Act X: Add Ingredients, Mix Well, Stand Back
He planned to act right away, to take Lucy for himself and keep her, but cases kept getting in the way. It was a hot summer full of sordid crimes. As much as he wanted to proclaim they were all guilty (and in a city like London, it was probably true) and leave it at that, those stupid jurors would not agree on anything. The barristers would bicker constantly about the most trivial, asinine matters, and one's whole day could be wasted on whether or not the murder victim died of a stab wound or infection, how it affected the case and it would be a miracle if they could even find out who killed the bloody carcass anyway. So the days grew longer, the soot turned yellow, and the sewer stank as Summer reached its height. By then, Turpin had heard of the death of Barker and Mrs. Andrews on some ill-fated carriage ride through the park, and barely gave it any sort of concern. It only relieved him that they were dead, so he would not feel any guilt or obligation towards them.
He went to the funeral. It surprised the motley variety of customers, neighbours, and friends that came to actually mourn.
"Told you we would meet again." he whispered into Lucy's ear. She almost dropped the bundle in her arms. Turns out the lumpy, taffeta sack was a baby. She quickly introduced her dunce of a husband to him, and attempted to leave him as soon as the service was over, but Benjamin offered him to stay for tea. At least now he knew her address.
Now to get the idiot boy out of the way. He came up with the easiest offence he could think of off the top of his head, extortion. Now to overplay a fabricated situation, throw in a few well-paid witnesses to jog up their memory and make them honest enough citizens - to confess what knowledge they conveniently know, and you've got a good life sentence in Australia. Maybe a few forged debts here and there would also do the trick.
He sent the various paperwork and bribes in the mail, and waited. It wasn't long before she called upon him.
"Oh, your honour, you must help us," she cried, dabbing her eyes with a pink handkerchief. "I do not know how I will live without Benjamin!"
"The offer I gave you when your mother died still stands."
"You are too kind, but I am still married. Do you think you could preside over Benjamin's trail?"
He bristled. "I am supposed to be impartial."
"Well, do the best you can. I'd be so grateful to you."
He quietly sipped his tea, and decided to relent to her request. Who knows, perhaps it would be amusing.
The courtroom was abuzz as everyone waited for the judge to arrive.
"Benjamin! Of all people!" some exclaimed.
"Poor thing!"
"Good riddance!"
"Didn't know he had it in him," some murmured.
Benjamin tapped his foot anxiously, waiting. The judge was a good man, he'd understand this was all a mistake. He helped out his father, he must be a good soul. His father said so, and Lucy truly believed so. He heard the shouts of the people grow louder, he must be here.
"Judge Turpin!" he waved towards him, but he ignored him. No, he must have not seen him. He got a better look at the man, he hadn't seen the fellow in months. He looked older, he shaved his moustache.
Come to think of it, without it, he looked a great deal like that man who had been following him and Lucy around lately. The one who would give her strange looks when their backs were turned. (He noticed these things every now and then.) No, it couldn't be.
Yet, throughout the trial, he looked like he wasn't even listening to either the prosecution, or the defence. He was reading a magazine! Turpin never looked up at anyone, except far away at the back, towards a pastel yellow bonnet that looked a great deal like the one Benjamin gave Lucy for Easter. Maybe he had an interest in hats, that was it.
But why did he feel so sick every time it occurred?
The verdict was immediate, guilty, and the sentence was life imprisonment. Turpin didn't even bat an eyelid. He didn't care that he ruined his life. Flabbergasted, Benjamin shouted for his wife and child, to say farewell to them, but he was dragged away by two guards.
He did see Nellie wave sadly toward him, but he didn't really think too much about her. He struggled a little, and was able to get out of their grasp, and towards freedom, when he tripped on a pothole and fell into a ditch unconscious. He did not remember much else about his last day in London.