Locked

Chapter Twenty-Two

Despite the looming threat of losing the trial, and subsequently losing Will forever, V was in high spirits. The court room was already quite full by the time she arrived with Mr. Mulberry and Nicolas Gellentry in tow. The threesome took their seats in the front row. While each of the three surveyed the busy and chatty room, V noticed Nick had become very still and stared directly ahead. She put her hand on his, and whispered quietly in his ear. He appeared to be ill – his face was blanched and his hands were clammy. His eyes were wide, and he was barely audible above the noise in the room for V to recognize what he was saying. Suddenly, V's expression matched his. She gulped down a breath of air, and turned around. Sitting no less than 10 feet above them was the Duke of Westray – Richard Gellentry. He noticed V looking at him. The appalling man smile at her, cocked his head in his son's direction, and winked. V could barely muster a

grimace, before she was pulled around by Mr. Mulberry. V had to settle for silently thanking the manservant – who knows what she might have done if she had let her anger get ahead of her – because the trial had begun.

The room rose as one by one the judge and jurors walked in. The prosecution – a lawyer appointed by the court because being a woman meant V could not represent herself, even if she had been a wealthy noblewoman – and the defendant – Will was representing himself – followed suit. The judge was a tall, healthy man of average build. Despite his advancing age, he was sound of body and mind. He was a well-respected man and V silently thanked whoever had given him this case. She was sure any other man would be much harsher towards Will. The jury was made up of twelve men of various backgrounds, occupations, statures, and ages. There was a sailor; a

baker; two miners; a local clergy man; three men of various political powers; and four men whom V hadn't an inkling of who they were. The prosecution lawyer was a seedy little man. He stood maybe a foot above Eddie the last time V had seen him. He was balding in a mismatched series of spots on his head, and the suit he wore appeared to be expensively made. He carried with him a small attaché case, which V had no doubt held no important papers and was simply a prop. She was beginning to regret not being able to be her own prosecution.

Will wore the same clothes V had last seen him in, the same ones he had worn to the Autumn Ball. They were worn, torn, muddied, and crinkled beyond salvation. Will appeared thinner and more exhausted since the last time they had seen each other. The bags under his eyes distracted from the vain attempt at combing his hair. His wrists were so thin he could almost pull them through the rough shackles he wore. The distinctive sound of metal on wood told V he wore manacles around his ankles as well. Two guards flanked Will. Once he arrived at the stand, the guards simply stepped back, leaving Will exposed, still attached at the wrists and ankles, and ready to fall over.

The judge slammed his gavel down, deafeningly loud, yet still not enough to quiet the uproar of the crowd, who had erupted into shouts, curses, and boos when Will had entered. Someone had even thrown rotten vegetables at him. Ever the gentleman, Will had simply brushed it off and stood perfectly still, expression unwavering, staring directly ahead of him.

The judge had begun the trial, making proper introductions, and expressing behavioural minimums for viewers, but V hadn't heard a thing. She had been too busy watching Will. Suddenly his eyes shifted to her. For a second, V was transfixed by his stare. She had no idea what he was thinking just then. She could barely read his expression, but she knew what he

would want to tell her: Leave. I don't want you here. Because Will was prepared for the worst and he didn't want V here to experience it. V understood where this was coming from, but she was still a little pissed off by it. She wasn't like other women. She was tougher than most, she could hold her own.