My Sister's Prayer (31 page)

Mr. Edwards leaned against the counter. “What have you heard about that?”

Constable Wharton frowned. “That she got herself into some trouble.”

Mr. Edwards's eyes saddened. “Perhaps we could talk about her later.”

When Wharton didn't respond, he said, “Come along. Miss Talbot rooms with the cook, above the kitchen. We'll go around outside.
I don't want my patrons wondering what's going on.” The innkeeper grabbed his hat and led the way. “Just remember that I cooperated with you, and I can't afford to lose my help right now. We're short staffed as it is…And the General Court
is
coming up soon.” As he passed Celeste, he gave her a sympathetic look and then started prattling away again. “She's an honest girl, I can assure you. Like I said, I haven't had one problem with her.”

Celeste appreciated his words but doubted they would do any good. She followed behind him out the front door. The rain blew sideways now, stinging her bare hands and face.

As they reached the kitchen door, Spenser arrived with Constable Jones. Clearly, he'd been apprised of what was going on because he said, “This is my jurisdiction.”

Constable Wharton bristled. “Not so fast. If a crime was committed, it would fall under
my
jurisdiction.”

Mr. Edwards opened the door, saying, “Just search the room.”

As they traipsed through, Sary's eyes grew large.

“Tell her not to worry,” Mr. Edwards instructed Celeste.

She spoke to Sary in French as quickly as she could, telling her what had happened and that everything would soon be back to normal.

Sary nodded, her eyes darting from man to man.

Celeste wondered how they would all fit in the small loft, but only she and the two constables ended up going up the ladder. Mr. Edwards and Spenser both remained in the kitchen. Once she reached the top of the ladder, she walked straight to her pallet and removed the brooch from beneath it. It was all she had from Jonathan, the only thing that was left of his promise. She handed it to Constable Wharton.

He eyed it and frowned. “I'll take this with me too.” He slipped it into his pouch. “And show it at the Vines's plantation.”

“You'll need to record it as evidence,” Constable Jones said. “So it can be returned to Miss Talbot when the case is closed.”

“Don't tell me how to do my job.” Wharton flipped the pallet. Then he shook out the single blanket. Next he flipped Sary's bed. From there he went to the washstand and searched beneath the pitcher and basin,
and then along the underside of the crate. His hands empty, he stepped to the clothes hanging from the pegs and searched them.

“I told you there was nothing here,” Celeste said.

He turned toward her and held up his pouch. “This is quite enough, I assure you. So far it appears you've stolen from passengers on the
Royal Mary
, and then you fabricated a story that the ring originated in Paris and a soldier, who is betrothed to another, gave you a brooch. How can you, an indentured servant, have a family who is wealthy enough to own a ring worth more than you will ever see in your entire life? And how could you, an indentured servant, have managed to captivate the interest of a soldier—who, I'll say once again, is betrothed to another.”

“I'm not lying. Both things are true. I was betrothed to him before Miss Vines was, back in London. He's the reason I came here.”

Wharton looked at Jones. “Even you must admit this is highly suspicious.”

Jones shrugged. “Do you have any evidence that she actually stole the items?”

“I'll go speak with the Vines family tomorrow. Surely I'll have evidence then. In the meantime, I'm arresting Miss Talbot on charges of theft.”

“No!” Celeste gasped.

“
No
is right!” Mr. Edwards bellowed up the ladder. “You cannot incarcerate my kitchen maid.”

“Of course I can,” Constable Wharton responded.

Jones crossed his arms. “I need to question Lieutenant Gray.”

“Fine.” Constable Wharton jerked his head toward Celeste. “Descend.” As she did, he said to Jones, “Send the young man after him and tell him to meet us at the jail.”

When they reached the bottom, Jones directed Spenser to go to the barracks and summon Lieutenant Gray.

Spenser answered, “Of course.”

Celeste reached for his sleeve. “After you do that, please check on Berta. And when the governor returns, would you let me know immediately?”

“Yes. I'll do everything I can.” Spenser hurried toward the door.

Mr. Edwards folded his arms across his chest and confronted Wharton. “This isn't right. I've had no problems with her. Nothing has gone missing. She's not a thief.”

Wharton grabbed Celeste's arm, squeezing it tightly, and hissed to Mr. Edwards, “This is none of your business.”

“It certainly is. I cannot run my inn without her.”

“That's not my problem. And if you interfere further, I'll charge you with harboring a criminal.”

Mr. Edwards took a step backward, bumping against the shelf, a look of misery on his face.

“Send the boy with our meals,” Jones said to Mr. Edwards. “We'll get to the bottom of this as soon as we can.”

Celeste stifled a smile. Constable Jones's love of Sary's cooking was probably the only hope she had.

As Wharton dragged her from the room, Celeste quickly told Sary what was going on. “I'll be back soon,” she added. “Don't worry.”

But Sary clearly was worried.

Once they reached the street, Wharton kept his grip on Celeste's arm as they followed Constable Jones, taking the usual route to the jail.

The two men led her through the gate and into the courtyard. “Take her upstairs,” Wharton said. After all these months of delivering food, this would be her first look inside a cell.

