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“Me either,” Mabel agreed with a nod.
“Good day we are having,” she declared loudly.
“Up until now, it’s been miserable,” Mabel muttered. “Not long now.”
Hetty swallowed and remained quiet.
Charles ‘Charlie’ Ryder watched the irons fall off his wrists and stared blankly at his hands. He barely had the time to assess the red marks around his wrists before they were suddenly yanked behind his back, and tied with coarse rope that bit cruelly into his already bruised flesh.
“Move on,” the jailer growled.
Although his face remained impassive, Charlie’s heart began to pound as he shuffled ever closer to the door.
Until now, he had thought that everything that had happened over the last several days had been a horrible joke, and that someone – anyone – was going to step forward and tell him it was a huge mistake before he was shown the door.
He glanced around the jail, and cursed bitterly at the unfamiliar faces of the jailers.
Time had run out. Help was not possible, he knew that now. His only consolation was the knowledge that his imminent death would not be in vain; and that Hetty was going to be protected from any of Meldrew’s future schemes.
Once Sir Hugo got men to the area, they would leave no stone unturned in avenging his death, and Meldrew would see his own day in court, and Hetty would be free to live her life as a considerably wealthy widow.
He turned and watched Simon’s chains fall to the floor. Their eyes met and held for several moments before the jailer ordered them to turn around and move forward again.
The only sign of the fierce anger that surged through Charlie was the muscle that ticked steadily in his jaw. He didn’t even bother to spare the jailer a look, and stared resolutely at the door that would take him to his death.
In all of his years with the Star Elite, he had never expected to meet his death this way. Shot by an attacker, or knifed in a brawl maybe; or even drowned by smugglers. Being hung by the neck for a crime he didn’t commit was something he had never thought could happen to someone like him.
The crowds outside sounded loud, even through the thick stone walls of the prison. He hoped and prayed that Hetty wouldn’t be outside amongst the melee. The thought of her having to witness the last few moments of his demise was awful.
Hetty. Although he had only met her a few times, he felt a greater connection to her than he had ever had with anyone else before. The thought that she was now his wife made him inordinately proud, and bitter, about the life that Fate had denied him.
The mental image of her had become his guiding light over the last few days, and had helped him through the darkest hours he thought never to endure. That glorious mane of bright red hair accompanied by her piercing beautiful blue eyes had stirred his soul, and shaken him to the point that he had not been able to get her out of his mind, but then he hadn’t wanted to.
The stark memory of the last time he had held her in his arms gave him the strength he needed to be able to get through the next few minutes. She had felt so slight; so delicate in his arms that he was certain that a good gust of wind would carry her away. It had been a good enough reason to hold her tighter.
“God, they are actually baying,” Simon whispered in horror.
Charlie couldn’t bring himself to say anything. His stomach began to churn and, for one brief moment, he wondered if he was going to lose the contents of his last meal all over the floor. The man in the line in front of him began to sob quietly as the realisation of his fate dawned on him.
The sound of chains being dragged across the stone floor was loud in the tense silence of the hallway. Charlie turned and looked at the ironmonger dragging the last of the shackles across the floor. Now that all of the prisoners were free, the priest began to issue last rights. The jailers moved to the door. All of them were heavily armed, and ready to lead the condemned to the waiting gallows outside.
There was no way out.
“This is a travesty,” Simon whispered morosely. “A bloody travesty. That’s what this is.”
Charlie had to agree and, in that moment, hated Cedric Meldrew with every fibre of his being.
It was probably better this way he mused silently. If he had been found innocent at that pathetic pantomime of a court, then he would have dedicated his life to ensuring that Cedric Meldrew was put in a position where he could never hurt anyone again. If he had to kill the bastard to render him useless then that is what he would do, but he would have inevitably ended up at the end of a hangman’s noose for doing so.
“Look on the bright side,” Charlie snorted without humour. “At least we can haunt the bastard.”
He threw a look at Simon, who shook his head and heaved a sigh. There was no humour in this situation. Nothing about the injustice and inhumanity of Meldrew’s every action was even remotely funny.
Suddenly, the door at the end of the hallway opened, and everyone was immediately bathed in the hazy early morning. The cacophony outside assaulted them at the same time that everything within the jail went still and watchful.
“Move on,” the jailer ordered.
The condemned were nudged toward the door. Before they were allowed to leave the building, their legs were tied with ropes to stop them running away, but there was enough leeway for them to walk themselves to their deaths.
