Page 47 of A Countess Captured for the Captain
“I am innocent,” Nox replied, not giving the guard the satisfaction of seeing him scrabble about on the floor for the bread.
“And that is what they all say, but the gibbet makes no distinction. You shall hang, pirate, Earl or not,” the guard replied, slamming the cell door and turning the key in the lock.
* * *
Samantha had not slept that night. She had returned home with Rebecca and Nicholas, forlorn and dejected. She could barely summon the enthusiasm to speak, let alone devise a plan of action. The situation seemed hopeless, made worse by the fact that she was not entirely convinced of Nox’s innocence.
“But why would he steal such a thing? Did he even know that your father was involved in brokering the Naval Treaty with the Dutch?” Nicholas had asked.
“He has been acting strangely these past days, he and his uncle and aunt. They gather in the drawing room and I am excluded from their company,” Samantha had replied, and by morning her doubts had only grown greater.
At breakfast, she sat dejectedly, lacking any appetite and unable to find any hope in what was so evidently a hopeless situation.
“You can visit him in prison, can you not? You could take the carriage and go today. He is still the Earl of Brimsey and you are his wife. That must count for something,” Rebecca said, as the maid poured the tea.
“Yes, good idea, Rebecca. They cannot stop you from seeing him, and it would give you a chance to talk and to hear his side of the story,” Nicholas said.
Samantha thought for a moment. She did desperately want to see her husband, to look him in the eye and believe him. But part of her worried that in doing so she would not believe him and that her worst fears would be realized. It was all so terrible, but Samantha could not be faulted in her bravery and with Rebecca’s encouragement she decided she would visit the prison and hear Nox’s explanation.
An hour later, Samantha found herself in Nicholas’ carriage, making her way through the streets of London toward Brixton Prison. She had never imagined that she would ever return to that grim place and as they drew up outside she gazed up at the iron gates, a shudder running through her at the thought of Nox locked up there awaiting his fate.
“I have come to see the Earl of Brimsey,” she told the guard at the gatehouse who eyed her suspiciously.
“Do you mean the pirate, Nox?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“I mean my husband, Norman Osmond, the Earl of Brimsey. Are you going to let me in or not?” she asked, pulling out a shilling note from her sleeve and handing it surreptitiously to the guard who cleared his throat and nodded.
“Yes, My Lady, you may see your husband,” he said, turning to call one of the other guards to escort Samantha across the yard.
Samantha stepped through the gates, the looming gray buildings casting a forlorn shadow over her, the wails and groans of the prisoners filling the air. It was a dark place, and she shuddered to see the gibbet and noose, waiting for their next victim.
“I trust my husband is being taken care of?” she inquired, as the guard led her in through an iron-studded door and up a flight of steps toward the cells.
“He is treated just as any prisoner might be. But traitors deserve all they get, My Lady,” the guard replied.
“He has not been found guilty,” she retorted, but the guard only shook his head and smiled.
“This way, My Lady,” he said, pointing to the far end of the row.
Samantha found Nox asleep, curled up on a wooden board with a blanket pulled up around him. The whole place stank and a rat ran across the floor in front of her, causing her to startle. At this, Nox looked up, his face forlorn and dirty. But at the sight of Samantha, he smiled, sitting up, as the guard opened the cell door.
“You may leave us,” she said.
“You may have a few moments alone,” the guard replied, and he stalked off along the passageway muttering to himself.
“You came,” Nox exclaimed, rushing to greet her, throwing his arms around her and kissing her.
“I was not about to abandon you,” she replied, thankful to be in his arms.
“It is not true; you must believe me. I did not even know your father was negotiating such a treaty, and as for stealing it – well, I had no desire to do so,” he said, shaking his head.
“But they are convinced you did. My father will not be persuaded against it, I assure you. We should never have gone to Regina’s ball,” Samantha said, her frustration now boiling over.
“I only wanted to help you and your father to find some reconciliation,” he said, shaking his head.
“Hardly a reconciliation when my husband is shackled and taken to prison. What do they intend to do with you?” she asked, knowing full well the terrible answer.
“Treason is a hangable offense, you know that as well as I do,” he said, sighing, as he slumped down onto the wooden board.
