“No,” Diana said, backing away, only to find herself thrown backward by Owen. He stood before her, blocking off Gilbert’s access to her.
“Hit me again if you like, Your Grace,” Owen said with defiance. “I will not let you lay a finger on her.”
“He hit you, Mr Arnold?” the magistrate asked, walking forward to reach their sides.
“He did.”
“Then we can add assault to the list of charges.”
“What?” Gilbert spun round. “I am not being arrested. I am a duke. You cannot throw me in prison like I am a …” He faded off, unable to say the words.
“The law is the same, no matter your position, Your Grace. Granted, some may not like the idea of convicting a duke,” the magistrate said, looking rather awkward as he scratched the back of his neck, “but with enough evidence, a jury will convict any man. Now, will you go willingly? Or do I have to ask the constables to escort you out?”
Gilbert said nothing at first. He turned his stare back on Diana from where she hid behind Owen.
“Very well. Constable, if you would.” The magistrate held out a hand to one of the constables.
“Do not touch me.” Gilbert snatched his arm away from the constable’s hold another time. “Fine, I will come with you, but only to put these absurd accusations to rest.”
Gilbert turned, as if ready to leave, before he abruptly flicked back around, angling his head towards Diana.
“Let me speak to my wife, Mr Arnold.” Gilbert ordered Owen to the side. Reluctantly, Owen moved away, though he still held out a hand to Diana. She took his hand, determined not to let it go, even with Gilbert’s glare upon her. “Let me remind you of something.” He walked towards her, whispering in her ear. “You are still my wife, Diana. Remember that.”
The words made a shudder pass down her spine as he stepped away again, his eyes lingering on her for a minute.
She clutched Owen’s hand tighter as the constables escorted Gilbert through the hall, gesturing to the front door. He went, though he muttered something angrily under his breath the entire way, the words undiscernible.
“Jessie, I thank you again,” the magistrate said, turning to the maid with a smile. “Had you not come forward, we might never have known about this.”
“Will he be convicted?” Jessie asked, with clear hope.
“On the evidence we have, undoubtedly.” The magistrate nodded, looking between the three of them. “Yet, as much as I wish it were not the case, he is still a duke. What his sentence will be, I cannot be certain of. Some men are swayed by the promise of money, and in my experience, no jury is completely immune.
No matter what we do, somehow, some criminals still manage to sway the jury. Let us hope it does not happen in this case. I wish you all well.” He bowed to them in parting and hurried to the door.
Diana and Jessie followed him to the doorway, watching as Gilbert was ushered into the back of a gaol cart. Around him, constables were careful to fasten the locks tightly, and the horse on which Lord Haroldson arrived was steered to follow behind the magistrate’s own carriage. There was a lot of commotion, with carriages being ordered to turn around, preparing to leave once again.
“I cannot believe it,” Diana muttered to herself as she watched the gaol cart pull away. She couldn’t clearly see Gilbert inside, but she could make out his silhouette through the darkness with a lamp light casting streaks through the window of the cart. He was slumped against the side, with his head tipped downwards.
“Jessie, you did it.” Diana turned her eyes on the maid, watching as the young woman trembled in the doorway, her eyes on the coaches and horses as they pulled away. The maid turned back, revealing the kind of smile Diana had never seen before.
“Parker has his justice now,” she said with triumph.
“As do you.” Diana walked towards the maid. “I cannot thank you enough. For what you have done … had you not come when you did, I do not know what would have happened to the two of us.” She reached to take Jessie’s hands, as a sign of friendship and eternal thanks, but to her surprise, Jessie advanced towards her with open arms. The two of them embraced tightly for a minute, as the silence extended around them.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Thank me? Whatever for?” Diana asked as she stepped back, finding the maid staring at her with wide eyes.
“Had it not been for you, I could have continued to fool myself.” She shook herself, clearly angered at her own body. “I thought he loved me. I thought he was a good man. I was very wrong, in every regard, wasn’t I?” She was clearly not looking for an answer that came with words. Diana simply took her hand instead, offering comfort in the only way she knew how. “At least, justice will now be done.”
“We hope.” Owen’s voice cut through the moment, making the two women snap their gazes towards him.
Looking at him sat on the stairs with the bloodied handkerchief pressed to his nose, Diana felt the pain curdle in her stomach another time. He had to be in a significant amount of pain.
“What do you mean?” Jessie asked, her voice high-pitched and squeaking.
“I mean that the magistrate still has to send a duke to court at the end of the day. It is as he said, there are no assurances that a jury will not be swayed.” Owen lowered the handkerchief, showing that the bleeding had stopped. “Even if it gets to court, there is no guarantee he will be put in prison for very long.”
