When Emma entered Mr. Trelford’s office, she was surprised to see how small it was, but then there are no large offices in Lincoln’s Inn, even if you are the head of chambers.
Once they were all seated, Mr. Trelford looked across at the woman who sat opposite him. Mrs. Clifton appeared calm and composed, even stoical, which was rare for someone who was facing the possibility of defeat and humiliation, unless … He unlocked the top drawer of his desk, extracted a file and handed copies of Major Fisher’s letter to Mr. and Mrs. Clifton and Sir Giles Barrington. The original remained locked in his safe, although he was in no doubt that Lady Virginia had somehow got hold of the copy he had with him in court.
Once they had all read the letter, handwritten on House of Commons paper, Trelford said firmly, “If you will allow me to present this as evidence in open court, Mrs. Clifton, I am confident we can win the case.”
“That is out of the question,” said Emma, handing her copy back to Trelford. “I could never allow that,” she added with the dignity of a woman who knew that the decision might not only destroy her but also hand victory to her adversary.
“Will you at least allow your husband and Sir Giles to offer their opinion?”
Giles didn’t wait for Emma’s permission. “Of course it must be seen by the jury, because once it has, they’ll come down unanimously in your favor and, more importantly, Virginia will never be able to show her face in public again.”
“Possibly,” said Emma calmly, “but at the same time, you would have to withdraw your candidacy for the by-election, and this time the prime minister won’t be offering you a seat in the House of Lords as compensation. And you can be sure of one thing,” she added. “Your ex-wife will consider destroying your political career a far greater prize than defeating me. No, Mr. Trelford,” she continued, not looking at her brother, “this letter will remain a family secret, and we will all have to live with the consequences.”
“That’s pigheaded of you, sis,” said Giles, swinging around. “Perhaps I don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling responsible for you losing the case and having to stand down as chairman of Barrington’s. And don’t forget, you’ll also have to pay Virginia’s legal costs, not to mention whatever compensation the jury decide to award her.”
“It’s a price worth paying,” said Emma.
“Pigheaded,” repeated Giles, a decibel louder. “And I’ll bet Harry agrees with me.”
They all turned toward Harry, who didn’t need to read the letter a second time, as he could have repeated it word for word. However, he was torn between wishing to support his oldest friend and not wanting his wife to lose her libel case. What John Buchan once described as being “between a rock and a hard place.”
“It’s not my decision to make,” said Harry. “But if it were my future that was hanging by a thread, I’d want Fisher’s letter to be read out in court.”
“Two to one,” said Giles.
“My future isn’t hanging by a thread,” said Emma. “And you’re right, my darling, the final decision is mine.” Without another word, she rose from her place, shook hands with her counsel and said, “Thank you, Mr. Trelford. We’ll see you in court tomorrow morning, when the jury will decide our fate.”
Trelford bowed, and waited for the door to close behind them before he murmured to himself, “She should have been christened Portia.”
*
“How did you get hold of this?” asked Sir Edward.
Virginia smiled. Sir Edward had taught her that when facing cross-examination, if an answer doesn’t help your cause, you should say nothing.
Sir Edward didn’t smile. “If the judge were to allow Mr. Trelford to present this as evidence,” he said, waving the letter, “I would no longer be confident that we will win the case. In fact I’m certain we’d lose.”
“Mrs. Clifton will never allow it to be presented as evidence,” said Virginia confidently.
“How can you be sure?”
“Her brother intends to fight the by-election in Bristol Docklands caused by Major Fisher’s death. If this letter were to be made public, he’d have to withdraw. It would end his political career.”
Lawyers are meant to have opinions on everything, except their clients. Not in this case. Sir Edward knew exactly how he felt about Lady Virginia, and it didn’t bear repeating, in or out of court.
“If you’re right, Lady Virginia,” said the elderly QC, “and they don’t offer the letter as evidence, the jury will assume it’s because it doesn’t assist Mrs. Clifton’s cause. That would undoubtedly tip the balance in your favor.”
Virginia tore up the letter and dropped the little pieces into the wastepaper basket. “I agree with you, Sir Edward.”
*
Once again, Desmond Mellor had booked a small conference room in an unfashionable hotel, where no one would recognize them.