Beyond Innocence (2 page)

To her horror, desperate hands scrabbled through the bars, grabbed at her sleeve, and pleaded for food. Other prisoners stared silently with vacant eyes. Electra crossed her arms tight against her chest to escape their touch and focused her eyes on the turnkey’s stained brown coat.

The worst was the smell. She tried to suck the stagnant air through her mouth in short pants but still it assaulted her nostrils and defiled her mouth. It was the smell of death and decay, and it clung to her hair, her clothes, and her skin.

Then noises, not human, drew her eyes to a skeletal wretch manacled with chains stapled to the floor. She bit back a sob of pity for the desperate soul and hurried to keep up with the turnkey.

The bestial noises followed them until they moved through two locked doors and into a quieter area. But the putrid stench of the dead and dying still oozed from the walls.

“No profit to be made from that section of the prison,” he snarled as he slammed the second door.

Did he say profit? Oh Lord, the man is a monster.
As she was dragged forward into another passageway, Electra caught a glimpse of the large common room. The turnkey stopped outside an empty cell and jerked his thumb at the open door.

The room was small with a bed in the corner and three windowless walls. Next to the bed was a scarred wooden table with a jug and basin in the centre. A wooden chair with the rungs missing from the upright and a bucket for her needs completed the furnishings.

“See? Yer fancy man has paid for all yer home comforts.” He smirked at her. “Generosity ain’t his strong point though. Come next week yer’ll be back down the way with some o’ them pretty fellers we just passed, if me palm ain’t crossed with summat worthwhile.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she asked, “Is Lord Rann coming to see me? How long will I be held here?”

The man scratched lazily at a layer of belly that overlapped his groin and sucked food from his teeth. “Well, let’s see. Hmm. Answers to questions cost money, girlie.”

She struggled for the last remnants of strength and sanity. But how was she to make sense of it all? This was a world unimaginable to her only hours before. A foul, depraved place where none of the old rules applied; where money was the only language they understood. This is a game, she told herself. Nothing but a game and I have to play by the rules to survive.

She straightened her shoulders and glared at the sneering creature. “You are well aware I have no money. However, I will be asking Lord Rann just how much you have already been paid and we shall see if it’s enough to answer my questions.”

His eyes darted to the far side of the cell. “Ah well, yer see, Lord Rann don’t give me no schedule of his movements. As to yer second question, yer hearin’ ain’t ’til end of May and after that only the good Lord knows how long you’ll be here.”

He spat into the corner of her cell and smirked at her horrified face. Then he heaved the cell door closed with a hard clang and retreated down the passageway. The sounds of his mirthless cackle bounced off the stone walls and chilled her blood.

Electra sank onto the small cot in the corner of the cell. The end of May, he said. But that was more than a month away. Oh God, where was Edward? What could have happened to detain him? Because he would come if it were at all possible … wouldn’t he?

• • •

Electra woke with a start as an iron rod rattled against the bars of her cell. When her heart finally slowed, she gingerly stretched her aching body and sat upright.

“Visitor for yer. Warden’s bringin’ him down.”

Before she could enquire as to who her visitor might be, the man had gone.

It had been a full week since she first entered Newgate and this was her first visitor. It had to be Edward and she must look a fright. She patted her unwashed hair, straightened her gown, and stopped. A sense of desolation surged through her as she remembered his actions. And then, to her surprise, she hoped it was not Edward after all. Somehow, she would find it hard to look at him or to feel a shred of her former emotion for a man who could abandon her to such a fate.

An uncomfortable feeling in her bladder reminded her she must use the bucket and was mortified at the thought of being caught in this act by anyone. No, she could not risk it.

Just as she made the decision, a key sounded in the lock and the door was thrown open to reveal a tall, thin stranger. The man leaned in to the doorway, introduced himself as Winston Liddell, and then awkwardly drew the rest of his body into the cell. Confused, she stared vacantly at the man.

He cleared his throat. “May I ascertain if you are indeed Miss Shipley, madam?”

She nodded and gestured for him to take a seat on the rickety chair. Liddell tried to fit his gangly frame onto it, lost his balance and almost toppled to the floor.

