When Fate Steps In

by Shirley A. Roe

  Daniel returned to find her writing a letter. He was surprised at her new demeanor. Susan sat in the corner playing with baby Emily. The stable lad waited patiently at the door.

  “What are you going to do, Mary Margaret?” Daniel took a seat beside her. Thomas returned with a tray of tea and cakes. He set it down and left quietly.

  “I hired a solicitor for Elana, but he isn’t to my satisfaction. I am going to hire a team of solicitors if I have to. I will spend every penny I have to free Elana and find my son. That woman will not win.” Daniel looked at her with a new respect. In view of her recent widowhood, she displayed a hidden strength that no one thought she had.

  “Tell me what I need to do and I am at your service. I want Elana home.” Daniel sipped the hot tea, but he didn’t taste it. His mind was on his wife locked in a cell and he couldn’t even see her.

  Mary Margaret met with three solicitors. They were, as she requested, the senior partners in the firm. The men were surprised to receive her summons. Lady Birmingham senior had given them the impression Mary Margaret was mourning and not capable of dealing with solicitors or the estate. The letter was most compelling and they came as quickly as they could. She instructed them to have Elana’s trial moved up and to get her sister out of jail as soon as possible. Then she told them to hire detectives to find her son. She wanted action and the cost was no object. The men looked at each other greedily. This woman was definitely in charge. If she was in charge of the estate, she was in charge of the money. “We will take care of these matters as quickly as we can, your Ladyship.” We are happy that you are feeling strong enough to run the estate again. Your mother-in-law told us how badly you were taking the death of your husband.” Mary Margaret glared at them at the mention of Evelyn.

  “In future, you take your orders from me. Is that understood? I am Lady Birmingham and I am in charge of the estate and the money. If you wish to continue working for me, you will disregard anything my mother-in-law tells you from now on.” The men exchanged a look and nodded in the affirmative. “Are we perfectly clear on that?” Mary Margaret pressed the point.

  “We are. Mr. Hanson will relieve Mr. Brown as your sister’s barrister today.” They bowed to Mary Margaret in respect. “We understand you perfectly, your Ladyship.” The three left the manor. Mary Margaret watched them go triumphantly, but her hatred for Evelyn was growing with each breath.

  Elana’s trial was moved up to the following week. Daniel sat in the courtroom, eyes locked with Elana’s where she sat in the box for the accused. The court building was a vacant schoolhouse. Other than in London, Victorian courts were held in any makeshift structure and not elegant buildings. Daniel looked at the peeling paint and the worn chairs. They seemed in great contrast to the pomp and ceremony of the barristers’ black robes and wigs. Although the judge was seated at an old desk, he wore a powdered wig, black robe and held a large gavel. His demeanor gave the impression they were housed in the great court of London. It seemed the tradition and ceremony were more important than serving justice and it made Daniel nervous.

  Elana sat upright in her chair. The barrister, Mr. Hanson, had arranged for her to wash and change into clean clothes before the trial. Her hair was pulled back and tied with a ribbon. Mr. Hanson also told Elana to stay calm and subdued. ‘No outbursts’, he had said. He wanted the jury to see her as a kind, loving woman, incapable of murder. Elana was trying her best to remain calm. She looked up at Daniel sadly. She appeared thinner to Daniel. He tried to send her all the strength he had through his gaze. Her lips turned up in an attempt to smile, but the smile didn’t reach her sad eyes. Her eyes moved across the bench to Mary Margaret dressed in black, Doris with her shawl pulled around her shoulders and then Max and Maude. Elana tried her best to smile to reassure them. All of them knew she was frightened. They were praying that she would come home.

  During the hearing of the evidence, everyone was surprised to see Evelyn Birmingham walk into the witness box. She had disappeared without a word for weeks. Mary Margaret wanted to scream at the woman. She wanted her son back. Doris held her hand in restraint. Evelyn walked eyes forward to the witness chair. She swore on the bible to tell the truth. Elana gave Daniel a look that said what he was thinking, she wouldn’t know the truth if she fell over it. The crown asked her to tell the judge and jury what she had seen.

