The judge agreed with a sharp nod. “Don’t touch her, Mr.Duvall.”
Victor lowered his hand. “Show them your mark, Mallie.”
Isabelle shook her head, but this time, Judge Roth concurred with him. “We need to see it.”
Alden slammed his fist on the desk. “This is a court of law, Your Honor.”
“It is necessary.”
When Isabelle looked at him, he saw the young slave woman again, a victim of her circumstances. He’d thought she was pretty back at West End as well, and in his youthful mind, he’d been a wretched soul, just as bad as Victor in his core. But he’d chosen to fight against the evil back then, and he’d fight now for the purity of the woman standing before them all.
Alden swept his arm across the courtroom. “We must all protect Miss Labrie’s dignity.”
Judge Roth seemed to mull over his words, and Alden wondered if the man had ever considered that a slave might want—or have—any dignity. But he finally commanded all the spectators to leave. The miners filed out grudgingly, the last one closing the doors. They didn’t go far, though—a crowd of them remained outside, peering around the edges of the etched glass on the window.
Alden stepped behind Isabelle to block their view, and with her eyes focused on the floor, she slowly unbuttoned her bodice and rolled back the lace collar to expose her skin. Alden knew he would see the red V inside the rosebud, but still he cringed.
“I branded her myself,” Victor said proudly. “When she was twelve years old.”
Even the judge seemed stunned into silence.
“I want her and my other slave,” Victor demanded.
“One slave at a time please, Mr.Duvall.”
Isabelle looked over at Alden, and he could see the humiliation in her eyes. And a plea.
“May I consult with my client?” Alden asked the judge.
The man glanced at the clock on the wall. “You have two minutes.”
Alden nodded before guiding Isabelle toward the window. At least a dozen men stared back at them, but Judge Roth didn’t invite them back inside.
“I’m so sorry, Isabelle.”
“I wanted to help you and Isaac,” she said, buttoning up her dress. “Instead, I made a mess of it.”
“We’ll put all the pieces back together again.”
“I have something to show you,” Isabelle said, handing over the papers. “It’s my bill of sale, from Eliza to the Labries. And this is my emancipation. The Labries wanted to make sure I would always be free.”
Alden skimmed the papers, and then he smiled. They were fair copies—originals. “The judge may not let you speak, but he won’t be able to argue with these.”
“I have something else to tell you—” she started.
Judge Roth hit the gavel on his desk. “Time’s up.”
“This should be enough for now.” Alden turned to the judge and placed the papers before him. “According to her former owner, and the state of Maryland, Miss Labrie is free.”
Victor sprung forward, shaking his head. “I never emancipated her.”
The judge read through the documents and then showed the bill of sale to Victor.
“Is this your signature?”
He barely glanced at it. “No, Your Honor.”
“Then who sold her?”
