Constant Lovers rn-3 Page 15

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He was so smitten with her looks that he never saw what was beneath them, and she discovered he wasn’t being modest and that the Gibton family fortunes really were as badly off as he claimed. I suppose she must have inherited something when her parents died, but most of it went to her older brother.’

  ‘Does he still live in Leeds?’

  ‘No. He moved on as soon as he could. I can’t blame him, really. He worked hard, never gave any trouble, and saw his sister receive all the attention. He was always going to be in her shadow here. He finished his apprentice as a butcher then went to set up shop in Sheffield.’

  ‘How did you know the Halls, Mrs Mapperly?’ Lister asked.

  She finished the glass of wine and set it down.

  ‘We were neighbours. My husband was a butcher, too. So I saw Catherine grow up. There were plenty of nights she’d keep us awake as she shouted and screamed. Poor girl,’ she said with real sympathy.

  ‘When did you last see her?’

  ‘Oh, not for many years now.’ She let out a long, slow breath. ‘I suppose it would be not long after her daughter was born. She brought the baby to visit her parents, not that she came too often, mind you, once she was living out in Roundhay. I remember thinking that I felt sorry for the little girl, having to grow up with a mother like that.’

  ‘You know her daughter died?’ Rob asked.

  She nodded and he could see the start of tears in the corners of her eyes.

  ‘I read it in your father’s newspaper.’

  He sensed that he was losing her to the memories of years ago, when she had a husband and a life in the city. She hardly seemed to notice when he rose to his feet.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said as he rose, bowing briefly as he left.

  Seventeen

  The man’s body had been heavily battered. Nottingham stared grimly at it on the slab in the cell they used as a morgue. He’d been young, the shape of his body and the thickness of his hair showed that, but his face had been so heavily pummelled, the bones all broken and the flesh swollen, that it was impossible to make out any features. He turned away. They’d found the corpse after a boy in threadbare breeches and a torn shirt had dashed into the jail, his features white with shock, eyes full of fear and excitement, and led them down to see his discovery in the woods by Sheepscar Beck.

  Whoever he was, the man had put up an almighty struggle, his knuckles ripe and bloody, but he’d been overwhelmed. And then very carefully and coldly beaten to death. The Constable had examined him closely but hadn’t found any deep cuts and there were no signs of stab wounds.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked Sedgwick.

  ‘It could be.’ As soon as they’d seen the body they’d both wondered if this was Tom, the brother of the false servant Nan. It was exactly the kind of punishment Worthy would dole out for what the girl had done. ‘He’d be about the right age, anyway. And killing him this way would fit. It would send a lesson.’

  Gently, Nottingham pulled the sheet over the man. There was nothing more to see and no clues in the pockets, just a few small coins and a well-used handkerchief. The clothes gave nothing away, cheap and anonymous, once good perhaps, but he’d likely bought them from a stall at third or fourth hand. He could have been anyone from anywhere.

  ‘But if this is Tom it still leaves the girl,’ the deputy said.

  ‘I know,’ the Constable agreed slowly. ‘And if Amos has her she’ll get much worse than this.’

  ‘What can we do about it?’

  He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Inside, he was sure this was the lad called Tom, and that the pimp’s men had killed him. Worthy would have taken part; he wasn’t a man to leave the satisfaction of revenge to someone else.

  ‘I don’t even know how we can prove who this is,’ he said angrily, ‘let alone who’s responsible.’

  ‘That’s what he wants, isn’t it?’ Sedgwick said. ‘Everyone knows, but there’s no one can say or tie it to him. He’s shown no one can cross him but we can’t touch him. It’s clever, you have to give him that.’

  ‘And it’s his reminder that he can flout the law.’ Nottingham’s eyes were dark with fury. ‘I don’t care what that boy had done, he didn’t deserve to die like that.’ He took a deep breath and reached for his coat. ‘I’m going to see Amos.’

  ‘Boss-’ Sedgwick began, but the Constable had already left.