  “On the night of the murder, I was walking toward my son’s room and I saw that woman shoot him.” She pointed her finger at Elana. Daniel sucked air into his lungs. He jumped up.

  “Liar, she’s lying!” The judge ordered him to sit down. Reluctantly Daniel sat in his seat, his whole body shaking with rage. Max reached over and placed his hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

  “You say you saw the accused kill your son?” The crown asked Evelyn again. “I remind you that you are under oath.”

  “I saw her shoot him. She killed my son.” Mary Margaret grabbed Doris’ hand up in the gallery. She squeezed it so tightly that Doris winced. Daniel stared at Elana. She looked at him, shaking her head from side to side. Finally, she could hold back no longer.

  She stood up, shouting at the crown. “I didn’t do it. She’s lying! I’m innocent!”

  “Quiet! You will get your chance.” The judge ordered her to sit down. Evelyn was dismissed. She walked from the courtroom. Mary Margaret ran down the stairs and caught up with her in the hallway.

  “Where is my son? I demand you give him back to me this minute.” Evelyn turned and looked into Mary Margaret’s eyes. The look was pure evil.

  “You have no rights to demand anything. My solicitor assures me that it is James and not you that is the rightful heir to the estate. You have no rights.” Mary Margaret’s mouth dropped open. She wanted to hit Evelyn. She clenched her fists. “Tell me where my son is.”

  A large burly man appeared, obviously one of the men Max had told her about. He escorted a scowling Evelyn from the building. Mary Margaret was frozen to the spot. It can’t be true. I am Lady Birmingham. I must have rights. James where are you? Oh Charles, I need you. Slowly, she returned to the courthouse. She said nothing to anyone. It was Elana that they were all concentrating on now and after she was free, Mary Margaret would speak with her solicitors. She was sure Evelyn was lying about everything. For the next three days, the small band sat in the gallery offered as much support to Elana as they could.

  On the second day a man, who stated that he had lived in Chatsworth all of his life and was familiar with the accused, took the stand. Neither Elana nor any of those in the gallery had ever seen this man before. In his testimony he stated that he had overheard Elana telling one of the merchants in the market that she was jealous of her sister and didn’t like the Lord. Elana stared at him in disbelief. She wanted to shout that she was not jealous of Mary Margaret and she loved Charles as a brother. Remembering Mr. Hanson’s words, she stayed silent biting the inside of her lip until it bled. She could taste the salty blood on her tongue.

  Daniel and Mary Margaret were filled with rage at the lies being heard in this court, but there was nothing they could do. Mary Margaret knew that somehow Evelyn was behind this injustice. Another woman, again supposedly from the town, but unknown to any of them, stated that she knew Elana to be a mean and heartless girl, cruel to her friends and animals. When the crown asked the woman if she thought Elana capable of murder, she stated quite loudly, “Most definitely!” Max almost jumped up to protest, but remained seated. This was a mockery of justice. Finally the crown dismissed the jury to make their decision. Elana gave her family one last helpless look and went back to her holding cell. Everyone else spent sleepless nights and frustrated days waiting.

  The jury decision came in three days later. The verdict was guilty. The sentence was life in prison.

  Chapter Twelve

  On arrival to the prison outside of Manchester, Elana stood in line with six other beaten and downtrodden women, waiting to be admitted. Her copper hair stuck out in a tangled mess. Her clothes were dirty. Two
weeks in the holding cell after the trial had almost driven her mad. Now she found herself in a huge stone prison, but at least there were other people, even if she was not allowed to speak. She looked at the other women; young and old, thin and fat, all of them poor and disheveled; not one aristocrat in the bunch. She found a strange satisfaction in that fact. These women were on her social level and whether they were criminals or innocent like herself, she could identify with them. The matron snapped her out of her thoughts with a slap on the back of her head. “Move along.”

