The Constable didn’t reply. He kept staring at the landlord, making him uneasy. That way there was the chance of dragging a little truth from him.
‘They started fighting in here but I kicked them out, and that was an end to it as far as I was concerned.’
‘When did you last hold a cockfight?’
The question took Bell by surprise. ‘A week ago Saturday,’ he answered after a moment’s thought. ‘Why? Nowt wrong with that.’
‘Do you know Jeremiah Darden?’
‘The merchant?’ Bell asked warily. Nottingham nodded. ‘Aye, by sight, same as most in the city.’ He was on edge, uncertainty in his eyes as he refused to hold the Constable’s gaze.
‘Does he come to the cockfights?’
‘Him?’
‘Yes.’
Bell shook his head. ‘Never seen him at one in my time. Why?’
‘Was he at the last one you had?’
‘I just said—’
‘Yes or no,’ Nottingham asked. His voice was quiet but firm.
‘No.’
‘Then I thank you.’ He looked over the press of people wanting drink. ‘You can go back to your work now.’ As the landlord turned away, he added, ‘I’ll be back to talk about those two deaths another time.’
So Darden had lied, he thought as he returned to the jail. It could mean that the servant’s suspicions were right and the man was Gabriel. Or it could mean any number of other things. He stoked up the fire and sat for a while, drawing in the heat and trying to think.
He needed to talk to Darden; that was beyond any doubt. And he knew he had to inform the mayor first. It would be better to wait until tomorrow, after the reward had been announced. Fenton could bluster all he liked then, but he wouldn’t be able to stop the Constable following up on a tip.
By late afternoon men were pasting the posters on boards and buildings. The ink was still fresh enough to run, blurring the words, but no one could miss the amount the corporation was offering for the arrest of Gabriel. Twenty pounds. It would take most of the working men in Leeds more than half a year to earn that much. Some wit had pasted one of the posters to the door of the jail and he tore it off as he left, crumpling the paper and letting it fall to the ground.
There were more of the notices on the pillars leading to the White Cloth Hall. A man stood and read the words aloud to a crowd that broke into loud murmurs when he announced the reward. It would be like that all over the city, greed quickly clouding men’s eyes and minds.
They didn’t even notice Nottingham walk past as he headed out past the Parish Church towards Timble Bridge and home. The men with power could open their purses and offer enough to turn heads, enough to make it seem as if they cared, but they’d do nothing to help the children like Caleb or the people who saw Bessie’s camp as their only home.
‘What’s wrong?’ Mary asked as he walked through to the kitchen and held her close. He kept his arms around her, her cheek next to his, until he felt the anger inside begin to ebb and he could open his eyes again.
‘The Corporation’s put up a reward for the man who killed the children. Twenty pounds.’
‘Do they honestly believe that will help?’ she asked in horror.
‘They do,’ he answered sadly.
She shook her head in disgust. ‘Just leave them to it, Richard,’ she said. ‘Tell them you’re still not well enough. We’ll manage.’
He stroked her hair gently. ‘I can’t. You know I can’t walk out and leave John and Rob to deal with it all. I saw those children. I saw what Gabriel had done.’ He stepped back to look deep into her eyes. ‘I can’t walk away from them, either.’
‘I know,’ she said with a sigh of resignation. ‘I know you too well. But sometimes I wish you didn’t have duty in your veins. The city takes advantage of you.’
Rob saw the notices as he waited outside the dame school for Emily. People were talking eagerly about the reward on offer as they passed, how they’d spend it, imagining who they knew who might be Gabriel.
He leaned against the wall, hands pushed deep in the pockets of his greatcoat. Evening was starting to fall, the air bitter and damp against his face. No doubt folk would be out tonight, eager to name names and hope for the money. It was stupid.
She came through the door and he stood upright, smiling, his heart lighter. Emily put her arm through his and they began to walk down the street. Rob pointed out the poster and she stopped to read it.
‘A reward?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he answered with a sigh. ‘A big one, too. It shows how concerned they are.’
