Arabella (30 page)

             
'I had nowhere else to go, sir – and I thought you might come back.'

             
His brows rose. 'Did you indeed?  Why did you think that?'

             
The girl flushed and looked nervous.  'You seemed to care for the mistress, my lord, and I thought…'

             
'Very observant of you, Rutford.  I shall see you are rewarded for your loyalty.'  He frowned at her.  'Are your mistress's jewels still in her room?'

             
'Yes, my lord.  She had them well hidden.  I think someone tried to find them but I didn't tell even though I knew where they were.'

             
'And you didn't feel tempted to take them yourself?'

             
'I'm an honest girl,' Rutford said.  'Besides, I don't want to be hung as a thief.'

             
'I am glad you have so much sense,' Gervase said a faint smile in his eyes.  'As I said, you will be rewarded.  Would you prefer money – or a place with a new employer?'

             
'Could you find me a new place, sir?'

             
'I am certain I can,' Gervase said and took five gold guineas from his pocket.  'But you also deserve this.  Now, will you show me where the jewels were kept?  And then I would like you to pack Arabella's things.  I shall have them sent to my house in the country, but the jewels I shall take with me now.'

             
'Yes, my lord,' Rutford said and bobbed a curtsey.  'If you will follow me I shall show you where my mistress hid her valuables.'

             
'And perhaps you can tell me to which prison she was taken?'

             
'I think it was Newgate, my lord,' Rutford replied.  'But I don't know for sure for I was not one of those who took her. You see, I wondered afterwards if she had cause to hit him…'

             
'I am certain that she did.  There has been a miscarriage of justice here, but I shall find her,' Gervase said and his mouth settled into a grim line.  'Justice shall be done, you may be certain of that.'

             
Rutford nodded, relieved that she had not made that look come to his face.  She had suspected that he would return to his mistress one day and was pleased that she had not stolen the jewels and run off – for he would have discovered it and found her.

             
She wondered what he would do to the servants who
had
taken things from the house when he found them, and was glad she was not in their shoes.

Gervase cursed a thousand times as he made his way to the prison where he had been told Arabella was being held.  She had taken practically nothing with her, except perhaps a ring or two.  If she tried to sell them for easement she would be cheated – that was if other prisoners did not steal the money from her.

              A shudder ran through him as he thought of her in that dreadful place.  She would be at the mercy of hardened villains and rogues, and had no idea of how to protect herself against them.

             
He had had sharp words with the magistrate who had sent her to the prison, leaving him quivering with fear for his own safety and livelihood.  Had Arabella been given a fair hearing she would never have been brought to this place!  And what had happened to her since she'd been here?

             
He knew that a woman like Arabella might suffer many things in prison, rape amongst them.  Gervase felt a wave of anger, against himself as much as anyone.  Had he rescued her from the whorehouse only to see her reduced to this?

             
Gervase felt a sense of foreboding as he looked at the walls of the prison, which was notorious for its harsh regime and the injustice that took place within its dark interior.  How could any woman survive in such a place – especially a woman like Arabella?  She was proud and independent and would not easily bend to the harsh reality of her fate.  Pray God she had not been punished too harshly.

             
He rang the bell at the gate and explained his business, asking to be taken to the head jailer or whoever was in charge.  His obvious wealth and standing commanded respect, and after some hesitation he was admitted and taken to a small room apart from the main building.

             
The stench of the prison seemed to permeate the air, making Gervase's stomach turn – and that was before he had even gone inside the part where prisoners were housed.  What must Arabella be suffering?

             
A man was eating a meal of meat, bread, pickles and ale, a napkin tucked into his neck.  He looked annoyed as the turnkey announced Gervase, but when he saw his visitor he tore the napkin away and jumped to his feet. Almost cringing as he saw the expression on Gervase's face, his podgy face assumed a smirk, which was meant to be obliging.

             
'My lord – sir – what may I do for you?'

             
There had been some talk of prison reform this past year or so but as yet nothing had been done.  The laws were harsh, punishment meted out summarily to those found guilty and very little justice for any who could not afford the services of a lawyer.  Those who could often found themselves beggared afterwards, for in financial courts the wrangling might go on for years.

             
'You have a prisoner here,' Gervase said curtly.  'I want to buy easement for her until I can arrange for her release.  She was falsely accused and is innocent of any crime.  It will go hard with you, sir, if she has come to harm in this foul place.'

             
'Easement?'  The man smiled ingratiatingly.  'Of course, of course.  I shall be happy to oblige you.  What is the lady's name?'

             
'Mistress Arabella Tucker.  She was falsely accused of murder.  It was an accident as shall shortly be proved.'

             
'Mistress Tucker…'  The  head warder shook his head over the name.  'I can't seem to recall…' The turnkey who had brought Gervase to him coughed and shuffled his feet.  'Yes, what is it, Carne?  We don't need you anymore.  I can handle this for his lordship.'

             
'Beggin' yer pardon, sir – but the prisoner were taken before Judge Harding last week.'

             
'Taken before the judge?'  Gervase breathed deeply, trying to hold back the rage inside him.  'What happened to her?'