  First their particulars were recorded. Next the prisoners were weighed and measured by the prison surgeon. This was done in the nude. Elana was embarrassed and tried to cover herself with her hands. She felt vulnerable and exposed. Next they were tested for their ability to read and write. Ushered into a bathhouse they were given a shower before receiving one set of prison clothing. The prison garb consisted of a long gray cotton dress with long sleeves, one pair of pantaloons, an undershirt and thick stockings. Black shoes with laces completed the ensemble. Elana went through the humiliating steps as if she were in a trance.

  Taken to her cell, the iron door was opened and she stepped inside. The cell was small. She assessed it to be about six feet by eight feet. There was a hammock, blanket, one sheet and a pillow. On a small table sat a towel, comb, spoon and salt cup. She also had a stool and chamber pot with lid. She stepped into the room and noticed the prison rules were posted on the wall. Because she was a protestant, she was given a bible and a hymn book. When the door slammed behind her, she turned and stared at it. There was an eerie finality in that gesture. Her freedom was gone. This is where she would spend the rest of her life. Realization settled like a cold, hard shell around her. No one believed her. She was innocent but found guilty. This was her home from now on and she was completely helpless. She wanted to escape and go home, back to her life where she could be like everyone else. She paced around the room. Her mind was muddled, and she was angry. She wanted to scream. She was afraid. She sat down on the stool, placed her head in her hands and cried.

  The prisoners slept, ate and worked in their cells. No contact between them was permitted. Elana’s breakfast was served at 7:30 a.m. It consisted of five ounces of porridge with milk. Elana ate heartily. It was better than the dry bread she had received in the holding cell for the past month, the bread she shared with the rats. The prisoners were allowed to take a shower once a week. A change of prison garb was provided on shower day.

  The eighth day, she was taken to the shower room. The female guard told her to remove her clothes and step into the shower. After she was washed, the guard ordered her to sit on the metal stool at the side of the room. Naked, vulnerable and most uncomfortable, Elana sat down wondering exactly what the guard was about to do. The guard grabbed a handful of her hair. Elana pulled away. “What are you doing?”

  “Cutting this mess short. You’ll never manage it with just a comb, so I am going to cut it off.” The guard snapped the scissors closed. Elana watched sadly as a long chunk of hair fell to her feet. She wanted to protest, but knew it was useless. She was at the mercy of the guard. She sat as her beautiful wavy locks were trimmed to a bob just below her ears. My beautiful hair is gone just like my freedom. I have no rights. Why doesn’t anyone believe me? I shouldn’t be here.

  She just wanted to weep.

  For the first four months, she did not see any other prisoners or any visitors. The only person she saw was the guard that brought her meals and took her to the showers once a week. She was alone and confined to a small space. The smell from the chamber pots was sickening. The pots were emptied once a day, but the stale stench of urine permeated the cellblock. She lay with her sheet over her face in an effort to ward off the horrible stench.

  Lying on her hammock, she thought of Daniel. How she missed his arms around her. She would never feel them again. She knew the truth, but no one would believe her and she would never get out of here. It was a desperate, sinking feeling. She was allowed no visitors and only one book per month. Squinting in the dim light from the window, she read the same book ten times. The window in her cell was high and small; it let in little light, but did let her know when it was day and night. She was given no exercise privileges. For the first few days, she paced her cell and did pushups on the filthy floor. Then, even that was too much effort. The cell was hot and stuffy and her mood was dark and hopeless.

  After weeks alone, dark depression set in. Elana began to think of ways to kill herself. She tore the sheet in strips to hang herself, but in the end, couldn’t go through with it. She cried, she screamed and she talked to herself, but no one cared. The days dragged on. Elana was sure she would go mad.

  One night she found herself speaking out loud, telling a story from memory. It was one of Daniel’s stories. She sat in the darkness and told the story to no one but herself. As she spoke, she found it gave her great comfort. She resolved that she would not die. She would remember every story that Daniel had ever told her. Every night for months, she told herself a different story and felt her love for Daniel in her heart. It got her through the loneliness and isolation. She started to take an interest in her grooming. At night she would comb her shortened locks, remembering how she would brush her hair one hundred times every night. A couple of passes with the comb would suffice now, but she did it faithfully.

