Lady Rogue (31 page)

Chapter Forty-Four

The stale odor of rotting straw assailed Dawn's nostrils
.  She looked about her at the cold stone walls of her prison cell.  Newgate.  When last she’d been here, she had been on the other side of these cruel doors. Now she was a prisoner awaiting trial.

She remembered all too vividly the ride in the prison carriage.  She had been shackled, treated most wretchedly.  By the time they had reached the prison she had been completely distraught. 
Two Bow Street Runners had placed themselves on either side of her. They had had to drag her from the carriage and thrust her up the stairs.  Oh, she had been stubborn, a snarling, swearing, fighting wildcat, as they half-carried, half-pushed her toward the scarred doors.

In mortification she had watched
the guard  record her name in the large leatherbound prison book.  Dawn Landon he had written until she had corrected him. Miss
Dawn Leighton
.  The other name caused her too much heartache.

"So, you are Dawn Leighton, are ye?  Miss?"  The stocky guard had guffawed.  "Yer won't be thinking yer be a lady now.  There ain't no aristocracy here."  His voice had lowered conspiratorily.  "Unless yer got some money stashed away that you could give to ole Bill.  I can prove ter be a good friend or a powerful enemy.  I'll let ye choose which it's ter be." 
Dawn had heard Black John talk often enough to know just what the guard meant.  Without bribery her life would be hell. 

Dawn had been led along the dank dimly li
t stone passages.  A thick iron-hinged door had swung open and she was pushed into a stinking cell with a small barred window.

Now she sat forlornly in the far corner, hugging her knees to her chest, her hair falling into her eyes.  She was still slightly dazed by what had happened, barely capable of coherent thought.  He'd turned her in! That was the one thing she did know.  How else had she come to this?  Garrick had gone to the Bow Street Runners and told them about her life as a pickpocket.
  That thought was like a knife twisting and turning in her stomach until she couldn't breath.  She had loved him, so much so that she would have done anything for him,  but he had used her, then savagely betrayed her.

Her eyes were blank
with pain and disbelief.  How could he have done such a thing?  He had held her, caressed her, made love to her with such a show of passion.  Why......?"  Her voice broke in a sob.  Tears flooded her cheeks and she didn't even try to brush them away.  She was beyond caring what happened to her.  Tomorrow was her trial date and yet she didn't care.  Let them lock her in here and throw away the key.  She never wanted to see the outside world again.  It was too cruel.  Too brutal.  Too full of deceit. Sagging against the cold stone wall, she put her face in her hands and wept.

The cell door cracked open and she jumped, hoping it was Garrick, that he had had second thoughts.  He'd meant to frighten her, to punish her for having been a party to robbing him.  But now he was here to take her away.  Her heart thudded like an old bass drum as she waited, b
ut it was only John Barrister.

"You've come to help me?"

He shook his head regretfully.  "I'm....I'm sorry, Miss Landon but Oliver Chambers, who now holds the estate, has cut you off without a penny.  My services are not free, you know.  I only came to tell you that I am sorry.  The plans you had for your brother will now come to naught."

"I see."  So, she was not even allowed
the luxury of  an attorney.  She was penniless.  She knew all too well what that meant.  She was doomed.  There would be no way out for her now.  But would she hang?  The laws were strict enough. It wouldn't be the first time. There would be no Margaret Pembrooke to look after her the way she had saved Robbie.             

"Look at 'er, ain't sh
e somethin', Teddie me boy?" 

"I always did like wenches wi' dark hair and green eyes.  Like a cat.  Mayhap we can 'ave a bit o' sport wi' her once she'd consigned to this p
lace permanent like?"

"Could be."

Dawn listened dully, uncaring as the turnkeys talked.  She shivered convulsively.  She'd die before she'd let them touch her. She’d kick and bite and let give them trouble.  She hadn't lived in St. Giles, in violence and bloodshed for nothing. She knew how to protect herself.  She'd given herself in love but  no man would ever touch her again.

And s
he would have to protect herself.  There was no one else to care what happened to her.  Oh, Robbie would care, but his fate was now just as precarious as hers. With no possessions, nothing with which to bribe the gaolers, they were both as good as lost.

Dawn lay down on the thick covering of moldy straw, stretching out her arms and legs as she closed her eyes. 
Be brave!  Be strong!  Don't let yourself give up no matter what  happens. 
So cruel a man wasn't worth her tears, she told herself, and yet the thought didn't ease her pain.