A moment later, perched on the edge of the table, he explained the purpose of his visit. “Lord Rann is quite concerned for your welfare, Miss Shipley. He has engaged my legal expertise to present your case in court.” Liddell tilted his head and smiled as if all her problems were now solved.

She did not rise from the cot nor did she take his outstretched hand when offered. Her calm exterior hid a rising anger that Edward had not had the courage to accompany the lawyer. She found it impossible to be gracious to the poor man.

“And why has he not been to see me, Mr. Liddell?”

“Er, terribly busy my dear. Parliament’s been sitting, social engagements. Sends his regards of course.”

“And what of my many other acquaintances? Have none asked to assist me?”

“They realize you wouldn’t want a fuss made and would be much more comfortable with everybody getting on with their business, eh?” He pursed his lips in what passed for a grin.

Her shoulders slumped. So that’s how it was to be. A social leper. Someone to be avoided at all costs in case her misfortune tainted them. She wondered would she have been so callous and superficial herself? It did not seem possible. She wriggled on the cot, painfully aware of her very full bladder and wished the man and his platitudes gone.

He started to discuss her case, but she interrupted him again. “When did you last see Edward?”

He frowned and then remembered, “Ah, yes. I saw him and Miss Hemingway at Lady Trent’s recital and — ”

“Miss Hemingway? What was my fiancé doing with Miss Hemingway?” Priscilla Hemingway had long had an eye on Edward, but now it seemed the attraction may not have been one-sided.

“Oh dear, er — I only have a short time and we must speak about your case,” he mumbled, with a nervous tug at his collar.

She struggled to apprise Liddell of her uncle’s actions but the immovable lump in her throat hampered the words. The shock of Edward’s further betrayal had numbed her mind and she was dimly aware of gaps in her information. When finally he left, she rushed to use the bucket and then let herself cry for Edward and all she knew she had lost.

Later, when the tears were spent, she took a little comfort in the knowledge that it would soon be over. As soon as her case went to trial, she would prove her innocence and her uncle would be exposed as the criminal. The whole ghastly mistake would be remedied. And Miss Conniving Hemingway could have Edward and good riddance to them both. Meanwhile, as ludicrous as it seemed, she must swallow her pride and live by the rules of Newgate.

With the promise of payment, she had a note delivered to Aggie and Bolger. She instructed them to sell a portion of her jewelry and to bring the coins, clean clothing, food, and books to the jail. The money already held by her housekeeper, Mrs. Crouch, was to be used to pay the staff and keep the house running until she was released.

Two days later, a terrified Aggie scuttled into her cell.

“Oh, ma’am it’s jes’ awful. They can’t let you stay. My gawd, the noise and the smell … an’ them rats … ” She burst into loud sobs.

Electra looked at the little maid, unable to find a word of consolation. “Just give me what you’ve brought, Aggie, and take yourself away from this dreadful place.”

Aggie sniffed loudly, handed Electra the bag she held and waited, her eyes consciously averted from the bucket in the corner.

“Aggie?” ventured Electra.

“Ma’am?”

“You spend some time with Lord Rann’s groom do you not?”

Aggie swallowed, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Has he spoken about Lord Rann having taken up with another young lady? A Miss Hemingway?”

Aggie’s face drained of color and she bit her bottom lip. Electra had her answer even before the maid spoke.

“He don’t deserve you ma’am, he never did. That little strumpet threw herself at him, so Danny says and … ”

Electra’s stomach clenched as the punch dealt her by Edward’s actions connected. Catching her breath, she held up her hand, “It’s all right, Aggie, let’s say no more about it. And thank you for your help.”

“I’ll come again if you want, ma’am, I will.” The maid swiped a hand across her eyes and sniffed.

“I know you will Aggie. Just go quickly now.” She fought back her own tears as she watched the only contact with her old life disappear down the passageway.

• • •

The trial of a person of consequence always drew a good crowd. As the last day of May was uncommonly warm, there was an even greater number of people at this court hearing than normal. And the trial of the niece of the new Viscount Gascombe would be well worth the outing — or so the woman with the wheezing lungs, who brought her meals, informed her. Electra had yet to hear a word from Edward and wondered briefly if he would be in attendance.

