‘Do that,’ the Constable said, ‘and send word to me.’
‘I don’t want you saying anything about this arrangement, Mr Nottingham,’ Buck warned him. ‘It wouldn’t look good for me if people heard.’
‘Nor for me,’ the Constable said as he rose. ‘Remember that, Joe. I need it quiet, too. The fewer people who know, the better.’
‘There’ll only be me and Henry.’
‘And I’ll tell Mr Sedgwick. You know you can trust him.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do we have an agreement?’
Buck stood and shook his hand. ‘We do, Mr Nottingham. For now, at least.’
He returned to the jail with a feeling of satisfaction only to find a note summoning him to the mayor’s office. It had happened before, and he knew it would occur often enough again, but this was the first demand since John Douglas had taken office. He brushed the worst of the dust off his coat, straightened his old, stained stock, took a swig of ale and strode up Briggate.
The Moot Hall seemed hushed after the roar of the street, clerks moving quickly and quietly, the only sounds voices from behind thick wooden doors and the scratch of a quill on paper. He knocked on the mayor’s door at the end of the corridor and entered.
Douglas stood at the window, his back to the room, staring at the people below. When he turned his face was drawn.
‘It’s a big responsibility looking after all of them,’ he said slowly. ‘I don’t think I realized it before I agreed to all this.’
‘I can believe it,’ Nottingham said.
‘You know those quilts the women sew from scraps of fabric?’ he asked and the Constable nodded. ‘Running a city’s like that. You make one law, then another and another and you try to fit them all into a pattern. Be glad you just have the crime, Richard.’ He settled into his chair, the seat padded with a thick cushion. ‘I’m expected to look after everything. For the poor as well as the rich.’
The Constable waited. By now he was used to the way Douglas liked to air his thoughts. He liked the man, he was a good, honest mayor, one of the few he’d known whose concerns went beyond the merchants and business.
‘A couple of the aldermen have talked to me about this thief taker.’ He searched the desk and brought out a copy of the Mercury, the advertisement circled in ink.
‘I already know all about Mr Walton. One of your aldermen is already using his services.’
‘Oh?’ Douglas jerked his head up. ‘Who?’
‘Mr Ridgely had several things stolen from his house. I went and looked, but before I could do much he told me he’d been contacted and his items were being returned. Without a complaint there’s nothing more I can do.’
‘And you think the thief taker’s returning the property.’
‘I’m sure of it,’ Nottingham told him. ‘For a fee, of course. The only problem is that it’s legal.’ He glanced at Douglas. ‘If the aldermen are complaining, you should advise them to tell their friends not to use his services.’
Douglas nodded. ‘They hadn’t told me that.’
‘I’ve heard there’s been another burglary, too. That one hasn’t even been reported.’
They mayor stroked his chin. ‘So what are you doing about it, Richard? Legal or not, it has to stop.’
‘It’s in hand,’ the Constable assured him. ‘It might take a little time, but I’ll have Walton.’
‘We don’t want others following him here.’
‘They won’t.’
‘Good. I won’t ask what you plan to do.’
‘That might be best, your Worship,’ Nottingham said with a dark smile.
‘Just get the bugger out of here as quick as you can.’ He sighed and rubbed his cheeks. ‘I love this city, I don’t want people coming in and trying to ruin it.’
‘I won’t let them.’
‘I know you have no love for the men in power, Richard. Sometimes I can’t blame you. But this is where I grew up, too. We all want Leeds to grow rich.’
‘With the riches for some.’
‘The wealthier the city becomes, the more it helps everyone,’ the mayor countered.
The Constable cocked his head. ‘Perhaps.’
‘I’m not really made for all the connivances of politics,’ Douglas admitted. ‘At least in trade there’s an honesty to all the venality. You get in this and half the time they’re so sly that you don’t even think they’re carrying daggers until they’re buried deep in your back.’
‘Your year as mayor will finish soon. September’s only five months away.’
‘It can’t be soon enough for me. Believe me, I’ll walk out of this office and never look back, and good luck to William Fenton when he takes over.’
‘He’ll be the next mayor?’ Nottingham asked.
‘He will, and may he have great joy from it.’
The Constable knew Fenton. As young boys, before Nottingham’s father had thrown his wife and son from the house, the pair of them had gone to school and played together. They’d been firm friends then. Afterwards the tale had become twisted.
Fenton had eased smoothly into his life, taking money and position in Leeds as his due, serving his apprenticeship as a merchant before going to work for his father, then taking over his business.
Nottingham’s path had been rockier. When they’d met again, after he’d become deputy Constable, Fenton had treated him with disdain, reminding him of his fall from grace and fortune at every chance. Working with him for a year was going to be difficult.
‘I’m sure he’ll relish it,’ he said.
‘Aye, he’s that kind of man,’ Douglas admitted with a long sigh. ‘Do what you must about this thief taker, as long as it’s above the law. Let’s see the back of him as soon as possible.’
Nine
Rain was falling as John Sedgwick walked down to the river, the clouds hanging so low he believed he could reach up and touch the sky. A little dampness was nothing, he’d dry out later, once evening arrived and he was home where the fire was warm in the hearth.
Before the bridge he turned, taking the new path that led past the buildings downstream. Cates and Sons had joined many of the other merchants in building a warehouse on the bank, the better to load their goods on to the barges. He felt certain he’d find at least one of the family there.
The brick was new, its red glow still warm, the paintwork glossy and the glass of the windows clean and clear. Inside, three clerks bent over their desks, heads rising together as he entered.
‘Can I help you, sir?’ one asked.
‘I’m looking for Mr Cates,’ the deputy said.
‘Yes, sir,’ the clerk said pleasantly. ‘Which one were you looking for?’
‘Which one’s here?’
‘Mr Robert, sir.’
‘Good,’ Sedgwick said with a grin. ‘Just who I want.’
The clerk slid from his stool and scuttled off into an office, his back slightly bent from too many years at his work. Within a minute he’d returned with Robert Cates, a tall, solemn young man with a long, quizzical face. His hair was receding, leaving him with a large, ugly dome of a forehead. His legs were scrawny; however good the tailor’s skill, no breeches would ever flatter him, and stockings hung baggy on his calves.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked, his tone distracted and condescending.
‘I’m John Sedgwick, the deputy Constable.’
‘Yes?’ He seemed astonished by the statement.
‘Can we talk in private, Mr Cates?’ He inclined his head towards the office.
‘I suppose so,’ the merchant agreed grudgingly.
The room was spare, the desk covered in papers, bills of lading, letters of credit and correspondence. Cates sat, leaving the deputy to take an old, worn stool. Pearl light fell through a tall, open window but the man still had a candle lit. A pair of spectacles sat next to a quill pen.
‘Now,’ he said briskly, ‘what do you want?’
‘You had a servant named Lucy in your house.’
‘We did,’ he acknowledged with a short nod, his mouth frowning with distaste. ‘My father dismissed her.’