A burst of drunken laughter.

“I can’t stay in here.” Her breath bunched and gathered in her chest, her knuckles whitened and the cell began to swim, the floor rising as the panic built.

And then the baby shifted inside her, once, twice, as if telling her that she was not alone, that nothing was to be gained from this, and Margery let out a half-sob, placed her hands on her belly and closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath, waiting until the terror had passed.

TWENTY

   “Did you say the stars were worlds, Tess?”

“Yes.”

“All like ours?”

“I don’t know, but I think so. They sometimes seem to be like the apples on our stubbard-tree. Most of them splendid and sound—a few blighted.”

“Which do we live on—a splendid one or a blighted one?”

“A blighted one.”

• THOMAS HARDY, Tess of the D’Urbervilles

Word had got round by morning, and a few folk took the trouble to walk down to the library and say how crazy the whole thing was, that they didn’t believe ill of Margery and that it was a darn shame the police were treating her so. But a whole lot more didn’t, and Alice felt those whispered discussions all the way from their little cabin by Split Creek. She covered her own anxiety with activity. She sent Sven home, promising him she would look after the hens and the mule, and Sven, having enough sensitivity to know that it would not be good for them to be seen sleeping under the same roof, agreed. Though both knew he would probably be back by nightfall, unable to sit alone with his fears.

“I know how everything runs,” she said, shoveling an egg and four slices of bacon that would remain untouched onto his plate. “Been here long enough. Margery will be out in a blink. And I’ll take her over some fresh clothes to the jailhouse in the meantime.”

“That jail’s no place for a woman,” he said quietly.

“Well, we’ll have her out in no time.”

She sent the librarians out on their normal routes that morning, checking the ledgers and helping load the saddlebags. Nobody questioned her authority, as if they were just grateful to have someone taking charge. Beth and Kathleen asked her to convey their good wishes. And then she locked the library, climbed onto Spirit, with the bag of Margery’s fresh clothes, and rode over to the jail under a clear, brisk sky.

“Good morning,” she said to the jailer, a thin man with a weary look, whose huge ring of keys threatened to bring down his trousers. “I’ve come to bring Margery O’Hare a change of clothes.”

He looked her up and down and sniffed, his nose wrinkling. “You got your slip?”

“A slip of what?”

“From the sheriff. Allowing you to see the prisoner.”

“I don’t have a slip.”

“Then you don’t get in.” He blew his nose noisily into a handkerchief.

Alice stood for a moment, color prickling her cheeks. Then she straightened her shoulders. “Sir. You are holding a woman who is heavy with child in the most unsanitary of circumstances. The very least I would expect you to do is to allow her a change of clothes. What kind of a gentleman are you?”

He had the grace to look a little discomfited.

“What is it? You think I’m going to smuggle her in a metal file? A gun, perhaps? She’s a woman with child. Here, Officer. Let me show you what I’m planning to hand over to the poor girl. There, a fresh cotton blouse. And here, some wool stockings. You want to go through the bag? You can check, a fresh set of undergarments—”

“All right, all right,” said the jailer, holding up a palm. “Put ’em back in the bag. You get ten minutes, okay? And next time I want a slip.”

“Of course. Thank you so much, Officer. That’s very kind of you.”

Alice tried to maintain this air of confidence as she followed him down the steps into the confines of the holding area. The jailer opened a heavy metal gate, his keys rattling, flicked through them until he found another, and opened another gate onto a small corridor, which was lined with four cells. The air was stale and foul down there, and the only light was a sliver from a narrow horizontal window at the top of each cell. As her eyes adjusted to the light she saw shadowy movement in the cells at the left.

“Hers is the one on the right with the sheet on it,” he said, and turned to leave, locking the gate and checking it with a rattle, so that her heart rattled with it against her ribs.

“Well, hello, pretty girl,” said a male voice from the shadows.

She didn’t look at him.

“Margery?” she whispered, walking up to the bars. There was a silence, then she saw the sheet pull back a few inches and Margery stared back from the other side. She was pale, her eyes shadowed. Behind her stood a narrow bunk with a lumpen, stained mattress, and a metal pot in the corner of the room. As Alice stood, something scuttled across the floor.

“Are you . . . all right?” She tried not to let her face reveal her shock.

“I’m fine.”

“I brought you some things. Thought you might like a change of clothes. I’ll bring you more tomorrow. Here.” She began to pull the items from the bag, one by one, feeding them through the bars. “There’s a bar of soap, and a toothbrush, and I—well, I brought you my bottle of scent. I thought you might like to feel . . .” She faltered. The idea seemed ridiculous now.

“You got something for me there, pretty girl? I’m real lonesome over here.”

She turned her back, away from him. “Anyway.” She lowered her voice. “There’s some cornbread and an apple in the leg of your drawers. I wasn’t sure whether they’d feed you. Everything is fine at home. I’ve fed Charley and the hens and you’re not to worry about anything. It will all be just as you like when you get home.”

“Where’s Sven?”

“He had to go to work. But he’s coming by later.”

“He okay?”

“He’s a little shaken up, actually. Everybody is.”

“Hey! Hey, come over here! I wanna show you something!”

Alice leaned forward, so that her forehead touched the bars of the cell door. “He told us what happened. With the McCullough man.”

Margery closed her eyes for a minute. Her fingers looped around a bar and tightened briefly. “I never set out to hurt no one, Alice.” Margery’s voice cracked.

“Of course you didn’t. You did what anyone would have done.” Alice was firm. “Anyone with half a brain. It’s called self-defense.”