The Scandals Of An Innocent

There was the sound of a scuffle, which Alice presumed was Lowell forcibly removing Mrs. Lister from the jail before she became its next inmate. Then the door crashed again and Lizzie Scarlet’s imperious voice rang out.

“Officer, I am here to confess to the theft of a wedding gown from Madame Claudine’s dress shop!”

Alice pressed her ear closer to the door. Despite herself she was actually beginning to enjoy this.

“Can’t take any confessions here, m’lady,” the guard said calmly. “I’m not qualified for it. You need to speak to the magistrate.”

“I have done,” Lizzie said indignantly, “and he will not heed me. I want to explain that I am the one who stole the dress, not Alice!”

“Lizzie, be quiet.” Alice could hear Nat Waterhouse now and he sounded exasperated. So Lizzie had turned to Nat in her time of need and Nat had responded. That, Alice thought, was interesting.

“You will do no good with such wild confessions,” Nat continued. “I agreed to come with you to help get Miss Lister out, not to assist you in joining her. Officer-” his voice faded slightly as he had obviously turned to appeal to the guard “-there has clearly been some mistake. I am sure Miss Lister is entirely innocent of any crime.”

“No mistake, my lord.” The guard was at his most stolid. “Your colleague Lord Vickery identified her as the thief, and Madame Claudine is pressing charges.”

Lizzie started to say something but Nat cut her off and miraculously she remained silent.

“I am sure that Lord Vickery must be mistaken,” Nat said. “Miss Lister is no criminal. It can only be a case of mistaken identity.”

“There’s nothing I can do, my lord,” the guard said, even more woodenly.

“I’ll pay you to let her go!” Lizzie said suddenly. “Fifty guineas! One hundred! Whatever you want!”

“Lizzie,” Nat said strongly. “You will not make matters any better by attempting to bribe an officer of the law.”

“That’s right, my lady,” the guard said, sounding regretful.

Lizzie gave an outraged snort. “At least I am trying to do something,” Alice heard her say. “The rest of you are imbeciles.”

“Miles is trying to get Miss Lister out by the proper means,” Nat said.

“Do you hear that, Alice?” Lizzie bellowed, making Alice jump. “Miles is trying to get you out. Sweet of him, when he had you arrested in the first place! I’ll shoot him for this!”

There was the sound of a scuffle in the corridor outside and then Lizzie, her voice fading as she protested faintly, “Nat! Stop that-”

Once again the jail door crashed shut and the sounds died away leaving Alice in silence.

The candle burned down and the little jail started to quieten down for the night. The drunkard in the next cell must evidently have fallen asleep. The cold and the silence began to seep into Alice’s bones, setting her shivering. She could not believe that her family and friends had all abandoned her to her fate and gone home to their comfortable beds whilst she lay here in the dark listening to the scuttering of the rats in the wall and the steady drip of water in the tiny closet. Would they return in the morning? Would anyone be able to get her out of this hellhole? Did Miles, whose fault it was that she was here in the first place, really care enough to have her released? The fury and misery stirred within her, a tight pain in her chest sharp with bitter loss. Twice now she had trusted Miles Vickery, twice she had loved him, and twice he had betrayed that trust. This time was even worse than before, because she had fallen in love with him with her eyes open, knowing full well what she was doing yet still wanting him and believing, oh, so foolishly, that she could make him love her in return.

She got up a little stiffly and made her way into the tiny closet. On the floor was an open bucket. Alice wrinkled up her nose. It was fortunate, she thought, that she had not been raised in any degree of luxury. Most young ladies would assuredly have passed the stage of having the vapors by now and would be insensible with outraged decency.

Having seen to her bodily needs as best she could, Alice made her way back into the cell and curled up tightly on the bench, huddling under the frowsty blanket in a vain attempt to keep warm. She must have slept a little because the next thing she remembered was the thud of the bolts being drawn back and the long, slow scrape of the door being opened. She felt stiff and cold from lying on the narrow bench, and her clothes felt dirty and slept in. The cell was in complete darkness, but as the door swung open, candlelight flooded in from the corridor outside.

Alice rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes.

Miles Vickery was standing in the doorway. He looked as immaculate as though he had come to collect her for a ball. Alice, aware of the dust clinging to her skirts and her skin, felt grubby and cobwebbed.

“She’s all yours, my lord,” the guard said. “Glad to be rid of her. She’s been no trouble but her friends and relations are a different matter…” He shook his head sorrowfully.

Shamefully Alice discovered that her first instinct was to throw herself into Miles’s arms, cling to him and beg him to get her out of there. The urge to do so was so strong and overwhelming that she was shocked. And then, hot on the heels of her first instinct came fury, cleansing and strong.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to get you out,” Miles said.

“That’s wonderful!” Alice said. “Since you were the one who put me in here in the first place!” She scrambled to her feet and stood facing him, hands on hips. “I do not want to see you, Miles, and I do not want your help. I hate you! Go away!”

Miles came into the little cell. His physical presence seemed to dominate the tiny space, almost overwhelming her. She backed away from him until she tripped over the wooden bench and he put out a casual hand to steady her, scooping her up and into his arms with almost insulting ease. Alice kicked and wriggled, inflamed with fury and with the knowledge that his hands on her body were arousing the sorts of feelings she never, ever wanted him to incite in her again.

“Put me down!” she squeaked.

“No.” He was not even prepared to discuss it. He strode out into the corridor, where a cold breeze blew, setting the lamp guttering on the guard’s table.

“Put me down!” Alice’s voice rose as close to hysteria as she had ever been. “You think it is acceptable to…to make love to me and then to have me locked up in jail and then to come marching in here and carry me off as though nothing has happened!” She caught the fascinated expression on the guard’s face and snapped, “Oh, do not look so surprised! I know the entire village has already heard that Lord Vickery ravished me in the spa baths before having me arrested!”

“Yes, miss,” the guard said. “I had heard that.”

“You see?” Alice said to Miles. “Everyone knows.”

“They certainly will do if you keep shouting like that,” Miles said. “Thank you, Compton.”

“My lord,” the guard said, shutting the door behind them with a bang. Alice heard the bolts shoot home.

“Put me down!” she said for a third time, and this time Miles complied.

Out in the street the air cut like a knife and little flakes of snow whirled past on the wind. Alice ignored Miles completely and set off along the lane toward Spring House. When Miles lengthened his stride to keep up with her she broke into a run, and he grabbed her arm to slow her down.

“Wait!” he said.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Alice said. She swung around so fast that he had to tighten his grip to steady her. Her throat felt dry as cardboard and she knew she was about to cry, and the very last thing she wanted to do was burst into tears in front of him. That she simply could not bear.

“I don’t want your company,” she snapped. “Leave me alone!”

“I cannot,” Miles said. He sounded regretful. “I cannot allow you to walk home alone in the middle of the night. I am sworn to protect you.”

“Which you did by having me thrown into jail,” Alice said. “Excellent work, Lord Vickery.”

Miles spread his hands wide. “What would you have me do?” he asked. “Lie to save you?”

“Yes!” Alice said. Her temper soared. “Yes!” she said again. “That is exactly what I wanted you to do, Lord Vickery. You were the one who told me that there were good social reasons for lying. Well, this was the best reason ever.” She stopped in the middle of the road and planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “You did not even have the requirement of honesty placed on you anymore!” she shouted. “You had said yourself that you had broken the terms of our betrothal, so you were no longer even required to be truthful, and yet