  He pushed his way through the door and back into the kitchen. Worthy was standing there, leaning against the table and catching the sun through the dirty window. For once the fire wasn’t lit, but the summer heat trapped in the room left it unpleasantly warm.

  There were no guards lounging by the back door or against the wall. Worthy was eating in silence, bread and cheese on his plate, a full cup of ale before him. He turned slowly and smiled as the Constable entered.

  ‘I wondered how long it would be before you showed your face,’ he said. ‘Do you want something to drink? Stop that thirst?’

  ‘You know why I’m here.’

  ‘Of course I do, laddie. You think I had something to do with the body you have in the jail.’

  ‘I know you did, Amos.’

  Worthy’s eyes shone. ‘If you’re so certain, you’d better prove it, Mr Nottingham.’ He held up his hands, turning them to show both sides, the skin unbroken. ‘Does that look like I’ve been fighting?’

  ‘So for once you had someone else do the work for you.’

  ‘You want be careful, laddie.’ His voice turned colder and more serious. ‘Words like that could seem like slander.’

  ‘How did you know someone had died if you weren’t involved?’

  ‘Little birds are always telling me things.’ He broke off some of the bread and began to chew, letting crumbs spill carelessly down over his long waistcoat.

  ‘They told you fast.’

  ‘No point in knowing if you’re not the first. It’s old news by the time some other bugger has it.’

  ‘What about the girl?’ the Constable asked. ‘What have you done with her?’

  Worthy put down the bread and stared straight at him.

  ‘I’ll spell this out to you so you don’t go making any mistakes. I don’t have the girl. But I’ll bloody well find her. And if you think I have summat to do with whoever you have on that slab, go ahead and prove it. I’ll lay odds you can’t do it, though. You want a wager on it?’

  Nottingham didn’t react, holding the older man’s gaze for a long time.

  ‘Get out,’ the procurer said finally. ‘I want to eat.’

  The sky was just taking on its evening colours when Sedgwick arrived home. He closed the door with a long, exhausted sigh.

  ‘Papa!’ James ran to him, clutching at his legs and gazing up with large blue eyes, silently demanding to be picked up. The deputy grabbed him round the waist, tossing him lightly into the air and catching him as the boy squealed with joy. He nuzzled his nose against James’s face, smelling the warm innocence of his hair then turning a circle with his son in his outstretched arms.

  ‘You be careful,’ Lizzie laughed. ‘He had summat to eat a little while back. If he’s sick you’re going to be the one cleaning it up.’

  ‘He’ll be fine, won’t you?’ He pulled the lad close and kissed him then let him slide back down his body to the floor. Lizzie came over, holding him and feeling the weariness in his bones.

  ‘Bad day?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye,’ he answered, thinking again of the bloody, misshapen face on the slab and wanting to leave it all behind. ‘But I’m home now.’

  ‘Come on, get your coat off,’ she told him, pulling lightly at the sleeves. ‘You’re settling in for the evening. There’s some food on the table. You want some ale?’

  He nodded and she filled his mug. The first long sip tasted good, the second even better. He sat down, moving his head around to try and ease the tension of work out of his neck.

  ‘One of those days when you w
onder why you do it?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Aye,’ he said, taking her hand, and pulling her down so she sat on his lap with a happy squeal.

  ‘I’m getting heavier, you know,’ she told him and patted her belly. ‘And I’ll be bigger fast enough.’

  ‘You’ll be lovely.’

  With a smile she punched him playfully on the shoulder. ‘You say that now, John Sedgwick. But when I’m waddling round big as one of them houses at Town End you’ll think different.’

  ‘I’ll love you if you’re as big as the bloody Moot Hall,’ he laughed along with her and buried his face in her hair. He relished his work but he knew that this was what really kept him going, the prospect of coming home to these two. Here he could be a different person, or at least a different shade of the same person, gentler and kinder.

  She stroked his hair as they sat, combing through it absently with her fingers, watching James as he played. Gradually he could feel himself relax, enjoying the closeness of this woman who wanted to be with him.

