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As soon as the recess was announced, Gina stormed out of the courtroom, slamming the doors behind her. Her eyes were blurry, and her chest felt heavy with pain. She needed to be alone. Knowing that it would be empty, she headed for the defendants’ antechamber. With any luck, Hoddo and Sooze wouldn’t be back there for some time. She slipped inside before anyone noticed and collapsed on the sofa.
Her mind was reeling from the traumatic events of the past few days. Gregson was dead… but worse still, had Gregson really been a murderer, part of some underhanded conspiracy? How could that be possible when he’d been so kind to her, and given her the chance she needed? It was so awful that Gina didn’t want to believe it. But then if Hoddo of all people thought it was true… well, she didn’t know what to believe anymore. And then, if that wasn’t bad enough, back there in the courtroom had come the most humiliating part of all. She shivered at the memory of Lord Stonghart’s penetrating eyes and the cold sneer in his voice as he’d rebuked her. He’d told her, in no uncertain terms, that she had to give up her licence and never work as a detective again. So that was that. He’d destroyed her future as easily as if he’d been snuffing out a candle.
What would happen to her now? Back to the slums of the East End, maybe? The thought made Gina feel so miserable that it was hard to hold back the tears. But—what the hell?—she was alone for a reason, wasn’t she? She might as well give in to her misery. Covering her face with her hands, Gina let go and sobbed with abandon.
She had only been crying for a minute when she was interrupted by the deep rattle of a man clearing his throat. She glanced up in fright and her heart sank. Standing before her, watching her with a look of concern was none other than the defendant himself. Lord Barok van Zieks. The very last person she would have wanted to find her sobbing in an empty room.
“Good day, Miss Lestrade,” he said softly.
Gina quickly pulled her hat over her eyes. “W—wot are you doin’ ‘ere?” she demanded. “I thought you was s—s’posed to be detained by them guards or summat.”
She knew it was a stupid question, but Van Zieks had the grace to answer it reasonably enough.
“I am permitted freedom of the defendants’ antechamber, provided I do not leave it,” he said. He nodded to the space beside her. “May I sit down?”
Gina was tempted to tell him to get lost, but she could hardly order him out of the defendants’ antechamber. She nodded reluctantly and he sat, adjusting his jacket and sabre into a comfortable position. Gina turned aside so he couldn’t see her crying. A deeply uncomfortable silence followed. Gina tried to control her sobs, but it was difficult; the best she could manage was hiccoughing quietly as the tears streamed down her face. Then…
“You seem to be in considerable distress, Miss Lestrade.”
Gina felt a stab of anger. Suddenly, she was determined to give Van Zieks a piece of her mind.
“Yeah? And whose fault is that, then?” she snapped. “Killin’ the boss weren’t enough for ya, was it?—you had to paint ‘im as a murderer too! An’ did you ‘ear what that fancy cove said to me? I’m gonna get me licence taken away an’ all. I’m not allowed to be in the force no more. An’ it’s ‘coz of what you said, ‘bout me not bein’ a p—proper detective. I’m f—finished now, I’m—”
She stopped abruptly as another sob escaped her. It wasn’t easy to fly into a rage when she felt as pathetic as she did. She sniffed and dragged her sleeve across her face. Lord van Zieks watched her with his usual solemn frown. He hadn’t spoken once during her outburst. She thought that he might say something now, but instead he withdrew a large handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her. Gina shook her head—she didn’t want to accept anything from him—but Van Zieks only proffered it more firmly.
“I insist,” he said.
Gina took it without a word. It felt strange being presented with a gentleman’s handkerchief after all the effort she’d put into stealing them back in her pickpocket days. Still, she couldn’t complain. She wiped her eyes angrily and blew her nose.
“I’m afraid I must correct you on a few points,” Van Zieks said, at length. “Firstly, I had no part in Inspector Gregson’s death. I understand that you may not believe that now, but I dearly hope that you’ll see the truth once this trial reaches its conclusion.”
