‘Come on,’ he said, putting his arm around her shoulder. ‘Let’s get you home.’
They walked in silence. At the house he could see her hand shaking as she slid the key into the lock. Inside, he heard Lucy moving in the kitchen, then she came through with two mugs of ale.
‘Thank you.’ Emily took the cup.
The girl curtseyed, looking serious. She moved away then halted in the doorway. ‘I know you wish it was your mam doing that and not me.’
‘No,’ Emily said, taken by surprise.
‘I can see it in your face,’ Lucy told her quietly. ‘I’m sorry.’
He sat at the jail, considering what Trueman had told him about Jeremiah Darden. Was there anything he could use, some scrap to help him convict the man? After all these years it had become nothing more than rumour scattered on the wind. The merchant could laugh it off and deny it all. Even passing it as gossip wouldn’t damage him; it had all happened too long ago.
Outside, darkness had fallen quickly. Through the window he could glimpse candlelight flickering through shutters on the other side of Kirkgate. The fire was burning low in the grate. He knew he should go home but was reluctant to leave. All that waited for him was more sorrow.
The door opened and the deputy entered, rubbing his hands together. ‘It’s going to freeze out there tonight. Won’t be much work for Rob, they’ll all be round their firesides.’
‘Did you find anything worthwhile?’
Sedgwick held his arms out to the weak blaze. ‘Not really. I had another word at the Talbot and threatened Bell a little. There might be something tomorrow.’
The Constable explained what Trueman had told him about Darden.
‘And nothing happened?’
‘He left the Corporation.’
‘He’s in it with Howard. He has to be,’ Sedgwick said. ‘Some of those dead children were boys.’
‘I know.’ Nottingham shook his head. ‘Have I done all of this wrong, John?’
‘What do you mean, boss?’
‘We’re no closer to putting them on the gibbet, are we?’
‘No,’ the deputy admitted.
‘Could I have done it differently?’
‘Not that I can see. You mean the pouch, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ It was the question he’d never stop asking himself.
‘I’d have done the same.’ Sedgwick shook his head. ‘I doubt that’s much comfort, though.’
‘No.’
‘Go home, boss. There’s nothing more you can do here. I’m off myself soon. Tomorrow we’ll come up with something.’
Lucy’s pottage was flavourless. After a few spoonfuls he pushed the bowl away, seeing the disappointment on the girl’s face. ‘I’m just not hungry,’ he said.
Even Emily, with her appetite, couldn’t finish.
Head bowed, Lucy cleared the table. She was trying hard, he knew that, and it was difficult for her, working in this house full of heartbreak.
‘Papa?’ Emily’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. ‘What are we going to do?’
He understood. She was lost, flailing. All the hope had gone from her face.
‘We’ll do what we have to do,’ he told her. ‘We’ll carry on.’
‘But. .’
‘I know.’ He reached across the table and placed his hand lightly over hers. ‘We survived when Rose died.’
‘Mama was with us then.’ Her eyes were glistening.
‘She’s still here,’ he said quietly. ‘She’s always going to be here.’
‘It hurts.’
‘It does,’ he agreed.
‘Was it like this when Grandmama died?’
Had it? His mother had been ill for so long that he was
the only thing keeping her alive. They existed in rooms where the runnels of damp came down the walls and he stole and begged food that she could barely eat. When her breath stopped he’d felt relief first of all; she didn’t have to struggle any more. The pain took longer. It was still there, buried deep, and it would never vanish.
‘No,’ he answered finally. ‘But I wish she was still here. She’d have been very proud of you. Mama was, too. So am I.’
She smiled and the tears began. Better that she let them out, he thought.
They sat by the firelight and talked, sharing their memories. He told her tales that brought laughter, and he learned things about Mary as a mother that he’d never known. Eventually he stood.
‘We both need our beds,’ he said.
‘Thank you, Papa.’ She hugged him, still sniffling a little.
‘As long as we’re here, she’ll never go away,’ he reminded her.
‘I know.’
TWENTY-THREE
‘Do either of you have any ideas how we can put Darden and Howard in the dock?’
They’d gathered in the jail, Rob yawning behind his hand, the deputy looking dishevelled, his old hose filled with rips. Nottingham looked from one face to the other.
‘That Lucy of yours can identify Howard,’ Sedgwick said.
‘His lawyer would tear her apart in court. Especially since she came to work for me.’
The deputy grunted. ‘Couldn’t they just disappear?’
‘No. I want them to go to trial and I want to see them hang for what they’ve done. I want everyone to know.’ His voice was hard and determined.
‘Yes, boss.’
‘We’d better keep digging. The longer it goes on, the harder it’ll be for us to find anything.’
He watched them leave, finished the daily report and walked it over to the Moot Hall. A heavy frost had fallen overnight, leaving the flagstones and cobbles white and slick. Martin Cobb was at his desk, head bent over his work; he looked up as the Constable approached.
‘The mayor wants to see you,’ he warned.
‘Is he in?’
‘Arrived five minutes ago.’
He knocked and entered. Fenton was at his desk. The fire blazed in the hearth, making the room luxuriously warm.
‘Sit down, Nottingham.’
He settled awkwardly on the delicate chair and waited. The mayor looked harried, in need of a shave, white bristles sprouting on his chin. He read through a paper, dipped the quill in a small jar of ink and scribbled his signature across the bottom before pushing it aside.
‘People have been talking to me,’ he said.
‘Oh?’
‘It seems you’re still asking questions about Mr Darden and his factor.’
‘I am,’ the Constable admitted.
‘Why? I told you to stop.’
‘My job is to find who killed those children.’ He looked directly at Fenton. ‘And my wife,’ he added.
‘When we put up the reward, people came forward. Have you looked at them?’
‘Of course. All it did was waste good time,’ Nottingham told him flatly.
‘You’d already made up your mind.’
‘It was them.’
The mayor sighed. ‘You’re grieving. Your thinking is muddled.’
‘Is it?’
‘That’s what I’ll tell Darden’s lawyer when he complains. But if you keep it up I’m going to talk to the Corporation and we’ll start looking for a new Constable. I’m sorry about your wife but you’ve been nothing but trouble since you came back to work. I’ll not tolerate you defaming Jeremiah Darden. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Very.’ He stood. ‘But you’d better think about what you’re going to say when it comes out that they killed those children. I know about Darden and that boy.’
‘You know nothing,’ Fenton replied firmly. ‘You’ve got an idea fixed in your head and it’s the wrong one. I’ve given you the last warning; there won’t be another.’
Once he was outside all the rage of the last few days welled up in him. His wound hurt and his legs ached, but he forced himself to walk out along the Head Row, beyond Burley Bar and into the countryside beyond. The road to Woodhouse snaked off into the distance and he followed it along the hill, all the way to the common land where people still grazed their cows in the summer. The beasts were all away in their byres now and the ground was empty; most folk were too sensible to be out in the cold.