A
ll right, so you are all alone
.  It wasn't the first time she had been in prison.  She was only eight years old when she’d first been confined behind stone walls.  But she’d had Robbie and her mother then.  Now she had no one.

She didn't know how long she lay there.  Without a timepiece the hours seemed to merge from night into day.  She only knew her world was reeling and spinning.  How could she have ever
been such a fool as to think a nob could really love her?  There was a gulf as wide as the English Channel between them.  The rich never let the poor into their world, not really.  Those who had money wanted to keep it for themselves.  She had thought Garrick to be different, to have at least a measure of compassion running through his veins, but she had been deadly wrong.  Now she had to pay the price.  Loving him had destroyed her. 

The pain will
pass
, she told herself.  But saying didn't make it so.  Her head ached, her throat felt dry.  Though her heart still beat in a steady rhythm, she felt as though it was no longer there.  He hadn't even awakened her to say goodbye, or to give her a shilling for a night's use of her body, she thought in sarcastic bitterness.  And the worst was yet to come.  She was numb, but all too soon she would fully realize what he had done.

She would never see Garrick again.
She knew that to be a fact.  With a surgeon's calculated skill he had severed their bond, caring little of what it would do to her.  She had loved him only to be left with an aching pain from a wound that would never heal.             

The hours passed much too quickly.  At dawn the turnkey came to h
er cell to unlock the door.  Dawn stood up and walked unsteadily down the corridor.  Now was the hour when she would be brought up before the magistrate.  “Dear God, give me strength,” she whispered. Lifting her head proudly she shrugged off the arms that held her and walked the long distance with as much dignity as she could muster.

It was cold. Garrick felt as if his nose would freeze on his face. The curricle he rode in was in no way as comfortable as his carriage had been. It was open, for one thing, and the seats were not thickly padded. Well, that was what he got for wagering, he supposed. He was especially susceptible to the splashing mud. Luckily it was early and there were few vehicles on the street.

The sho
ps were open, the apprentices and shopmen busily engaged in cleaning and decking the windows for the day. He passed a bakery, a butcher shop, a habersashery, a tailor’s establishment on is familiar route to the office. Passing an apolthecary shop he could see the large red, green and yellow bottles in the window sparkling like rare jewels. Well-shaped gilt letters announced that he hadarrived at the jewelers.

“Stop here, Vinnie.” The words were out before he could even think. Taking his time, he stood before the shop window as he scanned the array of watches, the silver, and the rich jewelry.

The sound of footsteps alerted Garrick to the fact that he was being followed. Not two paces behind him a young wretch stared wistfully at the glittering heaps of baubles as if speculating on the possibility that a gold watch might bring enough to fill his hungry belly for quite a while. Or was the fellow contemplating a bold dash through the frail sheet of glass for a hasty try at snatching all the watches, rings, and bracelets lying within? Whatever his intent, the young rogue took to his heelswhen he noticed Garrick’s eyes upon him.

“Does that young scoundrel hang about here often?” he asked the man inside the shop.

“He’s there every morning about this time, but so far he hasn’t given me any trouble. No doubt his real interest is the bakery next door.”

“He’s hungry?” Garick remembered Dawn’s remark that he could hardly understand hunger, he who had never missed his dinner.

“Aye…”

“What  would it take to give him a job?”

“A job?” The balding man behind the counter looked horrified. “A tattered wretch like that would be bad for my business. I have a reputation to uphold. My clients have a great deal of money to spend. Let him take his woeful looks elsewhere.”

“Then suppose I make it worth
your while,” Garrick found himself saying. Taking out his money pouch, he handed over a goodly sum. Didn’t everyone deserve at least one opportunity to raise himself out of poverty? It was hunger and want that most often led to stealing. “If you don’t give him a chance, you could well find you’ve lost some of your goods one day.”

Eyeing him up and down, the jeweler grumbled but nodded. “I suppose I could use someone to sweep my floors first thing in the morning. We’ll see.” Drumming his fingers on the polished wood counter, he asked, “Is there something you were interested in seeing?”

“A ring!”

“For yourself?”

“For a lady.” It wouldn’t hurt to see what was available. He held up his little finger. “Her ring finger is about two sizes smaller than this. A diamond, if you please. Square cut if you have it.”

