Chapter Nineteen

"This is absolutely ridiculous," Emilia seethed beside Sebastian once they had retired to bed that evening. The look on her son's face after he'd returned from the prison that evening was permanently etched into her mind. James had always been a carefree bachelor with a lady on each arm but ever since he'd met Jacqueline ... or rather Alice ... he'd changed. He'd become more responsible and considerate and concerned for others besides himself. She'd seen a changed man, one she could admire. But she could not live with herself if that broken hearted look on his face was permanently there. "We must be able to do something!"

"I know you want to, Em, but we can't. There a rules in place for a reason. Though she's a sweet girl, Alice was part of a rebel uprising that was deemed illegal by the powers that be. Though we may not agree with how the situation was handled, there is nothing we can do."

Emilia threw her head back into the pillows and sighed sadly. "What if James tries to hurt himself?" she asked him, turning towards him. "It's been known for someone with melancholia to try to end their lives. What if our son does something to himself? I couldn't bear it!" She didn't want to, but she could see herself grieving her son. The thought was black ... filled with despair. She wouldn't do it. Children were meant to outlive their parents for a reason. "I think we should try to pay her way out of prison." She was perfectly serious. Things like that happened, didn't they?

Sebastian groaned. "Em, that's just asking for trouble. I know you want everything to work out but sometimes they don't. James will be alright. He's your son, isn't he? That means he's stronger than most." He leant over and kissed Emilia on her temple before settling into bed. "I love you."

Emilia was still fuming, fuelling her fire on worry and anger. "What would you do if I were executed?" she asked him, wanting a reaction. She wanted help.

Sebastian's head snapped up as he glared at her with her dark blue eyes. "Don't entertain such thoughts," he snapped. "I won't have it."

"What would you do?" Emilia persisted. She'd never been one to obey Sebastian anyway. "If I was sentenced to death and there was nothing you could do about it."

Sebastian swung his arm behind Emilia and pulled her into his side. She enjoyed the closeness when she was so angry. "I would find a way to prove your innocence," he replied quietly.

"So how do we do that for Alice?" Emilia liked Alice's real name. It suited her. It was delicate and sweet, yet one could tell she had fight in her.

"She's been accused of murder within the French Revolution. I'm sure they would have a record or a leger of some sort that listed all the wanted rebels or all the known rebels. If we sent a missive on to Paris inquiring after proof then that could possibly stall her being sent back to France. The British authorities won't send a girl to her death without evidence."

Emilia beamed as a fresh ray of hope shone down on them. She kissed him quickly on his surprised lips. "I knew there was a reason as to why I married you."

Sebastian scoffed. "And you're only just realising it now?" He placed another kiss on her temple. "There is hope, Em, but if that missive comes back saying that her name is on the list of rebels then we can't do anything else."

Emilia knew that. She knew there was every possibility that they might lose in the end but she couldn't allow herself to give up. Not when there was an innocent girl was accused over murder.

James woke up the next morning still fully dressed. He had basically collapsed on top of the bed without even bothering to get under the duvet.

He rolled over stiffly and stared at the cream coloured canopy. How could he possibly function each day knowing that Alice was going to her death? How would he function when she was actually dead? To start with he would befriend his father's whiskey collection, regardless of the fact that Henry had hidden the key. What was the point of abandoning the drink when one had no reason to stay lucid?

He had one order of business though - visiting Alice's priest. She wanted her priest to tell James about her brother Jacques. James didn't know she had a brother, and the fact that he was not in London taking care of her indicated that the poor man had met his demise. Whatever Jacques had done in his life, he'd made sure that Alice was alive, and James would be grateful to him for that.

James lethargically arose and changed his clothes so that they were fresh and clean. He didn't even attempt to tame his hair. He made his way downstairs without any plans to go to breakfast. He just wanted to get the visit to Alice's church over with so that he could make his way or a tavern.

Before he could leave the house, however, his mother caught him.

"Sweetheart," she called from the entryway into the dining room.

"Yes, mother," James replied.

"You're not going anywhere on your own today," she said firmly. "You're coming with papa and me."

James had not been told what to do like a child in years. He could see it in his mother's eyes, though, she was worried about him. And rightly so, men could die from abuse of the drink. "I have plans."

"More important than my itinerary?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "Papa has a theory. A theory that might free Alice."

James froze where he stood. How? How was that possible? But he would take it. Hope was needed. For both of them. "What theory is this?" he asked quietly, not able to make his stunned voice louder.

"We're going to the Met to ensure a missive is sent to the French authorities. We believe that there may be a record of the wanted rebels and we may be able to prove Alice's innocence if her name is not on them."

James' eyes narrowed as he pondered the idea. It could indeed work. It was plausible. If they could prove her innocence via the French authorities then Alice might be freed. "She'll be alright?"

"She might be. But we can't be certain that her name isn't recorded. There is hope, but we must prepare ourselves for the worst." Emilia invited James into the dining room but he wasn't hungry.

