Lies and Misdemeanours (6 page)

Thoroughly sick of people trying to make a profit from such an occasion, she pushed roughly through the crowd and moved the final three feet to get to where she needed to be, and suddenly wished she hadn’t.

The sight of the wooden platform only a few feet away made her head swim but, what was worse, was the sight of the grimy faces pressed to the bars of the huge jail, which now sat right beside her.

She knew that if she didn’t step back a little, she was not going to be able to do what she needed to do to save even herself. She was too close, but the crowd had closed the space behind her, and now blocked her exit.

A jailer stood a few feet away and studied her with a scowl. Their eyes met for several moments before Hetty turned her gaze away. She tried not to look guilty, she really did but, unless she was mistaken, that jailer knew why she was there.

Don’t be absurd,
she sighed to herself.
How can he possibly know
?

She wanted to dismiss the notion as ridiculous but, when she turned around to look at him again, he had vanished. There had been something in his face that had warned her that he knew who she was, and why she was there.

Were some of Meldrew’s men in the crowd? The thought made her knees shake.

She closed her eyes on a silent prayer that he didn’t. She quickly shook off the growing sense of disquiet and studied her new position a bit more carefully. She now had a perfect view of the path the condemned would walk on their way to the gallows. It was by far the very worst place to be but, right now, she desperately needed to make eye contact with Charlie and Simon when they came out. If only so she could let them know that she was there; and they were not alone in this.

She hadn’t been allowed to see her husband this morning. Their brief visit yesterday hadn’t been long enough. The few precious moments they had been spared had left them both bereft, and more frustrated than ever. There was so much she wanted to say to him; so much she wanted to know about her husband, but Fate always seemed to deny them. It was so unfair that she had been beyond crying, and had left the jail numb with the weight of emotion that battered her.

Thankfully, the condemned had been allowed to see their families without chains. The feel of Charlie’s strong arms around her had been difficult to step away from, even when she had turned into her brother’s embrace.

When a pang of longing swept through her, Hetty turned her attention back to her current surroundings and drew in a deep breath.

“It would be wrong if Simon and Charlie died because I didn’t do anything, and Meldrew succeeded in hanging innocent men,” she whispered too herself. “I need to be there for them. I have to do this.”

“What?” the man beside her grunted.

“Nothing,” Hetty sighed.

An expectant silence settled over the crowd as they waited. When the minutes ticked by, and the jail door remained closed, conversations gradually resumed until the din started to reach fever pitch. The traders began to shout their wares again, women chatted, children laughed and played as everyone settled back to wait. To them, it didn’t matter how long this took; there was a spectacle to be watched and they weren’t going anywhere while food, drink and games were available to pass the time until the final moment.

“Sorry,” she muttered to an old lady who protested when they bumped into each other.

“It’s alright dearie,” the old woman cackled.

Hetty looked up and almost slumped with relief at the sight of her good friend, Mabel.

“Won’t be long now,” Mabel assured her, as though she was thoroughly enjoying the day out.

“I know,” Hetty sighed. “I can’t wait until it is over.”

“Me either,” Mabel agreed with a nod.

“Good day we are having,” she declared loudly.

“Up until now, it’s been miserable,” Mabel muttered. “Not long now.”

Hetty swallowed and remained quiet.

Charles ‘Charlie’ Ryder watched the irons fall off his wrists and stared blankly at his hands. He barely had the time to assess the red marks around his wrists before they were suddenly yanked behind his back, and tied with coarse rope that bit cruelly into his already bruised flesh. 

“Move on,” the jailer growled.

Although his face remained impassive, Charlie’s heart began to pound as he shuffled ever closer to the door.

Until now, he had thought that everything that had happened over the last several days had been a horrible joke, and that someone – anyone – was going to step forward and tell him it was a huge mistake before he was shown the door.

He glanced around the jail, and cursed bitterly at the unfamiliar faces of the jailers.

Time had run out. Help was not possible, he knew that now. His only consolation was the knowledge that his imminent death would not be in vain; and that Hetty was going to be protected from any of Meldrew’s future schemes.

Once Sir Hugo got men to the area, they would leave no stone unturned in avenging his death, and Meldrew would see his own day in court, and Hetty would be free to live her life as a considerably wealthy widow.

He turned and watched Simon’s chains fall to the floor. Their eyes met and held for several moments before the jailer ordered them to turn around and move forward again.

The only sign of the fierce anger that surged through Charlie was the muscle that ticked steadily in his jaw. He didn’t even bother to spare the jailer a look, and stared resolutely at the door that would take him to his death.

In all of his years with the Star Elite, he had never expected to meet his death this way. Shot by an attacker, or knifed in a brawl maybe; or even drowned by smugglers. Being hung by the neck for a crime he didn’t commit was something he had never thought could happen to someone like him.

The crowds outside sounded loud, even through the thick stone walls of the prison. He hoped and prayed that Hetty wouldn’t be outside amongst the melee. The thought of her having to witness the last few moments of his demise was awful.

Hetty. Although he had only met her a few times, he felt a greater connection to her than he had ever had with anyone else before. The thought that she was now his wife made him inordinately proud, and bitter, about the life that Fate had denied him.

The mental image of her had become his guiding light over the last few days, and had helped him through the darkest hours he thought never to endure. That glorious mane of bright red hair accompanied by her piercing beautiful blue eyes had stirred his soul, and shaken him to the point that he had not been able to get her out of his mind, but then he hadn’t wanted to.

The stark memory of the last time he had held her in his arms gave him the strength he needed to be able to get through the next few minutes. She had felt so slight; so delicate in his arms that he was certain that a good gust of wind would carry her away. It had been a good enough reason to hold her tighter. 

