As if realizing what he’d said, he started to laugh, then he doubled over, hands on his knees, and laughed harder until he began to wheeze.
It sounded as though he had more need of a physician than her brother, but she kept her mouth shut.
Unfortunately, the surgeon had been there early and had already cleared Thomas to go into the general population of Newgate. Thus, they had to go farther inside. Passing through another gate, they came into one of the men’s wards, a spacious, high-ceilinged, whitewashed room, with windows overlooking an exercise yard.
It was lighter and cheerier than she’d dreaded. There was a large fireplace and, in front of it, two rectangular tables with men seated, eating a meal. While looking for Thomas, Adelia couldn’t help taking in the rest of the room. Along two sides ran a shelf and below it, large hooks.
At first, she couldn’t decipher what was hanging upon each, until she realized they were mats, probably for sleeping. For above each, bundled onto the shelf was a rug and blanket. The ward was not only where Thomas would eat and spend his day, but also where he would sleep upon the hard floor.
Over the huge hearth, the only decoration were scriptural texts, designed to inspire, she supposed. Little else in the room would inspire any loftier thoughts or give the inhabitants hope for a better future.
“Dilly,” she heard yelled from the center of a group of men. Approaching closer to their table, she could see they were all dining on some kind of stew served in crude pewter dishes.
She spied brown bread, which unexpectedly brought tears to her eyes. Her father had always forbidden it at their table, but occasionally, she and her brother had eaten some from off the servants’ platter and thickly smeared it with butter. They’d both loved the bread’s tangy heartiness.
Finally, Thomas was in her arms, and her tears fell freely. It seemed as if she hadn’t seen him for days instead of hours, so much had happened.
Other men started making whistling sounds and calling out lewd remarks, reminding her this was not a gathering of theton.
“Shut your cakeholes,” Thomas yelled over his shoulder. “This is my sister.”
A general quietness ensued, impressing her. Apparently, there was a code of civility even in Newgate. She glanced at the other prisoners’ faces, pasty and drawn.
How long until her brother took on the pallor and demeanor of these men broken in body and spirit?
When they pulled apart, she said, “This is Mr. Brassel, a solicitor, and he knows a good barrister. He’s come to speak with you and relay the information.” It seemed strange how the legal system worked, but she’d been told the public hardly ever spoke with the barristers. The solicitors were like priests, and they took the penitents’ confessions to the barristers, who were considered godlike in their abilities.
Thomas shook the hand that Mr. Brassel stuck out.
The guard had stood close by, and to him, the solicitor asked, “May we go somewhere private?”
“Afraid not, sir. Most folks don’t get visitors in here, as you can imagine. In the yard, the lady here would be on the other side of an iron fence.”
At that, Mr. Brassel nodded to her, and she realized it was time for the first payment.
“Good sir, if we could find somewhere to speak alone with my brother,” Adelia said, amazed at her own steady voice, “away from all this noise, I would appreciate it.”. Boldly, knowing there was no need for discretion, she held out her hand, and he immediately cupped his own to let her drop in a few coins.
He looked at them, seemingly impressed by the amount, and said, “Come this way.”
Following behind as they had before, this time, Adelia had her arm linked with Thomas’s.
“They took your clothing,” she said. Although he wore the plainest cotton shirt and pants, obviously not new, they looked clean, as if they’d been boiled thoroughly.
“Aye, but if you recall, I hadn’t been wearing my finest suit anyway.”
She intended to ask him more about the silly costume he wore to the East End, but he continued, “Luckily, I had enough coin to buy these rags and ensure I was fed for a week. But there isn’t any amount that will get me a private cell or a bed off the floor. Only the wardsmen have a bedstead,” he gestured to one corner by the fireplace, where she saw a small stump bedstead.
“It doesn’t seem too much of an improvement over a mat,” she remarked.
Her brother shrugged. “The stew is greasy and gristly, but there’s brown bread.”
“I saw.” She couldn’t help but smile at the look on his face. Even here, Thomas looked for all the world like a young boy in her memory, and she longed to take him in her arms and protect him. “We must order cook to buy brown bread for our table when we bring you home.” The last word stuck in her throat, and she blinked back tears.
Soon, they were in a small, windowless room.
“Usually for the refractory prisoners,” the guard said.
Not understanding what that meant, Adelia watched him leave and close the door. When she heard him turn a key in the lock, she shivered. There were no chairs, so they stood in a circle, facing one another.
