Silence Is Golden (Storm and Silence 3)

The bailiff cleared his throat again.

‘The accused are charged with wilfully, deliberately, and with malice aforethought on 9 February 1840 to have-’

Abruptly, his eyes went wide and he cut off, staring down at the documents in front of him. Quickly, he showed them to the court clerk next to him - who dropped the glasses he was just polishing and nearly fell off his chair.

‘Well?’ the magistrate demanded impatiently. ‘Of what are they accused?’

The bailiff whispered to the court clerk. The court clerk whispered back at the bailiff. Both of them threw a horrified look at Patsy, who cocked her head and gave them a cool smile.

‘Well?’ the magistrate’s voice didn’t sound quite so dry anymore. In fact, one could say it sounded almost alive. Almost.

‘I…’ Nervously, the bailiff glanced around. ‘I would not like to…in the open…you must forgive me, my Lord, it is just so shocking, I cannot-’

‘What were they doing, man? Out with it!’

The bailiff took a deep breath. Resigning himself to his fate, he made a brave face, and sat up straight to do his duty, horrible as it might be.

‘Bicycling, my Lord.’

‘Bicycling?"

‘Yes, my Lord.’

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bsp; ‘Females?’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘In public?’

‘I’m afraid so, my Lord.’

The elderly court officer who stood at attention behind the magistrate cleared his throat. ‘Forgive my interruption, my Lord…but may I ask, what is this “bicycling”? It sounds extremely dodgy to me.’

‘It is, Rogers.’ The magistrate gave a small shudder, as if someone had walked over his grave. ‘It involves movement through the use of a certain means of transportation commonly known as a “bicycle”, that seems to be abominably popular with young people these days. You may have heard of the contraption under its original name, “velocipede”.’

The court officer’s eyes went wide.

‘You don’t mean…?’

‘Yes.’

‘They were moving around on…?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Using the pedals?’

‘I assume so.’

‘And with their unmentionables spread?’

The magistrate closed his eyes in pain. ‘Please, do not make me think about it.’

‘Hey!’ Patsy called. ‘They’re called legs! We all have them, you know, not just us girls, if you haven’t noticed! You can call them by their real name!’

‘Or poles, posts, props or shanks,’ I suggested. ‘Those are perfectly acceptable, too.’