Chapter 13- Carlisle
Lizzie and Mr York settle into the guest rooms in the house of Bartholomew Hayes, jailer. He is a jovial man with the Yorks, but they both know that in the jail he is stern, though usually fair. He reads the confessions and then asks about the temperament of his new prisoner. Mr York describes Thomas as quiet, a studious reader, and a man who thinks often of his own guilt. Thomas has no pretenses about himself, nor does he accept excuses for his actions. Mr Hayes is relieved to know his new ward will be little trouble, so long as he keeps him occupied with books.
Thomas sits alone in the cell and wonders what will come next. It is cold, he is lonely, and he wonders if Lizzie has read his note early out of curiosity. He hopes she has not.
Mr Hayes visits him after he is brought supper. It is nothing like what he had in the village, the meat dry and leathery, the bread stale. He eats it because he knows he must eat something, but he does not want it to replace the memory of his last meal with the Yorks in the countryside.
"Reg tells me you are a quiet prisoner."
"I try to be, sir."
"Oh? You don't want to raise a ruckus, gain yourself some attention?"
"No. I learned that avoiding attention was far safer than asking for it. It was far better to remain unseen. I have never broken the habit."
"Reg told me what you did."
"Ah. Well I suppose everyone will know soon, won't they? Once it is read in the court?"
"I reckon so. Does that bother you?"
"Yes."
"Why? Don't want anyone to know what you've done?"
"No. I have little concern for myself. I will be dead soon, and what harm can their words do me then? But Lizzie will still be living and she will have to pay for my actions time and time again as the judgments of others stab her over and over."
"Lizzie? You mean Reg's daughter?"
"Yes."
"You love her?"
"No. At least not yet- who knows what will happen in the desperation facing the noose? But she is a dear friend and she cares deeply for me. I tried to keep my distance so I would leave no one behind in mourning, but in that I have failed."
"Reg spoke highly of you. Smart young man, good with your hands, built a contraption in your yard to try to mine the clay. He says you could have been an engineer."
"Perhaps."
"Why not?"
"My sister. She was...persuasive. And I could not leave her. So we starved alone."
"Until she married you off."
"Well I can't say I was entirely unwilling. I thought I would finally be able to find companionship and intimacy with a young lady. But that wasn't so."
"She stopped that, too."
"Yes."
"And you never thought to leave?"
"Does the lion not both love and resent his tamer?"
Mr Hayes nods, "I understand, young man. Look, things here aren't going to be like in the village. You'll be on your own most of the time until they want you up in the court. And if they condemn you, you'll get a guarded cell so you don't kill yourself before the Home Office makes its decision. Might get mercy, likely won't. But I've seen men who were monsters step away from this jail and back into the streets. So you can't be sure."
"Ah. I see."
"Try to get some rest, Mr Sharpe. You're going to need it. The courts start their work tomorrow."
Early in the day, Thomas is told the cases will be tried in accordance to the alphabet, so he will likely wait a day or two for his trial. He is nervous, but tries to keep his mind occupied with the old copies of the Strand that Mr Hayes sends to him. Sherlock Holmes solves cases in an improbable manner, but at least he is a distraction.
On the second day, one of the trials runs long, and before he is called, the court closes for the day. Prisoners are returned to their cells. They are brought up in groups so that they only have to break to bring more people up every few hours.
The third day begins with a fight between prisoners on the way up to the courtroom. Thomas hears someone yelling about the others not holding up his case and then come quite a few thuds and shouts of pain. It makes him even more jumpy.
When he is called, he neatens the stack of magazines on the end of his bed, allows himself chained, and then follows the bailiff out to the other prisoners. Some of them weep, others are silently despondent. Some rant and are cuffed on the side of the head to silence them. Others seethe. Thomas is one of the few who tries to stay calm. There is no need for panic. It will not stave off the inevitable.
They file into the courtroom and stand behind the barristers. The room is chatty, as though this were just another day at the races for the members of the press and public who have gathered to watch. He tries to turn around to look for Lizzie or Mr York, but the guard pushes him back to face the judge.
"No looking about, you hear? You're to respect his Honour."
Thomas does not reply.
The others in his group are tried one by one until it is early afternoon and he is very hungry. He still makes an attempt to hide his discomfort, to focus at the business at hand, but it is difficult.
His name is called, the case outlined by the barrister. Edith is called forward to testify and she does with grace and composure, never once making eye contact with him. She is always addressing the barrister or judge. Alan is sworn in and speaks only a little as to how the siblings were arrested and what evidence he had gathered to prove their crimes. And then Mr York testifies as to the contents of the confessions, swearing that he recorded them truthfully and with as much detail as he could. Lastly, Lizzie is called to testify. She looks so small in the grand room, surrounded by the high oak paneling, her flannel gown tidy and neat. Her hair has been braided around her head, an old fashioned style that makes her look like a young queen, her hairpins a crown. She is shaking a little as she steps into the witness box.
