Chapter Text
PROLOGUE ~ MAY 1884
“I call Miss Eliza—"
The frenzy induced by her name was instant and drowned out the prosecutor before he could even finish. It took several violent bangs of the judge’s gavel before it was heard above the clamor of the courtroom.
“I will have order, or every single person in this courtroom will be held in contempt.”
The judge’s threat was enough to quiet the crowd, though the jostling of those trying to crane their neck for a better view could still be heard. The galleries were full, and complete silence impossible, but the judge was satisfied.
“Counsel, please.” The judge motioned for the prosecutor to proceed.
The prosecutor cleared his throat. The interruption rattled him. “As I was saying, I call Miss Eliza Scarlet to the stand.”
All eyes were on Eliza as she rose resolutely from a seat in the front row, the ruby of her best dress stark against the austere crowd. Her hat was fashionably perched on her head, the lone feather adorning it giving the illusion of more height. She was deliberate as she approached the bench, walking at a pace that would not betray her nerves, and she looked at no one—until she reached the stand. Her eyes flickered to the defendant—Patrick Nash—and she held his gaze until the judge motioned for her to be sworn in.
Her voice was clear across the courtroom, which was now silent as the crowd listened with rapt attention. “I solemnly swear that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
“State your name and—ah—occupation, as it were.”
“Eliza Scarlet, private investigator.”
“And your relationship to the defendant?”
“Mr. Nash is my former business partner.”
The prosecutor remained silent, as if he expected her to continue. Eliza did not. She’d learned early in her line of work that people hated silence. It made them uneasy, and they would speak if only to fill it, and often there, amongst the uncomfortable chatter, was usually a kernel of information that could be used against them. Eliza knew better than to answer unasked questions.
“Miss Scarlet—it is Miss Scarlet, correct? You are unmarried?”
She refrained from rolling her eyes. “Yes.”
“Need I remind you, Miss Scarlet, that you are under oath. Do you understand what that means?”
Eliza did not flinch, despite the patronizing smirk on his face. “I do.”
“So, I will ask you again. What is the nature of your relationship to Mr. Nash?”
Eliza stared down the prosecutor. How many weeks had she spent considering that very question? She inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. Then, she smiled.