7. An Educational Outing
AN EDUCATIONAL OUTING
I did not sleep that night.
How could I? I paced the floors until Mary emerged, alarmed by my distress and mistaking it for grief. She insisted on sitting with me, and promptly fell asleep in front of the fire, once again leaving me alone with the whirring thoughts in my head.
Azriel couldn’t know. He could not know. It wasn’t possible. He was bluffing, trying to trick me into… well, I wasn’t sure. He’d not named his intent, not really. He’d not even named what he knew, and I had to be careful not to fall into a trap and give myself away.
And yet he had no care for the fact that I was not to leave the house, and it made me wonder what else he would have no care for.
I shall do as I wish with what is mine.
He wanted to claim me. As what? His whore? I would sooner die than live through that shame.
No, that was a lie. I did not want to die. I wanted to live.
The thought of throwing myself off the nearest bridge and into the Thames had crossed my mind only once, many years ago, the first time Acton had come to our marriage bed. And I had not done it then, and I would not do it now.
I considered, instead, running away. But I knew that too would be useless. I had nowhere to go, and certainly nowhere Azriel would not find me.
I would just have to find a way to call Azriel’s bluff.
My feet were sore and the fire had all but died away in the hearth by the time the sun began to appear over the horizon. I collapsed into the window seat to watch this new day dawn. I did not yet know what it would bring, but I was sure I could outsmart him. I would find a way out of this mess.
He couldn’t know.
When Mary finally woke, she stretched and yawned, and rubbed her eyes as she found me in my place by the window.
“I’m sorry, madam, I fell asleep when I said I would stay with you.”
I waved a hand, curling my legs up against my chest. “Never mind, Mary. It is better that you slept.”
“I shall go and fetch you some breakfast.”
The thought of food made my stomach turn. “No, that is alright, some tea shall do. And then please ready my clothes, Mr Caine wishes to take me out in the carriage.” I avoided her gaze as I said the words, and I could practically feel her confusion.
“Out, madam?”
“Yes, out. He has insisted.”
“But-”
“Tea, Mary.” I snapped, still not looking at her.
“Yes, madam.” She hurried to her room, and left me alone again.
The next hours passed in a blur of panic as my mind continued to spin and untangle what had happened the night before. I was trembling as Mary dressed me, but she said nothing, worry plain on her face all the same.
Finally, it was almost 9 o’clock, and I made my way down the stairs to meet Azriel.
The servants eyed me curiously, wondering where a widow could be going on a Tuesday morning, certainly not attending church.
The veil I wore did not obscure my face as much as I would have liked, and the overwhelming trepidation was now joined by deep shame.
Azriel was waiting for me, the heavy coat on his shoulders making him look even larger and more intimidating. He met my eyes with a smile, and I was sure my discomfort was extremely pleasing to him.
“Good morning, Evie. You look lovely.”
Wordlessly, I walked past him out to the waiting carriage and allowed the footman to help me in.
Azriel swiftly followed, and tapped the roof with his cane.
“Drive on!” He called, before looking back over at me. “Did you sleep well? You look tired.”
“No, I did not sleep well.”
He sucked on his teeth. “Ah, that is a shame. I slept remarkably well.”
“Probably all that drink.”
“You know, you’re probably right.” He chuckled to himself, gazing out the window at the gathering clouds. “I had thought the day would be fine, but now it appears we shall have more rain.”
“Where are we going?” I asked as the carriage began to head down the bumpy cobble street.
“Somewhere rather educational.”
“What does that even mean?”
He turned on me, leaning on his knees as he took me in. “It means that sometimes, seeing with our own eyes what is possible is far more persuasive than simply hearing about it. Abstract theory, science is truly fascinating.”
“And what exactly are you hoping to achieve with this educational little outing?” I smoothed my hands over my skirts, hoping he did not see them trembling.
“I am hoping that you will make the right choice.”
“And what choices are those?
He laughed, rubbing his now clean-shaven chin. “I would not wish to spoil the surprise, beloved. Patience.”
I tried to take as many steadying breaths as I could, every creak and bump of the carriage setting my already frayed nerves on edge.
Heart prickled at my scalp, sweat erupting on the back of my neck despite the cool late-October air.
The carriage seemed to shrink in on itself, suffocating me as the walls closed in further and further.
