03 - The Wicked Lady (35 page)

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.

"
'Tis nice tae meet ye, Mr. Winthrop."

"Is there anything you would like to tell me? You will not be permitted to testify on your own behalf, but I have been granted the right to cross-examine which, I assure you, is rare."

Kristen stared at the stranger who knew absolutely nothing about her. How could he know what she'd lived in or how she had endured over the years? He couldn't. But he seemed to be all she had at the moment. "I did pull the trigger, but only out of fear for myself and my brother. Ye have only tae look at our black eyes tae see what the mon inflicted on us."

"I do see that." Winthrop nodded. "Did he do this often?"

"Every chance he got."

"Let us begin," a clerk announced as he stood. He waited a moment for everyone to quit talking.

Her barrister hurried back to the table with the green cloth where two other men sat staring at her.

The clerk started reading the names of the Members of the Commission. When the clerk had finished, he sat down and silence crackled across the room.

"What is the prisoner's name?" the judge asked in a booming voice, looking not at Kristen but her barrister.

Mr. Winthrop stood and cleared this throat. "Kristen Johnstone Claremont, The Duchess of Chatsworth, your honor."

"So this is the one," the judge muttered more to himself than to anyone. Then he continued, "She is charged with murder?"

"She is, your honor."

"Does she understand the charge?"

"She does, your honor."

"Then let us begin."

Kristen watched as the prosecution called some of the men she'd seen in the hallway the night of the shooting. They each pointed to her as the woman who had held the gun when they'd arrived. She listened as they painted a grim picture of what they'd seen. She sounded guilty, even to her own ears.

Then her barrister questioned the same men, asking if they knew what had happened before the fatal shot was fired. Each man replied no.

Next the prosec
ution questioned Trevor, who gave all the correct answers. However, when asked about the gun, he had to tell the court that his wife had been holding the weapon when he'd arrived.

The prosec
ution rested. It was apparent in their faces that they didn't think there was a need to call anyone else.

Just as Kristen thought her fate was doomed, Winthrop turned and called Ian Johnstone.

"Can you tell us your relationship to Kristen Claremont?" Winthrop asked.

"Her name is Kristen Johnstone . . . Claremont," Ian corrected, then finished, "The lass is my granddaughter."

"But we just heard testimony that she was raised in the streets," Winthrop interjected.

"
'Twas no fault of her own," Ian snapped. "Kristen was kidnapped by my housekeeper when she was just a wee bairn."

"Then you don't think she is capable of killing anyone?"

"Nay, I do not. Just look at her eye. If she were a murderer, she'd have killed the mon before he struck her."

Her barrister seemed pleased with the last remark. "No further questions," Winthrop said, then sat down.

The prosecution decided it was his turn. "You just testified that your granddaughter was taken from you at a tender age. How can you possibly know what she would do?"

"I got tae know Kristen when she came tae spend some time with me. She is exactly like her sister, and could never do anything that would purposely hurt someone."

The prosecutor placed an arm on the rail. "How do you know Kristen is your granddaughter?"

"If ye'll have Keely, her sister, stand, Ye'll find yer answer."

The prosecutor turned and said, "Keely Johnstone, please stand so that we may see you."

Keely slowly stood, and everyone gasp.

The prosecutor frowned, having been caught in his own folly.

"You have heard testimony that your granddaugh
ter was an accomplished thief. What do have to say about that, sir?"

Ian thought for a moment. "If I were hungry enough, I suppose I could be a thief, too. But 'tis not the same as murder."

"Then, you think what she did is all right?"

"I dinna say that. I am old, and I have seen many men in every situation imaginable. I believe we would do most anything in our power to survive, even yourself sir."

The prosecutor, seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere dismissed Ian.

Winthrop stood. "I would like to call
one final witness," he stated. "Hagan, will you please come forward."

Hagan made his way to the front of the courtroom, but as soon as he neared Kristen, he darted over and, standing on tiptoe, he reached up a hand to her.

Kristen leaned over and squeezed the child's hand.

"I've missed you," Hagan whispered.

"I've missed ye, too," she said, then gently pushed him in the direction he should be going.

As soon as Winthrop helped Hagan into the stand, the judge asked, "What happened to your eye?"

Hagan stared at the judge a moment before he said in a very small voice, "My father hit me."

The judged didn't bother to say anythin
g else, so Mr. Winthrop spoke. "Did he do this often?"

"Every time he got liquored up, he usually beat Kristen."

"And why not yourself?"

"'Cause Kristen would hide me until he sobered up."

Winthrop placed his hand on the rail and leaned toward Hagan. "Do you think that he would have killed Kristen?"

"In the mood he was in, he'd have killed anybody who got in his way. He was hitting me when Kristen pointed the gun and told him to stop."

"Thank you, young man. You may step down," the judge dismissed him as a surprised Winthrop looked on.