  ‘We’ll have to get a larger room,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ he asked absently.

  ‘Drifting off??’ she asked with a sly sparkle in her eye. ‘I was saying we’ll need a bigger room when the baby’s born.’

  ‘We could start looking sooner, if you like.’

  ‘I’d love to have a real home sometime,’ she sighed. ‘Nothing fancy, just more than one room.’

  ‘Better dream on or find yourself a rich man, then. It won’t happen on my wages.’

  ‘One day when you’re Constable.’

  ‘If that ever happens, what with this new lad,’ he said with a sigh. ‘His father publishes the Mercury, so he’ll know people.’

  ‘Mr Nottingham said he’d speak up for you, didn’t he?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then go ahead and trust him. Look at you, John Sedgwick, you’re worried about someone who hasn’t even been in the job five minutes.’

  ‘I know,’ he admitted sheepishly.

  ‘You trust Mr Nottingham, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘He’ll do what he said, you know that. And maybe you’ll get me that house after all.’

  ‘Well, there’s a house with the job.’ He grinned. ‘Just don’t go holding your breath, though. The boss has a few years in him yet.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’m just wishing. And you look like you’re dead on your feet.’

  ‘I’m fine for the moment,’ he told her and glanced out of the window. ‘It’s not even properly dark yet.’

  ‘I was thinking we could put James to bed and have an early night. You know.’

  ‘I suppose I could stay awake for that. Just.’

  ‘You’d better,’ she warned him with a smile. ‘Fall asleep in the middle and you’ll wake up missing some bits.’

  He woke midway through the night, a sudden idea springing into his brain. Even as his eyes opened it began to fade and he struggled to keep it there. Slowly he untangled his arm from around Lizzie, and moved silently across the room, digging a scrap of paper and a pencil from his coat.

  As he pulled the sheet back over himself she stirred against him, her breathing becoming soft snores for a few moments before subsiding. He smiled, feeling loved and satisfied.

  The morning seemed a little cooler, the air easier to breathe as the deputy walked to work. He could hear the bright chatter of servants through the open windows and the rattle of pots on stoves as they started to make breakfasts.

  He’d had some bread and a few sips of ale, enough to set him up for now. He was never hungry first thing, but ravenous by dinner when he usually had a pie from one of the shops or street sellers.

  The Constable was already at the jail, his coat draped over the chair and sleeves rolled up to show the hair on his arms bleached pale by the sun.

  ‘There was a set-to overnight, boss. That’s what Morris the night man told me,’ Sedgwick said with a frown and Nottingham looked up, setting the quill aside.

  ‘Nothing new there, John. It can’t have been that bad, there’s no one in the cells.’

  ‘Bad enough.’ He sat down across from the Constable. ‘Seems like some of Worthy’s men were going at it with some others.’

  Nottingham sat upright, attentive. ‘How many in all?’

  ‘About eight or so. Morris wasn’t sure.’

  ‘And who were these other men?’

  ‘He didn’t know, but my guess is they belonged to Hughes.’

  ‘Revenge for the whore who was cut.’

  ‘Aye. And it lets Worthy know Hughes won’t be leaving, too.’

  ‘How many were hurt?’

  ‘I don’t know. Morris was on his own so he stayed out of the way.’

  ‘Best thing,’ Nottingham agreed with an approving nod.

  ‘He did think one or two looked in bad shape.’

  The Constable pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to stop the throbbing he could feel building in his head.

  ‘He beats someone to death and now this. Amos must be feeling pressed if he needs to push hard.’

  ‘What did he say yesterday, boss?’

  ‘Just what you’d expect. He knew all about it, of course, and challenged me to prove he had anything to do with it.’

  ‘So what now?’

  The Constable sighed. ‘The good news is that he claims he doesn’t have Nan.’

  ‘Do you believe him?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied slowly. ‘If he knew where she was he wouldn’t have said a word.’ He sat and steepled his hands under his chin. ‘I think it’s time to go and meet Mr Hughes. Find out where he lives and we’ll pay him a visit.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  Sedgwick slipped out, returning in less than ten minutes with a broad grin.

