Free A Mad, Wicked Folly by Sharon Biggs Waller

you go back to America and do
us all a favor, eh?” Then he lifted his chin at me. “And you.
Assaulting an officer can get you three years in Holloway.”
    My heart began to pound alarmingly, the feeling of
panic rising again at the mere thought of being held in a
prison cell. “There seems to be a misunderstanding,” I said.
“I wasn’t even with the suffragettes. I was simply drawing
them for my own pleasure. And then someone pushed me
and I fell on the police constable.”
    The judge regarded me with a dubious expression as I
protested my innocence. Then his gaze traveled down and
landed on the lapel of my coat. “You weren’t with the them,
you say?” He jabbed a finger at my lapel. “Then why are
you wearing one of their badges?”
    The pin! The ruddy suffrage pin that Lucy had put on
me! My mouth opened, but I could not think of a word to
say.
The judge leaned back in his chair. “Well?”
     
“I hung that on her,” Lucy said. “As a prank. She’s right.
    She’s got nothing to do with us.”
The judge harrumphed.
“That’s a load of old pony.” Catchpole stepped up. “She
    was in Fletcher’s face as soon as he arrived, then she tackled him so he wouldn’t take this un’s skirt off to get to the
chain.”
    I gasped. “You lying toad! You know full well you’re the
one who tried to take her skirt off.” I turned to the judge.
“He did. He said he’d strip her naked, too. He’s a menace!”
    “If you were drawing, where’s your art book?” the
judge asked.
“I dropped it. I’d hoped one of your constables picked
it up for me.”
The judge leaned forward, his chair creaking beneath
his bulk. “Listen to me carefully, miss. I very much doubt
that you were simply drawing. If you were, then why didn’t
you get out of the way when the constables arrived?”
What a stupid thing for the man to ask. “Because I
wanted to draw. As I said.” I caught sight of Lucy, who was
shaking her head. Shut it , she mouthed.
“You wanted to draw the police ?” the judge said, glaring
at me. “That doesn’t seem innocent. Care to explain?”
“Explain?” I said, a feeling of doom settling over me.
I should have just said I couldn’t get away, that I was
trapped in the crowd. But no, once again I was my own
worst enemy. “Um . . .”
Then PC Fletcher came in, shaking raindrops off his
tunic. Just as I thought, there was no sketchbook in his
hands.
“Hell have you been?” Catchpole said.
“Witness report. I walked back.”
“She’s claiming she’s not with the suffragettes,” the
judge said. “Said she was drawing. Know anything about
that?”
PC Fletcher turned around slowly and looked at me, his
jaw set hard. Disgust flickered in his eyes. “Well, I don’t
know anything about drawing, but someone pushed her,
sir. I can vouch for that.”
I met his gaze with a cold look of my own. Liar! He’d
seen me drawing. He knew he had. The words to tell him
off were right there, ready to burst forth, but I caught Lucy
shaking her head again, this time vehemently, so I didn’t.
But oh, it took everything I had to hold back.
“Wouldn’t believe a word coming from him.” Catchpole
jabbed a thumb at PC Fletcher. “Always helpin’ them out.
On the take, he is.”
PC Fletcher frowned at him. “Shut it, will you?”
Catchpole shrugged.
“I’d give anything to get home to my tea on time, just
for once. I’ll tell you that for nothing.” The judge cupped
his chin in his hand. “I suppose you don’t want to pay the
fine for obstruction,” he said to Lucy.
“Not a chance.”
“I’m not surprised. Looking for a news story, are you?”
He sighed. “You lot will do anything for publicity.”
“We’re fighting for our rights, sir. Rebellion is a natural reaction to repression for any human being, male or
female. If our action makes front-page news and gains
sympathy for our cause, then that’s the icing on the cake.”
“I don’t need the lecture, miss. Two weeks in Holloway.”
He slanted