by John Creasey
She stopped, and he hardly seemed to breathe . . . until he took her hands and drew her closer. A spoon fell and they did not notice, a platter fell and broke and they did not notice. Fleetingly Richard thought, I am fifty-five and she thirty-seven, but please God, I can make her happy.
When at last they walked from Rules to the Strand, where there would be a hackney to take first Katherine and then Richard home, Katherine pointed to a newsboy carrying a placard of The Times which contained two words: POLICE! POLICE!
Richard felt he needed nothing more.
39: NUMBER 31 GREAT FURNIVAL SQUARE
It was a double wedding. But as Katherine walked down the aisle towards Richard and Simon as they waited, first for her and then for Susan, she had eyes only for Richard.
‘Wilt thou take this woman. . .’
‘I will.’
‘Wilt thou take this man. . .’
‘I will.’
She was aware of Richard’s lips against hers, of his hand touching her, of the swelling notes of the ancient organ, the massed voices of choristers and congregation. She was not aware of the emerald beauty of her eyes against the paleness of her face and the rich silk of her gown.
Nor did she notice the ranks of nobles and bankers, merchants and sailors, Members of Parliament and justices, and the guard of honour, half in the honey-brown livery of the House of Furnival, half Bow Street Runners, although for a moment the Runners did pierce her euphoria. Richard had for so long been involved with them and the forging of a police force.
She was virtually oblivious of the gilded coach, liveried footmen, coachmen, youths strewing rose petals on the cobbled road; of the crowd lining the streets eager to watch any great occasion; of the fusiliers and dragoons stationed in various places; of the watchmen and constables, the boatmen and the members of the river police; of the urchins, of the poor who gazed, enraptured and without envy.
She did not see Arthur Jackson or his father Frederick. She did not see Todhunter Mason and his favourite cronies. She did not hear the roar of rattles and the ringing of bells, the hooting of ships from the river, the blowing of trumpets and the clear notes of horns, the hurrahs of the people and the cheers of the children.
She was aware only of Richard.
How could a man come to mean so much to her? she wondered, when love, the need for a satisfying sexual relationship, had lain dormant within her for so long. Now they were passionately alive. Had she come to mean as much to him? Was he as eager as she to bring their love to the fiercest consummation? She felt a sudden stir of uncertainty, perhaps even of apprehension, for she did not really know him and he did not know her. He, especially, had lived by himself for so long that once the excitement of the honeymoon faded he might find a shared life intolerable.
She did not in her heart believe that he would, yet the shadow of the possibility hovered.
She had not thought of love during the arid years of her marriage. Affection, yes, and liking, but love - it belonged to those far-off days, to youth, to yesterday. Yet here was Richard, leading her into the main house of Great Furnival Square and to the wedding breakfast - her wedding breakfast. Was it all a dream, she wondered, and would she wake, suddenly and with a shock of aching loss, into reality?
And here was Simon with his new bride Susan. He took both her hands, kissed her on either cheek. ‘I told you how you would feel about Richard, didn’t I?’ he said, laughing.
Was he a wizard with Merlin’s touch? For he had told her.
‘I hope you are very, very happy,’ said Susan.
‘You cannot wish that more for me than I wish it for you,’ Katherine told her.
Suddenly she was surrounded by men and women who seemed strangers, all clamouring to talk to her, and at once all apprehension was gone and she was out of the trance and back in the real world, knowing this was no dream, that these well-wishers were of flesh and blood, her relatives and Richard’s, her friends and his. Then, as if at a given signal, everyone moved away, drawn to food, drawn by plans which Simon had made, and Katherine and Richard were alone but for Simon and Susan. Simon was handing Richard a large envelope which appeared to be made of parchment and which bore the great gold seal of the House of Furnival.
‘My wedding present to you both,’ he said. Then, taking Katherine’s hands, he gripped them tightly. ‘I charge you to take care of this rare creature, this good man,’ he told her gravely. The next moment, as if ashamed of his momentary seriousness, his face broke into laughter and he declared, ‘You now have one precious hour on your own!’
