "Let's worry about poor Dick for now, shall we?"

Still, she quailed when they arrived at Cumberland courthouse. It was a small but somber-looking stone building with tall pillars that towered over a crowd of curious onlookers.

"I didn't think . . ." Judy saw Mr. Tucker had anticipated what she had not — the attraction of this spectacle, of this scandal. There were wagons crowded with men and women, jostling for a view through the courtroom windows, and boys perched in trees, loudly reporting on what they saw to groups of children gathered below. She shrank into her father-in-law's arm as he helped them down from the carriage and into the cold courtroom building.

The sea of familiar faces made her feel worse, not better. She recognized Father's narrow shoulders and tilted head as he leaned in to listen to her brother William. Beside William was his wife, Lucy, come to feign shock and disgust whilst enjoying every moment, no doubt. In front of them, Patsy and Tom sat quietly and beside them, David and Molly, Lizzie and John. There were noticeable absences for which she was thankful — no Gabriella, none of her younger siblings — she hated the thought of them even hearing of this — but there was Aunt Page with Carter, there was Jack, Dick's brother, sitting separate from everyone else, and there were Randy and Mary, looking as miserable as Judy felt. Mary managed a weak smile as Mr. Tucker steered Judy along a bench, far from her Tuckahoe relations.

She tried to focus her thoughts on Dick — on where he might be, whether he had slept, washed or eaten. He would be determined, she knew that, and imagined the thrust of his chin as he masked his fear and looked family and friends squarely in the eye. She'd send him what strength she had with her gaze. She was carrying another child. And if God was willing to give her this blessing, and if God would make this child live and be whole, then that child needed a father.

She was taken out of her thoughts by the light touch of fingers on her shoulder. Judy turned and found Jack's face close to her. He leaned forward from his seat on the bench behind. His eyes were wide and red-rimmed. He looked like he hadn't slept for days.

"All will soon be well, sister," he said, nodding in the direction of Mr. Tucker, who'd drawn a small volume from his greatcoat pocket and been reading with every appearance of calm since they sat down. "Tucker knows his business. And so do those two." Judy followed Jack's eyes as they swiveled to two men arriving on the courtroom floor, followed by two clerks. "Patrick Henry and John Marshall could have these rural justices believing their own mothers were harlots if they chose to."

"Enough, Jack." Clearly Mr. Tucker was not as absorbed by his reading as Judy had thought.

Judy studied the two men tasked with saving her husband's reputation. Marshall was the younger of the two, tall and slim. A younger version of Patsy's father, almost, with similar bearing and even features, although Marshall had a squarer jaw. Henry was older, barrel-shaped, like a man who lived well. He was altogether less hawkish-looking and softer than his colleague, with a high-domed forehead that suggested intellect and belied his famed showmanship and rhetorical flourish. They appeared relaxed, leaning back in their chairs, nodding at acquaintances, smiling, shuffling papers, rising as the sixteen justices entered and took their seats. She recognized several of them. Dick was going to hate this.

The jeers of the crowd as he was marched through the street from the jailhouse to the court chilled her. She prayed to God that they might all go home. Didn't they have work? Their own lives and concerns to deal with? Dick was horribly pale. The dark circles under his eyes told Judy he had barely slept. He looked both himself and not himself, as if his handsome face had slipped askew under the weight of his days in confinement. His eyes raked the benches of familiar faces before resting on hers. She caught her breath. This was why she had come, to send him this strength through her eyes. But he didn't hold her gaze. She saw him glance at Nancy, on Mr. Tucker's other side, before he turned to look at the justices. Disappointment washed over her. Tears pricked her eyes. When he needed her, she was determined to be there. That was what mattered. Not how hard it was. Not how unfair. How shameful. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and twisted it through her fingers, pulling it tight until she was numb.