Daylight was fading as Jones unlocked the gate and led her through. A man shouted from the closest cell, “Where's my dinner?”

“Pipe down!” Jones called out.

“Who do you have there?”

“None of your concern!” Jones barked. He led Celeste through a doorway and then up a ladder to a trapdoor. He opened it and led the way to the loft. She knew that was where the women stayed, not that any had been jailed since she arrived in Williamsburg that she knew of. She crawled inside, dragging her skirt through a puddle of water that had come in through the open window. The room smelled of mold. It was cold and dark, except for slivers of light making their way through the bars in the window.

“I'll close the shutters.” Jones reached for the wood panels. “There's a blanket in the corner, and I'll bring your dinner when it arrives.”

“Will I be released as soon as Jonathan verifies my story?”

He hesitated. “I hope so.”

“Thank you.”

As he secured the shutters, the room fell dark. He started to descend the ladder but then stopped. “I'm sorry about this, Miss Talbot. I don't believe you stole anything either.”

Before she could respond, he was gone. A moment later, Constable Wharton said something to Jones in a harsh tone, but Celeste couldn't make out the words.

She crawled across the rough floorboards, searching each corner until she found a musty blanket and a chamber pot. She pulled the blanket over her cloak, wrapping herself in it, and then collapsed on the floor, trying not to think of Berta.

She stayed awake for as long as she could, hoping Jonathan would arrive soon and wishing for some sort of dinner. By the yelling from the two cells below, none of the men had received their meals either. Celeste could imagine the chaos at the inn with Benjamin and Mr. Edwards serving. Aline was probably helping too.

As she waited, she felt more and more disoriented in the pitch-dark, and it wasn't long until she fell asleep.

A knocking sound woke Celeste. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and once she did she couldn't tell if an hour had passed or an entire night. Then it all came back. She was in the jail's loft. She pulled the blanket around her as she rose to her knees, wondering why no one had woken her once Jonathan was found.

The trapdoor creaked. “It's Jones,” the constable said. “I have breakfast for you—and a visitor.”

Celeste scooted over to the shutters and opened them, letting in more of the cold air, hoping Jonathan had come at last. No one was below. After straightening her cap over her disheveled hair, she pulled the blanket tighter, anticipating that Jonathan was on the ladder too.

The trapdoor popped up and then clunked heavily against the rough boards of the floor. Instead of Jonathan, Spenser appeared, holding a bucket.

For a moment disappointment washed through her, but Spenser's face reflected so much sympathy that she couldn't help but be thrilled to see him.

“Are you all right?” He looked as if he hadn't slept.

She nodded. “Where's Jonathan? Why didn't he come last night?”

“He took off to the east in his carriage yesterday morning. No one has seen him since.”

Celeste sank back on her heels, speechless for a long moment. Once Spenser made his way through the hatch, she managed to say, “Well, if he's at the Vines's plantation, he's soon in for a big surprise.” Celeste was certain Constable Wharton would mention her and the relationship she claimed to have with Jonathan. It wasn't her concern how Miss Vines would react.

“He'll tell Wharton about the brooch. And about his treatment of you, I'm sure of it.” He handed her the bucket. “Sary made you biscuits and tea for breakfast.” Lowering his voice, he added, “And she sent along some smoked pork for later.”

She thanked him, taking the half-full pewter mug first. It certainly wasn't the way tea was usually served, but it was still warm. She wrapped her hands around it, grateful.

“I've made some inquiries into a solicitor for you.”

“I don't have enough money to pay for one.” Celeste still had some funds left, but she would need every bit to pay for Berta's care in the coming weeks.

He shrugged. “We'll figure it out. Hopefully, your case can be heard in the General Court next week. The sooner this is settled, the better, but it sounds like the judicial system here doesn't work the same as in England. Things don't seem to be as—uniform.”

Celeste inhaled deeply, knowing it was pointless to ask anymore questions. Spenser couldn't predict how things might turn out. “How's Berta?”

His face darkened. “Wharton took her with him.”

Celeste gasped.

“He declared the contract void, of course. In his mind, he's reclaiming his property.”

“Is he taking Berta with him to the Vines's Plantation?”

“Apparently so.”

Celeste held the mug closer, as if she could find comfort in its warmth. She was terrified for Berta. And though Spenser surely was too, he had a calmness about him that she admired. Perhaps he'd prayed for Berta and had faith she would be all right.

She took a sip of tea, hoping it would calm her, as Constable Jones called up the ladder, “That's enough time.”

Celeste thanked Spenser and then added, “Make sure to let me know when the governor gets back. He might help me.” She wasn't sure that he would, but she had to try.

Spenser nodded. “We'll get you out as soon as possible.” He turned to go.

“Wait.” Reaching toward the bucket, Celeste removed the cloth covering to reveal two biscuits. She took one for herself, along with the pork, and then she slid the bucket toward Spenser and directed him to give the other to Constable Jones. “He's probably hungry.”

“Good idea. I'm sure he'll be grateful.” Spenser stuck an arm through the bucket's handle so he could grip the ladder with both hands.

“And you should take mine.” She held her biscuit out.

He shook his head and grinned. “You keep it. Sary already gave me two.”