As quickly as the words fell he took Susan’s arm and led her off, while a man whom Katherine did not know, silver-haired and courtly, came into the hall from another doorway and said, ‘My felicitations to you both. Will you be good enough to follow me?’
‘I know my way—’ Richard began, but the elderly man appeared not to have heard.
He led them first from the great hall into a passage, closing a heavy shiny door behind them, then to another door. He did not attempt to open this, but bowed, smiled, and said with obvious pleasure, ‘The key to your home is in the envelope, Mr. Marshall.’
‘The key to my home?’ Richard exclaimed in disbelief.
‘Indeed yes, sir - your new home. Also in the envelope are the deeds and the deed of gift from Mr. Simon.’
The silver-haired man bowed again and moved back along the way he had come.
‘I still can’t quite believe it,’ Richard declared, and his tone held a pitch of doubt. ‘I have long been aware that Simon was the most generous of men, but this—’
He broke off and turned to Katherine, taking her hands for the first time since they had walked through this house, all of its four floors, even the attic, approached by a narrow back staircase, from which they had looked down onto the long, narrow walled garden on one side of which were the stables and outhouses. Nothing but swift, cursory glances had been possible; at furniture and furnishings, carpets and curtains in most of the rooms, although some had been left empty, obviously for their own choice. These rooms had richly polished oak flooring, panelled walls, and ceilings beautifully painted and patterned.
Now they were in a small room - small, that was, compared with most in the house - plainly furnished yet with a substantial bed and huge wardrobe. Leading off on one side was a room with bath and water closet; one of the walls was a huge mirror. And leading from this second room, was a dressing room for Richard.
For the first time since the moment she entered the church, Katherine’s thoughts had been drawn from Richard.
The house, with such magnificence yet such scope for comfort and homeliness, was indeed an astounding proof of Simon’s generosity; she had not dreamed of anything like this. Hand in hand with Richard she had gone from room to room and floor to floor, neither saying more than a word here, a word there. It was as if each had been struck dumb.
Now, standing at the window and looking down once again at the walled garden, with its green lawn so trim and its borders freshly dug and filled with bushy wallflowers, Richard repeated, ‘I still can’t quite believe it.’
Almost on the moment that he finished, his expression changed. He turned, took both her hands and drew her close.
‘Katherine,’ he said huskily, ‘do you like it?’
‘Do I like the house?’
‘The house, the gift, the beauty in it. Will this be what you want?’
In a choky voice she said, ‘I think it can be, my love.’
‘We had planned to seek for ourselves. Would you prefer that?’
‘We could not so rebuff Simon,’ Katherine replied.
‘Yes, we could rebuff Simon,’ Richard said with sudden fierceness. ‘I want to give you what you desire. I want nothing to stand between us, nothing which is not - not right for us.’
Her heart was rejoicing.
‘Do you like this house, Richard?’
‘That is not the issue. The issue is—’
‘Richard,’
she interrupted, then caught her breath, half doubting whether she should go on with what she meant to ask, ‘Are you a little afraid of Simon?’
‘Afraid?’ he echoed, and pursed his lips; then he laughed. ‘Terrified!’
‘Be serious, beloved!’
‘He is a man who can strike terror,’ Richard replied, ‘and at the same time the kindest man alive. He has a heart of gold and a heart of rock. But for him, you and I would not be here. I owe him you, and I owe him much else. Now this house is—’
‘Too much?’
‘Overwhelming,’ Richard admitted. For the first time laughter glinted in his eyes. ‘It is right to be afraid of a man with power enough to come between you and me on this day of days.’ He drew her close, kissing her with surprising gentleness. ‘He brought us together . . . presented us with a house fit for a prince and a princess . . . he even graciously allowed us one hour on our own and then stood between us as if he were here in the flesh! Yes, I am terrified of him, lest he should now take you away!’
