by Rachelle de Bretagne

Created on: July 10, 2009   Last Updated: July 13, 2009

"We find the defendant guilty as charged!" said the judge, as his hammer hit the desk in front of him with a determined thud. Marian Englesby was walked out of the courtroom accompanied by the sounds of jeering and waving of fists from the crowd. Hadn't she warned them? Hadn't she told them of what was about to transpire? No-one had taken heed of her warnings. No-one had listened, though they would.

Back at Dilberry House, Lady Foresham summoned her maid. Dressed in her night attire, Lady Foresham was tired. The day had wearied her. The gossip among the upper classes was rife and her husband's apathy appalled her. Why would they lock someone up for believing in things beyond our comprehension? she had demanded to know, though Robert had ignored her pleas. Lady Foresham lay in bed that evening and thought of the fortune teller's words. Surely someone would see that among the ill spoken words of a pauper lay some element of truth and substance. Surely someone would realize the error of their ways.

The light in the room dimmed as the moon crept across the sky. Robert had not listened to the words of Marian Englesby and would now suffer the consequences. Lady Foresham was eager to leave home before that happened, though knew not where to go. There would be scandal. There would be the pointing of fingers at her caused by the actions of her husband, just as indicated by Marian Englesby. Lady Foresham knew that among those words spoken on a July evening, there was an element of possibility, and this frightened her.

As morning brought daylight pouring into the room, Lady Foresham decided it was time to take action. Packing the items she would need for the trip, and walking down the corridor with her lady's maid, she made her way to the carriage, which was being prepared for her. She refused to be a part of a household which was going to be the subject of horrors such as declared by the fortune teller. Now that they had imprisoned Marian, there was no way to question her and to ascertain when these predictions would come to pass, and she needed to know.

The prison cells were barren. The stone walls echoed of emptiness and the occasional scream seemed to hit the silence with a harshness Lady Foresham had never encountered before. She is down here, said the prison warder, as they walked through corridor after corridor of cells, closed off from the world by small trap doors where food and communication was passed from prison warder to prisoner.

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