‘But everyone . . .’ She paused for a moment. ‘It’s not going to help what you do at all, is it?’
‘No,’ he told her, ‘it’s not.’
She took tighter hold of his arm and said, ‘Let’s take a walk by the river.’
‘Now?’ Rob asked in astonishment. ‘In this weather?’
‘Then there won’t be many people around,’ she answered with a smile, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse her.
Emily led and he was content to follow. She strode past the warehouses and the stink of the dye works as if they barely existed, pulling him along by the hand, before clambering up the bank into a stand of trees, all the leaves gone from their branches. The track ran to a dip in the ground, sheltered from the wind and out of sight. She turned around, gazing up at the sky, a smile on her lips that he couldn’t read.
‘You look like you know this place.’
‘When I was little my sister and I used to come here.’ She paced around slowly, reaching out to touch a tree or bending to make out something he couldn’t see. ‘It was our special place. Even Mama and Papa didn’t know about it. I haven’t been back here since Rose died.’ She gathered her cloak and sat on an old, weathered tree trunk that lay on the ground. ‘We’d sit here and she’d tell me stories. Or sometimes we’d play.’ She patted the log and he settled next to her.
‘So why did you want to bring me here?’ He stroked her neck, the skin soft and warm under his fingertip. She turned and kissed him quickly.
‘Because I wanted you to know about it, too,’ she explained. ‘I wanted us to have somewhere that was ours, where no one else can find us. And in summer . . .’ Her eyes twinkled; he imagined the hollow hidden by bushes and leaves and grinned. Emily took his hand and began to slide her fingers between his. ‘Papa told me some things while he was recovering,’ she began, her glance flickering to him, then away and back again, and he knew they’d reached the true reason for coming here. He waited; she’d continue when she was ready. ‘Do you remember Amos Worthy?’
‘Of course,’ he replied, taken aback by her question.
‘He knew my grandmama. He loved her. That’s what Papa told me. I think it surprised him when he learned that.’ Lister was certain that it had. ‘He left me some money in his will.’
‘What?’ The word flew out of him.
‘He told Papa that he wanted to give me freedom. I’ll receive it when I come of age.’
When she came of age, he thought. That was still four years away, a lifetime, one he wanted to spend with her. But he knew Emily; if she was talking about it, she needed to make a decision about this now, otherwise it would rub at her every day and leave her raw.
‘It would be my money.’ Her eyes widened. ‘My money. Enough to live on.’ She paused. ‘For us both to live on.’
‘You know what he was, don’t you?’
She nodded, her lips pushed together.
‘What do you want to do?’
‘What would you do?’ she countered.
It was a long time before he answered, allowing his thoughts to form and the words to take shape. He held her hand as she watched him.
‘I think I’d say no. But I’d wish I’d been able to say yes.’
She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘That’s what I told Papa I’d do. He said I should wait, that I might change my mind by the time I’m twenty-one.’
But she wouldn’t. He knew her well enough by now to be certain of that, and he loved her deeply enough to be grateful for it.
‘I love you,’ he said quietly. They sat for a few more minutes as the darkness grew around them, then made their way back to the house on Marsh Lane.
‘We were wondering where you two had been,’ Mary Nottingham said brightly, and Rob saw her glance swiftly at Emily’s clothes to make certain she was properly dressed.
‘Sit down, lad,’ the Constable told him. ‘I need to talk to you before we eat.’
Lister lowered himself on to an old joint stool. The warmth from the fire started to soak through his clothes and into his skin. ‘What is it, boss?’
‘What do you know about Jeremiah Darden?’
Rob pursed his lips and tried to recall things he’d heard. ‘Nothing, really. No more than anyone else.’
Nottingham nodded slowly. ‘What about your father?’
Lister let out a long breath and held his hands out to the blaze as if he wanted to cup its heat between them. ‘I’m sure he’d know chapter and verse,’ he replied. ‘Why?’
‘One of Darden’s servants thinks he might be Gabriel.’
