03 - The Wicked Lady

by Brenda Jernigan

  " 'Tis nice tae meet ye, Mr. Winthrop."

  "Is there anything you would like to tell me? You will not be permitted to testify on your own behalf, but I have been granted the right to cross-examine which, I assure you, is rare."

  Kristen stared at the stranger who knew absolutely nothing about her. How could he know what she'd lived in or how she had endured over the years? He couldn't. But he seemed to be all she had at the moment. "I did pull the trigger, but only out of fear for myself and my brother. Ye have only tae look at our black eyes tae see what the mon inflicted on us."

  "I do see that." Winthrop nodded. "Did he do this often?"

  "Every chance he got."

  "Let us begin," a clerk announced as he stood. He waited a moment for everyone to quit talking.

  Her barrister hurried back to the table with the green cloth where two other men sat staring at her.

  The clerk started reading the names of the Members of the Commission. When the clerk had finished, he sat down and silence crackled across the room.

  "What is the prisoner's name?" the judge asked in a booming voice, looking not at Kristen but her barrister.

  Mr. Winthrop stood and cleared this throat. "Kristen Johnstone Claremont, The Duchess of Chatsworth, your honor."

  "So this is the one," the judge muttered more to himself than to anyone. Then he continued, "She is charged with murder?"

  "She is, your honor."

  "Does she understand the charge?"

  "She does, your honor."

  "Then let us begin."

  Kristen watched as the prosecution called some of the men she'd seen in the hallway the night of the shooting. They each pointed to her as the woman who had held the gun when they'd arrived. She listened as they painted a grim picture of what they'd seen. She sounded guilty, even to her own ears.

  Then her barrister questioned the same men, asking if they knew what had happened before the fatal shot was fired. Each man replied no.

  Next the prosecution questioned Trevor, who gave all the correct answers. However, when asked about the gun, he had to tell the court that his wife had been holding the weapon when he'd arrived.

  The prosecution rested. It was apparent in their faces that they didn't think there was a need to call anyone else.

  Just as Kristen thought her fate was doomed, Winthrop turned and called Ian Johnstone.

  "Can you tell us your relationship to Kristen Claremont?" Winthrop asked.

  "Her name is Kristen Johnstone . . . Claremont," Ian corrected, then finished, "The lass is my granddaughter."

  "But we just heard testimony that she was raised in the streets," Winthrop interjected.

  " 'Twas no fault of her own," Ian snapped. "Kristen was kidnapped by my housekeeper when she was just a wee bairn."

  "Then you don't think she is capable of killing anyone?"

  "Nay, I do not. Just look at her eye. If she were a murderer, she'd have killed the mon before he struck her."

  Her barrister seemed pleased with the last remark. "No further questions," Winthrop said, then sat down.

  The prosecution decided it was his turn. "You just testified that your granddaughter was taken from you at a tender age. How can you possibly know what she would do?"

  "I got tae know Kristen when she came tae spend some time with me. She is exactly like her sister, and could never do anything that would purposely hurt someone."

  The prosecutor placed an arm on the rail. "How do you know Kristen is your granddaughter?"

  "If ye'll have Keely, her sister, stand, Ye'll find yer answer."

  The prosecutor turned and said, "Keely Johnstone, please stand so that we may see you."

  Keely slowly stood, and everyone gasp.

  The prosecutor frowned, having been caught in his own folly.

  "You have heard testimony that your granddaughter was an accomplished thief. What do have to say about that, sir?"

  Ian thought for a moment. "If I were hungry enough, I suppose I could be a thief, too. But 'tis not the same as murder."

  "Then, you think what she did is all right?"

  "I dinna say that. I am old, and I have seen many men in every situation imaginable. I believe we would do most anything in our power to survive, even yourself sir."

  The prosecutor, seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere dismissed Ian.

  Winthrop stood. "I would like to call one final witness," he stated. "Hagan, will you please come forward."

  Hagan made his way to the front of the courtroom, but as soon as he neared Kristen, he darted over and, standing on tiptoe, he reached up a hand to her.

