Cold All the Way Through, But Warming

Opening Arguments

The reporters outside the courthouse were as thick as flies on a carcass, plain clothes Pinkertons and police holding them and the crowd of spectators back to clear a path up the steps. A Pinkerton was even driving the car, and another sitting beside him with a shotgun in his hand. I tried not to focus on it, trying to remember how things were going to happen in the court. Today was the time for opening statements, for the Links to lay out why Evan Perry was guilty and for his own lawyers to argue against it. I found myself breathing deeply, trying to remember what I was to do.

"Will," I looked over as he squeezed my hand. "Can you sit behind me today?"

"I'll be right behind you every day." He nodded as the car stopped, Oscar and Ezekiel leaving first. Ezekiel handed Mother out, and Will drew me after him. I tried not to cringe from the flash of camera bulbs, glad for the veil that hid my face. Rhett wanted to keep the bruise hidden for as long as he could, to be revealed when I took the stand. Will dropped his hand from mine, instead putting his arm around me as we bowled past the reporters, not even bothering to listen to the shouted questions. I could see some of the reporters trying to shove their way through the line, arms outstretched as they cried.

Will froze for a second, staring as one man screamed a question to him. It took the police officer shoving the man back and reaching for his gun to shake him out of it, and he hurried me past them. The courthouse was a bastion of quiet once we were inside, all marble floors and dark wood. I grabbed Will's arm, pulling him aside. I wanted to pull my veil aside, to look at him without the fuzzy outline, but I settled for squeezing his hand. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes." He shook his head, his eyes still cloudy. "It was just, back on the ship-"

"I know." I nodded, remembering the men trying to force their way past a line of sailor, Will pale and screaming at them to stand back. The way the men had jostled me and the line of women and children, the crack of a man's elbow across my cheek. God, I could even smell the cold, the way it had seemed to flood my lungs that night. And Will, terrified and maddened by what had happened, knowing only to do his duty and nothing more. I tried to banish those thoughts along with my worries about the trial. "But we're here."

"Yes."

"Perhaps we should come a bit early tomorrow, try and avoid them?"

"It might be a good idea." His eyes finally seemed to focus, and the hand that came up to stroke my shoulder was steady. "Would keep you out of the papers too."

"They'll still write about me." I shrugged, starting over to the others who had managed to find the Link brothers. "Nothing will stop that." I felt Will slide his hand down my arm, twining his fingers around mine. "But soon enough they'll be writing about our wedding." Will laughed at that, catching the attention of the group. I nodded to the Links, "Gentlemen, I hope you're feeling prepared for today."

"There's nothing like a trial to get the blood pumping." Rhett chuckled, and he gestured with his chin to the group on the other side of the lobby. I could see Mr. and Mrs. Perry talking to a group of men in suits, all of them nodding and smiling. "Our competition, Rhys Dyer and his cronies. Don't worry, we've got them." I tried to stop myself from winding my fingers around Will's too tightly, I was worried I might hurt him. It took time for everyone to file into the courtroom, the prosecution and the defense quickly followed by a stream of reporters and spectators that had managed to get access to the gallery. I had to let go of Will's hand as we crossed the bar to the table our team had been provided, and Rhett put his hand on my shoulder to guide me to the chair set aside for me. "Relax Miss Dalian, everything is under control."

"I hope so." I muttered, glancing back to see the others behind me. Will gave me a weary smile, trying to ignore the rising conversation that began to swirl around the room. It seemed to build and build, only broken when a man near the judge's chair began calling out for order. Everyone rose in respect as Judge Withers entered, an older man with salt and pepper hair in a black robe.