Rob raised an eyebrow. ‘Did he think that before or after the reward was posted?’
‘Before.’ The Constable waited a moment before continuing. ‘I’d like to you talk to your father and find out what he knows about Darden.’
‘Boss . . .’ Rob said warily. ‘You know he might not want to speak to me.’
‘He will,’ Nottingham told him with a confident smile.
The shutters were closed at the office of the Leeds Mercury, no light leaking through. He knocked on the heavy door that stood to the side and heard the sound of footsteps on the stair. The servant held up a candle, eyes widening to see him.
‘Mr Robert!’
‘Hello, Sarah,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’ve come to see my father. Is he upstairs?’
‘He is. Come on in.’
He passed by, the smells of the house, of cooked cabbage and wax, as familiar as if he’d never left. James Lister was in the parlour, sitting before the fire in his favourite chair, a volume of Defoe page-down on his lap. He looked up as Rob entered, cocking his head questioningly.
‘I’d not looked to see you here again,’ he said. There was no warmth in his words.
‘Hello, Father,’ Rob said. He looked around the room. It was exactly as he remembered it, books filling the shelves along the walls, candles lighting the place.
‘Given up on the lass, have you?’
Rob shook his head. ‘I’m here on business, nothing more.’
‘Oh?’ James Lister sat upright, his face suddenly alive and interested. ‘What do you need?’
‘Information on Jeremiah Darden.’
The older man rubbed his chin. ‘Why do you need to know about him?’
Rob gave a small smile. ‘I can’t tell you, and there’s nothing you can print, Father. Just as if you were dealing with Mr Nottingham.’
Lister chuckled. ‘You’ve a long way to go yet before you’re Constable, lad.’ He paused and narrowed his eyes. ‘Is this to do with the reward?’
‘What would make you think that?’
‘Timing. I take it you don’t need the common knowledge?’ He waited a moment for an answer then plunged on. ‘The Corporation wanted Darden to be mayor a few years ago. He’d been an alderman since he was a young man. He turned it down and resigned. Paid the fine to be allowed to leave and that was it. Hasn’t done much since.’
‘Why?’ Rob asked.
The older man mulled over his reply. ‘He’s never said, although plenty of people had their ideas. Honestly, I don’t know.’ He offered a small shrug. ‘It’s a mystery. I do know he pulled back from business around the same time.’
‘How is he as a man?’
Lister removed his spectacles and wiped them carefully on the elaborate silk of his waistcoat. ‘Not especially social. He never was, I suppose. More so when his wife was alive, perhaps. I remember they’d go to assemblies and balls sometimes. He married young and doted on those daughters of his. Now they’re all married off he doesn’t seem to have much in his life.’
‘And his temperament?’
Lister gave a smile. ‘Jeremiah Darden’s never been one to suffer fools.’
Rob laughed. ‘You mean he’s an awkward bastard.’
His father pursed his mouth. ‘Your words, not mine.’ He cleared his throat. ‘How are your lodgings?’
‘Good enough for what I need. You’ve no idea why Mr Darden stepped away from public life? That’s unlike you.’
‘There’s nothing queerer than folk. That’s what they say and it’s true enough. You should have learnt that in your job by now. There were a few rumours about him and a girl.’
‘A girl? Who was she?’
‘A very young girl,’ Lister said pointedly. ‘No one really believed it, but he left the Corporation.
‘What were the rumours?’
The older man waved them away with his hand. ‘Tittle-tattle. Whispers behind hands.’ He made a face. ‘It seemed ridiculous. Just folk making trouble. I didn’t believe it then and I won’t believe it now. Jeremiah Darden’s an upright man, always has been. He’s given plenty of his wealth to charity over the years.’ He paused. ‘You didn’t know that, did you?’
‘I don’t know anything about him,’ Rob pointed out. ‘That’s why I came to ask you.’
‘And I’ve told you.’
‘Then thank you, Father.’ He gave a small bow and turned.