  Kristen leaned over and squeezed the child's hand.

  "I've missed you," Hagan whispered.

  "I've missed ye, too," she said, then gently pushed him in the direction he should be going.

  As soon as Winthrop helped Hagan into the stand, the judge asked, "What happened to your eye?"

  Hagan stared at the judge a moment before he said in a very small voice, "My father hit me."

  The judged didn't bother to say anything else, so Mr. Winthrop spoke. "Did he do this often?"

  "Every time he got liquored up, he usually beat Kristen."

  "And why not yourself?"

  "'Cause Kristen would hide me until he sobered up."

  Winthrop placed his hand on the rail and leaned toward Hagan. "Do you think that he would have killed Kristen?"

  "In the mood he was in, he'd have killed anybody who got in his way. He was hitting me when Kristen pointed the gun and told him to stop."

  "Thank you, young man. You may step down," the judge dismissed him as a surprised Winthrop looked on.

  The prosecutor stood. "We would like to question the child."

  "The child has been through enough, and so have I," the judge stated. The prosecutor sat down, his mouth still open.

  "You have heard all the evidence. What do you have to say for yourself?" The judge looked straight at Kristen.

  Kristen tried to remain calm, but her knees shook as she racked her brain for the right words. "I have done things in my past that I'm not very proud of, Your Honor, but the only thing I am guilty of now is protecting my brother."

  "So be it." The judge looked to the jury and nodded. The jury gathered together to discuss her fate. She could see their heads bobbing and heard their murmurs. Every once in awhile a member of the jury would look in her direction and frown.

  Kristen's knees grew that much weaker. If the jury didn't make a decision soon, they would be picking her up off the floor.

  Finally, one of the jurors approached the judge and whispered something in his ear.

  The judge looked at Kristen solemnly. "Kristen Johnstone Claremont, you have been judged by your peers and found . . . ."

  The judge didn't finish his sentence. He frowned intently down at her.

  Saint's above! Kristen thought frantically. She was doomed!

  Glancing down at her hands, she found her knuckles had turned white from gripping the rail.

  "Not guilty," the judge's voice rang out.

  Kristen didn't move. Did he say not guilty? Did that mean it was all over? Her legs gave way, and she had to cling to the railing to keep from falling to the floor.

  The jailor approached her and removed the handcuffs. Kristen started to follow him out of habit. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do.

  "No, mum. You are free to go and be with your family." He pointed to the happy group of people waiting for her.

  Kristen felt as if she were in a fog. Was it really over? Could she really go home with Trevor and Hagan? She stumbled toward them. Ian was the first one she reached. He grabbed her and hugged her. Then Hagan rushed into her arms. How wonderful it felt to have that little boy in her arms. She brushed his unruly hair with her hand and breathed in the wonderful little--boy smell.

  Finally, Trevor took her arm. "Let's get out of this courtroom."

  When they were outside, Kristen had to shade her eyes from the light even on
such a cloudy day. It had been over a week since she'd been outside and the light overwhelmed her.

  Trevor immediately wrapped his arms around her. "Are you all right?" he leaned over and asked, holding her next to his side.

  " 'Tis the light. It's so bright."

  "I didn't think about it," Trevor admitted. "Try and open your eyes slowly."

  She followed his instructions until she could keep her eyes open without them watering.

  "That's my girl. Now, turn around and look at me," Trevor said tenderly.

  She did as he asked, and tilted her head back until she could see his eyes. What she saw made her pulse quicken. They were definitely blue and smoldering today as he gazed down at her. A promise lingered in their depths.

  Heat spread through her like a wildfire. She didn't hesitate, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him to her until his arms tightened around her like a steel band.

  Then his lips were on hers, parting them and taking her breath as his tongue drove deep into her mouth. She tried to show him how much she loved him by returning the urgency of his kiss.

  She touched her tongue to his and tightened her hold around his neck. She felt like she was holding on for dear life because she didn't want to let him go ever again. The desire to shower him with love and affection overwhelmed her.

