By the second week of the storm on the mountain the trial was in its most important stage.
There was one witness everyone was waiting for. She was called on March 8 as a defense witness. She wore a gray coat and a black dress with white cuffs, a kind of girlish idea of a homemaker—or what was prevalent in this age, the idea of society’s homemaker—where the times specified that even the most senior office women were called girls, and thought of as juvenile. She wore a small round hat that turned up at the front, and made her look even more like a girl. Her hands shook when she drank water. She did not look at Owen. She had heard that Owen had betrayed her—and said terrible things about what she wanted from him. She might not believe it, but her own lawyer Miss Fish told her not to have any contact with him now. (That she had hired Miss Fish, the only female lawyer in the province, showed, they believed, her lowly estate.)
Camellia, however, believed she was a witness for the defense. She believed they would ask her what she had already been asked—about her relationship with Owen, how he had helped her, how she had phoned Reggie and told him about the job. How Reggie had said he would come back. All of this to her was so innocent that they would know she and Owen were innocent.
But things had changed. The defense was now scrambling to keep their client alive. Billy Monk had testified that Camellia had demanded Reggie come home or she would divorce him, and that Owen wanted him to change his mind about Estabrook. It was very possible that Monk could have heard the one-sided conversation exactly as he stated.
Therefore Pillar, unbeknown to Owen but known in some fashion by Buckler, treated her like a hostile witness. This had been his plan from the midpoint of the prosecution’s case. He had decided to deflect guilt from his own client by accusing the person all thought more guilty or most guilty.
He was after the murderer as well. Camellia had become the principal target of the Jameson family now.
He asked her about growing up. Was it hard, who had taken care of her? What were her cares? What were her ambitions? Were she and Reggie happy?
“Yes,” she said.
“Oh—you were happy?”
“Well, he was so kind to me many times.”
“And at times he wasn’t at all, was he?”
No answer.
“Answer the question,” Judge Fyfe instructed.
“Sometimes he was not so kind because he was in pain—”
“Is that why you wanted to kill him?”
“I’m afraid he wanted to kill himself—”
“So you say suicide.”
“I say no such thing—he is still alive—”
Owen was staring at the floor; he couldn’t look up. It seemed obvious to everyone that he had planned this ambush against her.
Then Pillar came to a point of contention that he knew would alienate everyone, including or especially the prosecution. But he had to ask it—for he had had information about it. It spoke to her motive. He asked her why she had married Reggie.
“I don’t understand the question,” she said.
“Did you marry him because Mr. Brower asked you—wanted you to be settled?”
“In a small way.”
“You had come of age. There was worry about you—because of other things—and people here wanted you settled.”
The way outsiders like Pillar and Mackey could take on discussions about the intricacies of a town they did not know, as if they had a unique perception, is one of the grander forms of famine.
But Camellia did answer. “There were many men around and Mr. Brower was worried on my behalf.”
“On your behalf or theirs?” someone yelled.
Laughter and sniggering, then the gavel.
“I see—and you decided this was a good thing to do?”
“It was one thing to do,” Camellia said. “I married Reggie—and I was proud to. I am married to him, and he will come back and tell you so.”
Pause.
“When he treated you badly—did you decide on revenge. For women are often vindictive.”
She did not answer this. He turned to another question: Where did her father work before her mother died?
“He worked for Mr. Jameson’s father,” she said in a whisper.
“By Mr. Jameson, you mean Owen.”
“Yes, I do,” she said and smiled, “but I am not used to calling him Owen—I always think of him as Mr. Jameson.”
“I see—I see— And your father was fired from that job, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was—”
“Yes, for stealing from the company—did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t—but I don’t think he did.”
“Did you know what happened that day—?”
“I am not sure—I—?”
“He went home early and found your mother gone out—did you know?”
“No,” she whispered.
“And he knew where she had gone—to Winch’s cave—and he killed your mother that day, didn’t he?”
“I—I—don’t remember.”
“You knew this when you went to work for Mary Jameson—your father, who was hanged, was fired that very day and sent home. That caused a death in your house, two deaths, and you knew this about Winch’s cave.”
“No, I didn’t—I knew I shouldn’t go down there because it was where Daddy and Mommy were.”
“I did not—ever.”
“The letter from Lula Brower proves you did. Perhaps you were there alone—or with Reggie—”
Silence.
With hardly a breath, he switched topics: “Who wanted Owen home?”
“Well—Mrs. Jameson.”
“But it was you, wasn’t it, who wanted him off the train?”
“I did suggest it to some of the men—”
“Why did you suggest it—did you suggest it—well—you tell us why.”
“To help Mrs. Jameson with the mill.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“I was the last in town to know he was on his way home—”
“But did you want him back?”
“Yes—but—”
“Oh, you wanted him back—a hero, a Victoria Cross recipient—you wanted him back.”
“Yes—to help Reggie—so Reggie would take his job back and be himself.”
“But was Reggie here?”
“No.”
“You were here—you were at the house—you were staying at Jameson’s during the week—”
She had no idea this was coming, and neither did Owen—though to the end of her life she must have thought that Owen did know. And it must have broken her heart.
“So you felt betrayed not only by the Browers but perhaps by Mr. Jameson too.”
“No.”
“What else did you know about Owen—you say you knew he saved Reggie Glidden?”
“But you would marry Reggie Glidden?”
“Yes—”
“Why, did you love him?”
Camellia didn’t answer. The judge instructed her to.
“Did you love him?”
“I don’t think so then—but now I—”
Pillar interrupted: “Do you love Owen?”
There was silence.
“Do you love Owen?” Mr. Pillar stated.
“In a way,” she whispered, “but he was my friend.”
“From the moment he kissed you—isn’t that right?”
She didn’t answer. Tears started down her face.
“From the moment he kissed you?”
“Before,” she whispered, “when he was a boy, just as I would think of anyone being teased and—”
“Do you care for everyone when they kiss you?”
Loud laughter, judge’s gavel.
Pillar turned away, adding, “Let’s just end with this. Reggie coming back did not destroy Owen’s plans—they destroyed yours.”
Pillar turned and walked back to the desk where Owen was sitting in a state of helplessness.
“I think we got her,” Pillar whispered to him.
After the trial was adjourned for the day Owen was frantic to see her, to explain he’d had no idea the questions his lawyer was about to ask. She didn’t come.