             
'She…' the turnkey quailed as he sensed Gervase's fury.  'She were sentenced to seven years transportation, me lord.'

             
'Seven years…'  Gervase curled his fists into tight balls at his side.  The rage was building inside him, making him want to strike out at the fool standing in front of him.  'How can this be?  She was innocent.'

             
'We had to clear some of the prisoners,' the head warder said, looking nervous.  'It was orders, sir.  The judge came and said he would hold a court here – said there was a ship needing prisoners and he wanted to fill it afore it were too late.  Don't know what he meant, sir.'

             
Gervase was only too aware of what the judge meant.  The trouble in the American colonies had not abated despite the repeal of the much hated Stamp Act, and he, amongst a growing number of men of like minds, felt that before too many years had passed those enterprising men would demand their freedom.  Clearly, the policy was to ship as many as possible of the convicts to the colonies now in order to relieve the pressure on the overcrowded prisons.  That it would be better to try and treat the causes of so much crime, to make the sentences less harsh and thus avoid overcrowding the prisons in the first place, was obviously something that had not occurred to those worthy gentlemen in Parliament.

             
Yet Gervase knew his reasoning was out of step with most men of his own class, and that was why he had been thinking of leaving England for some time.  Why had had already taken the first steps towards a new life elsewhere.

             
'And where will I find Mistress Tucker now?' Gervase asked when he had controlled his anger sufficiently to speak.

             
'She was taken with a hundred other prisoners to Greenwich,' the turnkey told him, not daring to meet his eyes.  'They were to be taken down the coast to Portsmouth and there be transferred to a prison ship sailing for America.'

             
The ship that was to have carried the child he had been searching for for so long!  Gervase knew a twisting thrust of anguish as he realised that he had been in the harbour close by that ship – might even have seen some of the prisoners being taken on board.  Indeed, the sight had touched him, making him feel for the poor wretches condemned to a journey of several weeks or months in the stinking holds of that rotting prison hulk.  He had even wondered if it would finish its journey or sink in one of the terrible storms met with at sea.

             
'I thank you for your help gentlemen,' he said in a measured tone.  'I wish that you had had better news for me – but take this for your pains.'  He tossed a purse of gold coins onto the table before striding from the room.

             
The prison ship must already have sailed.  His own plans were nearly complete, and could be brought forward.  But first he would pay a visit to the judge who had so cruelly condemned Arabella to her fate!

CHAPTER TWELVE

Arabella bent over double as she vomited yet again.  Her stomach felt as if a horse had kicked her, and she wished that she might die.  The stench in the hold was indescribable and she knew that both her hair and body were crawling with lice.  They were given only enough water for drinking each day, and that was strictly rationed, as was the hard coarse bread and the thin gruel that was slopped up by the sailor that attended them.

             
'Give me the ring,' Peg said bending over her as she moaned.  'If I sell it to Mick he could get us up on deck for an hour or two every day.  It's what we both need.'

             
'Go away,' Arabella muttered.  She felt so ill she thought she would probably be dead by the morning. 'Tomorrow.  I'll give it to you tomorrow.'

             
'You've said that every day since we've been on board,' Peg whined in a complaining voice.

             
Arabella lay against the sacking, which was all that had been provided for their bedding, closing her eyes and trying to remember how many days it was since they had been brought to this terrible place.  Was it thirty or forty?   Perhaps it was even longer.  Sometimes she felt that she had been here all her life, but she had marked the days on the wooden strut that she was leaning against and she ran her fingers over them, counting by touch because it was impossible to see in this light.  She had been here for forty-five days.  More than a month of unendurable hell had passed in a blur of pain and misery.  Yet she had endured it because she was determined to survive.

             
She was no longer afraid of Peg or of any of the women, though she had been at the start.  She had learned to fight for her share of the food and water, and to guard her back.  She knew that Peg had searched her when she was sleeping, trying to find Arabella's hiding place, but she had not been able to despite her efforts.  Nor had she been able to bully Arabella into parting with it.  Only the thought of the ring, safely hidden as they came on board had kept her alive.  With the money she might get from that ring it might be possible to buy her freedom – if they ever arrived in America!  Sometimes she thought they would sink during one of the awful storms that had buffeted the ship for the past week, and there were moments of despair when she wished that it would.

             
She heard the sound of the hold being opened from above and wondered what was happening.  The daily rations of food and water had already been given to them.  Only once had they been allowed on deck since the beginning of the voyage, and then it was to witness the flogging of one of the male prisoners.

             
Arabella shivered as she recalled his screams.  She prayed they were not to be summoned for that purpose again.

             
'All right, you filthy bitches,' the sailor shouted.  'I want ten women up on deck now.  Only the young and fit need come forward.'

             
There was a surge towards the light, for a visit to the deck was a welcome break for the prisoners and they were all eager, no matter what the reason.  Peg grasped Arabella's arm pushing her through to the front of the crowd.

             
'Take us,' she yelled.  'We're strong.  We can work.'

             
Arabella felt her stomach heave, but controlled it as best she could.  A few minutes in the fresh air would help to settle it if anything could.  Besides, it felt as if the rolling was getting less severe and she thought that the storm might have at last blown itself out.