  On the first day of month five, she ate her breakfast mechanically like she did every morning. It was one of the things she came to look forward to. She heard the sound of keys in the lock; her eyes stared at the door in anticipation. It was eight o’clock and the guard opened her cell. “Come with me.” Elana looked at her. Did the woman just tell her to come out of the cell? She wasn’t sure if she had imagined it. When the guard repeated the command, Elana asked where she was going, but got no answer. She stood up, but didn’t move. It had been months and she was afraid to leave the cell. As much as she had prayed to get out, now she was afraid. The guard ordered her to come out. Reluctantly, she followed the guard. She walked past the other cells timidly and noticed that most of the cells were empty. She was taken to the kitchen. The matron was busy adding a large marrowbone to a soup pot. “Here is the new kitchen help.” Elana stood eyes downcast, hands behind her back. It was a huge kitchen with several stoves and iceboxes on one wall. A long wooden table sat in the middle of the room stacked high with vegetables. One of the first things she noticed was the smell of disinfectant and food; it was so refreshing. She inhaled deeply. She squinted in the brightness of the kitchen. She had become accustomed to her dimly lit cell and the bright light hurt her eyes. The guard left and matron turned to look at her. “Well, don’t just stand there. Grab the mop and start washing out the pantry.” Nervously, Elana picked up the mop and bucket and headed for the small room the matron pointed to. Although she was relieved to be out of the cell, she felt timid and afraid of everyone. When she entered the small pantry and began to mop, a great relief fell over her. Elana had grown used to being alone and now she found security in the solitude. She scrubbed the pantry from top to bottom. She was allowed to stop work for 15 minutes, while she ate a bowl of soup made from marrowbones, carrots, barley and leeks. It was surprisingly delicious and it helped her build up her courage. Elana tried to talk to the matron, desperate for any conversation, but the woman was not very talkative. Elana worked in the kitchen until seven o’clock. Returning to her cell, she felt strangely glad to be back in the safety of the small room. Supper was oatmeal and milk. That night, exhausted to the point of collapse, she fell to her knees and thanked God for the little human contact she had experienced. Just spending eleven hours with another person and being allowed to breathe air that didn’t stink of urine, was greatly appreciated. She realized that she would have to get used to other people again.

  She returned to the kitchen every day for a fortnight. Working in the kitchen provided the odd extra piece of bread or second bowl of soup. She was treated to a full glass of milk once during her stay. She cou
ld hardly contain her excitement; it tasted so good. She started to physically regain her strength. The milk cart arrived every day with fresh milk from the local farmers. Matron told her that in winter, milk became scarce and the prisoners were served treacle water. The cart reminded Elana of the farm and she felt a deep sadness and longing for Daniel.

  From the little that the matron said, she concluded that once the four-month initiation was over, most new prisoners worked in the kitchen or the laundry. After their two-week introduction to prison life they were subjected to hard labor. She inquired as to what exactly that entailed and was not happy when matron told her the details. Matron told her the crank machine was a machine where prisoners were expected to turn the crank handle more than ten thousand times a day, forcing ladles through sand inside a drum. “What is the purpose of the machine?” Elana asked the matron, being unable to come to any sensible conclusion from what she had been told.

  “The purpose, child, is to keep the prisoners busy.” Elana stared at her in disbelief. “And to make it harder, the warder can tighten the screw. But the treadmill is worse.”

  “The treadmill?” Now Elana grew worried about her time in prison. She was actually content working in the kitchen, although housework had never been her forte.

  “The treadmill is kind of like an elongated wheel on one of them paddle steamers, with steps instead of paddles. The prisoner hangs onto a strap or a bar and stands in individual compartments over the steps. The wheel turns and you have to keep climbing or you’ll fall off.”