I was still deep in thought ten minutes later, sitting in the room I assumed we had to make our decisions in. I couldn't say Marta was guilty, because until I sorted out this irritating little issue she could quite easily be innocent.

Harry Bright and Mr. Chatt sandwiched me from either side.

"So, Miss Winter, how was your first court case?" Chatt asked cheerily. "Mighty boring, don't you think?"

"Mmm" I murmured vaguely, still trying to think straight.

Chatt and Bright were joined by Mr. Samuels, the farmer, and the couch we were sitting on sagged indefinitely as he sat down.

"Sad, tha' 'nt ih?" he asked, and the three of us looked confusedly at each other. None of us, I believed, had caught that.

"I'm sorry?" I said politely. "I didn't quite hear you."

"Sorry" Samuels replied, looking guilty. "Meant th' case. Sad."

"Very" Bright agreed, and the rest of us agreed.

"She was a beautiful lady. Full of fire, and je ne sais quoi. It's a crying shame she will be hanged."

Mr. Vendradaire leant casually over the back of the couch, joining in our conversation with his usual sickly flair.

"Well you know what foreigners are like" Harry Bright pointed out. "Some of them are quite uncultured."

I was disappointed in him for coming up with such a narrow minded remark.

"Still, at least this won't take too much time" Chatt joked. "We'll be out of here and home safe before an hour's up."

There was a general chuckle amongst the men. I couldn't help but think how utterly innocent they were now. Things were going to get pretty nasty before I was done here, I had decided.

"Come along then, gentlemen, and lady, I suppose, this won't take long." Mr. Abernarthy ordered, sitting down at the head of the big table in the centre of the room. One by one, we all took our seats as well, and I was sure to sit at the foot. Since I assumed all the men were going to vote guilty, I wanted to be in a relatively powerful position when I had to contradict them.

"We'll do this as simply as possible, everyone writes their opinion on a slip of paper, places them in a bowl, and I'll read them all out anonymously to see where we stand" Mr. Abernarthy said briskly, passing around slips of paper and pens to us all. I obediently wrote my opinion, and folded it up neatly, placing it in the bowl with all the others. Mr. Abernarthy flashed us all a quick smile before beginning to read the verdicts out.

"Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty..." he read, picking up each paper, unfolding it, reading what was written and putting it down. My confidence wavered a little when I realized I was actually alone. I had been secretly praying for a bit of backup, I had to admit. But they could do nothing to hurt me, and if I was the victim of some of their ill will for a while then so be it.

Abernarthy fumbled a little with the final slip-mine. He opened it, and his face changed to an absolute picture of frustration.

"Not guilty" he read, throwing it down on the table with a grunt.

"Who the hell put Not Guilty?" Mr. Patience shouted over the rabble of general irritated chitchat.

"I don't know. Quiet. QUIET!" Mr. Price, the buisnessman, yelled finally, shutting all the men up.

"For the sake of diplomacy, I will ask nicely once, who put Not Guilty?" Mr. Abernarthy asked, sounding decidedly undiplomatic as he stood at the head of the table. I stood up.

"That would be me, sir."

There was a chorus of groans and complaint. Mr. Abernarthy looked stoically at me.

"You?" he sighed heavily.

"Yes, sir" I replied brightly. There was a standoff. I was detemined to keep calm and pleasant at all times, but I reckoned Mr. Abernarthy would do no such thing.

"Abernarthy" the short fat man with the moustache, Adelaide I thought his name was, cut in. "Couldn't we...ask to nullify her opinion? She is a woman, after all, and women aren't cut out for this sort of heavy mental stuff..."

"I beg your pardon?" I gasped indignantly, calm and pleasant flying straight out of the window. "You shall do no such thing!"

"Keep her still, Price, Adelaide" Abernarthy ordered smoothly, and I leapt up, backing away as the two men also got up.

"Well well well" Hamish Rider commented cynically. "Isn't this fun?"

"Ay! Yer no' allowed t'do tha'!" Mr. Samuels leapt to my aid. Being bigger and stronger than half the room put together, he formed a barricade between me and the other three.

"He's right! She's entitled to her own opinion, as a juror!" Harry Bright agreed, coming to stand with Mr. Samuels. In all the confusion, Mr. Abernarthy had reached the door and called for the porter. He at that point poked his head through the door. Mr. Abernarthy jumped in before I could speak.

"We'd like to deliver a verdict of Guilt..." he began.

"No!" I screamed over him. "I said she wasn't guilty and you know I did!"