  ‘House on the Calls. When do you want to go and see him?’

  Nottingham gave a dark smile, stood up and put on his coat.

  ‘No time like the present, John. Let’s see what our newest citizen is like.’

  They walked down Kirkgate, then down Call Lane, taking their time, for all the world like two friends out enjoying the morning. Only the determined looks on their faces gave them away.

  ‘How do you want to do this, boss?’

  ‘I think we’ll just make the acquaintance of Mr Hughes and remind him that we have law in Leeds. See if that’s enough for him.’

  Sedgwick pounded on the thin door with the flat of his hand, rattling it in its old, ill-fitting frame. The house was a cheap dwelling place, mortar slowly crumbling between the brickwork, the chimney pot sitting askew on the roof. They waited a minute and the deputy knocked again, banging until he heard the key turn inside.

  ‘What do you want?’

  The man was young and shirtless, showing off a stocky physique with well-muscled arms. His face was sallow, with a recent cut above his right eye and a deep bruise flowering around his left. His head was shaved smooth, glistening in the sunlight.

  Nottingham glanced at the man’s knuckles, cut and swollen, and knew without doubt he’d been part of the battle.

  ‘Well?’ the man asked, rubbing at his eyes, his voice still thick with sleep.

  ‘You’re Mr Hughes?’ the Constable asked.

  The man put his hands on his hips and smiled comfortably. ‘I am. Who wants to know?’

  ‘I’m the Constable of Leeds. I want a word with you.’

  ‘Oh aye?’ Hughes raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Inside,’ Nottingham told him firmly. He locked eyes with the man, holding his gaze until Hughes moved aside.

  The parlour was a jumble, with clothes and rubbish idly scattered across the floor. The sound of voices came from upstairs, men and women both, and footsteps clattered on the boards over their heads.

  ‘What do you want, Constable?’ Hughes asked. He picked up a dirty mug from the floor and took a swig from it.

  ‘In a fight, were you?’ Sedgwick asked.

  ‘Mebbe.
’ He looked from one of them to the other.

  ‘Where are you from, Mr Hughes?’ the Constable wondered.

  ‘Why? Does it matter?’ His tone had become sullen.

  Nottingham smiled graciously. ‘Just taking an interest. From the sound of you it’s not anywhere around Leeds.’

  ‘Doncaster,’ Hughes conceded.

  ‘How many of you are there?’

  ‘Eight. Four girls and the rest of us.’

  ‘One of your lasses was hurt recently,’ the deputy said.

  ‘Someone cut her, aye.’

  ‘That’s a crime. Why didn’t you report it?’

  Hughes shrugged.

  ‘So you’re running four whores, Mr Hughes?’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘You are.’ The Constable’s voice turned hard. ‘Your girl wouldn’t have been out and there wouldn’t have been a fight last night if you weren’t.’

  ‘Old man Worthy paying you, is he?’ Hughes sneered.

  ‘Only the city pays me, Mr Hughes. You’d do very well to remember that.’

  Hughes looked doubtful, uncertain whether to believe what he was hearing.

  ‘And if I have some girls?’

  ‘It’s against the law,’ Nottingham began, ‘but men are always going to pay for girls. As long as there’s no trouble we pay it no mind.’

  ‘I didn’t start any trouble.’

  ‘But you kept it going last night,’ Sedgwick told him. ‘We don’t play fear or favour here.’

  ‘It stops, Mr Hughes,’ the Constable ordered. ‘And I’ll be telling Amos Worthy the same.’

  ‘The old bugger’s past it, anyway,’ Hughes said, ‘letting himself be taken in by a servant girl.’

  Nottingham said nothing, allowing the silence in the room to build.

  ‘You know the rules now.’

  ‘And if I don’t obey them?’

  ‘Then you’ll pay the consequences,’ the Constable said simply, ‘and by Christ, you’ll wish you’d listened. Good day, Mr Hughes.’ He turned on his heel and left, followed by the deputy.