03 - The Wicked Lady Page 24

  "Not bloody likely!" Ian's eyes blazed with a sudden anger. "Never could trust a Claremont."

  "Then I suggest you start now, or Kristen will hang."

  That statement knocked the wind out of the old man and he slowly sank back down in his chair.

  Good, Trevor thought. Maybe he could get through this without any more outbursts. "Kristen killed her stepfather."

  "He wasn't her stepfather!"

  "Precisely. And that's exactly what we need to convince the judge. You know how Kristen grew up."

  "No, I dinna know. We've never spoken about it. Always thought there would be time later."

  "Then I shall tell you." Trevor drew in a deep breath and shifted in the chair, impatiently wanting to get down to the problem. "Kristen grew up in the streets. She was underfed and basically had to pick pockets in order to survive. From what I can gather, Ned, her stepfather, beat her every time he started drinking."

  "Saints above! I dinna know." Ian shook his head sadly. "I'd probably have killed that mon myself. And the woman if I'd got my hands on her. She stole my granddaughter and robbed my little girl of her childhood."

  "I agree. The situation is sad," Trevor said. "We can't do anything about her past, but I hope we can do something about the future."

  "What do I need tae do?"

  Trevor finally felt like he was getting through the man's thick head. He leaned forward, propping his elbow on his knees. "Kristen's trial is in three days. We need to pull together and show that she was a victim of the man. We must convince everyone that she is a good person who ended up in a bad situation."

  "Aye," Ian said, then grew quiet. "After she's acquitted, then what?"

  "Kristen will be free, of course."

  "That's not what I meant."

  Trevor eyed the crafty old buzzard. "Then what do you mean?"

  "Are ye smelling a trap now?" Ian grinned. "I will help ye, but I'll be wantin' something in return."

  Trevor should have known this wouldn't be easy. What did the old buzzard have in mind? "And what may that be?"

  "I've been deprived of Kristen for all these years. Ye can't imagine what it has done tae me." Ian looked Trevor dead in the eye. "The Claremonts have robbed me once before--"

  "And what's that supposed to bloody mean?" Trevor snapped, barely controlling his own temper. "I stole nothing from you!"

  "I think ye know, but now is not the time tae discuss such matters. I want ye tae promise me that when Kristen is free that ye'll send her tae me, so I can spend some time with her." One corner of his mouth twisted upward. "Besides ye don't love her."

  "You don't know a damned thing about me!" Trevor exploded as he rose and looked down at Ian. "Kristen is my wife."

  "Aye, and ye wed her when she had little choice in the matter, if I recall the story correctly."

  "True, we had an arrangement."

  "Then why don't ye give her a chance tae make a choice of her own free will?" Ian demanded. "Or are ye afraid she won't choose ye?"

  Trevor resented being backed into a corner, and he particularly didn't like having his fears thrown back at him. However, he did need to present a stable front with Ian's help, so he could free Kristen.

  He would agree to anything as long as it would help Kristen. Trevor clenched his fists tightly and said with a vague hint of disapproval, "I will agree to send Kristen with you when she is set free as long as you agree to let her come home to me if she so chooses."

  "Done!" Ian stood and offered his hand.

  Trevor noted the pleased look on the man's face and wondered just what Johnstone thought he'd won. Trevor frowned and didn't bother to take his hand.

  As they sized each other up, the door opened and a young woman breezed through. Trevor glanced around Ian at her, then stopped and looked again speechless. Kristen had told him about her sister, but he was completely unprepared to see another woman who looked so much like his wife.

  Ian turned and looked in the same direction. "Keely, girl. Come meet Kristen's husband." He gestured toward her. Keely approached shyly and offered her hand.

  "I'm glad tae meet ye," she said, smiling demurely. "Kristen spoke of ye often."

  "She did?" Trevor couldn't help the note of surprise in his voice.

  "Aye, she did. I must say her description of ye was very accurate."

  Trevor laughed. "I don't think I will ask you to explain that remark."

  Keely laughed. "She spoke quite fondly of ye."