  They were both heedless of their surroundings until Ian said from somewhere behind them, "I kept my part of the bargain, Englishmon."

  Trevor pulled back. He hugged Kristen one final time before stepping away from her.

  Kristen stood a moment, trying to regain her balance. She was embarrassed that she'd forgotten about the rest of her family who were standing outside the Old Bailey. She turned to them. "I want tae thank ye for coming today."

  Keely stepped closer and hugged her. "We're family."

  When Keely stood back, Kristen noticed for the first time that there were two black coaches that seemed to be waiting for them. She recognized Trevor's, and she assumed the other one belonged to her Grandfather.

  "Are we ready to go home?" Kristen asked, when no one moved.

  Trevor frowned as he took her elbow and pulled her aside. "Kristen, I think you should go home with your family, so you can have time to get to know them."

  Hagan shoved between them. "No, I want Kristen to come home with us."

  "If you want, you can go with your sister," Trevor said, looking down at the child.

  "But I want to stay with you at Chatsworth."

  Kristen felt completely numb.

  She had gone from gloriously happy to miserable in the matter of a minute.

  She had thought all this confusion was behind her, but Trevor had just made it clear that he wanted her to go with her grandfather.

  Trevor didn't want her.

  Had he just felt guilty about her being in jail? Now that she was free, so was he?

  But the kiss . . . .

  How could he kiss her like that and not feel anything? Kristen stepped away from him and pasted a determined look on her face. Well, she most certainly wouldn't make a fool out of herself twice in one day. She should face the fact that her life would never be simple, much less normal.

  "Hagan, 'tis all right if ye want tae stay with Trevor. I understand." It took all of Kristen's power to stay focused on her brother and not look at her husband. She'd never let him see the rejection she felt.

  "Ah, Kristen," Hagan groaned and hugged her. "Will you come and visit me?"

  "Of course I will. And I expect tae have ye visit me, too," she said, giving him a final hug.

  She looked at Trevor, careful to keep all emotion out of her expression. "I appreciated everything ye have done." She didn't wait for his reply. Instead, she turned and made her way quickly to Ian's carriage before she broke down in tears.

  Trevor watched Kristen leave. He felt helpless to stop her. The old man had gotten his way, and now Trevor finally had his own reason to hate the old buzzard.

  The carriage pulled out, and Trevor followed the vehicle with his gaze. She could have at least put up some kind of a fight. She could have said she wanted to stay with him. That was all it would have taken for him to break his agreement with Ian.

  Instead she had said nothing . . . nothing at all. Evidently, he had his answer. She'd been waiting for a way out of their marriage, and he'd just given it to her.

  "Do you think she'll come back, Trevor?" Hagan asked tremulously and slipped his small hand into Trevor's.

  "I don't know, Hagan. I honest to God do not know."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  How many weeks had gone by since Kristen had come to Scotgrow? Too many she thought as she watch the meadow waiting on Hagan.

  Hagan galloped across the rolling meadow on his brown pony. He was accompanied by a groom, but Kristen had looked for Trevor, anyway, hoping he would come with Hagan. She moved down the back porch steps and across the yard.

  The minute Hagan saw her, he slipped agilely from the pony and ran toward her. He threw himself in her arms and squeezed her tight.

  "Look at ye." Kristen laughed and swung Hagan around. "Ye've grown at least an inch in the last month," she said as she placed him back on the ground.

  "A half inch." He grinned devilishly. "Trevor measures me every week and makes a mark on the side of the barn if I've grown any," Hagan explained. Then, completely out of the blue, he asked, "Why haven't you come to visit?"

  Tears welled in Kristen's eyes, but she blinked them away. "I thought it better if I stayed here. I dinna think Trevor wants me at Chatsworth," she said huskily.

  "Why do you say that?" Hagan frowned at her. "Has he said not to come?"

  In so many words, Kristen thought. She shook her head. How could she explain so a small boy could understand? She swallowed.