“I don’t, but I do have one shaped like an egg.” Reaching beneath the counter, he pulled out a black velvet box filled to the brim with diamond rings, some of them gaudy, others too simple. There was one that looked perfect, however. Winking in the light, it seemed to say to Garrick that it had been fashioned just for Dawn’s delicate, long-fingered hand.

“This one..”

“Why, Garrick, I hardly imagined I’d find you in a jeweler’s shop. Are you after a stickpin or perhaps a new
watch?
”  Stephanie Creighton crept up behind him, looking over his shoulder with a smug grin. “A diamond ring? Garrick, it’s lovely.”  She held out her hand as if expecting it to be for her.  “Every woman loves diamonds.”

“So, I’ve found.” Something in her attitude goaded him He started making comparisons. Stephanie Creighton had never known a day of  hardship in her life. Her first bite of food had been from a silver spoon. Did he want to share his future with her? No. “I’m hoping one particular woman will find it pleasing.”

“One woman?” Her brow furled into a sudden frown. ‘You can’t mean…..Thatis to say, Oliver told me all about your uh….unfortunate experience. I can imagine how horrified you must have been….”

“Oliver told you? Blast and damnation!” He should have known Oliver couldn’t hold his tongue. Whom else had he told?

“Now, Garrick dear, we’ve all made our little mistakes. I can understand how easily you might have been fooled, but that is over now. I have forgiven and forgotten .” She took his arm with a self-assured familiarity.

“There is nothing to forget or forgive.” Taking her
hand, he disentangled it from his arm.

“I only meant that we could carry on as if the entire unpleasant incident hadn’t occurred. A man’s eye wanders from time
to time. I do understand. I think you have been punished quite enough….” She eyed the diamond ring avidly.

“It wasn’t an unpleasant incident, Stephanie, nor was I punished, as you put it. It might very
well have been the greatest blessing of my life.” His lips were tempted into a smile. “What would you say if I told you that my days of bachelorhood are over.”

“You’re marrying her?” A strange glitter came into her eyes. “I wouldn’t count on that, Garrick
. Life can  be filled with little surprises.”  Handing an emerald-and-diamond bracelet to the jewler, she announced haughtily that she wanted him to adjust the clasp.

“Surprises?” Something about her attitude struck a note of  disquiet deep within him. Was she making veiled threats or merely making a statement?  “What do you mean?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Only that one should not take anything for granted. After all, I had intended to marry you!” She turned her back on him, and though he started after her, hoping to learn more, she closed the shop door firmly behind her,stepped into her carriage, and was gone.

Chapter Forty-Five

The court room at Old Bailey was filled with noisy, laughing,  jeering people who seemed to view the sentencing of miscreants as entertainment.  Jostling each other
, they fought for seats that would give them a good view of the proceedings.   Dawn stood wearily with ten other unfortunates, barely aware of what was going on.  The judge and counsel in their intricately curled white wigs blended in to the blur of the crowd.

She had been escorted with her companions past the cells of Newgate, through the yards and out through the heavily iron-studded door into the waiting prison wagons.  There
, with several other frightened, dirty and disheveled men and women, some who seemed nearly as apathetic as she, she had  been brought to Old Bailey for trial.

"Trial, they calls it.  Ha, I says!"  A ragged gray-haired woman standing next to her snorted her disdain.  "Don't k
now why they bother, I don't."

"It's proper justice to 'ave a trial, thats wot," said another, looking beseechi
ngly in the judge's direction.

"Justice?  Ha!  If we escape the 'angman we'll be transported to
New South Wales and go through hell in a convict ship. Is that justice?  I 'ad five children to feed and nowhere to turn.  'At's why I gave in to temptation."  In the hope of making herself more comfortable, the woman shifted her gaunt weight from one foot to the other.

"Five shillings.  'At's the amount we can be 'anged for stealing.  Five lousy shillings!"  The man kept muttering over and over
.  "Five shillings."

Hung.  Transported.  Dawn's already sagging spirits dropped even lower.  Lifting her eyes
, she scanned the crowd, wondering if he would even show his face.  Would he watch her humiliation?  No, he was not here.  She would be given no second chance.

"Bastard!  You unfeeling, unforgiving bastard!" she whispered, her voice a harsh, broken croak.  She could still hardly believe that angry though he had been at first, he would subject her to such degradation or punish her so ruthlessly.  She had given herself to him in token of her love.  Was that why she was being punished? Was this his way of running away? Her head ached so intolerably and her throat was so sore that she wondered if she would be able to make herself heard when it came tim
e for her to speak.

