The Triumph of Grace (4 page)

"Captain Ross gave that to me!" Grace cried.

"You will not speak!" the exasperated judge roared. "One more time and I shall see you locked into restraints! Had you desired to present a defense, you should have written it out properly and submitted it before the trial began. Had you done so, I should have read it on your behalf. As I was presented with no such document, I consider your rights duly waived."

Grace clenched her fists in silent exasperation.

"I should say, however, I cannot see that such a statement would have done you one particle of good," Lord Judge North added. "Not in the presence of so profound a mountain of evidence."

"As to value," Lord Reginald said, "the fine handkerchief is in itself worth a minimum of six shillings. The silk purse must surely be worth another eight. The shirt and breeches? A full twenty-eight shillings for the set, I should say. That brings the total to forty-one shillings. When one adds the thirty-eight shillings hidden inside the purse—which can be nothing other than the fruits of thievery—the Crown must of a certainty agree that Grace Winslow committed thievery with a value greater than forty shillings. Therefore, Grace Winslow most certainly committed a crime for which the sentence is death!"

A frown crossed Judge North's face. Off to his side, the men of the jury fell to murmuring their opinions to one another.Valuable goods, without a doubt—yet not of so great a value.That they were stolen from the rich estate of a powerful Lord was a fact that must weigh heavily in the decision, most assuredly.Furthermore, the theft was perpetrated while the master of the house performed an act of charity toward the accused— which he most certainly must have done, for why else would so ragged an African as now stood before them even have been in Larkspur Estate?

It was these final two points that made it an offense that absolutely could not be tolerated.

"Your Lordship," Lord Reginald said with a deep bow, "I can provide further witnesses for the Crown. I assure you that each in turn will attest to Grace Winslow's dealings in stolen goods. Each will also—"

"Yes, yes," the judge said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Lord Judge North was growing impatient with the endless talk. Many other thieves awaited trial that day, and he had no wish to be late for his dinner. Anyway, the judge knew all about "witnesses for the Crown." Like as not, those very same men had stood before his bench more times than he could count. They always waited outside the courts, ready to swear to anything on behalf of anyone who had the money to pay them. One only need look for a straw stuck in the heel of a shoe to identify a man ready to give testimony to anything in exchange for money.

"I see no need to prolong this trial," Judge North stated."Have you a final summation to offer, Lord Reginald?"

"I do, indeed," Lord Reginald replied. "While I have no doubt but that the crime before you warrants public execution, I most respectfully submit that merely hanging such a one from the gallows is not enough to satisfy the blight that has befallen our fair city. London is overrun with foreigners— refugees from Africa, India, Ireland, America, France. . . .Who can say from what all distant shores they hail? Foreigners come, and they bring impudent ideas and uncivilized behaviors along with them. Our laws mean nothing to such as these.It is imperative that we make an example to any who would wish to live among us but not within our laws. Your Lordship, I submit that for her crimes, Grace Winslow must burn at the stake!"

The courtroom erupted in confusion as people shouted out their opinions to the men of the jury. But Lord Judge North shouted for silence.

"We are not here to make an example of this woman, however wretched she may be," he said. "We are here to exact justice for a crime committed against the Crown."

The courtroom fell silent.

"One week from today," decreed Lord Judge Aaron North, "at the gallows at Newgate Prison, for the crime of thievery, Grace Winslow will hang by the neck until dead."

G
race did not shed a tear. Not when the judge pronounced the sentence, and not when the jailer shoved her into the women's room of Newgate prison to await execution. She gagged at the sickening stink of the cell, but she did not cry.Women lay sprawled on the floor, sick with the fever and delirium of typhoid . . . women, crazed with desperation, clawed their fingers raw on the stone walls . . . women sat straight and still, like statues of rock, their hopeless eyes fixed on nothing at all. Grace did her best to shrink away from all of them. She searched until she found an empty spot on the mucky floor, and there she settled herself. But she did not cry.

"Good Shepherd," Grace breathed, "lift me up onto your shoulders and carry me. Take me away to a place of safety, in this world or the next."

The jailer held up hunks of bread and pieces of cheese and a ladle for the covered barrel of fresh water. He even had a few apples. But all those were available only to women with money to pay. Most prisoners, like Grace, had none.

"We ain't given to charity here!" the jailer snapped to a lame woman who made a grab for the food.

Sometime before twilight, a shadow passed by a second grated window, one that opened out onto the street, and it lingered there. Immediately, the women roused themselves.In a sudden rush, the prisoners rose up and pushed toward the window. As many as could force their way close enough thrust their hands and arms through the grating.

"Bread, bread!" they begged. "Please, bread!"

Grace dared not relinquish her place on the floor, but she did stand up and try to see what was happening. She could make out someone on the street outside the window—or maybe it was several people, she couldn't quite tell. He—or they—looked to be putting hunks of bread into the hands of the most fortunate of the prisoners.

Although Grace watched in fascination, she made no move toward the window. Why should bread interest her? Why should a dying woman care?

