Courtney Milan - Unraveled

Contents

For DKH and KG, who dont deserve the mention.

And for RG, who does.

Chapter One

Bristol. October 1843.

W ELL, B ILLY C ROGGINS, WHY are you here again?

The petty sessions had already started when Miranda Darling slipped into the dingy hearing room. She ducked her head and contemplated the floor, trying not to attract attention. She was playing a young lady today: posture erect, eyes cast demurely down, elbows at her sides. A young lady wouldnt fuss with her hair. Especially not to scratch where her wig drove an errant pin into her scalp. Today, her future rested on her performance.

Nothing new in that. The future was a perpetual burden, weighing her down. Sometimes she felt like one of the acrobats her father had taken her to see at Astleys as a child, dancing atop a bareback horse. One foot put false on a backflip, and she was like to come crashing to the ground. Like the acrobat, she could only pretend her footing was secure, do her best, and smile for the audience no matter what came.

There was a bit of a crowd today, maybe ten or fifteen men and women seated on the wooden benches of the hearing room. Her palms prickled with an edgy energy. She smoothed her hands against the fine muslin of her borrowed gown and counted breaths until the tension inside her faded to a passive lump of nerves.

The white-haired man at the front of the roomBilly Croggins, hed been calleddidnt seem nervous at all. His face was red, and he shrugged, unembarrassed, at the question that had been put to him.

Why, Your Worships, Im here for the same reason Im always here. I had myself a little bit to drink. He raised his hand, miming. I ended up a bit disorderly. You heard what my daughter had to say. Croggins flashed an ingratiating grin.

He had nice teeth for a drunkard. Miranda sidled down the aisle and slipped into an empty spot in the front. Billy Croggins had a nice nose, too. His white, disordered hair gave him an air of respectable eccentricity. Useful, if you were a layabout.

Nobody noticed her as she arranged her skirts. All eyes were trained on the unfolding drama, insignificant though it was.

These werent the quarter sessions, where murderers and burglars would be sentenced to death or transportation. The magistrates here judged little thefts, brawls gone bad, acts of public lewdness. Fines were levied; men were imprisoned for a few days. The stakes were low, and the crimes were interesting only because a neighbor had committed them.

Shed not yet allowed herself to look in the direction of the magistrates. Old superstition, thatone didnt peek through the curtains at an audience before a performance. That spelled ill luck.

The austere white walls seemed to magnify the autumn chill, but Miranda slipped out of her worn cloak and removed her straw bonnet, taking care not to disturb the blond wig shed donned that morning.

What is this? one of the magistrates asked. The fifth time youve appeared before us? His voice was familiar. Too familiar.

She mustnt look up at him in betraying consternation. Mirandas hand clenched around the wool of her cloak instead; she forced it open before the gesture could betray her.

Correct as always, Your Worship, came Crogginss cheery reply.

At her immediate right, the clerk sat, his pen arrested over the inkwell. He hadnt written a thing in minutes.

Miranda leaned over and spoke in an urgent whisper. Sir. I happened to witness one of the crimes today. The accused is a boy, perhaps twelve years of age

He glanced at her, frowning, and then looked away. Tell me when hes up, he whispered gruffly. Im busy now.

He didnt look busy. The register before him read only: Drunk. Admits he did it. Convicted. Billy Croggins hadnt been convicted yet, but she couldnt blame the man for prematurely recording the result.

If we keep convicting you, why do you keep at it? This voice, thin and reedy, came from the left. Turnerwhat is the punishment, again?

Turner. So she had recognized that earlier voice. Another flash of nervousness traveled through her, this one tinged with a hint of fear. Still, she kept her gaze trained on Croggins.

The defendant grinned unabashedly. I wager I know the punishment by now. Ten pounds for the repeat offense, which I havent gotand so six hours in the stocks instead.

Dont worry, Billy, someone called from the audience. Well make sure all the turnips are nice and rotten before we throw them, so they dont scratch your pretty face.

The room erupted into laughter.

Gentlemen, another voice said, its a conviction, then?

Everyone else shifted to look at the magistrates to the left of the room. It would seem out of place if she didnt follow their lead, and so Miranda raised her head. The three men tasked to hear the sessions today sat behind a heavy oak bench. They were dressed identically: curled, white-powdered horsehair wigs atop, and heavy black robes beneath. The man in the center with the red face was the mayor. On his left sat a fellow shed never seen before. That mans wig was askew.

Indeed, Croggins was saying, whats another conviction amongst friends?

On the right, sitting a good two feet from his compatriots Perhaps, this last magistrate said, I might ask a few questions before we rush to judgment.

Miranda swallowed. He was Magistrate Turnerbetter known as Lord Justice.

His face wasnt red. His wig was straight. And while the other magistrates were smiling at Crogginss antics, Lord Justice looked as somber as a crow in his black robes, stern and implacable. She could almost believe the stories that were told about him.

Always covering the ground, Turner, the mayor said in exasperated tones. Very well. I suppose you must have your way. But I hardly see the point, as the man has admitted his guilt.

Compared with his colleagues, Lord Justice looked like the statue of a magistrate instead of irresolute flesh and blood. He fit the name hed been given. Justice made her think of hard lines and inflexible resolve. Lord Justice scanned the room with sharp, mobile eyes, which seemed to take in everything all at once.

Lord Justice, everyone said, could smell a lie at twenty paces. Miranda sat no more than fifteen from him.

Just looking at the man gave her gooseflesh. Shed appeared before him once. Even thinking of the questions hed asked, the way his eyes had pierced her, made the skin on the back of her neck prickle. And that time, shed been telling the truth.

Perhaps, Lord Justice said, you could help me understand the events of last night. Ive heard the testimony from your daughter. But I wish to hear it in your words. How did the fire start?

Ah, Billy Croggins said, that would be the drunk part of drunk and disorderly. He smiled winningly.

Lord Justice was not so easily won. He steepled his fingers. Were you voluntarily drunk? Or did you have your drink forced upon you?

Id be much obliged, Your Worship, if people forced drink upon me. As it were, I had to purchase it like a regular booby.

The only response to that witticism was a thinning of the magistrates lips. When you were inebriated, you went to your daughters house?

Yes, and can you believe my own child wouldnt open her door for me? Told me to go away and come back sober. If I waited for that, Id never see my grandchildren at all, not til Gabriel sounded his trump at the last.

A woman in the crowd let out a harsh bark of laughter at that, and the mayor hid a smile behind his sleeve.