"Just please let me know when you're ready to leave."

An hour later the carriage was called for and the destination given. His parents seemed quite anxious as they rode. He couldn't be though. He needed the hope. He needed to hope that she would be alright.

He didn't feel as morbid as did the night before when he came to see Alice. He didn't know if he would get to see her but he hoped so. The inside of the police building was quite dark and dreary with several uniformed officers walking around the foyer discussing prisoners, assignments and patrol areas. There were several doors that led off to the upstairs areas, as well as the cells, where he had been the night before.

Noticing the finely dressed guests, one of the police officers met them. He was a large man, whose several chins were accentuated by the strap of his helmet. His greying black hair was poking out beneath his helmet and his eyes were a dull shade of green.

"Can I help you?" he asked formally.

"Yes, sir, you can," Sebastian replied, nodding. "I'm here to inquire after one of your prisoners - a Miss Alice Devereaux."

The man's eyes narrowed. "What about her?"

"We want evidence of her guilt before she is sent back to France. Surely you cannot condemn an innocent girl to an execution without proper proof?"

"I beg your pardon, sir, but you are not in any position to demand anything from me. This is a matter for the law," he retorted haughtily. James did not like this man.

"Please," Emilia begged, stepping between the officer and Sebastian. Her voice was soft and not at all dominant. "I'm begging you. She's but a child. She will die without trial in France. All I ask is that a missive is sent to Paris asking for evidence of her presence at the revolution. We're a sophisticated society, Officer, and she came here for a second chance at life." Emilia grabbed a hold of one of his hands. Both James and Sebastian couldn't help but notice the way the aging man was looking at Emilia. She certainly did not look as though she was approaching her late forties. She was timelessly beautiful and many a man could appreciate that. James didn't care if the man ogled his mother, so long as Alice was freed.

"I suppose I could have a conversation with a few of my colleagues about sending word to France. But we won't be responsible for any and all costs." He directed the last part at Sebastian.

"Any expenses will be covered by my estate," he promised.

He nodded finally. "Alright. I'll see what I can do. If you'd take a seat over there, I will return shortly." He directed them over to a bench seat that looked like it had originated in a church that lined the stone wall near the door. The three of them made their way over to it and sat down, prepared to wait until the officer returned with news.

"This is good," Sebastian said to James quietly. "He, on the other hand, was a pervert." He muttered the last part while he took hold of Emilia's hand and squeezed it tightly. Emilia sat between the two men. She took James' hand in hers reassuringly.

"I don't care who looks at me, so long as little Alice is no longer bound in chains," Emilia whispered.

'Shortly' as the officer had put it, turned into several long hours that they spent sitting in the Met without hearing a word. Several men came and went, both being put in prison and being released. James had heard wives shouting profanity and mothers cursing their sons but he hadn't heard a word about Alice.

"Will this really work?" James said after at least an hour of silence.

"It might," Sebastian replied. "But Alice may well be on their records."

James knew that. He'd also decided in the hours they'd been waiting that he would board a ship to France if she were sent home and he would break her out of prison if he could not succeed in bribing her out. He'd ignore her objections. Some say love is selfless, and to an extent it is. But in truth, love is the most selfish feeling in the world because one would do anything to keep that person with them. And James knew he was being selfish, because he wasn't letting Alice go.

"Excuse me?"

All three of them must have been deep in thought as they didn't notice that the officer had returned.

"Yes," Sebastian immediately responded. "What news have you?"

"My superiors have agreed to what you wish. We do have a judicial system that guarantees prisoners to a trial. Before Miss Devereaux is transported back to France, we will receive confirmation from the French authorities that she is indeed guilty."

A smile teased James' lips. There was indeed hope.

It was only her second night in prison, yet Alice felt as though she'd been there for years. She hated everything about the cell that would be her home until she was put on a ship back to her homeland. She hadn't managed to sleep the night before and she doubted she'd manage any for the coming nights.

She'd barely touched any of the food that she'd been given, not that it was appetising anyway. Tepid soup, stale bread and water were on the menu for prisoners. They didn't deserve more.

She'd spent most of the day playing with her hair. She'd fixed it in a French braid except she'd had nothing to fasten it with so she'd let it fall out.

It had been dark for a while so Alice figured it had to be near ten in the evening. She'd been thinking about James for most of the day. It broke her heart to see him so sad. She actually missed his conceited and arrogant grins. But life had gotten in the way for them and it wasn't meant to be. She just hoped that he would go to see Father Walker. She wanted her Jacques to be remembered as the selfless hero he was.

"You're popular, Devereaux," said the policeman who often patrolled the cells. She didn't know his name, but he often mad comments of the sexual nature toward her. She was quite grateful that there were bars between them. "Another visitor. Five minutes."

She frowned. She couldn't go through saying goodbye to James all over again. She wouldn't be able to hold in the miserable sobs.

