‘Stabbed through the heart.’
Kitty tapped Alice’s shoulder with the pistol. ‘D’you kill him? If that bloated hog tried to force himself on me, reckon I’d stab him.’
‘I never touched him.’
I closed the door between the attic rooms. Sam slid the hanging back in place.
‘He was stabbed many times,’ I said.
‘Nine,’ Sam clarified.
‘Whoever killed him would be covered in blood…’
We all looked at Alice.
‘I told you, it was dark. I didn’t see the blood until…’ She put her face in her hands and rocked softly. Kitty gritted her teeth, frustrated, while Sam watched them both, unblinking. No doubt he would sketch this, later. The maidservant drenched in her master’s blood and the girl with a pistol in her hand.
‘You must see, Alice, how this seems. You have the very best reason for wanting Burden dead.’
Alice dropped her hands. ‘Save for you, sir.’
There was a short, cold silence. And then a sharp click, as Kitty cocked the pistol. ‘Look at yourself, Alice! Tell me why we should not drag you at once to the magistrate?’
‘I didn’t do it!’ Alice howled, desperate. ‘You must believe me! There’d be no sense in it.’
‘Why not?’
Her shoulders slumped. ‘He was going to marry me.’
We stared at each other in consternation.
‘He announced it while I was serving dinner yesterday. Didn’t bother to ask me first. No warning. No argument. Judith ran outside and puked in the yard. Imagine. Her maid was now her mother.’
Kitty lowered the pistol. ‘You consented?’
‘What choice did I have?’ Alice looked utterly exhausted. ‘At least I’d have some protection. Why – do you think I wanted his rough hands all over me? His fat, sweating belly pressing down so I could scarce breathe? He made me sick. I fought him off the first time. But he said he’d tell the world I’d thieved from him. Who would hire me after that? I’d be on the street and on my back for every pox-ridden bastard with a halfpenny to spend. Mr Hawkins, sir – you know he’d have done it. He told all those lies about you in church.’
‘What’s this?’ Kitty asked sharply.
I frowned, but there was no value in shielding her any more. ‘He was spreading rumours about me. He said that I killed a man, down in Southwark…’
‘He swore an oath to Mr Gonson,’ Alice said. ‘Said he heard you through the wall, confessing to it. He was lying, I know. He hated you both. Because you was happy, I think. Happy and young.’ She paused. ‘I’m glad he’s dead. Bastard. I’d have liked to marry him first, though, just for the money. And the look on Judith’s face. She’ll throw me out on the street now.…’
Kitty paid her no mind. She was staring at me from across the room with a stunned expression, as if the house had collapsed around her. ‘Why did you not tell me? What possessed you…’ She trailed away, staring at the pistol in her hand. ‘Oh, Tom…’
I couldn’t explain my actions in front of Sam and Alice, but I didn’t need to. Kitty understood. If she had known that Burden planned to testify against me, she would have confessed to the murder in a flash, in order to protect me. Just as I had lied to the queen to protect her. The difference was that Kitty had indeed pulled the trigger. One bullet for defence. The other for revenge.
She crossed the room and put her arms around me, her head pressed hard against my chest. I drew her close and held her for a long, perfect moment. There. I was forgiven. And all I’d had to do was prove myself willing to die for her. How simple and charming love is.
She stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to my ear. ‘I would never let you hang on my account,’ she whispered. ‘Never. Do you understand?’
It was almost dawn. We needed to send Alice back before the household woke and somebody discovered Burden’s corpse. Kitty took Alice downstairs to dress her in a clean gown. We would have to take her innocence on trust – and a fair degree of common sense. Alice clearly had little to gain from Burden’s death, save for a moment’s revenge. Yesterday she had been set to become his wife and share his fortune. Today she had nothing. Who would hire a servant whose previous master had been murdered in his bed?
Whoever had killed Burden had been perfectly content to let Alice take the blame. Ned, Stephen, Judith – they all knew of Alice’s nightly visits to Burden’s bed. Alice had screamed like a banshee when she caught Sam in the room that night. Burden’s killer must have counted upon her screaming again, when she found the body. The household would have rushed to her aid… and discovered her upon the bed, crouched over the corpse. Covered in his blood.
A brutal murder, fuelled by a burning rage. But this attempt to turn suspicion upon Alice had been cold and clever.
Ned. Stephen. Or Judith.
Impossible.
I told myself it was none of my business who killed Burden. Gonson might suspect me, but as long as he did not discover the attic door I was safe enough. And yet… and yet… It was not a comfortable thought, knowing I was the most obvious suspect. It would be better to learn the truth – in case I needed to prove my innocence.
Sam drew a candle over his bed. Pinched his lips. ‘She’s left blood on the sheets.’
‘If Alice had married Burden, she might easily have borne a child. Several, in fact. How old is Alice? Nineteen? Twenty?’
Sam dipped a neck cloth in a jug of water and began to scrub hard. ‘Five and twenty,’ he suggested, with a fair degree of malice.
If Alice had a child, Stephen might lose his inheritance, or at least part of it. And then there was Judith, sickened by the idea of Alice becoming her stepmother. Loss of money, loss of pride. Either could have led to murder. But then… surely they would have killed Alice, not their father?
Ned Weaver was angry with Burden, but angry enough to plunge a blade into his heart? If I were forced to gamble on it, I supposed I would bet on Burden’s apprentice – cheated and betrayed. He had the strength for it – but not the heart, surely. Truth was, I would not risk money on any of them. ‘Are you sure you didn’t kill him, Sam?’
He paused in his scrubbing. ‘With a knife?’ He picked up a pillow, gripped it tightly in both hands. ‘Best way – smother them. Looks natural.’
‘That’s… rather sinister.’
‘Bad man. Bad death. Deserved it.’ He plumped the pillow and dropped it back upon the bed. ‘Blood on your shirt.’
I glanced down. There were smudges all down the front from where Alice had clung to me. On purpose, to incriminate me? No, surely not… Damn it. It would have to go on the fire – it was too badly stained and I couldn’t risk it being discovered. Gonson was sure to pay me a visit before the morning was over.
‘Why’re we helping Alice?’ Sam asked.
‘She’ll hang if we don’t.’
He stared up at me, peat-black eyes filled with frustration. ‘They’ll blame you instead.’
‘Gonson won’t arrest me without proof.’
He tossed the bloodstained neckerchief on the fire. It sizzled and spat, damp against the flames, sending grey smoke into the room. He coughed against his sleeve. ‘Give her money, Mr Hawkins. Enough to run away.’
I hesitated. I had not considered the idea. It was tempting. Why should I place myself in danger for a girl I barely knew? If Alice left tonight she could begin a new life with a new identity. Sam’s father could hide her for a few weeks, then send her wherever she pleased. True, everyone would assume she had killed Burden, but she’d said herself that the best she could hope for now was a ruined life on the street. Was this not the kindest choice, for everyone?