She could feel the change in the air just before hearing the door at the end of the corridor open. Glancing at the window, she noticed that it was just past midday. It would be him then. She took a deep breath and listened to his even tread, exactly eight paces, the same eight paces he had taken each day for a fortnight, before he stood in front of her.

"Mr. Carson," she greeted him.

He inclined his head toward her, and she caught the quick dart of his eyes downward. When his eyes met hers again, she noticed the faint tinge of pink in his cheeks. "Mrs. Hughes, I trust you are feeling well."

"Well enough, Mr. Carson," she nodded. "Mrs. Mason has kept me well supplied."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. She almost suspected a smile. He answered her unspoken question, "She wished to help. She remembered you from before."

"It is kind of her to remember," she said softly.

Warm, brown eyes met hers and narrowed for a moment. She saw them lighten as he leaned forward. "There are many who remember you well."

She lifted her eyebrows in question.

"All women."

Now she narrowed her eyes at him.

"It would seem, Mrs. Hughes," he said in a quiet rumble, "that our village is neatly divided. The women support you, perhaps they can see a bit of themselves in your predicament. The men on the other hand are, for want of a better word, afraid."

She had no idea how to answer that. So she didn't.

They stood looking at each other in silence. Then, he did something he'd never done before: he stepped forward. His face was almost touching the bars of her cell. He was invading her senses. Not in a menacing way, but her heart was racing nevertheless.

"Will you tell me what happened, Mrs. Hughes?" his voice now likely as near to a whisper as it would ever get.

She smoothed her hands over her skirt and moistened her dry lips with her tongue. His eyes followed both movements with equal interest.

"I killed my husband. With a knife. You know that Mr. Carson," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on his.

He grimaced, "Not that. Before. Tell me what happened before."

"Why?" she asked, "No one else has wanted to know. The constable didn't care. The judge couldn't be bothered."

He scowled now and raised his hand, palm outward, to silence her. His next words came out in a near growl. "Because, Mrs. Hughes, I take my job very seriously. It is not a pleasant job, but it is a necessary one. I bring order. I need to know that what I am doing is right." At the end of what was nearly the longest speech she'd heard from him in the fifteen days she'd know him, his hand came to rest on the bars, and his eyes came to rest on her in a near pleading expression.

"My husband disciplined me. Physically disciplined me," she stated, "If that is not clear to you, Mr. Carson, he hit me. With his hands. With a rod. He would hit me when he was drunk and when he was sober."

"For how long," his voice was raspy now but his eyes betrayed no emotion.

"For so long that I am almost thankful for this cell. It is the first time that I've been free of pain for years, and all I have to fear now is death," she said, and his eyes did close at her last words.

When his lids lifted again, he asked one further question, "Why now?"

Unconsciously, she placed her hand over her abdomen, and she saw the light of understanding in his eyes before she even spoke. "Because, he had begun to aim his blows differently once he found out about the bairn. I was afraid. Afraid that I'd…"

He nodded and straightened his shoulders, preparing to return to his customary distance before she stopped him with a question of her own.

"And you, Mr. Carson. Are you afraid of me?"

He met her eyes again and shook his head slowly. "No, Mrs. Hughes. I am ashamed. Heartily ashamed that this… that you suffered in such a way, and I did nothing. I knew nothing."

She let go of the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, and without conscious thought, raised her hand to brush his fingers which still gripped the bars of her cell.

He looked at her in such a way that she knew he felt the same warmth from the touch that had jolted up her arm.

"Thank you for that, Mr. Carson."

He straightened and stepped reluctantly back from her cell. "Until tomorrow, Mrs. Hughes. Keep well until tomorrow."

She nodded and watched his back as he walked determinedly away. Something to ponder indeed.