Dawn's eyes swam with stinging tears
. I loved him
, she thought. 
Still love him, no matter what he has done.
  Strange that she could make that admission.  At this moment she should hate him and yet she couldn't find that dark emotion in her heart.  Instead she felt strangely sorry for him.  He had something so very precious within his grasp and he had thrown it all away.  Putting her hands to her throbbing forehead, she tried to keep her emotions under control.               

The proceedings were conducted with calm indifference
.  There was a great deal of form, but no compassion; considerable interest, but no sympathy.  Dawn watched through her tears, assessing  the judge who sat pompously straight, the Lord Mayor mimicking an equal measure of dignity, and the barrister who seemed anxious for the morning to be over.

The other prisoners were dealt with  quickly and efficiently. 
A roar of laughter rose from the  gallery when one unfortunate man insisted that he was innocent and that it was his twin brother who had done the deed.  In the end he was sentenced to a long term in Newgate.  Three  prisoners were condemned to the gallows,  two to the pillory, one young lad was given the lesser penalty of the lash.  Taking a deep breath, Dawn was determined to face her fate with dignity, to hide her deep all-consuming heartache.

"What is your name?" The judge eyed her sternly and Dawn wished she had a mirror and a comb.  She hoped she did not look as unkept as the
two women standing beside her.

"Dawn C
atherine Land.....Leighton!"

Th
e judge towered over her from the heighth of his bench, studying her critically.  "Have you any witnesses to speak to your character, girl?"

Dawn hung her head.  Margaret Pembrooke was dead, Garrick most certainly would not disdain to come to her aid.  Agnes?  Douglass?  W
hat could they say?  "No....!"

"No witnesses," the judge repeated, nodding to a clerk who scratched the information
down on a long roll of paper.

"The charge is stealin
g a watch.  How do you plead?"

Stealing Garrick's watch?  He knew very well she hadn't stolen it.  A flash of anger made her defiant.  "I didn't steal
it!  I am innocent, my lord."

The judge raised his brows, obviously annoyed and anxious to get the matter over and done with.  "I have a signed
affidavit that says you did."

So, Garrick had not even had the courage to face her with his traitorous accusation.  He had merely wr
itten it down in a document and signed away her future with a flick of his pen.  "I don't care what that paper says.  I did not steal it."

"Then how did
it come into your possession?"

She was cornered, forced to reveal a story which was just as damning as if she had really stolen the watch.  Hastily she  mumbled a brief account of that night at the docks. She was forced to leave out the part about her saving Garrick's life for fear of condemning her brother. "Robbie had that watch in his possession and g
ave it to me for my birthday."

"Gave you somethin
g that was not his to give." 

"Yes."  A slight stir fluttered over the spectators like a brisk
London breeze.  One man, wholly engrossed in the morning paper, looked up at her with interest as if to wonder how she was going to get herself out of this.

"And knowing
that, you did not return it."

"No, I kept it!" 
Because it meant so much to me to have something that had belonged to him,
she thought.  But how could she ever make the judge understand. 

"Kept it!  Stolen property."

"Yes."

The prosecuter shrugged with a sly look in his eyes.  "Then I would submit, My Lord, that the prisoner is convicted by her own admission.  But perhaps it would be wise to show some clemency.  I would agree to waiving the gallows
in favor of  the ships."

"Mmm
...."  It was the first time that day the judge had smiled.  "Ah, Philip, you are always so anxious to transport our problems to other shores.  But the cells are overcrowded and the citizens seem to prefer sending our criminals over the sea.  There are two ships right now moored in the Thames.  And I, like you, abhor seeing a woman as lovely as this hang." He looked towards the jurors.

Dawn barely heard the judge's sentence.  Her eyes were drawn to the fashionable women of
London,  decked out in their feathered and beribboned hats, their velvets and linens, to witness the spectacle.  Perhaps her greatest crime was to try and be like them.  Was that what Garrick could not forgive?  Well, she was every inch as much a lady as any one of them.  So thinking she straightened her shoulders, lifted up her chin and matched them stare for stare as she was marched along.  Only the sight of a haughtily smiling blonde caused he to falter as she remembered the woman.  Garrick's friend, come to  enjoy the day and give him a detailed account of the proceedings.  Then she was swept from the dock, taken down the stairs and hustled towards the prison wagon again.  Only then did the judge's words echo in her mind.  She was going to be transported, sent away from England to New South Wales.