She sank down again onto the floor, leaned her head back against the rough stone wall, and closed her eyes. The rub of the uneven blocks flooded Grace with memories of that other prison dungeon. It seemed so long ago and faraway. Yet she would never forget Zulina slave fortress.

"Grace! Grace Winslow!"

Curled up on the floor, shivering with cold and scratching at the crawling lice, Grace opened her eyes. She shook her head to clear away the voices of her nightmare dreams.

"Grace, where are you?"

She pulled herself upright, ran her fingers through her wild hair, and blinked into the dank shadows of the cell.

"Grace—"

This time a choking cough cut the call short.

Now Grace's eyes were wide open. She jumped up and stared in disbelief. It was Charlotte!

Lady Charlotte lifted the skirt of her fine linen gown and gingerly picked her way through the throngs of unseemly women stretched out on the filthy prison floor. She walked on tiptoe in an effort to protect her finely embroidered kidskin slippers. Although she clutched a perfumed handkerchief over her nose and mouth, she still found it a struggle to breathe.

"Charlotte!" Grace exclaimed. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"Oh, my dear," Lady Charlotte cried. She rushed to Grace and threw her arms around her. "I came to help you."

"You are too late," Grace said.

"I tried to warn you about Lord Reginald," Lady Charlotte implored. "You should not have made him look the fool in front of his friends. He cannot bear such humiliation."

Oh, how angry Lord Reginald had been that day. "
If you are Christian men, where is the justice?"
That's what Grace had demanded of him and those he had assembled to destroy the fledgling group of abolitionists. "
Where is the mercy?"
Lord Reginald had tried to stop her, but the other men told him to sit down and let her speak. "
And I ask you, with your pride as thick as the London air, how can you begin to see the pathway your God walks, let alone walk beside Him with humility?"
She used the words she had read in Captain Ross's Bible against them, and Lord Reginald had not been able to stop her. Finally, in furious exasperation, he had tried to grab her. Grace had escaped, but only because of the help of the very men Lord Reginald trusted the most. In his eyes, it was the ultimate betrayal.

In the dusky shadows of the prison cell, with her arms around Grace, Lady Charlotte wept. "I am so sorry," she said.s"I am sorry for my husband . . . I am sorry for the pompous way I treated you when we were young girls . . . I am sorry for the sins of my people."

"You were not at the trial," Grace said.

"No," said Charlotte. "I had intended to be there, Grace . . . I wanted to be there . . . but Reginald forbade it."

Grace said nothing.

Charlotte dropped her arms to her sides. "I felt I must obey him, you see. Oh, how dearly I regret my cowardice."

Still Grace said nothing.

"Reginald came home from the trial with that cur Jasper Hathaway at his heels, and I heard Reginald laughing and bragging on and on about how quickly and efficiently he had maneuvered the proceedings against you. It was then that I made up my mind to come and stand alongside you."

Grace shook her head and said again, "You are too late."

"Maybe not," said Lady Charlotte. "I have already talked to Lord Judge North. If we can show him evidence that merits something less than the gallows, he will listen. He promised me as much."

A spark of hope lit Grace's eyes.

"Missus Peete can tell you about the handkerchief," Grace said. "She gave it to me. The servant of some wealthy lady left it behind when she picked up the wash, and no one ever came back to claim it. Missus Peete gave it to me as a gift."

"But what of the men's clothing found in your room?"

"I paid Nurse Cunningham for the cloth left over from sewing the children's uniforms," Grace said. "Missus Peete sewed me the shirt and breeches with her own hand. The stockings and hat I bought at the rag fair."

"Whatever for?" Lady Charlotte asked.

"So that I could at long last get myself to America," Grace said. "So that I could find my Cabeto before it is too late!"

Lady Charlotte stared at her in disbelief.

"I planned to pass myself off as a sailor boy from India and sign onto a ship bound for America. One leaves London in five days' time."

At Lady Charlotte's incredulous gape, Grace insisted, "I have to find Cabeto, Charlotte! I have to find a way to help him. I thought if I could just get to America . . . Oh, why did this all have to happen now, just when everything is finally ready?"

Tears flooded Grace's eyes and her shoulders trembled.

"An entire year has already gone by," Grace sobbed. "Unless I can do something very soon . . . Oh, Charlotte, Cabeto needs me
now!"

"Tell me about the silk purse," Lady Charlotte said. "Tell me about the shillings they found."

"When I came to London from Africa, just before I got off the ship, Captain Ross gave me that purse with fifteen silver shillings in it. Missus Peete can tell you as much. I had to spend most of the shillings. But Nurse Cunningham paid me one shilling each week for my work at the Foundling Hospital, and whatever of it I could save went into that purse."

Lady Charlotte nodded thoughtfully.

"Charlotte, everything your husband says I stole was already mine!"

