He smiled. ‘I’m John Sedgwick,’ he said. ‘I’m the deputy constable. Have you got a moment?’
The cook had no time for gossiping, with a meal to prepare and have on the table for guests at noon, but she called down one of the serving girls to talk to him. Grace was a plain little thing; she looked thirteen but swore to three years older. She glanced nervously at the deputy, fingers working together nervously at having to talk to authority. He found a quiet nook where they’d be out of everyone’s way, the dark wood around them smelling freshly of polish.
‘Don’t worry, love,’ he told her, ‘you’ve done nowt wrong. You’re not in trouble.’
‘Yes, sir.’
She bobbed her head quickly and he smiled.
‘No need to call me sir, either. I’m just John. Did you know Lucy?’
Grace’s eyes brightened. ‘She was lovely, was Lucy.’
‘You were friends, were you?’
‘We shared a bed up in the eaves,’ she said. ‘But she didn’t talk too much. She hated it ’cause the words all sounded funny. Once you got used to it, it were easy enough to understand her, really.’
‘You know she was pregnant?’
Grace nodded seriously. ‘I tried to tell her, sir, but she wouldn’t believe me.’ She paused and blushed. ‘John.’
‘Why not?’
‘She didn’t know how girls get babies.’
He raised his eyebrows slightly in disbelief. Still, if she was as simple as everyone said, it was possible.
‘Do you know who the father might be?’
She shook her head, but it was too quick, too adamant.
‘Do you?’ he asked softly.
She lowered her head to hide her expression but he could see the livid colour rising up from her neck.
‘Was it someone here? I won’t tell anyone, I promise.’
‘I don’t know,’ she answered in a voice so quiet he wasn’t sure whether he’d imagined it.
‘Do the men here. .?’
At first she was perfectly still and he stayed silent, waiting to see if she’d reveal anything. Then she gave a tiny nod.
‘All of them?’
Grace glanced around hurriedly to assure herself no one could hear then whispered, ‘Mr Cates and his sons.’
He kept his face blank and his voice steady. ‘With you?’
‘Yes.’ She sounded resigned and hopeless.
‘And with Lucy?’
‘I don’t know.’ She looked up at him and he could see the tears in her eyes, thin shoulders shaking with the sorrow and secrets she’d been keeping inside for a long time. ‘They didn’t like her, they laughed at her. So maybe they didn’t.’
‘Didn’t she say?’
The girl pulled at the hem of her apron. ‘No.’
‘Did she have anyone she saw when she had free time?’
‘Just her mam and her brother.’
‘Was she happy here?’
‘Yes.’ Grace smiled again briefly, her face lighting up, blue eyes bright and glistening. ‘She was. We looked after her, you see. She felt safe here.’
‘What was she like when she had to leave?’
‘She cried. All the girls did.’
‘Did she say where she was going?’
‘No. She didn’t know.’
‘Not to her mam?’
‘She said she couldn’t, not now.’
‘Did she say why?’
Grace looked confused. ‘I just thought it was because she was having the baby.’
‘Thank you, love. You’ve been very helpful.’
He stood and she looked up at him. ‘You won’t. .?’ she asked, then begged. ‘Please.’
‘I promise,’ he assured her. ‘Honestly.’
The Constable strode up the Head Row, his face set hard. A little before the impressive brick of the Red House he knocked on a door and waited for a servant to open it.
When one finally arrived, he gave his name and was shown into a withdrawing room that looked out on a tidy garden. No fire had been laid and he pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his coat to keep them warm. He listened for the sound of the servant’s heels in the hallway.
He knew that Alderman Ridgely had dropped his case, and he was sure of the reason why: he was going to pay good money to the thief taker for the return of items that already belonged to him. But Nottingham wanted to look the man in the eye and hear the words from his own lips. It wouldn’t be satisfaction, but it would be a small beginning.
When the servant finally returned, he looked abashed.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said, ‘but the master says he doesn’t have time to see you.’
The Constable gave a small nod but said nothing. He picked up the tricorn hat from the chair where he’d left it and walked out. Word of this would run all around Leeds before the day was done, how the man had snubbed Nottingham. But who would look worse for it, he wondered? Men in Leeds would laugh at anyone fool enough to pay twice for his own property.
At the Talbot he asked for Walton, and a potboy was sent scrambling up the stairs to fetch him. The Constable sat at a bench, a stoup of ale and two beakers in front of him. When the thief taker arrived he motioned him to a seat and poured him a drink. The man was dressed in his grey suit, sponged clean now, his stock and the cuffs of his shirt rimed with dirt.
‘Your business is off to a good start, I hear.’ Nottingham raised his mug in a small toast. Walton smiled, showing the gaps in his teeth dark as the devil’s word.
‘I’ll not say it is, since they say pride’s a sin. But God willing, it’ll prosper, Constable.’
‘Only if you deal with criminals, Mr Walton.’
‘I return items that have gone missing,’ the man said carefully, his gaze straight and direct. ‘I don’t ask how they vanished.’
‘Or how someone else now has them?’
‘That’s not my business,’ the thief taker answered slowly. ‘If someone’s stolen them, it’s for God to judge him, not me.’
‘No doubt He will,’ the Constable agreed. ‘And it’s a pious enough turn of phrase. But I’m concerned with the here and now, not what might happen at the gates of heaven.’
‘That’s your job,’ Walton conceded. ‘When a man pays me for the return of his property, that’s all that matters to me. Not the criminal or the crime.’
‘And my job is catching those criminals and seeing they’re punished. I told you I’d let you work here if it didn’t interfere with the law.’
‘And has it, Constable?’ Walton spread his hands on the table, the nails bitten short, the tips of his fingers dark with grime. ‘Has anyone lodged a complaint?’ he asked. ‘Has anyone reported a crime I’m preventing you from solving?’
‘Someone has withdrawn his report of a robbery.’
‘So there’s nothing outstanding?’ The thief taker grinned. ‘No cause for you to worry at me this way?’
Nottingham drank and slowly put down the cup. He stared at the other man.
‘There’s plenty of reason, Mr Walton. You’re treading very close to the edge of my patience. Sooner or later you’ll cross the line.’
‘If that happens I might have some powerful people here in my debt. Have you thought of that?’
The Constable ignored the question. When the time was right, no friends would save the thief taker.
‘The law is the law. Break it and you pay the consequences.’
‘I’ve lived long enough to know that money can speak louder than law sometimes, Constable. I’ve found it to be a fact well worth remembering.’ He stood. ‘Good day to you.’
Nottingham finished his ale and left. Returning to the jail he decided it would be a good idea to have someone follow Walton. The man was going to cause trouble. With some care they might be able to stop it early.
‘John,’ he said, ‘our thief taker’s staying at the Talbot. I want a man following him day and night.’
Sedgwick stared thoughtfully into space for a few moments.
‘We can rearrange the men,’ he suggested.
‘Who’s best at blending into a crowd?’
‘Probably Tom Holden. You can look at him and forget he was ever there.’