Today's Reading
The notion that something—or someone—existed who could actually put the fear of God into this desperate place ramped Alexandra's ambient terror. Her heart, which had not beat at a normal pace from the moment she'd arrived, punched the walls of her chest.
Presently it was so quiet through the whole prison ward that she could hear, for the first time, both the jingle of the warden's keys and the echo of his footfall.
It was accompanied by another footfall.
This one was heavier than the warden's and quite obviously boot-heeled.
Twice she detected the slightest of hesitations in one of those steps. It was almost, but not quite, a limp.
Suspicion clubbed her.
It must be. Oh, dear God. But how?
Surely not?
For a maniacal instant the gallows seemed preferable.
Because she knew of only one other person who could cause such a hush.
One other person with that hesitant gait.
Salvation and damnation in the flesh.
In other words: her husband.
She hadn't seen him in five years.
Colonel Magnus Brightwall peered into the cage in which his wife was being held. His eyes seemed bright as windows in the gloom.
He found her at once.
Alexandra's breathing had gone shallow. She was sorely tempted to duck, but she refused to allow her gaze to drop from his. Damned if she would ever appear abject before him. Even as her heart pummeled away inside her.
She vividly recalled her very first sight of him almost five years ago, standing amid his luggage in the foyer of her family home. In the blazing light of noon his shadow had fallen nearly entirely across the circular marble expanse, like a giant compass needle.
He turned to the warden. "I assume she told you she was my wife."
By rights, one would expect such an imposing man's voice to boom like a cannon. But it was an elegant, smoky-edged bass. The first words he had ever said to her were A pleasure, Miss Bellamy, just after her father had introduced them.
Never had the word "pleasure" sounded so profound. The warden's Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.
"It's . . . it's . . . just that so many of them claim to be your wife, Colonel Brightwall, we took it quite for granted she was lying. They all lie. About everything."
"Coorrr, look at the size of 'im!" Agnes whispered gleefully. " Ye're just full of surprises, Alexandra. Brightwall the Beast hisself."
Alexandra stared at him. Her mind was static. She felt as though she'd never learned how to form words. Her heart was now beating so hard the blood rang in her ears.
"Let her out." Brightwall's voice was calm.
The warden cleared his throat. "Colonel Brightwall. As a man all too familiar with bureaucracies, surely you understand we have a formal process. I fear we cannot just allow an inmate to stroll out of the. . ."
His ability to speak apparently evaporated when Brightwall fixed upon him an expression of scathing amazement.
"The process is this, sir." He said it almost tenderly. It was the tone one might use to administer last rites. "You unlock the cell. I depart with my wife. Her name is forever struck from your rolls, thereby also eliminating the record of the appallingly grave error made in incarcerating her. Do you require further clarification?"
"Brrr. Has anyone else's nips gone hard?" Agnes murmured.
The warden shook himself out of the trance of Brightwall's icy gaze and pivoted. The keys frantically jingled in his now-trembling hand. He stabbed at the keyhole and missed for a few torturous seconds.
Finally it fitted in.
The fateful clunk was heard as the cell door unlocked.
Everyone exhaled.
...