The Bells

Part one-1830 Gulity

As the bells tolled six, the cells doors were locked. James buried his head in his hands. He deserved this, the slop they called food, the straw they called a mattress, this cell which before this he wouldn't have deemed fit for a dog. He even deserved the feeling of soul destroying guilt, the knowledge that he was worth less then the most pitiful of beggars. For not had he killed, which in itself was reprehensible, but he had killed, no murdered, the most wonderful, beautiful, kind, clever....perfect women in the entire world.

He deserved all this and more, much more, the noose was to good for him.

He laid his head down in the moldy straw and tried to block the stench of sweat, blood and hopelessness which emanated from all the prisoners around him. They had wanted to give him a private cell, 'as befits on of your noble birth, Your Lordship', he had refused, of course he had. For he was as bad as all the criminals here, worst then most, worse then all. It was these thoughts that took him to sleep.

The acrid scent of gunpowder assaulted his nostrils, with the subtle copper undertones of blood. His hand trembled and Isabella's scream filled the air. The crimson blood seeped out of her chest staining the white silk sheets on the the bed he had bought for her. An insane cackle of laughter emanated from Mathew's mouth,

'Oh my James, did you actually think I'd stand still, that I would be the gentlemen and,' here Mathew paused as laughter overcame him. He took a massive glup of air and continued, shoulders still shaking will barley repressed laughter, ' protect your sweet little Iz. You always did think the best of me,'

Isabella groaned again, paler then usual, auburn hair fanning around her head, the ends mixing with her blood. He tried to move towards, not knowing what he was going to do, just that he would do anything to save her. The gun was grabbed from him, Mathew, for some godforsaken reason of his own, had ripped it from his fingers and now pointed it at him.

He awoke from the memory with a scream of anguish that was lost among the others. Tears filled his eyes as he remembered the look of...of...of fear and some glimmer of misguided hope in Isabella's eyes as he had walked towards her. He angrily scrubbed them away, he didn't even deserve any memory of her, not even the memory of her death.

Later, he couldn't say how much later, a lawyer visited him. He said that he was confident, His Lordship had nothing to worry about, no jury would convict him. He tried to tell him that he was guilty but every time he did the lawyer merely smiled sympathetically and murmured something about shock eyes filled with condensation and disinterest. As the lawyer left, he turned, smoothed his smart jacket and asked him if he knew the main suspect, 'A Matthew', he believed.