"Miss Elizabeth York, do you swear to tell the truth, so help you god?"
She nods. The judge does not look happy, but the barrister accepts her answer and begins his questioning.
"Miss York. Is it true that you were the sole witness to Lady Sharpe confessing to killing the infant?"
She nods.
"And when you heard that confession, did it seem to you that Mr Sharpe was unaware that the child had died from anything but natural causes?"
She nods.
The judge interrupts, "Miss York, you are going to have to speak in my courtroom. While Mr Davis may consider nodding an appropriate answer, I do not. Do you understand?"
She clears her throat and croaks, "Yes, sir." The sound of her cracking voice startles the judge.
The barrister continues, "Will you describe what their conversation entailed?"
Her speech is slow, deliberate, as she concentrates on choosing the phrases that will require the least speaking, "She had stabbed him. He did not want to speak to her. She wanted to lie so she would not hang. He did not." She coughs a few times. She worries about what will happen next. She knows the feeling starting low in her chest, but continues with her testimony, "She said he was blameless, even with four dead." More coughing. "And he asked-" cough, "-what she meant." Her cough is building, and as she struggles to hold it back, she rushes through, "And she said the child was too imperfect so she poisoned him." Her coughing doubles her over, her hand clutched over her mouth as she sinks, unable to hold herself up, slipping down from the bench in the witness box. Mr York rushes to her and gathers her in his arms on the steps to the box. Alan follows, telling the bailiff he is a doctor.
Thomas wants to run to her and the oldest of the guards puts a firm hand on his shoulder after he sees Thomas starting to look frantic, "Calm down, son. She's in good hands. Won't do her any good for you to get yourself dragged down to the dungeon for the rest of your own trial."
"But she's ill..."
"And her father's right with her. She's not alone. There's a doctor there, too."
"He's a good man."
The guard looks surprised, "He testified against you."
"That makes him no less a good man."
Meanwhile, Alan listens to the cough and offers what little assistance he can be to Mr York. This is not something new for Lizzie, but she has avoided it for years by simply not trying to speak.
Mr York looks to his companion as he shifts Lizzie a little so there is better support for her chest on her father's arm, "There's not much you can do. She just has to ride it out. But a glass of water would be a welcome relief."
Alan approaches the bailiff and makes the request. The judge watches everything happening and calls for a five minute recess. The guards do not escort the prisoners back to the jail for only five minutes, but instead they spread themselves along the line and keep close watch.
Thomas hates feeling helpless. It is far too familiar and reminds him of when he would watch Lucille poison the women in his life. Nothing to do, no way to stop it, not if he wanted to survive. He hadn't ever been sure she wouldn't poison him, too, if he had resisted. He hates how flimsy it all sounds now, with a little bit of time between them.
Lizzie's coughing subsides. Alan helps her to sit up and gives her the water. Her hands tremble, so he steadies the glass as she drinks. Tired, she places a hand over her heart and bows a little towards him after he takes back the glass.
"She thanks you, Doctor. But she's not going to try to say it."
"Of course. All I can prescribe for her is plenty of rest, and it seems this is familiar enough to you to make saying it redundant. But still. Rest, Lizzie. No more speaking."
The barrister approaches after Alan has returned to Edith in the gallery, "Miss...I'm sorry. I was unaware that this is what your father meant when he said you shouldn't speak."
She tilts her head toward him in acknowledgment.
"The clerk and I prepared this document instead- when we reconvene, I will ask the judge to accept your sworn written statement- the one you brought with you that details what you heard. You will sign it with the witness of this court. Can you do this?"
She nods.
"Thank you. After, you will be free to follow the doctor's advise to go rest. And again, I am truly sorry we have caused you this distress."
He hurries off. The judge bangs his gavel. Mr York helps Lizzie back to the seat in the witness box and, in front of court, she signs the statement assuring that what she recorded was what she heard. Her father quickly takes her from the courtroom to Mr Hayes' house, tucking her into bed and heading to the kitchen. There is no Mrs Hayes, but there is a Miss Gertie, a short round young woman with a skill for pies and cakes. He talks to her about a certain spiced and honeyed soup that has always helped Lizzie and asks for hot water with lemon, if she has it, and honey. There is lemon, in the form of dried zest, and she sends him with the tea in short order. Then she sets to work on the soup.
Thomas does not deny his guilt and tells his story honestly when on the stand. He is grateful that the barristers seem to want to avoid discussing his relationship with his sister, instead focusing only on the deaths of Pamela, Margaret, and Enola. They press him on the baby, and he can hardly keep his composure, his grief still intense. Accusations that he killed his child twist the knot in his chest tighter and he clasps his hands, trying to keep his temper under control. In the end, the jury does not deliberate for more than a few moments. He is guilty of murder in at least three instances, there is no question. The judge recommends hanging.