She shuffled into the courtroom behind the seven other accused felons, her gown loose on her desperately thin frame. Her hair was roughly pinned and covered with a cap. She hung her head in shame that anyone would see her in such disarray.

Beside her a middle-aged woman accused of her husband’s murder hissed violent curses through her toothless gums. Electra ignored her, eyes riveted on the judge as he swept into the room. Her hands were ice cold and when she tried to swallow, her throat refused to cooperate. Every nerve in her body tingled — with hope, but mostly with fear.

When justice had been dispensed to her fellow prisoners, the clerk turned to Electra and after she acknowledged her name he asked, “You are charged with the felony of theft through embezzlement. How do you plead?”

Her lip quivered with the indignity of the question. “Not guilty, Your Honour.”

“How will you be tried?”

She straightened and looked at the judge. “By God and by my country.”

The prosecution presented its case and her uncle stood to give evidence.

“My niece has betrayed the family name and the trust of myself and her dear departed father, my brother.” Electra froze as the words of poison seeped from his lips. “She has embezzled large amounts of money over a long period of time from the family business.” He looked at the jury and shrugged his shoulders. “I can only believe that her father knew of this deceit and protected her.” Electra leapt forward to protest this slur on her father’s name but was pushed back and hushed by Mr. Liddell. She swallowed convulsively to keep the anger and tears at bay.

When her uncle’s paid witnesses added their evidence to his, every juror nodded in sympathy. A chill moved through her body and her eyes darted desperately to her lawyer.

Mr. Liddell stood and, armed only with the scant information she had given him, attempted to make a believable case. Even in her distraught state, Electra did not miss the pursed lips and cynical eyes of the jurors as Liddell spoke. Her body trembled and her lungs refused to draw breath as she finally understood that the truth would not save her. As the foreman stood to present the verdict, a soundless scream of denial echoed through her body.

“Your Honour, we find the prisoner guilty as charged.”

The judge looked up through hooded eyes, banged his gavel and said, “The prisoner is sentenced to seven years transportation to Parts Beyond the Seas. Next.”

The blood rushed to Electra’s head in a deafening roar and her legs collapsed beneath her.

Six months later.

“Orders for one Electra Shipley to see the captain.”

Electra swallowed the relentless nausea and turned her head toward Lieutenant Clarke. No recognition showed in his hard eyes as he scanned the hostile faces of the women gathered in the hold. His nostrils flared and a shiver of revulsion disturbed his stony features.

“What’s wrong darlin’? The smell not to your likin’?” snorted one of the women.

He scowled but did not respond as his head swivelled from side to side.

There was nowhere to hide but still she shrank back into her rank, sweat-soaked bedding. On a prison ship, invisibility was always preferable to the alternative.

“Ouch!” yelped Electra, as a sharp fingernail jabbed into her side.

“Here she is sir, take her with yer an’ give us all a rest from her moanin’.” Another vicious jab shoved her toward him. She slapped listlessly at her assailant and was kicked for her trouble.

With a deep breath to calm both her heaving stomach and her fear, she hauled herself up. She stumbled, clutched the doorframe for support, and stepped out of the women’s hold.

The ship lurched and Electra again gripped the walls to keep her balance as she struggled to follow the lieutenant. Why had she been ordered to the captain? It was no use asking the lieutenant; he would need to consider her a human being to respond and this was clearly not the case. Her usually active mind had been taught not to question or argue over the past months. Electra’s compliant submission was testimony to a lesson well learnt.

Dizzy from seasickness and lack of food, she tried to match the lieutenant’s pace. They navigated the dark warren below decks, climbed the ladder, and stepped out onto the quarterdeck. At the risk of a beating, she stopped, closed her eyes, and drew in a deep breath of fresh, salty air. This small act of defiance served to ignite a remnant of her former pride as she was prodded toward a polished oak door. She straightened her shoulders, raked her nails through her mass of greasy, matted curls, and brushed at her grimy skirt. The lieutenant rapped on the door, turned the brass handle, and stepped back to announce her presence to the captain.