Gina couldn’t think of anything to say to that. She blew her nose again and balled up the handkerchief in her fist. She hoped he wouldn’t ask for it back. It was a soft, well-made one that would probably fetch a few bob if she managed to clean it first.
“Secondly…” Van Zieks sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You must pardon me if I spoke brusquely in court. I was not frustrated with you, but with the way this trial has been set up deliberately to scapegoat me. That is not justice.”
“Wot, like you did to me during my trial?” Gina said bitterly. She hadn’t forgiven him for that. “You was tryin’ to get me strung up for summat I didn’t do!”
He seemed startled by the change of subject. “My only intention then was to pursue the truth. Which we did achieve—”
“Thanks to ‘Oddo.”
“Which we did achieve through discourse between defence and prosecution,” Van Zieks continued. “When your trial began, I believed you to be the only possible perpetrator. But after the hidden facts emerged, I could no more have sent you to the gallows than I could have sent myself. I can only ask that you excuse my harsh treatment of you; it is evident now that you didn’t deserve it.”
“Yeah, I didn’t, did I?”
“Far from it. In fact, I can see that you are already a very different young lady to the one who stood in court six months ago. Your tenacity and investigative prowess have made quite the impression on me.”
Gina narrowed her eyes. “Wot are you playin’ at, bein’ nice all of a sudden? You ain’t ever been like that before.”
“Then pray forgive my prior lack of chivalry.”
There was another silence. Gina sniffed and fiddled with the sofa’s red lining. Lord van Zieks said nothing, but his presence was impossible to ignore. Strangely, Gina found that she no longer resented it. There was something rather comforting about having him there, reassuring her with his calm, rational words.
“D’you really reckon he did it?” Gina asked quietly, after a minute.
“Excuse me?”
“D’you…” Gina took a deep breath. “D’you think the boss was really ‘elpin’ to murder people?”
Van Zieks hesitated. “Miss Lestrade… I do not intend for this to sound patronising, but you are still very young. It is remarkably easy to see the best in those who are kind to us, and ignore the parts that ought to arouse our suspicion. I, too, made that mistake, when I was older than you are now and ought to have known better.”
Gina’s mouth fell open. Did Lord van Zieks have regrets? Secret pains? She wanted to ask more, but suspected it wasn’t the time.
“However,” he went on, “this does not reflect on your talents as a detective, which are considerable, in spite of your youth.”
“An’ not much good if I’m gonna be banned from the force,” Gina said wryly.
“That is not necessarily the case.”
Gina felt a faint swelling of hope. She sat up in excitement. “Wot, really?”
“Indeed.” He looked down at her. “In truth, I cannot claim to know how this trial will culminate. But Lord Strongheart has been known to make decisions in anger and revoke them later. You may yet be permitted to keep your apprenticeship.”
Gina wasn’t sure what made her do it. Perhaps it was his uncharacteristic kindness, perhaps it was her emotional exhaustion, perhaps it was the glow that came from feeling respected. But for whatever reason, she shuffled closer and laid her head against Van Zieks’ chest. For a moment Van Zieks stiffened, and Gina thought she might have gone to far. Then, to her utter astonishment, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.
Moments passed, but Van Zieks showed no sign of letting her go. Gina couldn’t believe it. This was Lord van Zieks, the Reaper of the Bailey, and he was cuddling her? It was absurd, completely bonkers! And yet, Gina had to admit that it was actually pretty comfortable too. His chest felt firm, and smelt of fresh cotton and a subtle, masculine cologne. His arms were strong and protective, the sort of arms you could melt into and feel all your problems melt away along with you. After all her traumatic experience, it was just what she needed. Yet she still couldn’t get past the strangeness of the situation. Gina giggled.
“Cor, you ain’t so scary after all, are ya, Mr Reaper? You’re a real softy at ‘eart!”
“I suppose I shall take that as a compliment.”