eyes, but she blinked them back. If Bertie saw her cry, she who never cried, he’d know the matter was as serious as it was.
Bertie covered her hands with his to comfort her. They were cold. Instantly, she fumbled in the pocket of her cloak, pulling out her gloves.
"T ake these.”
Bertie shook his head. “No, Katie. I’m fine. You need your gloves.”
“I’ve got a spare pair,” she fibbed.
"No you don't." He gave her a jaunty grin, his eyes blazing with an excitement tinged by fear.. Kate put her gloves back in her pocket without further argument.
"You looked like Papa just now."
"He always joked that one of us would end up on the gallows someday."
A wrenching sob tore out of Kate's chest.
"Don't, Katie. It's going to be fine."
Bertie nodded. They both stood silent ly for a moment.
“I don’t want to die.”
"You're not going to die, I promise you." Kate gripped the bars tighter as if the force alone could save him.
“ You can't make that promise--"
"That's enough!" Her voice echoed across the green. She took a deep breath. "I need to ask you some questions." Her brother nodded.
"Did you see anything or anyone when you were out tonight? Anything at all out of the ordinary?”
He paused to think, then shook his head. “No. It was just dark and we were playing in the river. Then Ethan and I decided to play on the platform, but his mother saw him and made him come in. It wasn’t much fun all by myself, so I went home.”
Kate frowned, her mind spinning in a dozen different directions. “And you didn’t see anyone?”
He shrugged. “No. Just the usual.”
Kate j umped on the morsel. “The usual? Any strangers? Any of the tourists?”
Bertie frowned in concentration. He didn’t need to be reminded of the gravity of his memories of the previous evening. Finally he sighed in frustration.
“No. Just the usual,” he repeated. “Lady Jeanne left from the Kendall’s. Mrs. Gordon left the Rectory really late. Miss Radish went to the church, I don't know why, because it was dark. There were some people taking the tour. That’s it Katie, that’s all there were.”
Kate bit her lip as if it would help her to think. Her mind ran over each person in turn, weighing, judging, discarding each i n turn. “Lady Jeanne--Mrs. Gordon--Miss Radish--”
Nodding, Bertie add ed, “Yes, she was talking to Father Flannigan. I saw them in the graveyard.”
Something clicked in Kate's brain. “Miss Radish was talking to Father Flannery? At St. Agatha’s?”
He nodded again.
“Miss Radish is not a Catholic. Why would she be at church at that hour?”
“I’m sorry, Katie. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t stayed out so late.” He hung his head and the guilt welled up in Kate like a balloon in Hyde Park. “None of that,” she returned briskly. “We’ll get you out. Don’t worry.”
Bertie nodded though his chin wobbled. He was still young enough to believe, or hope, that it really was okay, and that his elder sister would solve the problem.
Kate gripped the bars, shooting a look about the green. In a whisper, she instructed, “Bertie, listen to me. If something goes wrong--”
He looked up in alarm.
“Nothing will go wrong. But if something does and I or Auntie Alice or the girls or Mr. Dalrymple come to you, do what they say immediately and without question.” Wild, crazy thoughts of midnight escapes to France or America whirled in her brain, impossible plans which might need to be possible to save her brother’s life. Murder was too serious a charge to get off lightly, even if one was an earl. The most he could hope for was transportation to Australia. Kate wondered if it were possible to bribe the judge and how much he might want. After all, she thought wildly, it had worked--or not--for Captain Harry. Or against him, really, since he’d been hanged. How ironic if her
Bertie covered her hands with his to comfort her. They were cold. Instantly, she fumbled in the pocket of her cloak, pulling out her gloves.
"T ake these.”
Bertie shook his head. “No, Katie. I’m fine. You need your gloves.”
“I’ve got a spare pair,” she fibbed.
"No you don't." He gave her a jaunty grin, his eyes blazing with an excitement tinged by fear.. Kate put her gloves back in her pocket without further argument.
"You looked like Papa just now."
"He always joked that one of us would end up on the gallows someday."
A wrenching sob tore out of Kate's chest.
"Don't, Katie. It's going to be fine."
Bertie nodded. They both stood silent ly for a moment.
“I don’t want to die.”
"You're not going to die, I promise you." Kate gripped the bars tighter as if the force alone could save him.
“ You can't make that promise--"
"That's enough!" Her voice echoed across the green. She took a deep breath. "I need to ask you some questions." Her brother nodded.
"Did you see anything or anyone when you were out tonight? Anything at all out of the ordinary?”
He paused to think, then shook his head. “No. It was just dark and we were playing in the river. Then Ethan and I decided to play on the platform, but his mother saw him and made him come in. It wasn’t much fun all by myself, so I went home.”
Kate frowned, her mind spinning in a dozen different directions. “And you didn’t see anyone?”
He shrugged. “No. Just the usual.”
Kate j umped on the morsel. “The usual? Any strangers? Any of the tourists?”
Bertie frowned in concentration. He didn’t need to be reminded of the gravity of his memories of the previous evening. Finally he sighed in frustration.
“No. Just the usual,” he repeated. “Lady Jeanne left from the Kendall’s. Mrs. Gordon left the Rectory really late. Miss Radish went to the church, I don't know why, because it was dark. There were some people taking the tour. That’s it Katie, that’s all there were.”
Kate bit her lip as if it would help her to think. Her mind ran over each person in turn, weighing, judging, discarding each i n turn. “Lady Jeanne--Mrs. Gordon--Miss Radish--”
Nodding, Bertie add ed, “Yes, she was talking to Father Flannigan. I saw them in the graveyard.”
Something clicked in Kate's brain. “Miss Radish was talking to Father Flannery? At St. Agatha’s?”
He nodded again.
“Miss Radish is not a Catholic. Why would she be at church at that hour?”
“I’m sorry, Katie. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t stayed out so late.” He hung his head and the guilt welled up in Kate like a balloon in Hyde Park. “None of that,” she returned briskly. “We’ll get you out. Don’t worry.”
Bertie nodded though his chin wobbled. He was still young enough to believe, or hope, that it really was okay, and that his elder sister would solve the problem.
Kate gripped the bars, shooting a look about the green. In a whisper, she instructed, “Bertie, listen to me. If something goes wrong--”
He looked up in alarm.
“Nothing will go wrong. But if something does and I or Auntie Alice or the girls or Mr. Dalrymple come to you, do what they say immediately and without question.” Wild, crazy thoughts of midnight escapes to France or America whirled in her brain, impossible plans which might need to be possible to save her brother’s life. Murder was too serious a charge to get off lightly, even if one was an earl. The most he could hope for was transportation to Australia. Kate wondered if it were possible to bribe the judge and how much he might want. After all, she thought wildly, it had worked--or not--for Captain Harry. Or against him, really, since he’d been hanged. How ironic if her
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