Lt. Price stuck the kerchief into Oscar’s mouth and untied his shackle to the bench. The earl rose, appearing regal and lethal. The courtroom rose with him. Oscar refused to join in. He glared mulishly, and Lt. Price jerked him to his feet.
“Oscar Blair,” the earl solemnly proclaimed, “you stand convicted of the murder of your sister, Mrs. Josephine Merrick. The penalty for murder is death by hanging. I have given you a chance for mercy, a chance to admit where you’ve hidden her body, but you declined to take it, and I see no reason to delay sentence.”
The earl motioned to his brother again. “Escort him out to the village green. To the oak tree on the south end.” He stared at the crowd. “Men, you may accompany me. Ladies, though your interest in justice is laudable, I will not let you attend. Please return to your homes and remain there until this sad business is over.”
The men dawdled as the women trudged out. Lt. Price bound Oscar’s wrists and led him to the door. Oscar was bleating with fury, protesting his innocence, but he was muted by the gag. He struggled against Lt. Price’s firm grip, but couldn’t pry himself loose. Even if he could manage it, what was the point?
He could never escape the Price brothers. They were like a force of nature, a gale that had blown into town and swept away all that was decent and good.
They marched out of the tavern and across the grass, and Oscar’s legs failed him. Lt. Price hauled him along as if he was an invalid. They approached the tree and, the verdict having been a foregone conclusion, the noose was already in place, as was the chair where he would perch until it was kicked out from under him.
Though the female residents had been ordered away, Emeline Wilson watched him come.
Emeline! Emeline! he shrieked with his eyes. You know me! You know I wouldn’t kill Josephine! Stop them! Stop this!
Lt. Price pulled Oscar forward until he was directly in front of her.
“I am here to bear witness for Josephine.” Emeline’s voice was odd—as if she had a bad sore throat. “She was beautiful and kind. She was my friend. You didn’t deserve to have her as your sister.”
Emeline moved away, and Lt. Price shoved him at the chair.
“Climb up, Blair,” Lt. Price commanded.
No, no! Oscar couldn’t comply, so the earl and his brother lifted him onto it. Lt. Price yanked away the kerchief, as Oscar wet himself, urine flooding his trousers.
“Have you any last words?” the earl asked.
“I didn’t do it!”
“You still deny your perfidy?” the earl scoffed. “You’re about to meet your Maker, Blair. This might be the time to exhibit some humility.”
A thin, maimed young man stepped forward, a Bible clutched to his chest.
“I’m Ted Smith, Mr. Blair,” the man said. “I’d like to pray with you. Is there a certain passage you prefer?”
“Get away from me!” Oscar kicked at the Holy Book, sending it flying to the ground, and he didn’t suffer an ounce of remorse.
What benefit had the stupid text ever provided? His entire life, he’d abided by its teachings, yet in the end, he was being wrongfully hanged by a felonious scoundrel.
Mr. Smith picked up the Bible and dusted it off. “You’re a tad distraught, which is understandable. I’ll select a Psalm for you.”
He chose the Twenty-Third and began to read, but his speed was much too fast for Oscar’s liking. All too soon, he finished and snapped the book closed. The earl slipped the noose over Oscar’s head, and Oscar quivered with terror.
“I won’t ask again, Blair,” the earl warned. “Any final words?”
“Yes! Yes! I’ve always been a righteous person, a pious person. I worked hard and tried my best. I guided my congregation from sin to virtue, and I—”
“Must we listen to this?” Lt. Price complained.
“No.” The earl tugged on the rope, tightening it so it cut into Oscar’s neck.
Oscar gazed out at the men of the village. They had been his flock, and he searched for a friendly face, but couldn’t find one. Was there no compassion in their hearts? Was there no sympathy? How could the world be so cruel?
He was about to beg, to weep, when suddenly, a coach rounded the corner and rumbled into the square.
A little girl appeared in the window, and everyone gawked as she called, “Papa! Papa! It’s me, Annie! I’ve come all the way from Belgium.”
Lt. Price’s jaw dropped with surprise, and he rushed away from Oscar and hurried to the carriage.
“Annie?” Lt. Price murmured, amazed. “Is it really you?”
He reached for the door and pulled it open. The girl leapt out and into his arms.
A woman emerged from behind her, and there was a communal gasp of shock.
“Hello, Stephen,” Josephine said. “I have a confession to make. I hope you’re not angry.” She frowned, taking in the peculiar scene, the enraged citizens of the town, her brother on a chair with a noose circling his neck. “Have I missed something important?”
“I’ll be damned,” the earl muttered. He looked over at Oscar. “I guess you were telling the truth.”
Oscar fainted dead away.
“Goodnight, my little darling.”
“Goodnight, Papa.” Annie paused, then asked, “I surprised you, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Are you happy I came?”
“I am so happy. I can’t tell you how much.”
Stephen pulled up her covers, tucking her in as he hadn’t since she was a tiny baby. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
“Mrs. Merrick said you’d be glad.”
“She was correct.”
“I like her; she’s funny.” Annie’s eyes were drooping. She was yawning, nodding off. “I was afraid on the ship, but she told the best stories. It made me forget the rocking of the waves.”
Since she’d arrived, she hadn’t stopped chattering. The words of a lifetime had been bottled inside her, and they were tumbling out. He hadn’t known that one small girl could be such a whirlwind.
She was in her own room, but the Wilson twins were
