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.