But instead of James appearing before her, it was a woman. Sarah. Unlike her usual attire, she was dressed quite conservatively in a navy and white ensemble. Her black hair was twisted on top of her head underneath a lacy bonnet and her arms were completely covered with matching gloves. Her face was completely pale. The malicious looks that she usually wore were completely gone. Instead, they were replaced by looks of great guilt and remorse.

"Hello, Alice," she said quietly.

Alice rose off her little cot and met her at the bars. She paled in comparison to Sarah's beauty, especially now.

"Sarah," Alice managed, nodding to her.

Sarah smiled meekly as she looked from side to side. Her green eyes returned to Alice. "I came here ... I came here because ..." She sighed. "I came here because I wanted you to know that I never intended for this to go so far. I don't think I understood the magnitude of my accusations. I didn't know that they could really kill you. I never wanted you to die, I just wanted you to go away."

"I never did anything to you, Sarah. I never pursued James. I never sought out to end your engagement. And I never murdered anyone," Alice said firmly, attempting to keep her composure. She didn't want to hate Sarah. Hate was such a horrible emotion. It affected the hater more than the person who was hated.

"I know," Sarah nodded miserably. "I know you did nothing wrong. I know it was James' decision to end our engagement and that you couldn't help but be attractive to him. He always fancied a pretty face, and even though I won't admit it to anyone, you are lovely, Alice."

Alice folded her arms across her chest and merely nodded.

"I didn't think. I was just thinking about myself. I was being selfish. I never wanted to admit it, but you are better than me. I know it won't mean anything, Alice, but I am sorry. Truly. I will always be sorry and I will always be indebted to you for helping me to realise the right thing to do." Alice had never seen Sarah look so sincere and ... kind.

It did mean something to Alice, knowing that she was sincerely sorry. Hopefully she would make wiser decisions in future and be much nicer to people in general.

"What will you do?" Alice asked after a moment of silence. She was imagining Sarah perhaps working at the orphanage for a few hours every week in Alice's ... absence.

"I've booked a passage on the next ship bound for America," Sarah stated.

Alice raised her eyebrows, shocked. She was not expecting that. "America?" she repeated. "Why?"

"Mama is from Boston, so I have several aunts there. There is nothing more for me in London. It is time for something new and I think Boston is the answer." Sarah smiled slightly at Alice. She was not condescending at all, she was sincere. "I know it is wrong of me to ask, and I will never assume that you have, but I hope you can forgive me. You have every right to hate me."

Alice could easily rebuff Sarah and send her away with a guilty conscience that could never be cleared. Alice could easily hate Sarah for the rest of her life, which mightn't me that long. But Alice wasn't that type of person. If ever anyone knew about holding on to something, it was Alice. Hate kills ones quicker than disease. Hate is a disease. A disease with a simple cure. "I forgive you, Sarah," Alice said calmly. And she did. People weren't perfect. Sarah definitely was not. But she was sorry and Alice wanted to depart on good terms.

"Pardon?" Sarah was clearly not expecting to be forgiven.

"I forgive you," Alice repeated. "We shall never be friends, but I only want the best for you, Sarah. I hope you find love and happiness in America."

A tear escaped the rim of Sarah's eye as she smiled warmly at Alice. "I can see why James fell in love with you. I'm so sorry."

"I know." Alice nodded.

"I wouldn't be able to forgive me. You're far better a person than I," Sarah said finally. Alice sensed by her tone that she would depart.

Alice didn't say anything. She just nodded once more.

"You'll be in my prayers, Alice." With that Sarah departed the cells and she was gone.

Alice didn't feel resentful. She wouldn't meet her maker with hate in her heart.

---

I know a lot of you wanted Sarah to fall off a cliff and be eaten to death by a shark and a giant squid at the same time but this is inspired by what I imagine would happen if the girl who always managed to squeeze in a malicious comment towards me in high school. She hated me ever since I walked into kindergarten with the same name as her :P So, Laura, if you ever apologised for being such a horrible, mean, nasty, slimy little biatch to me, I'd forgive you :) I'm sorry my parents gave me YOUR name but I am a month and a half older than you ;) Do you guys all have one of those people in your lives? Share so I know I'm not alone :)

The reason this is about 5 days in the making is because I had a MASSIVE assignment due today and being the wonderful procrastinator that I am, I didn't start it until this morning. But I got it done and it's actually pretty amazing. I'm expecting a pretty good grade :) We had to write a lab report on an experiment done at my university based on the theory that physical warmth can induce psychological warmth in regards to social perception. I know. WTF? But I got it out :)

So... I know many of you were impatient for this chapter, so that's the reason why it's a few days late.

"You can take me down with just one single blow. But you don't know, you don't know... Someday, I'll be living in a big old city and all you're ever going to be is mean. Someday, I'll be big enough so you can't hit me and all you're ever going to be is mean. Why you gotta be so mean?" Taylor Swift, Mean.

I always think about her when I listen to this song :P