  "Come with me," she said, taking his hand. The child sounded too much like a grownup. "We'll have cookies and milk in the gazebo." She decided it would be better to get his mind off Trevor, and better for herself as well.

  "I like cookies."

  Kristen smiled down at him. "I remember."

  Once they were settled in the gazebo, Kristen said, "Tell me what ye've been doing? And dinna leave anything out."

  "Well." Hagan grinned as if he had a big secret that he was dying to tell. "I've been helping Trevor train a colt," Hagan blurted out. "He's real pretty."

  "What does he look like?"

  Hagan stuffed a cookie in his mouth. "He-he's-"

  "Dinna talk with ye mouth full," she scolded and handed him a glass of milk.

  "He is black with four white feet and a white streak running down his nose," Hagan said proudly, not bothering to wipe the milk mustache from his lip.

  "He does sounds pretty." Kristen reached over and wiped his mouth with a cloth. "Have ye named him?"

  "Trevor let me name him," Hagan said proudly. "Said he will be all mine, but he's still too young to ride 'ccording to Trevor."

  "So what did you name him?" Kristen prodded.

  Hagan grinned. "Flash."

  She watched Hagan's eyes brighten with pleasure. " 'Tis an odd name," Kristen said.

  "The white down his nose reminds me of lightning, and Trevor suggested Flash 'cause it means quick."

  Every time the child mentioned Trevor, Kristen hurt a little more inside, and now she was going to have to ask the question she swore she wouldn't. But she was dying to know "How is Trevor?"

  Hagan rolled his eyes. "He works all the time. I heard one of the maids say he gets up before dawn and goes into his office. Then, in the afternoon, he spends time with me around the barn. I like that. But I think it makes all the workers nervous 'cause Trevor never did anything like that before. But he does now."

  "I see." Kristen bit her lip. "Does he ever say anything about me?"

  Hagan thought for a moment. "No. Once I was talking about you and he walked away. I think he had something else to do," Hagan said with childlike innocence.

  She bet he did.

  The revelat
ion hurt, but Kristen struggled not to let it show. So Trevor didn't give a damn about her. It must be bad when he couldn't bear to hear her name. Where had she gone so wrong?

  Not wanting to dwell on anything so painful, she made herself clean up the table. It helped to keep busy. "Let's get up and stretch our legs."

  They whiled away the rest of the afternoon walking and playing games, but all too soon it was time for Hagan to leave. She hugged him to her, then helped him mount his pony and instructed the groom to take good care of him.

  Blinking back the tears, Kristen turned toward the house when Hagan called to her.

  "Kristen."

  She turned and looked at him.

  He rode up on his pony. "I almost forget something," he said as he dug deep into his pocket and pulled out Constance's necklace. He smiled sheepishly. "I'm supposed to give this to you."

  Kristen held out her hand, and Hagan dropped a lovely necklace into her open palm. "Did Trevor send this to me?" she asked, her hopes soaring.

  Hagan shook his head. "Grandmere told me before she died that if anything happened to her she wanted me to give you this necklace. She said you would need it and--" Hagan looked up to the sky and drew a deep breath as he tried to remember "--and she hoped you would treasure it as much as she always did."

  Kristen recalled the time when Constance had tried to give the necklace to her. She could picture Constance's pale face . . .

  "I want you to have something." Constance had reached over and opened the drawer next to the bed. She pulled out a black velvet pouch and handed it to Kristen.

  "What's this?"

  "Something that is very dear to me."

  Kristen had opened the pouch and shaken the contents in her hand. The necklace she had stolen for Constance lay glittering up at her.

  "I canna accept--this is yours."

  "It will do me no good where I am going and I want you to have the necklace and think of me when you wear it."

  "I canna except something so nice."

  "Hear me," Constance sighed, her breathing labored. "My time is growing short. You must get Trevor to open up if you ever want to keep him."

  "I've tried."

  "Try harder. Remember, everyone he has ever given his love to has let him down. After a while, he just grew cold inside."