"Well you're a woman! You're frail and simple minded and don't have the experience or expertise to advise in a situation such as this! You're wrong, all the men in this room agree, and frankly, you don't have the authority as a woman to contradict a room full of men!" Abernarthy roared ferociously, turning on me properly at the same time I managed to get a grip on myself.

"I said Not Guilty. He" I said levelly, pointing a finger at the porter "knows I said Not Guilty, so he won't accept a verdict of Guilty now from anyone other than me. I stepped in at the last minute this afternoon, meaning despite my skirts, makeup and hair, I am a juror, with the same rights as all of you. So I suggest you stop being such a prejudiced, old fashioned, egotistical stuck up tart and start acting like an English gentleman."

"I knew you were up to something" Mr. Brenkley murmured, through the deathly silence that followed.

"I'm sorry, sir?" I asked, sounding possibly a little dangerous.

Brenkley put his hands up pacifyingly.

"I was just wondering what you were thinking about as we left the courtroom" he explained. "It looked important."

"It was, rather" I said thinly, looking around at the room, and at the porter, who was still poking his head in at the door.

"Could we possibly have some refreshment?" I asked him diplomatically. "Only I believe proceedings will be halted for a while."

"Of course, Miss, er, Madame...my lady? Er, yes Madam" the porter stammered. "I'll send someone up with them."

"Quickly" Mr. Brenkley added.

"On the double, sir" the porter nodded, shutting the door. I smiled amusedly. In a short space of time, I had gone from a working class Miss to a rich French Madame, then to a Duchess or higher nobility (My lady!!) and back to a Madam again. It had been quite the adventure.

I walked over to the windowseat and sat down, looking out, as the men in the room stood awkwardly, as if trying to comprehend the fact that a woman had just come out and been braver and more fierce than any of them. Prejudiced, old fashioned, egotistical stuck up tart, I smiled to myself. Wherever had I dredged that insult up from? I should try and find more like it.

There was silence in the room until the refreshments came through. I hopped off my seat, and helped the maid set up cups, as she deposited a large tray of frankly delicious-looking cakes and another of sandwiches onto the table.

"Tea or coffee, sirs and madam?" the girl asked. I smirked. I was still a madam. Ha ha.

"We'll do it ourselves. Leave" Mr. Price ordered. Unbeknown to the maid, I gave him a little glare, flicking an eyebrow up as if to say 'You're going to leave it at that?'

"Thank you" Price added hurriedly, and the maid smiled at him as she left. I think he was a little taken aback by this. Obviously his usual manner didn't get him many smiles, I thought cynically.

"Tea or coffee, anyone?" I asked again cheerily. I reckoned I needed to build up some friendships again in this group.

"I'll have coffee" Mr. Brenkley sighed at last. "Make it good and strong, if you don't mind, Miss Winter."

"Ahl 'ave coffee, aswell" Mr. Samuels chipped in.

"Coffee, if you don't mind" Chatt smiled, rather wolfishly.

"I suppose an extra coffee wouldn't cause too much bother?" Hamish Rider asked. The way he said it sort of put me off him a little. He was a rather slippery customer, it appeared.

"Not at all" I said pleasantly.

"Could you do me a tea, Miss Winter, please?" Harry Bright said nervously.

"Of course" I smiled. "I'm glad we're not all coffee drinkers in this room."

"I'll have tea" John Smith said suddenly. I was a little unnerved. This was the first time he had spoken, I believed, since we met. I merely nodded politely.

"I will have neither" Vendradaire announced grandly. "English tastes-far too bland for my liking. Fortunately I have with me a small sachet of a hot herbal spice drink I purchased in the southern region of Tibet, so if, Miss Winter, you would be as good to furnish me with a cup of hot water, I will be eternally satisfied."

I began to pour and hand out, since nobody else seemed willing to place their orders with me. Mr. Patience, Mr. Price, Mr. Adelaide and Mr. Abernarthy all sat in one corner, talking quietly amongst themselves. Well, the latter three were, Mr. Patience was looking like he wasn't sure where he should be.

"Coffee, sir?" I asked him, locking eyes and holding out a cup. He sighed, getting up and taking it from me, before going over to sit with Mr. Rider and Mr. Vendradaire by the window. Tea in one hand and a rather chocolatey looking cupcake in the other, I reclaimed my couch, with Chatt, Bright and Samuels again around me.

"That was some telling you gave Mr. Abernarthy, Miss Winter!" Bright commented quietly, so the three men sitting on the other side of the room wouldn't hear.