Moving with a suddenness which surprised her, Richard lifted Katherine bodily and with an ease revealing unsuspected strength. He carried her to the bed and placed her on it, then sat beside her and took her in his arms.
‘I am now demonstrating that you are mine and I am yours and nothing and no one can come between us. Katherine, will you ever begin to understand how much I love you?’
Soon she said breathlessly, ‘I hate the need but we must get up.’
‘I have been pondering the question,’ Richard said, kissing her more lightly, ‘and have to conclude that you are right. I have an uneasy feeling that you are likely to be right about many things. Will you answer me one question?’
Katherine nodded.
‘Are you at all apprehensive about tonight?’
She was momentarily puzzled, but understanding came swiftly and with warmth of feeling; she longed to turn this moment into ‘tonight’ and sought some way to reassure him. His face was so close to hers that she could feel the pressure of his body at her side and the gentle stir of his breath. So close. Across a room he was striking to look at, with his thick iron-grey hair and hawklike features; across a table this aquiline handsomeness took on a life, a zest for life which was much more part of him than she had dreamed. Inches away, every line, every lash, every hair, every speck in his eyes, were as clear as if seen through a magnifying glass; he was more handsome than she had ever realised.
His eyes began to cloud, as if he expected her answer to be ‘Yes’.
‘There is nothing in this world I want more than tonight,’ she told him.
He lowered his face until once again their lips touched; then he sprang up, startling her with his speed of movement, and stood over her, hands outstretched to help her to her feet.
‘Kate, my love.’ He chuckled. ‘I feel as if I have become young for the first time!’
As she looked up at him a bell rang in the distance, and in a moment it sounded again, telling them that soon their presence would be needed in the great hall of the house so near to this and yet so far away.
40: THE REWARD
On May 26, 1829, the Police Bill was passed in the House of Commons. Confident that Peel would discuss the formation of the New Police with him, Richard was, as his grandfather before him, both astonished and hurt when, in the weeks that followed, he found he was not consulted. Indeed, it was through the newspapers that he first learned that on July 19 the bill received the Royal Assent and was now the law of the land.
At first he revealed little of his feelings even to Katherine, and when accosted by some member of the press, he simply declared himself delighted that his long-held dream had at last become a reality. Then, when one morning late in August a fair-haired youth introducing himself as Peter Winship of The Times stopped him outside the house in Great Furnival Square, Richard answered his questions with increasing impatience. All were to do with the formation of the New Police; all confirmed Richard’s suspicions that Peel had no intention of consulting him. Yet the young man himself was likeable and apparently well disposed.
‘There is a matter with which you should perhaps be acquainted,’ he said at last, and Richard quailed at the prospect of still more discouraging news. ‘You may already be aware of it, sir.’
‘Tell me, Mr. Winship, and I shall know.’
‘The strongest possible opposition is being organised against the New Police. It is coming from certain justices and politicians arid is being most cunningly spread among the people through taverns and alehouses, flash-houses and brothels - even through the guilds, which, as you know, have much influence. The most effective criticism is that despite Mr. Peel’s protestations the new force will be an army used to subdue the people, as at Peterloo.’
‘And do many people believe this?’ asked Richard slowly.
‘A great many, sir.’
Richard did what he could to ease the young man’s mind, then turned and strode into the house. He had never wanted to talk to Katherine more, but she was in the City at some meeting to do with the Gold and Silversmiths’ Charities and not likely to be back before midday. It was now a little after eleven o’clock and he was too restless to sit at his desk, restless and troubled. Why had Peel not consulted him about the organisation of the New Police? Was it because the government did intend to use them as an extension of the military, simply to put down civil disturbances?