Before Lady Charlotte took her leave, she gave Grace a bundle that contained a cloth to clean herself with, a comb for her hair, and a clean dress. She also gave Grace a fresh meat pie and a crisp apple. And she slipped two shillings into Grace's hand. "For the jailer," Lady Charlotte said.

Two shillings bought Grace a clean space on the floor, water for washing, two ladles full of clean drinking water, and a blanket for the night. And the next morning, it was not the rough jailer who called out her name, but a man of a most respectable appearance. Dressed in a black suit of clothes and a broad-brimmed hat, he could have been taken for a clergyman come to comfort those on their way to the gallows, rather than the turnkey who ran the jail, were it not for the jangle of keys he wore at his waist.

The turnkey personally led Grace outside the prison doors.He walked her across Newgate Street, where they passed directly under the gallows. She followed the somber man in black all the way back to the courtroom where, just the day before, Lord Judge Aaron North had sentenced her to death.

"Grace Winslow?"

Lord Judge North started in surprise when he saw the young woman who stepped up into the dock.

Clean and combed and dressed in Charlotte's green silk frock, Grace did indeed look to be an entirely different person.

The courtroom was not nearly as full as it had been the day before for her trial. Lady Charlotte was there. She smiled encouragingly at Grace as she entered. To Grace's delight Missus Peete was also in attendance, seated in self-conscious discomfort on Lady Charlotte's left. Nurse Cunningham sat on the opposite side, to Lady Charlotte's right.

Lord Reginald Witherham had reclaimed his seat nearest the judge, but now the chairs around him sat empty. Lord Reginald crossed his legs, then he uncrossed them. He folded his arms, then he unfolded them. Nervously he laid his hands in his lap, one on top of the other. Lord Reginald cast a vicious stare across the witness box to his wife. He turned to Grace and glowered at her as she stood in the dock.

In the back of the courtroom, out of Lord Reginald's sight, Joseph Winslow crept in and sank down in a back-row seat.Grace didn't see her father enter.

"I have before me a declaration of evidence that concerns the conviction of Grace Winslow, who yesterday in this court was sentenced to death by hanging," said Lord Judge North.He glanced up at Lord Reginald, but only for an instant.Quickly he recovered himself and proceeded to read aloud Charlotte's written explanation for each of the charges made against Grace.

As Lord Judge North read the final words, Lord Reginald jumped to his feet.

"Please, Your Lordship, if I may prevail upon the Crown to speak!" he demanded. "This document is merely an obvious attempt on the part of a practiced thief to gain the Crown's sympathy. I do not place blame on you, Your Lordship, for mistaking the defendant's word as truth, for her words have even deceived my own wife. But, as I am certain you can see, her explanations are most preposterous. The very idea that a handkerchief of such quality would remain unclaimed at the hovel of a washerwoman stretches the credibility of any sensible person beyond—."

"It is not my handkerchief."

Lady Charlotte stood up from her chair and faced her husband.

"The handkerchief does not belong to me, and I will testify to that fact under oath. Surely, Husband, you do not claim such a dainty to be your own. If it is not a gift from Missus Peete, how exactly do you explain its presence in our house? If, indeed, it ever was in our house at all."

"But . . . the handkerchief most certainly is yours, my love," Lord Reginald insisted through clenched teeth. "Surely, in your present state of emotional confusion, and with the multitude of lovely things you have in your dressers and chests, you have forgotten this one."

In a moment of inspiration, Lord Reginald continued in a most animated manner, "Ah, indeed, I do believe I remember now! It was a gift from me to you. Yes, a token of my affection which I presented to you before our wedding."

Lady Charlotte turned her attention to Lord Judge North.

"Your Lordship, that is not my handkerchief!" Lady Charlotte declared. "I request that you allow me to so swear under oath."

Lord Judge North waved his hand in a dismissive gesture of exasperation. He had heard quite enough.

"I have considered the evidence," the judge said. "Moreover, I have duly noted, and taken into consideration, the many kindnesses attributed to this defendant in a sworn statement presented to me by one Priscilla Cunningham, most respected head nurse at the Foundling Hospital. Therefore, by the mercy of his Majesty, King George, I hereby grant Grace Winslow a conditional pardon."

Lord Reginald sprang to his feet. "Your Lordship!" he exclaimed. "I must indeed protest most strenuously!"

"Protest noted," said Lord Judge North. He did not look at Lord Reginald. The judge cleared his throat and continued: "The stated request is for transportation to our overseas penal colony in America. I shall grant the request for transportation."

Grace gasped out loud.

Lady Charlotte, crying with joy, hugged the ladies on each side of her. Both Nurse Cunningham and Missus Peete cheered wildly.

But Lord Judge North was not finished.

"However, inasmuch as the American colonies have recently declared themselves to be a free and independent country, they are no longer willing to accept our prisoners on their shores," the judge continued. "Therefore, the defendant, Grace Winslow, shall be placed on a ship even now being made ready to sail in a fortnight to our new penal colony at New South Wales. She will remain there for the rest of her life."

Then Grace wept.