  Keely's similarity to Kristen made him think of his wife, and where she was spending her nights. He felt so much like all this was his fault. If he had not gotten drunk and driven Kristen away, Ned wouldn't have gotten his hands on Hagan, and Kristen wouldn't be in jail. Trevor had to get her out of prison one way or the other. He owed her that much. And if she chose to return to Johnstone, he would do whatever it took to change her mind, he vowed.

  He turned back to Ian. "We should ride to London together. I can arrange for my coach to take us."

  "And what's wrong with my coach? Are ye insinuating my carriage isn't good enough?" Johnstone bristled.

  "I didn't say there was anything wrong with it," Trevor bit out. Did the man have to be obstinate about everything? "But my coach has already been readied to travel."

  "That being the case, I'll agree tae use yers." Johnstone turned and called to his man.

  "Where are ye going?" Keely asked, then added, "And where is Kristen?"

  Trevor glanced at Keely, and an idea came to him in a rush. "Perhaps we should take Keely. No one can doubt that Kristen is a Johnstone if they see Keely. And we'll stop by Chatsworth and pick up Hagan. The more family we have there, the better it will appear."

  "For once, we agree on something, Englishmon."

  "Take me where?" Keely asked, confused.

  "Go make ready to travel to London, girl. We'll be explaining on the way."

  Kristen gazed around the new cell. She had to admit this cell was better than the one she'd move from, but she still felt caged. She sat on the bed, impatiently brushing her hair.

  "Let me get that for you, mum," Rebecca said from across the room.

  Kristen smiled at her. "Thank you, Rebecca, but I need something tae do. This confinement is driving me crazy," Kristen complained. Thank God, Trevor had sent Rebecca with some decent food. At least, the girl could keep her company.

  Rebecca perched on the other bed and carefully pulled a needle through a tapestry. "Would you like for me to teach you how to sew?" Rebecca looked up, piercing her finger as she did so. "Ouch!" She immediately held her finger to her mouth. "It will help to pass the time."

  "I dinna think so." Kristen smiled. "Looks painful." What she wanted was to see Trevor. It had been a week since she'd last seen him. And she didn't understand why he stayed away.

  Kristen had asked Rebecca, but the maid hadn't been a bit of help on that subject. The only thing she'd said was that Trevor had given her instructions to pack some of Kristen's things and to keep her company.

  Was that so he wouldn't have to come see her himself? Kristen couldn't help wondering.

  Kristen did manage to find out from one of the guards that her trial would be the next morning. As the time drew closer, she worried. What was she going to say in her defense?

  "Why are you frowning so? Rebecca asked.

  Kristen looked up at her maid, and tried to mask her turmoil. Was I frowning?"

  Rebecca nodded.

  "I was thinking about the trial tomorrow. What if the judge doesn't believe my side of the story and finds me guilty?" she said with a long, exhausted sigh. She stood. "I could hang."

  "No, mum. You mustn't say such things," Rebecca protested and put down her sewing. "Surely, he'll see how good you are."

  "But I've not always been good," Kristen admitted as she paced back and forth. She really wasn't sure she was good, but it was nice to know someone thought so. " 'Tis sorry that I am. I've stolen a few things and I've lied--not that I didn't have a good reason, ye
ken?" Kristen tried to judge Rebecca's reaction.

  "Oh dear." Rebecca's eyes widened.

  Kristen swallowed hard. She could see the fear in her maid's eyes.

  God, she was doomed.

  Kristen looked to heaven. If ye get me out of this one. I swear I won't steal again, she silently prayed. And I really do mean it this time.

  She didn't want to die. Now that she had a chance for happiness, she wanted to live. She had Hagan to take care of, and she had Trevor. At least, she hoped he still wanted her. Somehow, some way, she'd have to make the judge see that she had killed Ned to protect Hagan. She was not the criminal she was presumed to be.

  "You're very lucky, mum," Rebecca said, finally coming out of her shocked silence.

  "Are ye daft! How can I be lucky?" Kristen tossed her head and gave an irritable tug at her sleeve. "We are sitting in the middle of a prison, or had ye forgotten that small fact? The only luck I seem to have is all bad."