When at last Katherine came home Richard told her of his fears. ‘And that young man’s questions made it quite obvious that, as I suspected, Peel is ignoring me in his preparations,’ he admitted. ‘
‘If true, it is wickedly unjust,’ Katherine said, touching his hand. ‘But are you sure it is true, my love? Soon after you left this morning this letter was delivered by one of Mr. Peel’s messengers.’ She took an envelope from the mantelshelf and held it out to him.
Richard took the envelope, opened it, and drew out a missive in the flowing hand of one of Peel’s secretaries:
The Minister for Home Affairs the Rt. Hon. Mr. Robert Peel will be pleased if you and Mrs. Marshall will wait on him at six o’clock this evening at Number 10 Downing Street, where he is in temporary residence. He will appreciate an acknowledgment only if it is not possible for you to attend.
He handed it to Katherine. ‘Well, Kate,’ he said slowly, ‘this will at least give me an opportunity to tell Mr. Peel of my fears. I only hope he has nothing to say which will make me lose my temper - I confess I have never been in greater danger of doing so.’
‘If you must lose your self-control, then pray wait until you have left him and are alone with me,’ Katherine counselled. ‘And now, my love, I must make preparations for our visit. I shall wear my peacock silk.’
Since the days of the Gordon Riots, nearly fifty years past, guards had always been stationed at the two approaches to Downing Street, now very different from the country lane it had been when Sir George Downing had built the first house there. Richard and Katherine were twice stopped and questioned before reaching the front door of Number 10, but once they were recognised, the guards stepped back with obvious respect, and at two minutes to six the front door opened and a youthful-looking man stood aside, bowing.
‘Good evening, ma’am. Mr. Marshall. Mr. Peel is ready for you to attend him. If I may take your cloak, ma’am.’
Only on one other occasion had Richard been in this plain brick house which, from its strange beginning, had become the official London residence of the First Minister of Great Britain, although the present Prime Minister, the Duke of Wellington, spent much time in the splendour of his own residence at Apsley House. There was a sense of dignity here, and of quiet. The young man led them to a room on the second floor, at the head of the stairs, tapped at the dark oak panelling of the door, and at Peel’s deep-voiced ‘Come in’ pushed the door aside and stood back for Richard and Katherine to enter. Peel rose to his feet from behind a large square-topped desk and came forward to greet them.
‘It
is very good of you to come, ma’am.. Mr. Marshall. Do please be seated.’
He waited for Richard and Katherine to sit down in the big leather chairs arranged in front of the roaring log fire, then picked up a heavy crystal decanter.
‘I have often heard it said that one should take a little wine for the stomach’s sake - I trust you will share my pleasure. . . Good, very good.’
He filled three glasses, then sat down beside them, stretching his long legs towards the blaze, more like a country squire than a Minister of State.
‘And now, as you are both no doubt curious, I will come to the point.’ He turned to Katherine. ‘I wish to speak to your husband on three matters, ma’am. It is the second and third in which I think you will be interested; I shall be glad if you will bear with me over the first. Mr. Marshall’ - he swung to face Richard - ‘I am extremely anxious that in the formation of the New Police there should be fresh minds and a fresh outlook, and it is for that reason only that I have not called upon your assistance.’
Richard did not hear Peel’s next words, so great was the flood of relief which surged through him. ‘. . . for that reason only. . .’ Thank God his fears that the government would use the New Police against the people had been unjustified! How his grandfather would have rejoiced! How Sir John Furnival - But he must concentrate on what was still being said. Making a conscious effort, Richard forced himself to listen.
‘I have already selected two men whom I am considering calling “commissioners”,’ Peel was saying. ‘As you know, Mr. Marshall, one of the main purposes of the Act is to ensure the apprehension of criminals by the police, while the task of considering the accused persons’ interests when they have been formally charged will be the duty of judges, with juries when deemed necessary, and of justices if the crimes can be dealt with summarily. So “justices” will not long remain the name for the chief of the Police Office, and I cannot myself think of any better appellation than “commissioners”. Can you, Mr. Marshall?’
