‘What was it?’
‘It must have been, what, twenty-five years ago now?’ He counted off the years in his head. ‘Close enough to that, anyway. Mr Darden lent the Corporation some money. I don’t know how much it was and I’m sure it’s long since been paid. But my father always said Darden received preferential treatment because of it.’
‘What did he mean?’
‘I don’t know. It’s probably nothing. I’ve never heard any more about it.’
‘Thank you.’ Rob stood.
‘I’ll be there tomorrow,’ Williamson promised.
It was the only new thing he’d learned, an incident that happened a lifetime before. Still, he wondered why no one else had mentioned it. Memories were long, especially for anything that gave one merchant an advantage over the others.
He was walking back up Briggate, wrapped in his thoughts, wondering what he could do next, when a hand took his sleeve.
‘I heard,’ James Lister said. ‘It’s terrible. Do you have anyone yet?’
‘No, Father.’
‘Please, tell Mr Nottingham how saddened and shocked I am.’
‘You can tell him yourself. The funeral’s tomorrow at two.’ He pulled away and continued up the street.
The deputy was waiting on the corner. The church bell had struck six and it was full dark when the three clerks emerged. They wore shabby clothes, the seats of their breeches shiny from being perched on stools all day.
‘Evening, lads,’ he said. They were all well into middle age, with grey hair and the worn-down look of men worked too hard for too little. ‘I’m the deputy constable. I’d like a word.’ He smiled. ‘Can I buy you all a drink?’
The first jug of ale went quickly and he ordered a second. He listened to them complain, wittering like old women, ears pricked for any loose talk. As their words wound down, he asked, ‘What did Mr Darden and Mr Howard do this morning?’
Ashton, the head clerk, the quietest and gravest of them, answered warily, ‘Why do you need to know?’
‘Knowing things is my business.’
‘It’s Tuesday. Mr Howard was at the cloth market. Mr Darden went with him.’
‘Aye, I know that. And this morning someone killed the Constable’s wife. Stabbed her five times.’ He glanced around the faces. ‘So you’ll see why I’m asking.’
‘They came to the warehouse after the market,’ Ashton told him. ‘They allus do that. Got to check the cloth the weavers bring and make sure they don’t cheat us.’
‘What about when that was done?’
‘Looked at the orders we were sending out.’
‘How long did that take?’ Sedgwick asked.
‘I wasn’t listening to the church clock. Then they went out.’
‘Where did they go?’
The clerk shrugged. ‘They don’t tell us, they just go.’
‘When did they return?’
‘Mr Howard came back about dinner time. Mr Darden didn’t come back at all. Nowt strange in that. He’s retired.’
‘How did Howard seem?’
‘Mr Howard was the same as ever.’ The man emphasized the title. ‘Wanted everything done yesterday. He must have been home, though.’
‘Why’s that?’ the deputy asked sharply.
‘He’d changed into an old coat and breeches. Spent part of the afternoon looking through cloth on the shelves.’
‘Is that usual?’
‘Mr Howard isn’t a man to ruin a good suit.’
‘Does he look through the cloth regularly?’
Ashton shrugged again. ‘A few times a year.’
‘Was he different in any way?’
‘Not that I saw. But we were working.’
‘He had a right short temper,’ one of the other clerks said.
‘What did he do?’
‘Clouted one of the lads who moves the bales around. Not just once, quite a few times until the boy was crying.’
‘Is he often like that?’ Sedgwick watched them carefully, seeing the small, uncomfortable glances they exchanged.
‘It happens,’ Ashton said flatly.
‘What else do you know?’ the deputy pressed them.
‘Nowt, really. I’ve worked for them for years and they’ve been good to me.’ He paused. ‘If you want them guilty of summat, I’ll tell you now — they’re not.’
Sedgwick stood and nodded his thanks. Outside the night felt raw; the chill clawed at his face as he made his way back to the jail. Rob was there, giving instructions to one of the night men. As soon as he’d gone, the deputy poured some ale and stood by the fire, feeling its heat.
‘Well?’ he asked.
Lister told him what he’d learned and Sedgwick recounted what the clerks had told him.
‘What do you think?’ he asked.
‘They were gone part of the morning. They had the time, there’s no doubt about that,’ Rob answered. ‘But there’s nothing to show their guilt, is there?’
‘Aye. We need to find out where they’re supposed to have gone. I’d like to take a look at those clothes Howard wore during the morning, too.’
‘What do we do next?’
‘Nothing tonight, lad. I’m going home to rest. There’ll be plenty of time for more tomorrow. And the funeral.’
‘Will you tell Emily. .?’
‘Of course I will. Don’t worry, we’ll look after her.’
‘What about the boss?’
‘He’ll do what he needs to do.’
He opened the door softly. Lizzie was sitting close to the hearth. She put a finger to her lips to hush him. He settled on the other chair, looking down to see Isabell sleeping peacefully in her crib, her illness now nothing more than a memory.
‘I put Emily in our bed. I think the poor lass has cried herself to sleep for a while. That boy of hers didn’t want to leave her.’
‘I’ll take her home in the morning. The funeral’s at two.’
‘Have you found anything yet?’
‘Not any proof.’ He was tired, the anger and frustration burning inside him.
‘Find it, John,’ she urged him.
‘I will. Don’t worry about that. If it’s there we’ll find it.’
‘Have you seen Mr Nottingham?’
He shook his head. ‘Better to let him be for now.’
‘Mebbe.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I’ll tell you something, that girl could have done with her father tonight. I did what I could but she needed more than me.’
‘She’ll have him tomorrow. And all the days after that, too. It’ll just be the two of them now.’
‘Not the same, though, is it?’ He had no reply. She reached out and took his hand. ‘I’ll put out the candle. You look like you need your rest.’
He’d just woken when she came down the stairs. It was still dark and he heard her groping her way.
‘Miss Emily,’ he said quietly.
‘I’m going home.’ Her voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
‘I’ll walk with you.’
‘There’s no need.’
‘I need to see your father.’
Outside, in the half-light on the horizon, her face looked ravaged. If she really had slept it had been for no more than a few minutes. As they passed the jail she glanced through the window, looking for Rob.
‘He’ll be out doing his last rounds,’ the deputy told her. She tried to smile but it left as soon as it came, no heart behind it. He coughed and said, ‘I talked to the undertaker and the church. They’re going to have the funeral this afternoon.’
She looked at him sharply.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I thought it would be one thing less for you and the boss to have to think about.’
‘I suppose it doesn’t matter when we bury Mama,’ she said emptily. She stayed quiet until they crossed Timble Bridge. ‘Thank you. And thank Lizzie, too.’ She looked up Marsh Lane at the house. ‘Is Papa there?’
She picked up her pace, moving so briskly that the deputy had to rush to keep up with her. He followed as she burst through the door, seeing the Constable sitting and staring at the dead fire. As Nottingham turned his head, Emily began to hit him with her small fists, crying and howling out all her pain.