  "I disagree." Rebecca blushed, but persisted.

  "Perhaps, I should have yer thoughts."

  "Now that you have shared your background with me, I think it was a stroke of luck that you found a man like His Grace."

  "Actually, I didn't exactly find the mon." Kristen smiled as she remembered their very first meeting. "I robbed him"

  "Oh, no," Rebecca gasped, hugging her arms to herself.

  Kristen frowned. "Aye, I did."

  "But he married you. I don't understand."

  Kristen sat back down on the bed. " 'Tis a long story, but we seemed tae need each other, and we kind of struck a bargain."

  "Then I will go back and say you are very lucky. You have a fine husband who loves you."

  "I dinna think so. I had hoped so, but how can he after what I've done?"

  "Oh, but he does. True love isn't conditional. It doesn't depend on what you do, but who you are." Rebecca smiled wistfully. "He looked real worried when he sent me here."

  "So worried that he hasn't bothered tae show himself in a week!"

  Rebecca shrugged. "I'm sure he has his reasons."

  Trevor almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Here he sat in a carriage with people he barely knew, riding to the rescue of a wife he'd never planned to have.

  And what's worse, they had to pretend to be a cheerful family.

  With the look on Ian's grumpy face, it would take a small miracle to convince the judge they were family at all . . . much less a happy one.

  Keely seemed to be the only happy one because she was sound asleep next to Ian.

  "Are we going to bring Kristen home?" Hagan asked.

  "Aye," Ian said.

  "Yes," Trevor and Ian answered together, then glared at each other.

  "We hope so, Hagan," Trevor started again. "Kristen will have to be tried. You must remember to be very quiet during the trial."

  "What's a trial?" Hagan asked.

  "By the saints, the chap can be asking some questions," Ian grumbled.

  "A trial is what people get when they have been accused of doing something wrong." Trevor spoke to Hagan but glared at Ian. "The trial decides if they are guilty or innocent."

  "Kristen, didn't do nothing wrong," Hagan insisted.

  "I agree, she didn't."

  " 'Tis a bloody English court," Ian snapped. "Ye probably can't trust any of them."

  "Well, it's all we have," Trevor sharpened his voice. "I have obtained the best barristers money can buy."

  "That's ye answer to everything. Money!" Ian grunted.

  "You're grumpy, Grandda," Hagan said as he looked up at the man. "Didn't you sleep well?"

  "I canna sleep with all the bloody racket," Ian informed Hagan. Ian shifted and tried to make himself comfortable in his seat.

  Hagan smiled at Ian. "You remind me so much of Grandmere."

  Ian raised a bushy white brow as he studied the child. "And how is that?"

  "She was always grumpy, too. Did you know her?"

  Trevor noted the strange look that entered Ian's eyes, and he wondered. Trevor could almost swear that Ian's eyes looked misty.

  "Aye, I knew her."

  "She's gone, you know," Hagan replied sadly.

  "I heard." Ian's words seemed worn and thin. "Why don't we get some sleep?" Ian folded his arms across his chest and shut his eyes, putting an end to the conversation.

  "I'm not sleepy," Hagan protested, looking at Trevor.

  "Ian's right. We'll be traveling all night. You must try to rest. As you can see, Keely has already gone to sleep."

  Hagan got up on his knees so he could whisper in Trevor's ear. "It's queer how much she looks like Kristen."

  Trevor chuckled and nodded his agreement. "Lie down and put your head in my lap. No arguments."

  "Ah, Trevor," Hagan grumbled, but did as he was told.

  Trevor leaned back, resting his head on the coach's plush bolster. "Good night."

  "'Night," the child said, then added. "Don't forget to pray for Kristen."

  "I will. Go to sleep." Trevor rubbed the child's head, and then he did something--something he hadn't done in a long time.

  Trevor shut his eyes and prayed for a small miracle.

  Chapter Twenty

  Kristen had rather sleep . . .

  Maybe if she slept all day, someone could tell her what the judge decided when she woke up. But that wouldn't happen. The jailer had already told her they would be leaving in half an hour.