Azriel’s presence in the space, becoming so large and looming I had to close my eyes and turn away.
He is bluffing. He is a liar and a cad. He knows nothing. No one knows anything.
I opened my eyes to find we were on a wide street, bustling with people and carriages. An enormous building loomed before us, crowds of people swarming in through its open gates.
“Newgate!” The driver announced.
My head snapped over to Azriel, and I was sure the dread would make me faint. “Newgate?”
“Indeed, it is a prison, beloved.”
Tears once again burned at my eyes. “You have brought me to a prison?”
“I have.” He tilted his head, observing me through narrowed eyes. “You look rather pale. Is something amiss?”
“Why have you brought me to a prison?”
Azriel’s eyelashes fluttered as he spun his top hat in his hands.
“Well, I suppose you shall have to wait and see.” He rose to his feet, climbing down from the carriage and putting on his hat.
He turned to offer me his hand, and waited patiently as I stared at him.
“You’ve nothing to fear, Evie. All the prisoners are locked up, right where they ought to be. You are perfectly safe.”
It was not the prisoners I feared. I was far from safe at his side.
But with all these people in such a bustling, public place, I also could not imagine him doing anything but humiliate me for appearing in public in my mourning.
I held my head high as I alighted from the carriage, ignoring the open stares of the people around us.
All manner of folk were here, young and old, children holding their parents’ hands, gentlemen escorting ladies, poor folk with clothes smeared in soot.
Vendors shouted their wares, selling food from wagons and tea from steaming copper kettles.
Azriel escorted me across the street to the gates of the prison, and realisation began to dawn on me. I tried to shrink into Ariel’s side, to curl in on myself as though I could hide away.
This couldn’t be. Surely not even he was this depraved.
“Come, beloved,” he said jovially, steering me towards a staircase. “We have the best seats in the house.”
The two guards at the base of the stairs watched us approach, eyeing me with confusion for a moment before Azriel handed them both some coins from his pocket. They stepped back with a nod, and Azriel swept his hand upwards.
“After you.”
I was sure my legs were going to give way, talking myself through step after step as I climbed up to the balcony. At the top, a line of wooden chairs had been placed under the arching stone ceiling, a rickety railing the only barrier between us and what lay beneath.
A raucous crowd of people, and in the middle of the yard, a gallows.
“You’ve brought me to an execution,” I breathed, catching myself on the back of one of the chairs.
Azriel placed his hand next to mine, encroaching on my space like a shadow. “Indeed. Have you never attended one before?”
I shook my head, my body no longer caught in a web of dread, but so cold with fear I began to tremble. “Why would you bring me here?”
“As I said, seeing for oneself is so much more impactful, than simply being told.”
“Told what?”
He gestured to the chair, and raised an eyebrow when I did not move.
“Sit down, Evie, or you shall miss the spectacle.”
I swallowed hard, and took a seat on the creaky chair. My back was straight, my legs itching, every urge in my body telling me to run, run, right now.
But I did not run. I clenched my hands in my lap until I was sure my nails were biting holes into my skin, and kept my eyes fixed on the crowd beneath us. Looking at the man who sat beside me would have been too much.
“Dickens himself used to attend these,” Azriel said, pointing to the gallows with the head of his cane. “It is such an inspirational environment, would you not agree?”
It was anything but inspiring. It was horrifying.
The crowd beneath us broke into yells of disgust as the guards appeared on the gallows, a scraggly man with bound hands trapped between them.
Even from this distance, I could see his skin was sallow, his cheeks sunken, a sure sign this man drank too much and had not enjoyed an easy life.
His shirt was torn, exposing most of his chest, and his trousers were filthy and sodden.
“Killed his brother apparently,” Azriel said, and sucked on his teeth. “Some filthy business over a woman. Fight broke out in a tavern, and this good man stabbed his brother in the throat. At least that’s what the papers said. ”
The man’s movements became more frantic as he was dragged to the noose, punching and jabbing uselessly at the guards with his bound hands. Even over the jeers of the crowd, his insistent shouts of innocence could be heard.
“They’re all innocent, aren't they?” Azriel chuckled, tapping his cane lightly against his leg.
Rain began to fall, and the man tried to wrest himself out of the guards’ grip. He was swiftly met with a punch to the side, and the guards hollered abuse at him as they forced him on to the trap door.