Both solicitors had been trying to persuade Lady Rice to accept an out-of-court, once-and-for-all, clean-break settlement, which Lady Rice was not prepared to do. Prompted and nudged by Angelica, she was prepared to fight.
‘Such settlements may suit the Courts and the lawyers,’ said Lady Rice boldly to Barney Evans. ‘They save the Court time and trouble, but they don’t suit me. Why should I let Edwin get away with his crimes against my life, my spirit? Let my husband be answerable to me for the rest of his life: let him support me for ever. He can disguise his assets temporarily, but in the end truth emerges. Doesn’t it?’
Barney Evans, now acting like a fine dray horse, sniffed and trumpeted and avoided saying, ‘No. In my opinion and experience truth rarely emerges.’ Clients had to be protected from the world, allowed to keep their illusions. Yes, justice exists: yes, heaven exists. This was the task of the lawyer, as it was that of the priest. ‘Lo, there shall be no corruption, no mortality!’ was their constant cry.
‘I demand justice,’ Lady Rice persisted in crying, as did so many. ‘I will never rest till I have it, and nor should you!’
Oh, Lady Rice was a nuisance, Barney Evans and Brian Moss agreed, by a look exchanged, a soft sigh of common understanding.
‘I’m sure I’ve seen Lady Rice somewhere before,’ said Brian Moss to Jelly White after Barney Evans had shared a sherry with him and departed, and the Rice v. Rice files were put away.
‘She was almost a celebrity once upon a time,’ said Jelly White, head turned towards the computer, stretching and bending her fingers so as to save herself from Repetitive Strain Injury (Wisdom v. Argus Telephones) which can so wretchedly affect the computer worker. ‘That was before she married Sir Edwin, back when she was a pop star. She was number one for eight whole weeks with “Kinky Virgin”, and on TV a lot. After that she was lead singer in a group of the same name; they toured quite successfully. But that was all. Marriage put paid to her showbiz ambitions.’
‘I don’t look at TV,’ said Brian Moss. ‘I don’t have the time. When I get home I have to bath the babies. I’m a New Man. Why did Edwin Rice marry a pop star in the first place? Didn’t he need someone he could take to point-to-points? It’s so much easier to marry a woman other men ignore. That’s what I did when I married Oriole. I knew I would be safe; Oriole would always be faithful: I make a real effort to be the same. Well, Anthea Box will suit Sir Edwin much better than his first wife ever did, so long as she can stay off the drink. Those are hard-drinking circles, I believe. She’s out of the same stable as he is, that’s the main thing when it comes to marriage. Isn’t she some kind of cousin? I hope there’s nothing unfortunate in the genes. I find Barney Evans a very pleasant and helpful guy. I was at school with his brother. Heart of gold.’
‘Aren’t you meant to be antagonistic,’ asked Jelly, ‘on behalf of your client? I was surprised you were so friendly.’
‘We go through the motions,’ said Brian Moss, ‘but, like anyone else, all we really want is as much profit and as little fuss as possible. We professionals are all on one side, the punters on the other.’
The pace of the divorce and the property settlement was laboured and slow. Lady Rice withdrew her petition and let Sir Edwin’s stand, since a nod and a wink from Brian Moss suggested to Barney Evans that Sir Edwin would be generous if she did. Sir Edwin’s refusal to communicate directly with his wife continued. Lady Rice complained of undue influence from Anthea Box. And indeed, a letter from Brian Moss’s office suggesting that Sir Edwin make another attempt to meet Lady Rice and sort things out in a friendly fashion was fielded by a phone call from Anthea, saying it was out of the question. Jelly, who took the call, said she’d let Brian Moss know. She did nothing of the kind, of course, since Brian Moss was unaware of the initial letter: she had written it herself and signed it per pro Brian Moss.
Lady Rice received a letter from Barney Evans saying it was in her interests to move the hearings from the provincial Courts to London, since they would get a better hearing there with a more sympathetic judge. Lady Rice wrote back to say no, the provinces would do her very well. She would rather trust an impartial judge than a sympathetic one. Sympathy could sway like a tree in a high wind; first here, then there. Lady Rice did not know whence this wisdom sprang: sometimes she felt she was older than her years.
Lady Rice remained vague as to her whereabouts. She gave Barney Evans her mother’s address for correspondence. Let Edwin have a sense of her as Lilith, whom Adam discarded; the original, wronged wife, who wanders the outskirts of the universe, bringing trouble to mankind, never resting, for ever spiteful, for ever grieving, making others feel bad.
The best place to hide, she knew, is beneath the nose of the searcher. It was obvious to Jelly White that such staff at Catterwall & Moss whose job it was to look after Sir Edwin’s private finances would have neither time nor inclination to look through the files when The Claremont Hotel’s bill came. Who would be bothered to check that Rice, Sir E, didn’t have ‘and Lady A’ tucked in next to it? No one. Nor would The Claremont think it prudent to point out to anyone that Lady A, according to the newspapers recovering from bulimia and anorexia in a nursing home somewhere in the Midlands, was to their knowledge living in their Bridal Suite. It suited The Claremont well enough to have a titled lady in residence, although that lady went incognito.