  Rebecca had been her usual efficient self and had packed their few belongings. Evidently she didn't expect they wouldn't be returning.

  If only Kristen could share her optimism. She looked into the small hand mirror and noticed how her hand shook. Her eye had turned an ugly purple and yellow color. Maybe the lingering evidence of what Ned had done would help her case. At least, she hoped it would.

  Kristen heard the keys jingling before the door opened and the jailor--one she'd not seen before--stepped inside.

  "It's time, miss," he informed her.

  Kristen drew in a long, slow breath. Her time had come.

  "I'm glad ye stayed with me," Kristen whispered to Rebecca as she hugged her.

  "I didn't mind. It's my job, mum. I'll just take your things home and wait for you there. I know everything will turn out all right." Rebecca squeezed Kristen's arm reassuringly.

  "Ye have more confidence than I do."

  The jailor shuffled his feet. "I said it's time to go, miss," the big, burly man repeated. He slapped the manacles onto Kristen's wrists impatiently.

  He shoved her out the door, then led her through several long hallways until they entered what they called the Old Bailey, where he placed her in another cell under the courtroom.

  The room was nothing but four walls and a door. There was no place to sit, and this time Kristen wasn't alone. Seven men and three women were already in the small cell, and the men bore the same shifty appearance as Ned. At least, they were not making rude comments. Kristen assumed they were too worried about their own necks to bother with her.

  Kristen leaned against a far wall so she could keep her eyes on her new roommates. And she waited.

  The wall felt damp against her back and she wondered if this room ever had any light in it. After an hour passed, the bailiff came and took two of the prisoners upstairs. They left in pairs until finally she was the only one left in the cell.

  "You're next," the jailor said as he opened the door to fetch her.

  Kristen straightened her spine. She lifted her chin, determined she wouldn't be a coward. She stepped forward and asked, "Do you know anything about this court?"

  He nodded and explained that the Old Bailey was divided into four courts. He was taking her to the fourth court, where she would be tried by the Assize Judge.

  Kristen swallowed hard at that tidbit of information. Even she knew that the Assize Judge only tried the most serious cases and usually his sentences were severe.

  She didn't know whether she hoped it was a long way to the court or whether
she wanted to get there and get the trial over with quickly. She followed the bailiff.

  When she entered the courtroom, Kristen was overwhelmed by the size of the room and the many long tables. She was taken to the center and told to stand on a small platform. Glancing to her left, Kristen saw Trevor, Hagan and her new family all sitting together. She almost looked a second time to make sure she wasn't seeing things. A Claremont and a Johnstone shoulder to shoulder. At least one miracle had occurred today. She smiled a little at the irony.

  She faced the judge, who sat in the middle of a semicircle. He wore a scarlet robe and a white powdered wig. Below him, another group of men sat dressed exactly the same. She had no idea who they were, but they looked like judges also.

  Everywhere she looked she saw red. The seats were crimson, and the walls had a faded hanging cloth that she was sure had been red at one time. She hoped the scarlet color everywhere did not symbolize what was to come: her death, bloody and cruel. Over the center of the judge's bench, a Sword of Justice with a gold handle and ornamented scabbard was displayed.

  Her small enclosure was directly across from the Assize Judge.

  The man who brought her in pulled on her arm. "Stand here and face The Clerk of the Arraign," he instructed.

  "Who?"

  "The man over there." The jailor pointed. "The desk beneath the judge."

  Kristen leaned over the rail so she could keep her voice low. "Who is sitting at the long table with the green cloth?"

  "One is the prosecution and the other would be your barristers," he said, then left her alone.

  Kristen straightened and glanced to her right at the jury box, which consisted of two long seats. Every man seemed to be staring at her, and she shuddered. She just hoped she looked innocent to them.

  A tall, thin man came toward her and stopped. "I am your barrister, Your Grace. Mr. Winthrop at your service." He bowed, and she felt ridiculous, seeing that she had handcuffs on her wrists. Her cheeks warmed with her embarrassment.