‘Come for your dinner some Sunday,’ Lister said quietly to his son’s back. ‘Your mother would love to see you again.’ Rob took two paces down the stairs. ‘Bring that girl if you like.’ Rob nodded and left the house.
The cold air felt clean against his skin. His father had taken him by surprise, ambushed him. What was behind that offer? Did he really want to reconcile or was he hoping for a chance to humiliate Emily? God alone knew. But he needed to put it out of his mind for the moment.
Maybe his father had been wrong to discount all the gossip about Darden and the girl. They’d need to investigate that.
He strode down Briggate and along the path by the Aire. Bessie was helping a girl feed her small child when he found her, spooning something into the infant’s mouth, encouraging and cajoling her to eat more. He waited silently until she’d finished and
wiped her hand on her dress, gathering a shawl tight around her shoulders.
‘Babies making babies,’ she said with a slow shake of her head. ‘They don’t know.’
‘How are you, Bessie?’
‘I’ll live. More than some of these will if it gets any colder. We could use more food,’ she said pointedly.
‘I’ll talk to the baker. He should have some old loaves.’
‘It’ll all help, love.’ She nodded her approval. ‘I’ve asked around about those children.’
‘Anything?’ Rob asked hopefully.
‘They tend to keep to themselves. They don’t trust anyone else. I’m sorry, Mr Lister.’
‘What about Gabriel?’
‘I don’t think people have talked about owt else since the posters went up.’ She snorted. ‘Truth is, no one here’s seen him. They might think they have, but it’s just hoping for the money.’
‘Thank you, Bessie.’
‘Nay, lad. I just wish I could do more. You find him, though.’
‘We will.’
‘And kill him. It’s no more than he deserves.’
NINE
John Sedgwick woke with a start, sitting up with his eyes wide and heart racing as the dream dissolved in his head.
‘What is it?’ Lizzie asked, her voice full of sleep.
He breathed slowly and wiped the night sweat off his face. ‘Nothing. Don’t worry about it, love.’ He stroked her hair and neck until he felt her drift away. It was still full dark but there would be no more rest, not after the i
mages he’d seen, of James and Isabell tortured, used and bloody, and left for dead at the side of the road. He could hear them both sleeping, the baby in her crib, the boy on his small bed.
Quietly, he rose and dressed, took some bread from the kitchen and slipped out of the door. He knew that moving, doing something, was the only way to make the pictures go away.
Still an hour to dawn, he judged, the time when the blackness was blackest and the thoughts were always bleak. The air had turned even colder and a low fog clung tight to the ground, creeping like an army over the land.
Rob was at the jail, the scrape of his nib on paper loud as he wrote out the night report. The deputy settled close by the fire, took the bread from his pocket and began to eat.
‘Many come in for the reward?’ he asked.
Lister frowned. ‘Ten of them last night, and that’s just the ones who found me here.’
‘Anything likely?’
‘What do you think? Some of them would peach on their dog if it would bring in sixpence. Anyway, someone came and gave the boss a name yesterday.’
‘Oh?’ Sedgwick asked with interest.
‘You’re going to love this. It’s Jeremiah Darden.’
The deputy laughed. ‘That old bastard? You can’t be serious.’
‘I am. The boss asked me to find out about him from my father.’
‘And did you?’ he asked slowly. ‘You went to see him?’
Rob nodded. ‘Last night.’
‘What did he have to say?’
‘About Darden?’
‘Aye.’
‘Seems there was a rumour about him and a very young girl. He was supposed to become mayor but instead he resigned from the Corporation. No one who mattered believed it, but . . .’
‘You told the boss yet?’
‘No.’
‘And what else did your father say to you?’
‘Invited me for Sunday dinner.’ He paused. ‘With Emily.’
The deputy raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘What are you going to do?’
He sighed. ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to her.’
The door opened and the Constable walked in. ‘That fog’s getting thicker,’ he said, shrugging off his coat. ‘If it keeps up you won’t be able to see the Moot Hall soon.’
At the Dying of the Year Page 7