"Prejudiced, old fashioned, egotistical stuck up tart, didn't you say?" Chatt smirked.

"I believe....it was something along those lines, yes" I replied coyly, playing along for once. The four of us giggled.

" Dya thin' shez real' innocent?" Samuels then asked, and it took me a minute to work out what he meant.

"I...can't say for sure that Mrs. Harrison is innocent" I explained. "But I don't know for certain she's guilty, and I don't want to send her to the gallows without knowing for sure."

"But the prosecution wiped the floor with the defence!" Bright pointed out. I looked blankly at him.

"I don't know what half those words mean."

"The man with the crazy moustache and squeaky voice essentially 'won' the argument over whether she did it or not" Chatt translated. I nodded.

"Oh yes. But most of what went on in the courtroom I classed as just speculation, you know, fitting a made up story that suits your cause around the facts given. I'm the sort of person who only looks at the facts, and the facts don't quite correlate with either story."

"So no'one knows wha' 'appened?" Samuels asked curiously. I pulled a face.

"Not exactly. Parts of it may be right. But I just need to work out where my loose end fits in..." I explained, taking a bite of the cupcake.

"You know, that's not how a court's supposed to work" Bright pointed out. "You're supposed to, as a juror, go on what's given to you in the courtroom. I mean, no offence, Miss, but I still think she's guilty as charged."

"I am going on what's given in the courtroom" I frowned. "I'm just ignoring the speculation."

"Wha's goin' ter 'appen no'?" Samuels said worriedly. I licked the remainder of the cupcake off my fingers.

"Well" I mused. "I was hoping Mr. Brenkley was going to stand up and conduct this argument. I can't, because I'm on one side of it, and I'm sure we will all agree he seems a steady sort of chap."

There was a murmur of assent.

"Someone should drop him a hint" Chatt agreed. I nodded.

"Someone should."

Chatt stood up.

"Mr. Brenkley?" he called. "This side of the room has come to the agreement that you should be the gentleman to chair this discussion when it takes place. You're entirely entitled to your opinion, of course, but since you appear to be a wise and steady sort of chap we hope you'll hear out Miss Winter and her views, too. Can we get an agreement, gentlemen?"

I thought Mr. Brenkley seemed rather taken aback, but he handled the extra responsibility Chatt had just dumped on his shoulders rather well.

"We second Brenkley" Mr. Patience agreed, from his place with Rider and Vendradaire, after a short discussion between the three of them. Mr. Smith, also, nodded his assent.

Everyone turned to look at the three remaining men. Abernarthy still seemed unable to speak with conviction, so it was the short, explosive Adelaide that did so.

"You are...still on our side, Mr. Brenkley?" he asked. It amused me that he talked about sides. Sides in this case were childish talk.

"He means do you still believe Mrs. Harrison is a murderer?" Mr. Price added. Brenkley nodded.

"I do indeed" he confirmed. "The trial seemed only to prove that."

"And you three? Bright, Samuels, Chatt? You all still believe she did it despite the fact you're over there with Miss Winter, yes?"

"She did it, all right" Bright nodded.

"Aye" Samuels agreed.

"Yes" Chatt added, although he looked hard at me when he said it.

"In that case."

I looked up. It seemed that Mr. Abernarthy had found his voice.

"In that case, the three of you come over to our side of the room, Vendradaire, Patience, Smith, Rider, you too, and Brenkley, you sit somewhere in the middle. Let do this the proper way" the man who I had insulted a little while ago ordered. I didn't see how on earth this was classed as doing anything properly, but I was happy to let him have his way.

"Right then" Abernarthy nodded, when all the men had settled themselves on that side of the room."My side says Guilty, the other, Not Guilty. Brenkley, you're the divide. Miss Winter, now I believe you should present your case."

"Hang on" I pointed out. "I'm the one you're trying to persuade here. It's my argument, you're challenging, you prove your point first."

I noticed Brenkley start a little at the quote I had just used. He had recognised it as something the sallow man had said during the court case.

"I think" he said quickly "what would be helpful is if we have some of the evidence in here with us, to reference from."

"Can you do that?" I asked curiously.

"You can indeed" Brenkley smiled. I reckoned he was beginning to enjoy being the chair. He crossed over to the door and rang for the porter as the ten men on the other side of the room from me began talking quietly amongst themselves, probably discussing their plan of attack, I decided. Smiling to myself, I relaxed back on the sofa, even having the audacity to put my feet up on the coffee table. This was going to be fun.