Lizzie's Song

Chapter 18- Anew

She has read the short letter in her notebook from Thomas at least a dozen times since her father left for the prison. She daubs the paper with her apron when her tears drop on the page, trying to keep the ink from smearing.

Mr Hayes knocks on the bedroom door. Lizzie answers, her face streaked, her hair disheveled, her apron smudged with pencil. She dreads what he has to say.

"Miss York. We received this at the last moment." He hands her the letter.

She reads it once, twice, and a third time before handing it back and shaking her head in horrified disbelief.

He realizes Lizzie thinks Thomas has been hanged, "He's alive, Miss. Get yourself ready. It will give them time it get his new cell set."

Lizzie nearly faints, catching herself on the doorframe. Mr Hayes helps her into her room and sits her at the dressing table. She thanks him with her bow.

"Just come down to the kitchen table when you are done. He's going to need you."

The click of her door happens at the same time that everything clicks together in her head. Thomas is alive. She is needed in the prison. She is a mess. She jumps to her feet, tosses off her apron, and washes her face. She tries to tidy her hair, but gives up, tearing it down and dragging her brush roughly through it before pulling it into a messy bun. She grabs her notebook and pencil. She takes the stairs two at a time. Mr Hayes looks up from the letter when she arrives in the kitchen.

"Ready?"

She nods.

"Right. Let's go." They walk to the prison and, as he takes her down new halls, he explains, "He'll likely be taken somewhere else for the long term, but I'm going to write the Home Secretary and offer to keep him here, so he's closer to family- you, your father." He glances to her and she nods in acknowledgment, though he's not sure she is listening. He stops and touches her arm, "Lizzie...you should know that he had the noose around his neck when I came into the chamber with this letter. He's been through hell- Mr Angel's hand was on the lever. I don't know how he's going to act when you meet him."

She scribbles in her notebook, "Just take me to him, Mr Hayes. I will worry about his state of mind once I have him beside me."

He sees the determination on her face and clears his throat before continuing forward, "Right then- let's go." They are soon in the back corner of the prison, in an area that looks very different from the rest. The cells have doors with large, barred windows, but doors none the less. The rooms she can see into have real beds and small writing desks. "We used to use this wing for the Lords and Bishops we'd get through here. It's a little more comfortable. We don't get many of them these days, but we still keep it ready."

In the farthest cell, one with its own window to the outdoors, she sees her father. She hurries towards it. Mr Hayes does not stop her as she breaks into a run. Mr York steps outside the cell and intercepts her.

"Lizzie, stop a moment. This was probably the most terrifying thing he's ever experienced."

She takes a deep breath and pats her heart, then points towards the cell.

"I know. But I'm not sure what he's going to want to tell you, or if he's going to say anything at all. The Crown's been damn cruel to him." He steps aside and Lizzie enters the cell. Thomas is curled up on the bed, his back to the room, trembling. Gerry carefully arranges the books dumped haphazardly on the desk by the other guards.

"I'll be out of your way in a moment, miss. Just giving a little care to what the boys dropped here." He finishes setting them in a neat stack before leaving the cell. He leaves the door open and Lizzie can hear him talking to her father and Mr Hayes, their voices low, a dull murmur in the hall. She perches on the edge of his bed and very gently rests her arm against his side, her hand on his shoulder.