Free Lies and Misdemeanours by Rebecca King Page B

long enough. The few precious moments they had been spared had left them both bereft, and more frustrated than ever. There was so much she wanted to say to him; so much she wanted to know about her husband, but Fate always seemed to deny them. It was so unfair that she had been beyond crying, and had left the jail numb with the weight of emotion that battered her.
    Thankfully, the condemned had been allowed to see their families without chains. The feel of Charlie’s strong arms around her had been difficult to step away from, even when she had turned into her brother’s embrace.
    When a pang of longing swept through her, Hetty turned her attention back to her current surroundings and drew in a deep breath.
    “It would be wrong if Simon and Charlie died because I didn’t do anything, and Meldrew succeeded in hanging innocent men,” she whispered too herself. “I need to be there for them. I have to do this.”
    “What?” the man beside her grunted.
    “Nothing,” Hetty sighed.
    An expectant silence settled over the crowd as they waited. When the minutes ticked by, and the jail door remained closed, conversations gradually resumed until the din started to reach fever pitch. The traders began to shout their wares again, women chatted, children laughed and played as everyone settled back to wait. To them, it didn’t matter how long this took; there was a spectacle to be watched and they weren’t going anywhere while food, drink and games were available to pass the time until the final moment.
    “Sorry,” she muttered to an old lady who protested when they bumped into each other.
    “It’s alright dearie,” the old woman cackled.
    Hetty looked up and almost slumped with relief at the sight of her good friend, Mabel.
    “Won’t be long now,” Mabel assured her, as though she was thoroughly enjoying the day out.
    “I know,” Hetty sighed. “I can’t wait until it is over.”
    “Me either,” Mabel agreed with a nod.
    “Good day we are having,” she declared loudly.
    “Up until now, it’s been miserable,” Mabel muttered. “Not long now.”
    Hetty swallowed and remained quiet.
     
    Charles ‘Charlie’ Ryder watched the irons fall off his wrists and stared blankly at his hands. He barely had the time to assess the red marks around his wrists before they were suddenly yanked behind his back, and tied with coarse rope that bit cruelly into his already bruised flesh. 
    “Move on,” the jailer growled.
    Although his face remained impassive, Charlie’s heart began to pound as he shuffled ever closer to the door.
    Until now, he had thought that everything that had happened over the last several days had been a horrible joke, and that someone – anyone – was going to step forward and tell him it was a huge mistake before he was shown the door.
    He glanced around the jail, and cursed bitterly at the unfamiliar faces of the jailers.
    Time had run out. Help was not possible, he knew that now. His only consolation was the knowledge that his imminent death would not be in vain; and that Hetty was going to be protected from any of Meldrew’s future schemes.
    Once Sir Hugo got men to the area, they would leave no stone unturned in avenging his death, and Meldrew would see his own day in court, and Hetty would be free to live her life as a considerably wealthy widow.
    He turned and watched Simon’s chains fall to the floor. Their eyes met and held for several moments before the jailer ordered them to turn around and move forward again.
    The only sign of the fierce anger that surged through Charlie was the muscle that ticked steadily in his jaw. He didn’t even bother to spare the jailer a look, and stared resolutely at the door that would take him to his death.
    In all of his years with the Star Elite, he had never expected to meet his death this way. Shot by an attacker, or knifed in a brawl maybe; or even drowned by smugglers. Being hung by the neck for a crime he didn’t commit was something he had never