“God, they are actually baying,” Simon whispered in horror.

Charlie couldn’t bring himself to say anything. His stomach began to churn and, for one brief moment, he wondered if he was going to lose the contents of his last meal all over the floor. The man in the line in front of him began to sob quietly as the realisation of his fate dawned on him.

The sound of chains being dragged across the stone floor was loud in the tense silence of the hallway. Charlie turned and looked at the ironmonger dragging the last of the shackles across the floor. Now that all of the prisoners were free, the priest began to issue last rights. The jailers moved to the door. All of them were heavily armed, and ready to lead the condemned to the waiting gallows outside.

There was no way out.

“This is a travesty,” Simon whispered morosely. “A bloody travesty. That’s what this is.”

Charlie had to agree and, in that moment, hated Cedric Meldrew with every fibre of his being.

It was probably better this way
he mused silently. If he had been found innocent at that pathetic pantomime of a court, then he would have dedicated his life to ensuring that Cedric Meldrew was put in a position where he could never hurt anyone again. If he had to kill the bastard to render him useless then that is what he would do, but he would have inevitably ended up at the end of a hangman’s noose for doing so.

“Look on the bright side,” Charlie snorted without humour. “At least we can haunt the bastard.”

He threw a look at Simon, who shook his head and heaved a sigh. There was no humour in this situation. Nothing about the injustice and inhumanity of Meldrew’s every action was even remotely funny.

Suddenly, the door at the end of the hallway opened, and everyone was immediately bathed in the hazy early morning. The cacophony outside assaulted them at the same time that everything within the jail went still and watchful.

“Move on,” the jailer ordered.

The condemned were nudged toward the door. Before they were allowed to leave the building, their legs were tied with ropes to stop them running away, but there was enough leeway for them to walk themselves to their deaths.

As soon as the first prisoner appeared in the open air, raucous cries and shouts of dismay began. The once jovial atmosphere of the crowd now turned watchful. People remained still and silent as they watched the convicts being pushed through the door, out into the open air.

People jostled for a better position so they could get a good look at the prisoners. Family members of the two of the convicts began to sob and call out endearments as their loved ones passed them.

Charlie was glad that his family had no idea what was going on. If they did, he knew that his brothers would be there to help him but, unfortunately, none of them would ever be aware of the fate that would befall their youngest brother until Sir Hugo was able to visit to tell them.

There were so many things he wanted to say to them, but would never get the chance now. He wanted them to meet Hetty. He wanted to be the one to introduce them, and explain how important she was to him, but couldn’t. Not now.

It was unnerving to stumble through the crowd on the way to his death. Charlie’s gaze was caught by the sinister sight of the long ropes that awaited him and his fellow convicts, and he closed his eyes on a silent prayer for clemency.

“’Ere, get back!”

The jailer’s order forced him to open his eyes. At first, fear stopped him from recognising the man who locked gazes with him. He opened his mouth to speak, but was shoved forward by a jailer before he could utter a word. By the time he looked back again, the man had gone.

Had he just dreamt that he had seen his good friend and colleague, Barnaby Stevenson in the crowd?

No, you are just imagining it,
Charlie snorted.
Barnaby couldn’t be there. How? There hadn’t been enough time for him to travel here all the way from London?

A wild thrill of hope swept through him but, when Charlie scanned the crowd, the man had vanished. He glanced around frantically, desperate to find at least one of his colleagues nearby, but didn’t recognise anybody.

To his stunned disbelief though, there, only a few feet in front of him, was Hetty. She looked radiant in the morning sunshine, even shrouded by a thick, woollen shawl. His heart flipped at the sight of her standing tall and proud amongst the throng. He wanted to guide her to safety; he wanted to protect her and spend at least five of his last precious moments with her, and only her.

Suddenly, as he was pushed forward, she was right beside him, only he couldn’t remember moving. His eyes met and held hers. He saw the tears shimmering on her lashes; and read the fear and despair in her eyes. Before she could open her mouth to speak, he slammed his lips onto hers with a force that shook them both. He was wrenched away by the jailer before he could say anything.

By the time he looked back, she too had been swallowed up by the crowd.

Had he imagined it? He wasn’t sure if he was going quietly out of his mind, but the taste of her on his lips was heaven-sent.

He climbed the steps and looked at the hangman, whose dark garb seemed to befit the ordeal that lay ahead. Although he wasn’t a religious man, he began to pray.

Suddenly, a woman appeared out of the crowd and threw herself at Simon.

“Tell Hetty everything will be alright,” Simon gasped in a choked voice before the woman was suddenly wrenched off him and tugged back into the crowd.

Charlie looked back at Simon.

“A friend,” he explained obliquely.

He tried to warn himself not to, but he scanned the crowd for her anyway. He didn’t want her there, and began to pray that she had gone; that she wouldn’t stay to witness his execution. He had no idea why he didn’t want here there. It wasn’t that anything had happened between them. She was his wife in name only. He just felt an invisible connection; a deep, intense attraction toward her that he now knew he would have explored further if circumstances had been different.

Unfortunately, that ephemeral link he had felt with her the first moment he had seen her seemed to still be there because he could practically feel her nearby. Somehow he knew, even before he looked up, that she was there.

His gaze was drawn toward her like a moth to a flame and, although her hair had been carefully covered by a thick woollen scarf, he would recognise that beautiful face anywhere. His heart lurched at the fear in her eyes as their gazes met. He tried to smile at her, to reassure her that everything would be alright, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work. Neither his mouth, nor his brain, seemed to be able to function at all. All of his senses were locked on her, to the point that the crowd began to dim, and he was only vaguely aware of the executioner pushing him into place above the trap door.