The prosecutor stood. "We would like to question the child."

"The child has been through enough, and so have I," the judge stated. The prosecutor sat down, his mouth still open.

"You have heard all the evidence. What do you have to say for yourself?" The judge looked straight at Kristen.

Kristen tried to remain calm, but her knees shook as she racked her brain for the right words. "I have done things in my past that I'm not very proud of, Your Honor, but the only thing I am guilty of now is protecting my brother."

"So be it."  The judge looked to the jury and nodded. The jury gathered together to discuss her fate. She could see their heads bobbing and heard their murmurs.  Every once in awhile a member of the jury would look in her direction and frown.

Kristen's knees grew that much weaker. If the jury didn't make a decision soon, they would be picking her up off the floor.

Finally, one of the jurors approached the judge and whispered something in his ear.

The judge looked at Kristen solemnly. "Kristen Johnstone Claremont, you have been judged by your peers and found . . . ."

The judge didn't finish his sentence. He frowned intently down at her.

Saint's above! Kristen thought frantically. She was doomed!

Glancing down at her hands, she found her knuckles had turned white from gripping the rail.

"Not guilty," the judge's voice rang out.

Kristen didn't move. Did he say not guilty? Did that mean it was all over? Her legs gave way, and she had to cling to the railing to keep from fa
lling to the floor.

The jailor approached her and removed the handcuffs. Kristen started to follow him out of habit. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do.

"No, mum. You are free to go and be with your family." He pointed to the happy group of people waiting for her.

Kristen felt as if she were in a fog. Was it really over? Could she really go home with Trevor and Hagan? She stumbled toward them. Ian was the first one she reached. He grabbed her and hugged her. Then Hagan rushed into her arms. How wonderful it felt to have that little boy in her arms. She brushed his unruly hair with her hand and breathed in the wonderful little--boy smell.

Finally, Trevor took her arm. "Let's get out of this courtroom."

When they were outside, Kristen had to shade her eyes from the light even on such a cloudy day. It had been over a week since she'd been outside and the light overwhelmed her.

Trevor immediately wrapped his arms around her. "Are you all right?" he leaned over and asked, holding her next to his side.

"
'Tis the light. It's so bright."

"I didn't think about it," Trevor admitted. "Try and open your eyes slowly."

She followed his instructions until she could keep her eyes open without them watering.

"That's my girl. Now, turn around and look at me," Trevor said tenderly.

She did as he asked, and tilted her head back until she could see his eyes. What she saw made her pulse quicken. They were definitely blue and smoldering today as he gazed down at her. A promise lingered in their depths.

Heat spread through her like a wildfire. She didn't hesitate, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him to her until his arms tightened around her like a steel band.

Then his lips were on hers, parting them and taking her breath as his tongue drove deep into her mouth. She tried to show him how much she loved him by returning the urgency of his kiss.

She touched her tongue to his and tightened her hold around his neck. She felt like she was holding on for dear life because she didn't want to let him go ever again. The desire to shower him with love and affection overwhelmed her.

They were both heedless of their surroundings until Ian said from somewhere behind them, "I kept my part of the bargain, Englishmon."

Trevor pulled back. He hugged Kristen one final time before stepping away from her.

Kristen stood a moment, trying to regain her balance. She was embarrassed that she'd forgotten about the rest of her family who were standing outside the Old Bailey. She turned to them.  "I want tae thank ye for coming today."

Keely stepped closer and hugged her. "We're family."

When Keely stood back, Kristen noticed for the first time that there were two black coaches that seemed to be waiting for them. She recognized Trevor's, and she assumed the other one belonged to her Grandfather.

"Are we ready to go home?" Kristen asked, when no one moved.

Trevor frowned as he took her elbow and pulled her aside. "Kristen, I think you should go home with your family, so you can have time to get to know them."

Hagan shoved between them. "No, I want Kristen to come home with us."

"If you want, you can go with your sister," Trevor said, looking down at the child.

"But I want to stay with you at Chatsworth."

Kristen felt completely numb.

She had gone from gloriously happy to miserable in the matter of a minute.

She had thought all this confusion was behind her, but Trevor had just made it clear that he wanted her to go with her grandfather.

Trevor didn't want her.

Had he just felt guilty about her being in jail? Now that she was free, so was he?

But the kiss . . . .

How could he kiss her like that and not feel anything? Kristen stepped away from him and pasted a determined look on her face. Well, she most certainly wouldn't make a fool out of herself twice in one day. She should face the fact that her life would never be simple, much less normal.

"Hagan, 'tis all right if ye want tae stay with Trevor. I understand." It took all of Kristen's power to stay focused on her brother and not look at her husband.  She'd never let him see the rejection she felt.

"Ah, Kristen," Hagan groaned and hugged her. "Will you come and visit me?"